He cocked his head as he heard the engine of an oncoming car in the distance. It was hard to tell where it was originating from, but it stopped nearby. He listened for a few more seconds, and was rewarded by the faint noise of what was probably a car door closing. Reinforcements, no doubt, he thought. They were facing at least four, and possibly as many as eight armed men now. Bolan had a couple of tricks up his sleeve, but the odds were definitely against him unless he could catch the enemy completely by surprise for at least a few seconds.
His gaze went to the roof of the house as an idea came to him. Over, under, around or through… It would be the last thing they would expect, and would give him a valuable vantage point. Plus, if the hitters were shooting at the roof instead of the house itself, it lessened the chances of Kelly or Everado getting hit by a stray bullet.
A black, cast-iron railing ran along one side of the concrete steps leading to the ground. Testing it, Bolan thought it would hold his weight long enough to reach the roof. Holstering his pistol, he climbed up, balancing on the railing and steadying himself with a hand on the wall. Gauging the distance, he jumped up and grabbed the corner, his fingers scraping on the shingles. Gritting his teeth, Bolan pulled himself up, supporting all of his weight on his arms. Although he was in top physical condition, it had also been a long day. Muscles creaking, he raised himself up far enough to throw a leg over and roll onto the rooftop.
Breathing slowly, he paused to see if his ascent had been noticed. Hearing nothing, he crawled to the peak of the gently sloping roof and looked down at the driveway, turning on the thermal aspect of his goggles as he did so to receive a combination of heat and night vision—the best of both worlds. He could now see over the small hill to the road, and spotted the two Escalades pulled off to one side, their cooling red-orange engines a pair of bright beacons in the night. Bolan also saw a cluster of heat signatures on the driveway approaching the house. There were six of them again, and as he watched, three split off to circle around the back, and the other three headed toward the front door. It’s what I would do in their situation, he mused.
The moment the trio reached the top of the hill, they stopped for a whispered conference, then split up, one going left, one going right and the third going up the middle. Pros—they’ve been trained, probably in the Mexican military, he thought. Their coordination as they moved meant they had lines of communication, and the ease with which they navigated meant they were also wearing night vision, but apparently they still hadn’t spotted him.
Bolan removed his last pair of flash-bang grenades from his side pocket, holding one in each hand. Dividing his attention between both approaching parties while trying to remain out of sight wasn’t easy, but so far he was doing all right—after all, no bullets were flying yet. Both groups were less than ten yards away when he pulled the pins on the grenades. When they were within five yards of both doors, he tossed one bomb down in front and one in back, then lay down, closed his eyes and covered his ears.
The flash-bangs went off three seconds later, the brilliant pulses of light illuminating the night, accompanied by the loud reports that would deafen anyone within a ten-yard radius. The noise and light show died away, replaced by shouts and curses. Bolan rose to his feet and hit the back door party first—he didn’t want Kelly stumbling out into them. Coming down enough to see over the edge, he spotted the three men stumbling away from the door, having ripped off their night vision, and two clapping their hands to their bleeding ears. Sighting carefully, Bolan’s Beretta chugged softly six times. He took out one, but the other two men didn’t fall. Instead they turned and started spraying fire wildly at the roof. Fortunately, Bolan was already climbing down and landed in the dirt next to the concrete steps, tucking and rolling forward. As the still-befuddled gunmen tried to sight on him, he took each one out with a head shot.
A shotgun’s boom shattered the night, followed by several pistol shots from the front. Bolan leaped up the steps and into the back, pushing open the door while whistling as he hit the floor.
The shotgun roared again as he came in, but no pellets slammed into the faux wood above his head. Instead, someone out front began screaming at the top of his lungs. At the other end of the living room, Bolan saw the front door fly open and immediately triggered three shots at the person coming through, making them stumble backward. Bolan scooted over to Kelly, who was crouched behind the cheap countertop. “You okay?”
