A Fortune in Blood: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 7)

by Scott Cook

  Ellen looked at the little boy who stood next to the slim woman. He was a few inches shorter than his mom. She frowned, “You’re gonna let him go out into the night all by himself?”

  Night had fallen, the last vestiges of twilight having vanished several minutes before. That made it a little past nine o’clock. That meant that food should be coming soon. Missy could smell camp fires and cooking food through the open windows.

  “I don’t know yet,” Missy said, “but we have to be ready to act, all of us.”

  “I’m with ya’, Miss,” Gus said bravely, getting to his feet and standing beside Missy and Declan.

  “No!” Jen almost shrieked. “Don’t!”

  Everyone turned to her. This was the first that Missy or the sisters had heard her speak since any of them had arrived. Gus went over and wrapped his arms around her. Missy saw the woman stiffen as soon as he touched her. She couldn’t tell if it was because Jen didn’t want any man touching her, or because she felt such shame at what had happened that it caused her to tense up when her husband came close. Either way, it certainly reinforced her heartbreaking suspicion that the pretty Australian woman had been raped. Probably more than once.

  “It’s all right, love,” Gus soothed, stroking her hair and patting her shoulder. “I think we can get out of here and end this.”

  “They’ll just stop us,” Jen whispered, beginning to shake now, “and they’ll be angry… they’ll punish us…”

  Missy turned to go over and try to help Gus console her. Maybe another woman’s touch wouldn’t affect her so badly. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.

  There was a jingling and clattering as a key was inserted into the door’s lock. Declan’s eyes went wide and he scurried over to stand next to the hinged side. Nobody dared say anything because the door swung open and the bulldog woman who’d helped to search Missy walked in pushing a cart.

  Missy saw Declan brace himself and cursed under her breath. Her son had decided to act and there was nothing she could do now.

  Behind the unpleasant looking Nicaraguan woman stood a man with an assault rifle. He held it at his side, not pointing it but the threat was clear.

  When the woman made it a few feet into the room, Declan swung around the open door and bolted out and into the hallway, turning right to head toward the front door of the building.

  “Mida!” The guard shouted, “Parada, chico!”

  The guard spun and raised his rifle. Missy felt a tsunami of terror wash over her. Was he really going to shoot a ten-year-old boy? She couldn’t take the chance and launched herself toward the rifleman.

  The heavyset older woman reacted with admirable speed, however. She lurched sideways to block Missy’s path. It was like hitting a brick wall. The woman’s two hundred plus pounds was at least double Missy’s mass and she only managed to push the other woman back a step or two.

  “Let go of my mom!” Shelby shouted and she barreled into the older woman. Aubrey joined the fray and the four of them struggled for what seemed like an eternity.

  Missy almost puked when she heard the sound of gunfire. It took her rattled mind a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from inside the building but outside. And that it was accompanied by a tremendous explosion that shook the prefab steel building so hard she thought it might come apart at the seams.

  The shockwave knocked them all to the ground, including the rifleman.

  “Declan!” Missy screamed in desperation.

  There was no answer, but she thought she heard another door bang open. And when the guard outside shouted the Spanish word for stop and then cursed aloud, she was certain that her son had made it out of the building.

  From the sounds that were coming from out there, though, Missy wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  Chapter 13

  “You’re just going to drive up and across the border and look for a military camp?” Miles was asking incredulously as Clay and I loaded supplies from the shot up Jeep into the good one.

  “Sure,” I said casually as I placed two additional AR-15’s into the back seat. “Not really much on TV up here.”

  “That’s crazy!” Karen Alldroid put in. “Just drive up and hope you find the right place? Not much of a plan.”

  “When you’ve got a shot, you take it,” Clay said as he deposited some food and water into the cargo area, “especially if one shot is all you’ve got.”

  “Jesus…” Miles groaned, “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  “Bullshit,” I quipped.

  “The border guards will never let you cross,” Karen stated.

