“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he admitted.
“You just hang on to Jesse. She’ll stay right with me and Nifty. These girls know the mountains here as well as old Geronimo did. We’ll get out of this okay.”
Bolan pulled himself into the saddle and turned to follow Tony, who was already marching Nifty up a steep climb. The horses moved carefully as the shale rock gave way under their hooves. They broke through the small stand of trees that was their cover and picked up the pace, trying to get to the next group of trees before they were spotted. The helicopter came soaring over the ridgeline.
“Move!” Bolan shouted.
The sniper from the helicopter rained bullets in their general direction. The horses dug their hooves into the rock and continued up the climb. Bolan clung to the saddle and ducked low, trying to stay clear of the shots.
The helicopter swung around and turned for another pass just as they made the small grove of trees and paused to let the horses breathe. There was far more open country out here than there were good places to hide, and their options were dwindling.
“We’re not moving fast enough,” Bolan said. “I think we need a distraction.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Do you have any explosives?”
“No, but I know where we can get some. If you can slow the chopper down, I think I can plan a little surprise.”
“I can get their attention for a bit,” the Executioner said. “Just wait for the shooting to start.”
Tony nodded, and Bolan turned in the opposite direction, climbing down from Jesse and tying her loosely to a branch. He moved into the open, and the men spotted him. The chopper swept in low to give the sniper a clear shot. Bolan worked quickly along the tree line, keeping the helicopter in sight, then slipped behind a wide trunk for cover. The sniper took a couple of shots, but luckily the angle was bad.
Taking advantage, Bolan stepped back out and opened up with the carbine. He put several rounds into the main cabin of the craft, and it veered up and away. That should have bought Tony some time, he thought, and he cut back through the trees and gathered his mount. The helicopter hadn’t left, but it had pulled out to quite a distance, circling and waiting for him to be visible once more.
Bolan walked Jesse to the far side of the grove, then saddled up and headed after the old man. He crossed the top of the first ridge and looked to the valley below. He could see the dirt clouds from vehicles following along the other side of the hill, searching for an opening to break through.
Bolan kicked Jesse into a full gallop, holding the saddle horn with one hand and the reins with the other, doing his best to stay on and stay low. He’d once heard an old horseman say that when someone was in that position on horse, he was praying, not riding. For the moment, this would have to do. Bolan spotted the glint of Tony’s scope and angled Jesse in that direction. The sound of the chopper closing in echoed along the steep red rocks of the canyon.
“Ride hard!” Tony yelled.
Bolan urged Jesse even faster, and then he saw Tony stand up from behind a boulder and raise his rifle in his direction. He ducked as the round whizzed past his head and into the rocks behind him. The explosion blasted the hillside, tossing sharp shards of rock into the air.
The debris rained over Bolan and his mount, and as he heard the sound of the explosion and felt the sting of the rocks hitting him, the horse found even more speed and was running as though all the demons of hell were on her heels. Bolan clung to the saddle with all his strength, and as they reached Tony, he pulled the horse up short, nearly coming out of the saddle as she rocked back on her haunches.
Jesse spun in tight circles, and Bolan saw that the chopper had broken off its pursuit for the moment and was flying back to the south. “What the hell was that?” he asked, looking down at the grinning old man.
Tony chuckled and put his rifle back in the saddle scabbard. “Dynamite,” he said. “Very old dynamite. All these mountain ranges and hills are covered in old silver mines that either played out or didn’t play at all. Once in a while, you can find an old crate of dynamite that was left behind. I make it a point to know where they are.”
“How many sticks did you put up there? I thought that whole mountain was going to come down on top of us.”
“One,” Tony said, climbing into the saddle. “I figured that would be enough.”
“Just one, huh?” Bolan asked. “I guess it was plenty. Did you take some for the road?”
Tony shook his head. “No, it’s too unstable. Those old sticks sweat nitroglycerin like a horse that’s been ridden by a renegade Apache on the run. One bad bump and they’d be finding pieces of us for the next month.”
Bolan nodded. “True enough. Still, I’d be happy to have some more options when it comes to weapons. Rifles and handguns aren’t much against a chopper with a sniper on board.”
“Agreed, but we’ll just have to make do. I did plant a small surprise on the top ridge last night, right where those vehicles might try and come across. We’ll see if it works.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it could go off early and do nothing more than block the road for a bit, or it could go off when they spring the trap.”
“Why would it go off early?”
Tony nodded at the sky. “The heat alone might be enough to make them blow. Like I said, those old sticks are damn unstable. That’s the problem with the stuff—you’re taking your life in your hands just touching it. Any number of people have been blown to kingdom come thinking they’ve found a really cool firework while they’re out hiking in the mountains. They’ll stick it in a backpack, and before they get all the way down the mountain, the dynamite has begun to sweat. The next little jump or bump, and there’s not enough for dental records.”
“How much farther until we hit the U.S. border?” Bolan scanned the sky once more, but the chopper was no longer in sight. Maybe some of the debris from the blast had damaged the craft.
