by Cindy Dees
Ted grinned, belying the menace of his response. “I do.”
“How’s that?”
Ted ignored the question and instead examined his fingernails one by one. No way was he showing his hand to some flunky.
A growl rumbled in the man’s chest before he turned and stormed over to the elevator and punched a button angrily. The elevator came and left.
Ted looked at his watch. Thirty-seven seconds until the elevator door opened again and another man stepped out. He tsked at the next man up the ladder of command. “I’d watch that guy’s temper if I were you. His self-control is dismal.”
This guy pursed his lips in apparent amusement, but his eyes were cold and hard. “What brings you to this place at such a late hour, Mr. Cantori?”
Ted waved a casual hand. “My line of work has no regular hours. Business before sleep, I say.”
The other man didn’t seem impressed. “Who is this Eduardo Lentano you say you wish to speak with?”
Ted stood and took a step toward the front door, indicating his intention to leave. He pitched his voice in tones so gentle that Lentano’s man would cringe in fear if he knew what was good for him. “Don’t jack me around, amigo. You think a man like me doesn’t do my homework? I’m not some amateur you can lead around by the nose. I was willing to play along for a little while, but I’ve run out of patience.”
Lentano’s lieutenant snorted. “From where I stand, you’re worse than an amateur. What arms dealer collects nuns and children and hauls them around with him? They slow you down. Make you vulnerable. They make you soft.”
Ted’s heart skipped a beat. These guys knew about Elise and the kids? How badly had he underestimated this bunch? And how much danger were Elise and the children in? An urge to turn around and run back to them nearly overwhelmed him. Shocked, he stilled the urge. How badly had his brood of misfits gotten under his skin, anyway? Indeed, he was every bit as vulnerable as the man before him said. But at all costs, he couldn’t let on to it.
Ted laughed in what he hoped was a convincing manner. “Then they worked, the women and children. If you think I’m not dangerous or effective, then so does the Colombian Army. Haven’t you ever heard of establishing a cover, my friend?”
The man stared skeptically. “A nun? An old lady? Little children?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Would the rebels believe his lie that she and the kids had been merely a cover? It was a flimsy story at best. And her life, Grandma’s and the children’s, might very well depend on it. She shifted slightly in an effort to see the rebel’s face, her thighs screaming in protest at her awkward position under a table inside the dark, empty restaurant. All she saw were men coming into the lobby carrying guns of all shapes and sizes.
She ought to turn around and leave this very second. She’d head back to the hotel, collect Grandma and the kids, steal his Jeep and leave this place. But there were enough men out there now that she was terrified someone would spot the kitchen door opening if she tried to slip out.
She couldn’t believe Drago had dragged them into something this dangerous. Her heart screamed in betrayal that he would risk their lives like this, but her mind dropped firmly into denial. Surely, he wouldn’t intentionally endanger her. She’d been there when they made love, had looked into his eyes. Nobody was that good a liar, were they? Although, Lord knew, he’d lied to her constantly pretty much from day one. Heck, she was sure she didn’t even know his real name.
The man in the lobby was talking to Drago again. “…need you to have a seat.”
She frowned. What was up with that silky tone of voice? That sounded almost like a threat.
Drago took his time perching on the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in before. Not quite outright defiance, but enough to let Lentano’s man know he wasn’t cowed.
“You will have to wait for the others to join us. It is very late.”
“Or very early,” Drago replied. “It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”
He pulled out his cell phone and casually typed out a text message, almost as if defying the Army of Freedom man to stop him. Elise wondered who Drago was contacting and what he was saying. Maybe he was finally calling in some backup. She hoped that was what he was doing. He was alone—well, almost alone. She wasn’t exactly the cavalry—and he was firmly in enemy territory. Worse, the enemy seemed none too pleased to have him there.
If nothing else, sending a text message like that had to make the Army of Freedom people at least wonder if he did have armed support nearby. Yet again, she was impressed by Drago’s ability to handle himself in a tight situation. Very carefully, she eased into a more comfortable position to wait out the delay while Lentano and company woke up, got up, got dressed and came down to talk to Drago.
While she waited, she inched the tablecloth down and to the right to better cover her from the view of anyone in the lobby, or from the kitchen. Anyone passing through here casually shouldn’t spot her.
Perhaps another ten minutes passed in silence, Drago texting sporadically with someone, and Lentano’s man scowling ever more darkly as the text conversation continued.
Finally, the lieutenant couldn’t stand it any longer and blurted, “Who are you communicating with?”
Drago answered lightly, “One of my big clients.”
Elise grinned. The implication was clear: the Army of Freedom was small potatoes in his world. Perhaps the lieutenant would have made a snarky remark in return, but just then the elevator door opened and a dozen men streamed into the lobby. Her breath caught. They were big, mean-looking and armed to the last man if the bulges under their jackets were any indication.
Drago studied the group for a moment and then unerringly stepped toward one of the men standing inconspicuously to one side. “Eduardo Lentano. Finally, we meet.”
The man frowned. “How did you know which one I was?”
“My business requires me to read people.” He added gently, “I’m very good at my job.”