“Yeah—what the hell’s with these guys? I gave them a full load and it didn’t stop ’em!”
“They’re wearing bullet-resistant vests. Come on, we’re going out the back.”
“What about Everado?”
“I’ll get him.” Bolan listened for a moment, but didn’t hear any noise coming from the other bedroom. “Assuming he’s still alive. Give me that.”
Kelly handed over the shotgun, and Bolan emptied the magazine at the front door, then gave it back to her. “Keep this with you. Get near the back door and wait thirty seconds. If I’m not there, get out and get to the Caddy. Go!”
She ran for the back door, while Bolan headed through the living room, Beretta in hand. He ran past the front door, which was now perforated by buckshot and bullets, and hit the bedroom to see Everado half out of the closet, overturned on the ground, trying to inch his way toward the door.
“You aren’t going anywhere just yet.” The only window in the bedroom was toward the ceiling. Bolan drew his double-edged dagger and cut the young man’s feet loose.
“Hey, how am I supposed to run like this?” he asked while Bolan smashed out the window with the butt of his pistol. Turning back, he cut the kid’s hands loose as well.
“Jump. Try to run when you hit the ground, and I’ll break both your arms.”
Massaging his hands and wrists, Everado clambered out the window and half jumped, half fell to the ground. Bolan was right behind him, rising just as he started to make a break for the field. The sound of a shotgun slide racking stopped him in his tracks.
Kelly popped up from behind a huge natural gas tank. “I assume he’s coming with us?”
“Do you think I would have risked my life to save his if he wasn’t? Let’s go, tough guy.” Bolan prodded Everado ahead of him as the three trotted to the far corner of the house. Behind them, they heard movement and more gunfire coming from the front as the remaining men stormed inside. Kelly rounded the corner, with Bolan coming up behind her. He hauled her back just as she was about to take off. “Hold up!”
“What? We gotta get out of here, right?”
“When I say.”
Keeping one hand on Everado’s shirt collar, Bolan edged close to the corner and peeked out. “You, keep your mouth shut. One peep and you’ll be missing teeth.”
Seeing no one there, Bolan motioned Kelly forward. “Run to the garage as fast as you can.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Kelly took off like she was in the Olympics. No gunfire followed her progress, and she was able to open the door and slip inside.
“Okay, now you and me.” Bolan shoved the kid ahead of him, keeping him moving forward while he watched the house, pistol ready in case the others showed themselves. Sure enough, he saw movement at the kitchen window, and fired four shots through the glass, causing shouts from inside. Scattered gunfire came from the door and window, but the bullets came nowhere near them. Bolan and Everado reached the garage door and got inside, closing the door just as headlights lit up the driveway and yard from an approaching vehicle.
“Time to go.” Bolan shoved Everado into the SUV, where Kelly kept an eye on him. He inserted the key and turned it, but nothing happened. He tried again, with the same result.
“Watch him.” Hitting the hood release, Bolan got out, noticing the dome light wasn’t going on, and went to the front of the Escalade. Opening it, the hood light revealed a mass of cut wires. “Damn.”
He walked back to Kelly and Everado. “We’re not driving out in this thing, that’s for sure.”
Jus
t then they heard an amplified voice. “Matt Cooper, this is the sheriff’s department. We have you surrounded! You have thirty seconds to lay down your weapons and come out with your hands up, or we’re coming in after you!”
12
When he heard the deputy’s voice outside, Everado’s expression turned from fear to confidence. “You hear that, pendejo? Better do what he says. Maybe my father will only kill you quickly instead of torturing you.”
Bolan put the muzzle of his Beretta on Everado’s forehead. “If it’s hopeless, then why should I keep you alive any longer?”
“Hey, Cooper, now don’t do anything you’ll regret—”
“Take your own advice and shut the hell up. Those guys outside won’t do a thing while I’ve got you.” Bolan turned to Kelly, who had been rummaging in the backseat, coming up with the box of shells for the shotgun. She started pushing shells into the chamber as Everado stared in disbelief.
