by Brian Drake
Dane followed her gaze. “I don’t see anybody.”
“I could have sworn there was somebody.” Nina lowered her rifle.
Dane rose. He slung the second rocket launcher, both making an X across his back. He and Nina crossed the patio, slipping inside via the open French doors. The side room they stood in was quiet. All of the balcony shooting and commotion came from above them.
Dane took the lead and advanced up a small set of stairs to a raised floor of the rest of the room. He stopped at a corner. Ahead of them lay the front of the house. The hinges held up the shattered front door. A line of windows stretched across the front on either side of the door. Bullets had popped holes in the glass.
The walls and floor shook from the thunder of gunfire above. Nina started to speak but Dane didn’t hear. He moved into the front hall and followed the windows to the left of the door. He stayed low. The window farthest to the left had the most damage, a couple of large holes, and Dane peeked through them. The bottom edge of the second-floor balcony was clearly visible.
He could use the support columns out front for cover and blast the balcony with a rocket.
And then what? Have the works crash down on him?
Stupid idea.
Dane left the window, waved Nina on from the corner where she’d remained, and started for a staircase. As his feet hit the first step, Nina stopped and covered the landing above, her finger barely touching the trigger.
Dane made the first landing and halted. The staircase continued off to their left. Ahead, a wide hallway with rooms on either side and the wide balcony at the end.
“As soon as you fire, the shooters upstairs are coming down,” Nina said.
“Then you’d better be ready for them.”
Dane readied one of the rocket launchers, extending the tube, which released the aiming sight. He put the tube to his shoulder. The fighters on the balcony—he counted five—shuffled positions as they continued to exchange fire with rebel troops.
He aimed at the floor of the balcony and loosed the missile. The projectile flashed from the tube, the exhaust trail stinging Dane’s eyes as he and Nina dropped flat.
The blast filled the room, debris flying like a swarm of angry bees. Dane looked through the smoke. What remained of the balcony was a jagged line, most of it having fallen below to the front steps in a massive pile of debris and bodies.
Dane dropped his head to the floor to suck air. Nina coughed.
“We gotta move back!” she said.
Dane shoved her toward the stairs and they hustled down, gasping, coughing. They stopped in the middle of the staircase and leaned against the wall.
When the swarm of uniformed troops crashed through the front of the house, Dane shoved Nina back and raised the M-16.
“Steve, wait!”
Dane lowered the rifle as Major Gomez emerged at the head of the group.
“You’re all right?” the major said, approaching the stairs.
Dane and Nina acknowledged their wellness.
“When you blasted the balcony, we moved close and got the shooters on the third level.”
“Do we control the property?”
“All except for—”
“Lassen. Any sign of him escaping?”
“The grounds are sealed, so unless he has a secret tunnel—”
“Right. Stay here, Nina.”
“Steve—”
“Stay!” Dane started up the stairs, slapping a new magazine into the M-16.
17
The Dragon’s Lair
THE SMOKE and dust on the second floor made his eyes hurt, but Dane powered through, covering his mouth with his left arm, the M-16 out in front. He made it through the smoke and up to the third floor and its long hallway, with the polished tiled floor. Rooms on either side, double doors at the end. Dane started forward, his free hand on the M-16’s forward handguards, the stock burrowed into his shoulder. The double doors grew larger as he neared. Lassen could be elsewhere, but the big room was Dane’s first choice. It offered enough space for a final battle. He didn’t think Lassen would run. They both wanted to kill each other, and running didn’t figure into either of their plans.
Dane reached the tall double doors and pushed one open, the snout of the M-16 leading the way.
Cyrus Lassen sprang from his hiding spot along the wall and let out a yell as he brought a long sword down from above his head. The blade crashed against the M-16. Dane grunted as the weapon left his hands, the impact sending a sharp sting through his fingers, up the length of each arm.
Lassen raised the sword again as Dane reached for the holstered Beretta 9-millimeter, but as the blade whistled down he dove to the right instead.
The big dining room with the table dead center indeed offered room to fight, but little cover. The chairs around the table would not stop an assault from that blade for long.
Dane dug the 9-millimeter from the holster as Lassen closed the gap between them and raised the sword like a baseball bat. His eyes showed a fury Dane had never seen. Dane’s finger tightened on the Beretta as the sword arced down and Dane pulled the gun back. The blade was going for his wrist. The edge struck the gun instead, shearing off the first two inches of the barrel and reducing the gun to a useless hunk of steel.
Dane threw the gun. Lassen easily dodged, and the steel clattered on the floor and slid into a corner.
Lassen moved forward, breathing hard. Dane moved back, putting the table between him and Lassen.
“No more weapons,” Lassen said, “so you retreat like a coward.”
“More like a quick moment to evaluate the battlefield.”
Lassen took two quick steps forward, Dane shuffling back toward the doors where the M-16 had fallen. Unlike the pistol, it had not been terribly damaged. The handguards were broken, but the rifle might still fire.
“Always the joker.”
“I learned from the best.”
“And who might that be?”