  Clay and I looked at each other and then at the two of them. Clay smirked, “Doctor… we’re not going through any official checkpoint.”

  “You’re going to sneak across?” Miles asked.

  “Well… duh,” I said. “I’d have thought that all these weapons and stuff would’ve been a clue. I very much doubt that these men came over via the national checkpoint at the Pan American Highway.”

  “We’ve done some research on this,” Clay stated. “Costa Rica and Nicaragua make a big show at the PMH border station… but the border between these two countries has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese. Dozens of back roads, waterways and hiking trails lead across. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  Miles seemed very distressed, “Jesus… it’s just…”

  “Miles,” Clay said, facing his friend, “we’ve got a pretty good idea of where to look. If nothing else, Scott and I can recon after dark and make sure we’ve got the right people. Hopefully we’ll be able to free Missy and the kids. What we’re not gonna do is sit around here with our fingers crossed and wait for something to happen. You don’t win a battle by reacting, you win through action. You should know that.”

  “Señor,” Umberto said as he once again pulled up to us in his electric dune buggy. “I have retrieved your bag from the Rover.”

  “Excellent,” I said, patting the security chief on the shoulder, “I appreciate that, Umberto.”

  “Can I be of some help?” He asked. “Would you like me to accompany you on your quest?”

  “Thanks, Umberto,” Clay said, “but we’re short on space and if we do find my family, we’ll need it.”

  Umberto looked into Clay’s eyes and then into mine. I suddenly got the feeling that there was something he wanted to say. He only nodded and set his jaw.

  “When are you leaving?” Miles asked.

  “Right now,” I said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “It’s nearly four in the afternoon. By the time we get up there, it’ll probably be dark.”

  “Please take this, senores,” Umberto said, handing Clay a satellite phone. “My number is already set in there.”

  “Yeah, keep in touch and let us know what’s happening,” Miles said.

  “And you let us know if anybody gets in touch with you,” I replied.

  “What makes you think that anyone will?” Karen asked. She seemed awfully protective of Palmer. Probably had a thing for him or they were already involved.

  “Because these pendejos brought a picture of my family,” Clay said heatedly. “That wasn’t a coincidence. They want something, either from me or Miles. Or both. And I suspect that when their raiding team doesn’t check in soon, the leaders will know something’s up.”

  “You’re going to get a message sooner rather than later,” I underscored, “so stay sharp. Okay, let’s get this goat fuck under way.”

  I started the Jeep and put it in four wheel. I then pointed the nose toward the edge of the box canyon and accelerated to about fifteen miles per hour. The vehicle took the steep slope well and we were soon racing across the floor of the canyon out toward the Lake Arenal Road in two wheel drive.

  “I wonder if he was pissed we didn’t ask him along,” Clay observed.

  “Miles? Maybe… but frankly, I don’t want him with us.”

  Clay looked at me askance, “You really don’t trust him, do you?”


  I sighed, “I just can’t say, brother. But no, I suppose I don’t. At least not entirely. Miles’ priorities are different than yours and mine. He’s got a lot of irons in the fire and other worries. And I’m not so sure I believe that yarn about how all of this is his ex-wife’s fault.”

  “You don’t think he’s behind this, do you?”

  “I’m not saying that… yet we’re only getting his story. It’s awfully convenient how he’s the innocent victim and his evil grasping wife is the big bad wolf. I dunno… just makes me wonder what her side is.”

  “is there something else?” Clay asked.

  I blew out my breath, “Okay… remember when we went after those four dudes back in February? And one of them turned out to be from Nicaragua?”

  He nodded, “Yeah… what was his name… Yamar…”

  “Yashim,” I said. “And in my office, just before Santino and Conklin and you left… Gregorio told me that this guy was a bio-chemist. He had a student visa to attend Webster University.”