“At the rate we’re going, we’ll make it sometime after nightfall,” Tony said.
“Then we’d better get moving,” he replied. “The sooner we’re back on U.S. soil, the sooner I can take some action against Sureno that’s fairly permanent.”
Tony chuckled and put his heels to his horse, and Bolan followed closely behind.
The old man knew every hidden pass, rocky crevice and back way out of a box canyon—just as Rivers had said. As they rode, they occasionally heard the sound of the chopper, but it never came close to their position. It amazed Bolan that Sureno hadn’t given up the hunt. He was persistent; that much was certain.
The sun had just dropped below the horizon when Tony reined in at the top of a long path leading down and out of the small mountain range. Below, Bolan could see the faint outlines of a valley floor.
“We’re almost home,” Tony said. “There’s a little creek about halfway across that valley that’s used to mark the border. Cross that, and we’re back on U.S. soil and, at the least, a bit closer to safety.”
“That’s good,” Bolan said, cocking his head to listen, then nodding when the sound echoed more clearly off the rocks around them. “Because here they come again.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Tony said, spurring his horse forward.
The helicopter came into view, overflying the ridgeline then running close to the ground. Both men tucked low over their saddles and galloped full speed down the mountain and across the valley, which had once been a lake bed. Now, it was little more than patches of scrub and alkali flats. Dust rose around them in choking clouds and the faint taste of salt filled Bolan’s mouth.
The helicopter was gaining on them, but they were closing rapidly on the creek. A blue flare lit the sky ahead and Bolan began to veer away from the light, but Tony rode straight for it. “I hope you know
what you’re doing!” Bolan shouted, staying the course.
“Me, too!” the old man yelled in return.
Behind them, the chopper’s bright spotlight began panning back and forth, trying to pinpoint the riders. In another sixty seconds, they’d be visible, and there was simply nowhere to hide out here. Bolan was considering pulling to a stop and trying to take out the spotlight when another flare lit the sky. Gunfire erupted beneath it.
To Bolan’s surprise and relief, whoever was shooting was aiming for the helicopter and not them. He heard the sharp ping of a round connecting with the chopper’s metal frame, then red emergency vehicle lights blazed into life. Tony and Bolan crashed through scrub brush and across the creek, which was more dirt than water. Looking over his shoulder, Bolan watched the chopper veering away to the south once more.
They reined in as they entered the area lit up by the emergency flashers. As the dust settled, Bolan realized they belonged to a lone, old fire truck. Eleanor strutted out from behind it, a rifle slung over her shoulder. The older woman looked supremely confident and proud as she laid eyes on her husband and nodded to Bolan.
Tony climbed out of the saddle and swept his wife into his arms. Bolan glanced away, trying to give them a private moment. “You boys gave me a fright,” Eleanor said when the embrace ended. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to start traipsing across the Mexican desert to look for you.”
Bolan dismounted. “I’m afraid it was my fault. Your husband had to put me back together after he found me, and it took a little doing. Plus, we ended up with extra company.”
“I saw that,” she said. “I’d say you were lucky that Tony found you, and both of you were lucky to get back alive.”
“I’ll take luck any time I can get it,” Tony said. “Did you bring the trailer?”
She nodded. “Let’s load up your horses and get home. A hot meal, a shower and some sleep will have both of you feeling better by sunrise.”
“How did you know where we’d be?” Bolan asked, his curiosity piqued. “It’s a big desert.”
“Tracker,” Tony said. “She made me start carrying one on these treks years ago. Told me it was to keep me safe, but I think it was just to make sure I wasn’t spending time with any of the local señoritas south of the border. They can be downright friendly to a man who’s open to that sort of thing.”
“He’s silly,” Eleanor said, taking his arm in hers as he led his horse with the other.
Bolan helped them load up the horses, taking quiet stock of his injuries and what had happened since he’d come down here. He’d failed to be as serious about the situation as he should have been, and he’d failed to keep an ally safe. So far, he’d done nothing to stop the flow of weapons going into Sureno’s enterprise. But he was alive, and he had strong, intelligent people on his side.
And as they drove through the darkness toward Tony’s little ranch, he realized something else. When he’d arrived in Arizona, this had been just another mission.
Now, it was personal.
Chapter 11
Rene Sureno despised failure almost as much as he despised being made a fool. The men standing in the courtyard were not quite guilty of the latter crime, but that was only because they had tried to rectify their mistakes. Losing the American was an idiotic fuckup, and someone must take the blame and the punishment for it. The three men he had decided were most responsible—the man who should’ve stopped Cooper in the house, the man who should’ve locked the gate, and the man flying the helicopter—now hung by their ankles in the courtyard.
They had been flogged senseless, and blood and sweat dripped from their frames. For the moment, they were unconscious. At least that had stopped the screaming. If they lived through the day, Sureno would allow them to be cut down and their injuries treated, but until then they would serve as a graphic reminder of failure to perform to his standards.