“It wasn’t loaded? Son of a bitch—”
“Keep him quiet.” Bolan grabbed another zip-tie from the glove compartment. “In fact, put your hands out.” After securing the thug’s wrists, Bolan flipped on his night vision and looked around the small utility shed. It was barely wide enough to open the doors of the SUV, and there wasn’t much in there to use. Old, rusty tools lay on shelves mounted on the walls, and what looked like a gas can and a bunch of greasy rags were piled in the corner. He walked closer to the door. “Quintanar. You listening?”
“Yeah, Cooper. Why don’t you surrender so we can help each other out?”
“I don’t think I’d like the kind of help you have in mind. I still have Everado De Cavallos in here, and don’t think I won’t put a bullet in his head if I have to.”
“Threatening him won’t get you out of this.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll make sure none of your hired guns try anything stupid. Remember that the next time you try to give me an arbitrary deadline.”
“There’s no way out, Cooper. Give yourself up, turn Everado over to us and I’ll do what I can for you.”
“What would that be, a bullet in the back of the head instead of a tire filled with gas around my neck? No thanks, I’ll take my chances.”
Quintanar kept talking, but Bolan wasn’t listening. Grabbing the gas can and rags, he walked back to the small window in the garage and peered out. As he’d suspected, there was no one outside—yet. “We’re getting out of here. Keep an eye on him.”
Dropping to the ground, he located the Escalade’s gas tank and punctured it with his dagger, working the blade around to ensure the liquid flowed out steadily. He was also careful not to get any on himself. Scooting back out, he opened the lid to the tank, took out the cap and used a long screwdriver to force open the spring-loaded safety valve inside, stuffing another rag deep into the tube. The smell of gas filled the room as Bolan knelt and began shoving another rag into the gas can.
“Kelly, break out that window as quietly as you can. Everado, don’t move a muscle.” Bolan bunched the rest of the rags around the can as a makeshift fuse, tying one to the rag sticking out of the nozzle, then lit one of the rags on the floor using a fire starter and his dagger. The cloth smoldered and then flickered into flame, giving off the smoke he was hoping for.
“Dude, what the fuck! You’re gonna kill us all!” Everado said from the corner.
“Not yet, genius. The gas fumes haven’t filled the space yet, but they will in about thirty seconds.” By then thick gray smoke had obscured the entire front of the garage. Deputy Quintanar was saying something outside, but no one was paying attention.
Bolan lit the rag in the gas tank and jogged to the back of the garage, scanning the field outside for gunmen. “Okay, we’re leaving. I’m first, Everado second, Kelly’s last.” With one last look at the empty field, Bolan grabbed the top of the window and swung his legs through the hole, then squeezed his shoulders through and wriggled out, landing on the ground with his Beretta ready.
He heard a loud whump as the can near the door exploded, just as Everado got his upper body out of the window. “Hurry up!” Bolan grabbed him with his free hand and hauled him out, dumping him to the ground.
“Hey!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t drop you on your head.” Bolan grabbed the shotgun from Kelly and helped her out. “Run like hell.” He grabbed Everado and kept hold of him as they ran into the field. “Cut right after a hundred yards.”
They hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps when the Escalade exploded. Bolan heard a loud crash almost right after, and figured the front door had been blown off. A huge cloud of black smoke rose from the garage, which now had flames licking out from under its roof. Bolan heard frantic shouts from the other side of the building.
“Run faster, we’re visible now. Follow me.” Bolan led Kelly and Everado out another fifty yards, then circled back around the house to where the bodies of the three gunmen lay. “Kelly, search them for keys.”
Grimacing, she did what he asked, finding a set on the second one. “How’re we gonna reach their cars?”