“Good? You have no references. You have no reputation. You come into my territory and claim to be some big badass weapons broker. Why should I do business with you?”
Drago’s stance was relaxed…almost too relaxed. He looked ready to erupt into violence at the first provocation. “If you can find nothing on me, that means I’m very, very good at my job. Did you seriously expect me to blow into Colombia and show a high profile to the government? To make a target of myself in order to impress the likes of you? That’s not how real arms dealers do business, Mr. Lentano.”
The insurgent leader looked stung. Furious, even.
“Was your man Raoul speaking truthfully when he expressed an interest in purchasing surface-to-air missiles?”
Lentano’s eyes lit with unholy greed and Elise’s jaw dropped. Drago was going to sell this maniac missiles?
Drago continued. “Let me guess where you want them delivered. New York City. Washington, D.C. Los Angeles, maybe? And you need them big enough to take out an airliner, yes?”
“Can you do it?” Lentano snapped.
Mother of God. This guy was planning a terrorist attack on the United States. Drago was nodding slowly, more as if in satisfaction that he’d guessed right than as if giving an affirmative answer to Lentano.
“Before we talk money, Cantori, tell me something. Why do you run around with women and children like a one-man charity?”
Drago shrugged at the rebel leader’s question. “We already went over that. They were a cover. An excuse for my heading into this area.”
The Army of Freedom leader grinned broadly, as though Drago had just said exactly what the guy wanted him to say. Like Drago had just walked into a trap. The Colombian asked archly, “Then you won’t mind eliminating them?”
“Eliminating the women and children? Why bother?” Drago shrugged.
Well, that was good news, at least. He wasn’t leaping all over the idea of killing her and the kids.
The front do
or to the lobby opened, and a half dozen men strode into the open space. Elise gasped and had to throw a hand over her mouth at the sight of Mia, Emanuel, and Grandma, bleary-eyed and terrified in the middle of the cluster of armed insurgents.
“Kill them, Drago Cantori. Prove to me you’re who you say you are.”
“How does killing an old lady and a couple of kids prove that? I could be any psychopath running around in the jungle and do that.” Drago added scornfully, “I am a businessman, not a murderer.”
Lentano shrugged. “Fine. Then I will kill them.”
Elise’s horrified gaze locked on Drago. Do something! she shouted at him in her mind. But he merely pulled out his cell phone and sent yet another completely infuriating text message. He pocketed the phone unhurriedly.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he commented.
“Why not?”
“Much bigger fish in the sea than you are interested in those kids. Kill them, and you and your little Army of Freedom fighters will be wiped off the face of the earth.”
The insurgents froze, the vignette taking on a surreal quality. She could not believe he’d give up two innocent children like that! Hatred blossomed in her soul, but she shoved it down brutally. She had no time for that. Right now she had to figure out a way to save Mia and Emanuel. But how on earth was she supposed to take on twenty armed men by herself? She was one woman. Unarmed. Untrained for this sort of thing.
She was also the only hope Mia and Emanuel had left. At a complete and desperate loss, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for a miracle.
Chapter 12
Ted had been in some bad situations in his life, but this took the cake, hands down. Three hostages was bad enough, but the odds were twenty to one against him. Half that many hostiles he could’ve handled, but the sheer number of rebels around him would do him in.
Lentano spoke almost jovially. “There’s only one little problem, my friend. I think you’re a fake. You talk a good line, have a slick answer for every question I ask. But I don’t think you are who you say you are. You planning to steal my money and disappear, maybe?” His voice rose on a note of anger and the smiled faded from his face. “You think I’m stupid?”
Ted knew exactly how this scenario went. The guy would work himself up into a frenzy and order his men to open fire.
However, he’d spent the past half hour preparing for just that eventuality. He’d arranged a surprise for Lentano and his Army of Freedom. A little something to even up the odds if it came to a firefight. He spoke aloud, knowing the gang at H.O.T. Watch would be listening to the microphone sewn into his collar and knowing they would understand he was actually talking to them. “You guys ready?”
Lentano looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “For what?”
As Ted spoke, the smile faded from his face until nothing but death radiated from him. “For a small demonstration of why it’s very, very bad form to insult a man like me.”
The hotel’s front door cracked open. Everyone spun to face it, yanking out pistols and pointing them at the empty doorway. A squat silver box about two feet tall and wide and maybe three feet long rolled into the lobby.
Lentano began to laugh. “What the hell is that?”
Ted answered, “That is known in the business as RoboSEAL. Perhaps a small demonstration of its capability would be in order.”
A half dozen doors flipped open without warning and all of a sudden, the box was bristling with gun barrels. The insurgents turned their weapons on the box threateningly. He wondered if they had any idea how silly they looked drawing on a squat little robot. Of course, they didn’t know that RoboSEAL was armored with high-tech alloys and being operated by an entire team of remote warfare technicians at H.O.T. Watch headquarters. It had been designed to withstand better than the likes of them.
Drago dove for Mia and Emanuel, who were on the other side of a sofa from him. Grabbing one in each arm, he rolled to the floor as RoboSEAL opened fire. He could only hope that Grandma had the sense to duck and follow him to cover. Thankfully, she did.