He gestured at the three forms, then turned his attention back to his assembled men. “This is what happens to incompetent fools. Tomorrow, you will do better, or I will make certain that you receive the same treatment. Is that understood?”
“Sí!” The shout echoed in the courtyard, though every eye was cast downward in respect or fear. For Sureno’s current purposes, either one would suffice.
He nodded at Jesus, who dismissed the men, then gave his orders regarding the fate of the other three.
Throughout the event, Isabel had stood in silence next to him, her eyes looking everywhere but at the spectacle of the beatings. When they were finally alone, she turned to him. “Blaming them doesn’t solve anything,” she said. “The American is gone. I don’t know why you hold them responsible.”
“Who else was I to blame, Isabel? Those three men failed me, allowing Cooper to get away from the compound, and even in the desert, he found assistance. Is there someone else at fault?”
She shook her head and lowered her gaze to the ground. Sureno grabbed her under the chin.
“Did you have something to do with this, Isabel?” His eyes bored into hers, trying to force any necessary confession. He knew she was weak.
“No! No, Rene! I would never betray you,” she said. Her voice was shaking.
Sureno continued to stare at her, then released her chin. “Never forget that you are mine, Isabel. If you were to break my trust, your fate would be far worse than those men. You would beg to die, and I would see to it that you lived.”
“I will always be loyal to you, Rene. I only meant that...”
“What?”
“That beating them changes nothing. The American is still gone.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s true. But beating them wasn’t about changing anything, my soft-hearted one. It was about instilling the discipline necessary for our plans to succeed.” He pulled her to his side and kissed the top of her head, as if he were forgiving a child.
“I’m sure you are right,” she said from inside the circle of his arms.
“Of course I am.” He turned her around and walked with her toward the main house. “You go and rest now. I will come and see you later.”
Isabel kissed his cheek, then moved down the hallway, and he went into his office to make the call he’d been putting off for several hours in the hopes they’d get lucky and find Cooper. But luck and time had run out. Sureno sat at his desk and dialed the number that would connect him to Kingston’s boss. It rang twice before Mr. Bricker picked up.
“This is a surprise, Rene. You broke him faster than I expected. I guess they don’t make operatives like they used to.”
Rene sighed. “I did not break him. He escaped.”
The silence on the other end of the phone stretched out for what seemed a very long time before the other man spoke again. “How...how could he possibly have escaped? You live in a fucking fortress in the desert. Find him, Rene!”
“We tried, Bricker, but he had help on the outside. He was not as alone as you made him out to be, and he reached the border. He’s your problem now. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to come back here.”
“There wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just done your job, Rene. I handed him to you on a silver platter wrapped in a bow, and you couldn’t manage to hang on to him.”
Irritated, Rene said, “He was your man’s problem to begin with, Bricker, so I suggest you deal with him. I can always find another supplier.”
Another moment passed in silence. “I don’t like being threatened, Rene. And I’m the only supplier you’ll work with, or I’ll put you out of business myself. Got me?”
Rene held his tongue, and Bricker went on. “I’m going to take care of this little problem for you, and then you and I are going to have to revisit our arrangement.”
“Fine,” Rene said. “I’ll look forward to it.” He slammed the phone down in the cradle and looked up to see
Jesus watching him from the doorway.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Rene said. “In my experience, if there’s a buyer like me, one can always find a seller. When this matter with the American is concluded, we will have to take care of Bricker and find someone less...”
“Of an ass?” he suggested.
“That suffices,” Rene said. “Start thinking about how to arrange it.”
Jesus nodded. “Consider it done.”
* * *
THE LINE WENT dead and Bricker hung up the phone. The fucking idiot on the other side of the border was making life far too interesting, and he’d had enough of him to last a lifetime. He picked up the phone again and dialed a number from memory.
“Kingston,” a voice answered on the first ring.
“Brett,” he said. “We may have to move on Sureno sooner than expected. I’m going to put the team on alert. When we move, it will have to be fast.”
“Are you sure that’s necessary? I mean, who will we—”
“Let me worry about finding a new buyer, Kingston. This is the border and there’s always another cartel in Mexico looking for the kind of items we provide. You just do your part and keep things moving.”
“All right, Mr. Bricker. Do you need me to do anything else?”
“Yes,” he said. “I want you to start looking for more information on this man, Matt Cooper or Colonel Brandon Stone or whoever the hell he is. He’s not just some snoop for DHS. If you find out anything, get it to me immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Kingston said. “I can start digging on both names right away.”
“Good. That idiot Sureno lost him, and he’s back on home turf. We’re going to need to find him and take him out of play too.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Kingston said. “He’ll come back to Sierra Vista or run for the hills. Either way, we’ll find him.”
“Get on it, then,” Bricker said, ending the call. He leaned back in his chair. If everything went right, he’d be done with two problems in short order, and he’d be a wealthier man because of it. All in a day’s work for a man who’d learned that the best way to serve Uncle Sam was to serve himself first.
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