“I’ll handle that. You take Everado and cut west across those fields. Stop at the first road you come across and find a place to hide. I’ll meet you on it.” Bolan stared at Everado hard. “You listen to me very carefully. Any order she gives you, you do it immediately, because if you don’t, I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
The young man nodded, his Adam’s apple spasming as he gulped with fear. Bolan pointed toward the road. “If I’m not there in ten minutes, or you see another vehicle approaching, take off. Get moving.” Without waiting for a reply, the Executioner headed for the other corner of the house.
Flipping up his night vision, Bolan peeked out at the men running around in front of the garage, by then engulfed in flames. Quintanar was directing them to find water to put it out. Other men were busy stomping on embers that were floating into the nearby fields. Bolan grinned. He hadn’t counted on that kind of distraction, but he’d take what he could get. Everyone’s attention was still focused on the fire, making it easy for him to slip into the darkness.
As he’d hoped, there were no guards posted around the vehicles on the road. After matching the keys to the right vehicle, Bolan took a moment to flatten two tires on the other Escalade, then got into his new ride and drove off without headlights. At the first intersection he turned left and drove slowly down the road until he spotted two figures crouching in the ditch on the side of the road. He found Kelly guarding a sulking Everado, who was now sporting a black-and-blue mouse under his right eye.
“What happened?”
“He got stupid and tried to grab the shotgun. Got the butt in his face for his trouble.”
“That true?” Bolan asked Everado. “Just for that, you get your feet tied as well. Get in.”
With Everado in the backseat, Bolan took off the young man’s cowboy boots and zip-tied his ankles together. “Ow, man that fuckin’ hurts!”
“It’s supposed to.” Bolan cut the tie around his wrists.
“Thanks.” Everado’s smile faded when he saw Kelly hand Bolan another one.
“Hands behind your back.”
“Aw, look man, I ain’t gonna try anythin’—”
“Hands behind your back, or so help me I’ll dislocate your shoulders and put them back there myself.”
The young man put his hands in position, and Bolan promptly secured them. He got back into the driver’s seat and headed the vehicle down the road.
Kelly watched him from the passenger’s seat. “What next?”
“We’ve been lucky so far, but that can’t last. Sooner or later De Cavallos is going to realize he has a lot more hostages than I do, and he’s going to use them. I need to get you and him somewhere safe, and I also need to talk to someone in charge in town—someone who won’t believe the lies that are being spread about me, and who I can trust to do the right thing. Do you know anyone like that?”
“Yup.”
“
Who, the mayor, or someone on the city council?”
Kelly shook her head. “Nope. Just follow my directions, and I’ll take you right to him.”
ROJAS QUINTANAR HAD seen many American and Mexican comedy shows where an inept, bumbling police officer, thwarted by whatever ridiculous plan the heroic vigilantes or outlaws pulled off, would take his hat off and throw it on the ground in anger and disgust. He’d always laughed at the old joke, no matter how many times he’d seen it.
At this moment, however, he knew exactly how all of those officers felt.
He’d arrived in the middle of the firefight, despite radioing ahead the moment he’d been notified and telling the men to stay put until he’d arrived. Once the standoff was going on, he didn’t have enough men to actually surround the garage, and had been trying to keep them in there until reinforcements arrived.
Then the building had caught fire, followed shortly afterward by the SUV inside exploding. They’d prevented the flames from spreading to the nearby fields, but it had been a close call, with large burned patches of grass around the ruined building and charred remains of the vehicle. When Quintanar had the place hosed down enough to get inside, he found no bodies, which he’d already expected. Immediately he swept and cleared the house, knowing he’d find it empty, too. When he did a head count of the men, he found three were missing and discovered their bodies behind the house. That was in addition to the two wounded men from the first team that had found Cooper’s hideout. Finally, adding insult to serious injury, he’d sent the lone uninjured man back to bring an Escalade up to transport the wounded, only to find out that one of the SUVs on the road had been stolen and the other disabled.
It was enough to make a man weep. Instead, Quintanar called De Cavallos to fill him in on what had happened. His boss had not been pleased.
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