  Clay frowned, “In St. Louis… and EcoLife is based in St. Louis… and Yashim is from Nicaragua…”

  “And we’re now facing some kind of rebel army based in Nicaragua,” I finished. “Call me paranoid… but all this circumstantial evidence is making my little voice not so little.”

  “So you think Miles—“

  “No,” I said. “Maybe it’s really a coincidence… but it’s hard for me to believe that, man. Again, I’m not accusing Miles of anything. It’s just that all this shit is too close for comfort. I’d prefer to keep things on the down low.”

  Clay sighed and adjusted his seat. He was quiet for half a minute before saying: “Frankly I don’t’ give a shit right now. I just want Missy and the kids back safe.”

  I reached out and gripped his shoulder, “Me too, buddy.”

  It took over an hour to get to the Arenal Volcano National Park and the camping area where Missy and the kids had been staying. Clay and I parked and walked along the camp sites talking to anybody who would speak to us. It didn’t take long before we found a man and his family who reported that yes, they’d seen several Jeeps pull in and go to the back of the campground. He thought a woman and a few kids were out there. The Hyundai Sonata that Missy had driven was still parked at her site.

  Then we followed the roads out of the Park. We avoided the Pan American Highway, sticking instead to a north-south running dirt road that looked to have a few recent tire ruts in it. The sun was barely visible above the craggy ridge of the western mountains when we drew close to the Nicaraguan border. I stopped the Jeep and shut down the engine.

  “What’s up?” Clay asked. “We’re getting close I think.”

  “Exactly,” I said, reaching into the back seat for my ditty bag. “I’d rather not cross the border in the light. Here, there are a few goodies in there we might need.”

  I wasn’t able to bring weapons with me on this trip, of course. However, certain useful devices were not a problem to get on a plane. Specifically, a pair of Armasight night vision monoculars from OPMOD. They were just about the best you could get on the civilian market and could even be mounted to the head.

  “Why these and not just NVG’s?” Clay asked, inspecting the optical devices and their straps.

  “Gives you options. Night vision enhanced by infrared light in one eye and normal vision in the other. This model also has a thermal imager, so that should prove quite useful, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Why do I feel like we’re in a book?”

  I grinned at him, “No idea… neither one of us is a marine biologist. Yet we are bound by circumstance… but I think I’ve got us covered…”

  “Oh, for God’s sake…” Clay groaned and then laughed.

  I beamed.

  “What else you got in here?” He asked.

  I shrugged, “Not much. A length of quarter inch Dacron line, duct tape, some extra strong zip ties.”

  “What are the odds that our foes have night vision, too?” Clay asked as we watched the sun sink below the mountains.

  I shrugged, “No clue. I hope not, but you never know. Thus far, though, they seem to be pretty basically equipped. Even these AR-15’s have been modified, but still nothing special.”

  We ate some smoked meat and beans and rice that the original users of the Jeep had brought. After this meal and after the onset of full dark, I started the Jeep and placed one of the monoculars on my head and over my left eye. Now I could see well in the dark and still maintain a fast speed.

  “Okay, I think we’ve now crossed into Nicaragua,” Clay said, scanning around with his own eyepiece. “No sign of anybody.”

  “That was… easy,” I noted. “From what I read up on before coming, crossing the border between these two countries the official way is pretty involved. Yet you go a few miles from the Pan American Highway and there are no barriers or anything.”

  Clay chuckled, “Now you see why drug runners and smugglers can still get across Costa Rica on a regular basis. It’s like that old saying… locks are only to keep the honest people out. Only the good guys cross the border the right way.”

  “Aren’t we the good guys?”

  “Depends on your point of view,” Clay grinned. “Since we’re operating covertly, going between the two countries should be a piece of cake.”

  That was good news. We’d come to an intersection, where the dirt road we’d been on met a larger and more wide-open gravel road that seemed to run more or less west to east. Ahead of us were a few fields and a definite mountain range, with a single tall peak directly ahead.