“A certain bloke from England.”
Dane grabbed a chair and shoved. The brightly polished floor provided an excellent surface for the chair to slide. As Lassen stepped aside, Dane dove for the M-16, skidding across the tile on his stomach.
Dane’s hands grasped the rifle. The handle on top and the front sight were smashed. He rolled onto his back. Lassen raised the sword. Dane’s finger found the trigger, and flame licked from the muzzle, the flash obliterating the person before him. Lassen fell back, the sword landing with a clang, Lassen’s body following.
Dane, gasping, tossed the M-16 aside and scrambled on hands and knees for the sword. He gained his feet and pivoted to the fallen Gringo Dragon.
Lassen lay flat, his fiery eyes fixed on the ceiling, his guts splattered all over the floor. Somehow he still breathed, albeit slowly, with a rattle.
Dane, breathless, sweating, the sword held aloft, stared at the dying man. There was still one more piece to the puzzle—Royce—and Lassen was in no condition to provide clues.
Lassen turned his head to Dane. His mouth remained open, but the lips did not move. His eyes studied Dane one last time.
Dane swung the sword down, separating the dragon’s head from its body.
DANE STEPPED outside into the warm air.
The aftermath of the battle was the same he’d seen all over the world, the unwounded helping the wounded and creating a place for the dead. A handful of troops stood ready by the opening in the wall. Dane looked up at the mansion. More rebel troops kept watch from elevated positions.
“Nice sword.”
Dane turned. Nina and Major Gomez stopped behind him.
“I slew a dragon with it,” Dane said, and stabbed the point into the earth. It stuck out of the ground like a crusade grave marker. Dane said to Gomez, “What’s our status, Major?”
“We have reinforcements coming from the camp. I had to send some men to the capitol. We took the government house, but there is still hard-liner resistance.”
“Nina and
me are at your service if you want.”
Nina said, “We talked about that. He doesn’t want.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Major Gomez said. “When everything is done—”
“I get it, Major. You don’t want anybody saying you had help.”
“You provided a great deal. Maybe even the push we needed to end this.”
“And you pulled us out of a nasty spot in the jungle. May we see Paco one more time?”
“He’s on his way with the reinforcements.”
DANE AND Nina sat on the front steps and watched the continuing cleanup.
“How do we get out of here?” Nina said, her head on Dane’s shoulder, his right arm around her.
“I’m sure there’s a working phone somewhere within fifty miles,” Dane said. “Len can send a jet. If not, we have plenty of friends we can call.”
“Do you think they can hold the country?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“I hope so.”
“What about Royce?”
“He wasn’t here; that means he’s somewhere else.”
She jabbed him in the belly. “I could have said that.”
Dane laughed. “It means Lassen’s reach is further than the U.S. or this place. We have a few more cages to rattle.”
“What if he’s gone underground?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll never stop looking now that I know who I’m looking for.”
She patted Dane’s leg. “We will never stop.”
“That’s what I meant.”
18
An Inside Job
DANE MANAGED to borrow a cigar from a rebel sergeant and put a match to the tip. The bodies of dead rebels had been placed near the eastern wall and covered with tarps. The dead presidential troops were piled on the far side of the mansion. Buzzards circled overhead waiting for their opportunity to peck at the flesh.
Other rebels were looting the house, emerging with food and liquor and other items of value.
Typical war zone. They never changed.
Major Gomez came over again.
“We secured the radio and television station,” he said. “We’re broadcasting news of the coup.”
Dane blew smoke. The cigar had no band and he couldn’t tell the make by taste, but it had a rich flavor. “Good. That’s huge.”
Troops started shouting. A tracked vehicle rolled through the front, more armed rebels jumping out and joining the rest of the force. One small soldier broke from the group and ran across the field to jump into his father’s arms.
“You’re all right!” Paco said.
The boy broke from his father and hugged Dane next.
“Did we win?” Paco said, looking between the two.
“We won, Paco,” the major said, but Dane noted a weariness in the man’s voice, indicating he knew that a totally different fight loomed over the horizon.
THE JEEP bounced along the rough road, winding through a town toward the airport. Dane up front with Major Gomez behind the wheel, Nina and Paco in the back. Paco held his M-16 between his knees.
Too much debris slowed their progress through some of the streets. There had been heavy fighting everywhere, and a mix of rebel soldiers and eager civilians was hustling to clear the mess.
Troops saluted as Gomez drove by; people cheered. Some of them, anyway. Others wore blank stares of the walking wounded. The coup had affected everybody, somehow. It wasn’t time to celebrate yet. If ever.
Dane tried not to think about anything he saw, but it affected him nonetheless. The people were free to determine their own destiny now, but the cost had been high. The recovery would take longer than the war.
Once beyond the town limits, Gomez increased speed. Lush greenery sat on either side of the two-lane road.
A finger tapped Dane’s arms. He turned.
Paco leaned forward. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Dane studied Paco’s brown eyes. There was still some innocence in them. He looked nothing like the people they had just passed.
“Make me a promise, Paco.”
“What?”