Mia screamed against his chest, and he held her tight as a deafening explosion of noise and muzzle flashes erupted. He was traumatizing an already traumatized child, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t let Lentano kill her.
He shoved the children at Grandma and pulled out his own weapons as he sprinted across an open space to take cover behind a pillar well away from the three of them. He needed to draw the fire in his direction once Lentano’s men realized they were having no effect on RoboSEAL.
Men had scattered in all directions and six were already down in pools of their own blood. The robot was rolling forward, continuing to spray lead in deadly bursts. Another man went down before Ted dived for cover.
“Get Cantori!” Lentano screamed.
Chips of concrete flew past his face as at least several of the insurgents turned their fire on him. Crouching low, Ted spun out from behind the pillar and took two quick shots. Another man down.
A voice in his ear complained, “Tell us the next time you break cover, Captain, and we’ll lay down covering fire for you.”
“Roger,” he bit out. “Now.” He spun out again as RoboSEAL erupted in flashes of light and sound. Ted took out two more men before he had to jump back behind the pillar. A sharp pain in his side announced that his bullet-resistant vest had taken a hit.
He took an experimental deep breath. No problem. He wasn’t injured. By his count, it was down to about ten men out there now. That was the good news. The bad news was the surviving rebels had all found cover of their own. And Grandma and the kids were still pinned down behind that couch out in the middle of the room. As soon as one of the rebels got over his shock long enough to engage his brain, one of them would turn his weapon on the helpless old woman and children.
He slammed new clips into both of his pistols, wielding one in each hand. He announced to H.O.T. Watch, “I’ve got to get the kids. Give me cover.”
“Negative. Too many targets,” someone from H.O.T. Watch retorted.
“Too bad. I gotta go.”
“Don’t be a—”
Whether the voice would’ve called him a hero or an idiot, Ted never found out because he charged out from behind the pillar, shooting simultaneously with both hands. His accuracy dropped considerably when he had to fire like this, and he went through ammunition like crazy, but the shock value was high. More to the point, the bad guys all ducked for cover.
Time slowed to a crawl as he ran. Insurgents locked onto him with eyes and weapons in slow motion as he ran across their fields of fire. And then a tremendous explosion erupted behind him, knocking him off his feet and rendering him partially deaf. His ears rung and white lights danced in front of his eyes as he rolled onto his back.
Holy Mother of God.
Elise. And she looked like an avenging angel, with a second Molotov cocktail at the ready in her right hand. A huge fireball rose up in front of Eduardo Lentano, as whatever flammable substance she’d filled the bottle with burned furiously.
As he finished the roll and came to his knees, she threw the second Molotov cocktail. The men between Ted and the children threw up their arms protectively and fell back from the exploding flames.
It was just the opening he needed. Ted raced to the sofa. Emanuel cowered in Grandma’s arms, and Ted scooped up Mia. “This way!” he shouted over the roaring fires, the shooting robot, the screams of the dying and the chaos of Lentano trying to rally his men.
For a seventy-year-old, Grandma was pretty spry. Or maybe it had something to do with the roomful of flying lead, but the woman stayed right at Ted’s side as he sprinted for the front door. He barreled through it with Grandma on his heels. He shoved Mia at Grandma with a single terse instruction. “Run!”
He had to go back for Elise.
“Cover the front door with RoboSEAL,” he ordered as he spun back into hell. “Don’t let anyone exit this way.”
The robot was laying was
te to the hotel lobby as he charged back inside. Lentano was down in a massive pool of blood that announced the man’s death. His remaining lieutenants were panicked, firing wildly at anything and anyone. If they weren’t careful, they’d be shooting each other soon.
“Get out of there!” someone shouted in his earpiece.
He ignored the command. Elise was not in sight. The last time he’d glimpsed her, she’d been standing in the doorway of the kitchen. On the assumption that she’d retreated there, he raced through the little restaurant and headed for the swinging doors.
He spun into the kitchen and dodged hard as something shiny and sharp spun past his head, barely missing him. A butcher knife clattered to the floor.
“It’s me!” he called out as another knife came winging his way.
Elise stood up behind a preparation counter. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you,” he snapped. “If you’ll quit throwing knives at me.” He looked around fast and spotted a tower for stacking dirty dishes. He rolled it beside the doorway and knocked it over on its side. It wouldn’t stop the doors from opening, but it might trip someone running through.
“How did you get in here?” he demanded.
“There’s a back door,” she panted.
“Show me.”
He followed her lithe form as she twisted through the dark kitchen. Her eyes were much better adapted to the dark than his were at the moment. He banged his head against a hanging pan and it clanged noisily. He swore aloud.
Sure enough, H.O.T. Watch announced, “You’re about to have company.”
“I’m way low on ammo,” he reported. He needed to improvise. And fast. He threw open the big commercial ovens and was intensely relieved to see they were gas fueled. Perfect.
Spying a ball of cooking twine, he snatched that up and rolled a tower holding trays of clean glasses forward next to the aisle. A couple quick loops of twine around the prep table leg and the top of the tower, and someone was in for a nasty surprise. Broken glass would go everywhere when someone tripped over that twine.