  “You think that’s God’s mountain?” Clay asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, God yeah.”

  “Shithead…”

  I laughed, “Which way do you think?”

  “Coin toss,” Clay replied softly. “I have no idea. What do you think?”

  I drummed my fingers on the wheel for a moment, “Well… to the right we’ll eventually run into the highway. Probably some kind of settlement that way… Maybe even border patrols and whatever… I say we go left. We’ll go a few miles and see what we can see.”

  “Okay, hang on.”

  Clay began to undo the rag top from the windshield. He pushed it back and stood up in his seat, sitting on the roll bar overhead. I nodded and put the Jeep in gear and began driving west at about ten miles per hour. The road wouldn’t allow for too much more and still let you keep your bladder from bursting. Also, I didn’t want to hit a pothole and bounce Clay over the side.

  We drove for about a half hour before he whistled. I drew to a stop and stood up in my bucket seat.

  “I think we’ve found our spot,” Clay said, pointing down the road.

  I adjusted the zoom on the monocular and looked to where he was pointing. Sure enough, through breaks in the trees, I could see what looked like a camp. There were several bright spots where what were probably bivouac fires blazed away. There seemed to be only one or two artificial lights, although not very bright. I could look at them through the eyepiece without being blinded, at least from that distance.

  “We need to take out those lights,” Clay said.

  “Yeah,” I commented, “these NV’s have a filter, but still… it’d be better if we put them into total darkness… those fires won’t be a help, though.”

  “Not a big problem. We can circle around to the other side. Let’s lock and load.”

  Clay and I each slung an AR over our shoulder and stuffed three additional magazines into our pockets. We also stuck a pistol in our back waist band and placed two additional 9mm magazines in our pockets as well. Along with that, we each took a handful of zip ties and a roll of duct tape. Since we weren’t really dressed for this, we used one of the zip ties to hang the duct tape from a hip belt loop. It was loose enough that we could tear off pieces when we needed them.

  “Coms on one,” I suggested. “We climb the odd freqs after each completed convo.” />
  Clay grinned, “Roger that. Let’s switch to numeric I.D.’s now, though. Won’t get confusing if we’re calling out ammo sitch.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “I’m one.”

  Clay squeezed my butt, “Always knew it.”

  “Douche.”

  He chuckled and we began trotting down the gravel road. We’d pulled the Jeep off into the scrub between some large trees and it’d be hard to spot in the dark. Now we’d close the distance to within a few hundred yards and find a good spot to hunker down and recon.

  “Remember the basic fire fight rules?” Clay asked as we drew close and slowed to a walk.

  I grinned, “Fire at an angle, never fire from the same place twice, count your rounds, use cover when you move and never move without covering fire… if that’s an option… See? You Army guys aren’t the only ones who know stuff.”

  “Oh, I got your Army guy right here,” he said. “Okay, Marine… let’s use that brush to come up parallel to the camp from the other side of the road. We’ll go in together and find a good spot to scope the sitch. Then we’ll make a plan.”

  “Aye, aye, Corporal D,” I said, “hey… I thought I was the skipper?”

  He scoffed, “After that crazy shit you pulled back at the greenhouse? Forget it. You’re a loose cannon, Jarvis. You’re lucky if I let you be Gilligan at this point.”

  “You’re the one that stood up in plain sight with no weapon and told the bad guys to suck your dick!”

  “You can use facts to prove anything.”

  We made our way into the scrub and slowly moved west. It was slow going, as we were now going for stealth. The eyepieces we wore helped us to avoid most obstacles and anything that would make noise. We found a good spot directly across from what might pass for a parade ground and lay on our bellies.

  “Two sets of tents on either side of that open ground,” Clay whispered. “A big prefab looking deal back there…”

  “Looks like a half-assed motor pool off to the right,” I stated. “Several vehicles… is that a Deuce and a Half?”

  “Yeah, an old one.”

  “And maybe a towable fuel tanker behind it.”