“As soon as we’re gone, trade that rifle for a football.”
The boy sat back, a little confused. Nina smiled and patted his leg.
Dane had indeed found a working phone at Lassen’s and contacted Lukavina, who was glad to hear from him and eager for the update on Nuevo Cádiz. Dane promised to tell him everything after they landed in the States, but that meant Len had to send a plane.
The CIA Cessna Citation waited on the tarmac as Gomez drove through the gate checkpoint. The property was crawling with rebel troops at various posts.
Gomez stopped the Jeep beside the jet. The four of them exited the Jeep. Paco left his rifle. He hugged Nina first, then went to Dane and hugged him. Dane let out a laugh.
“Nobody will ever say they don’t know how you feel, Paco.”
“He takes after his mother,” the major said.
Paco stepped back, and Dane and the major shook hands.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Major.”
Gomez smiled and bowed slightly toward Nina. “Take care, señora.”
“I hope you build a wonderful country.”
Gomez answered only with a weak smile.
Dane took her hand and they climbed the steps to the jet. A CIA man in a dark suit waited at the top and introduced himself as Dan Reese. “I have new clothes for you, and the shower’s in back.”
“Me first,” Nina said, and brushed past both men.
Dane turned for one last wave. The Gomez father and son waved back. Dane stepped deeper into the plane, and Reese pulled the door shut.
THE CIRCULAR shower was narrow and hard to move in, with only a thin curtain to keep the splashing contained, but Dane felt like a new man when he turned off the water. The clothes provided by Lukavina fit well, and he felt relieved to put on a long-sleeved shirt once again. Dane paused as he buttoned the cuffs of the right sleeve. He wondered for the first time if he covered his scars to hide them from others or only from himself. But it wasn’t a train of thought he felt like following right now. There were more important things on his mind.
He found Nina seated on a chair with her legs crossed. She rotated the chair to face him, grinning as she held a glass of vodka.
“I’m breaking the fast.”
Dane came over and took the glass from her, downed what remained and gave back the glass.
“Me too.”
He dropped into the seat next to her.
“What changed your mind?”
“Where’s our chaperone?”
“Up with the pilots.”
“When Lassen was coming at me with the sword, I saw anger in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He didn’t just want to get even, he hated me. I wondered if I was like that.”
He raised an eyebrow as Nina dropped her eyes to the floor.
“Is that a yes?”
She looked at him. “I’ve never seen you the way you were when we saw Gallagher. You’ve shot guys before, but you were always detached. You mentally tortured that man.”
“You feel sorry for him?”
“No,” she said. “I’m just pointing out the difference. I don’t want to see you go over the edge.”
“This isn’t just another job.”
“I think what you’re trying to say is that it should be. If only to protect yourself.”
“I think you’re right. Where’d you get the vodka?”
She nodded toward the galley at the back of the plane. Dane retrieved the bottle and another glass. He filled both. They clinked glasses and drank.
“So now we find Royce?” Nina said.
“Lukavina’s already started, but I have a feeling he’ll be looking for us, too.”
“Why don’t we just let him?”
Dane pressed his lips together and thought for a long time.
THE JET landed in the U.S. ten hours la
ter. Dane and Nina slept most of the way.
At the end of the steps sat two black GM SUVs with tinted windows. Armor fortified each vehicle to repel small- and intermediate-arms fire. They were also fitted with fancy com systems and anti-personnel features, such as tear gas canisters mounted under the chassis. Men in black suits, armed with submachine guns, waited outside the vehicles. The engines of both vehicles were already running.
“Armed escorts?” Nina said.
“I guess we’re pretty important,” Dane said.
They reached the end of the steps, and the leader of the CIA team opened the back doors of the first SUV. Dane and Nina climbed inside.
The security team communicated over their radios, and the two SUVs set off.
The time passed in mind-numbing but scenic dullness.
Then the first rocket-propelled grenade struck.
THE SUVs moved at an accelerated pace, following one of the many winding back roads to CIA headquarters. Off Dane’s right, the forest stretched upward for miles. To the left of the vehicles, a steep drop led only to one’s doom.
The convoy slowed once the two-lane road narrowed to one.
Dane didn’t believe it when he saw it, but there was also no mistake. A puff of smoke off the road, followed by the shriek of a finned, rocket-propelled grenade closing the gap between forest and target.
Dane shouted, “RPG!” as the rocket struck the pavement in front of the SUV. Dane threw his arms in front of his face. The explosion shattered the windshield and filled the cabin with flying shards. Nina screamed. The SUV continued forward, the front end falling into the crater created by the blast. The SUV’s sudden jolt sent everybody forward, bodies colliding, automatic weapons fire slamming into the bodywork, but the bulletproofing kept the rounds from destroying the side windows.
The security team in the second SUV lit up the radio.
“Back up, back up!”
Dane shoved the unconscious driver out, crawling over his body to the pavement. He ran to the rear door and helped out another agent, then Nina. The remaining agent in the back was either out cold or dead. Dane reached for his weapon and jacked back the charging handle.