The Collected (A Jonathan Quinn Novel)

by Brett Battles

  Unraveling.

  No! he wanted to yell. No, no, no! That will not happen. They were too close to being done. He was too close to the payday he’d stayed four years to collect.

  Through clenched teeth, he said. “Are you sure?”

  “We were all supposed to radio in every fifteen minutes. Two men have missed the last two check-ins, while the others missed the most recent. The commander has ordered everyone back here to regroup. He wants to go back out in pairs instead of solo. He sent me up here to let you know.”

  “Where is he right now?”

  “Waiting for everyone in the anteroom by the wall entrance.”

  Without saying another word, Harris opened the door and left the courtyard. He found the commander, a man named Santos, exactly where the soldier said he would be. It also looked like most of the other soldiers were back.

  When Santos saw Harris, he straightened in surprise. “Sir.”

  “I understand you are missing some men,” Harris said.

  “Yes. Seven.”

  “Seven? I was told six.”

  “There’s another who should have been here by now. We’ve tried to reach him but no response. We’re going back out in pairs. But don’t worry. We’ll find this bastard.”

  “You’ll just be chasing your tail,” Harris said. “I want you all to stay here. Post a few men along the wall. At some point Quinn will expose himself. That’s when you all will go after him. Kill him the moment you see him.” He knew Romero wouldn’t be happy with that last order, but he was past caring. Quinn was a problem that needed to be eliminated.

  “Sir, our other men out there—they might need help.”

  “We can’t risk losing anyone else. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Santos said hesitantly. “But I’m sure we can find him. The men are ready.”

  Harris glanced around at the gathered soldiers. There was determination in most of their eyes, but he could see fear in a few. “I’m sure they are. But we will do it my way. Now, assign the watch and have the rest stay down here, ready to move.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  __________

  NATE ROLLED HIS latest takedown against the rotting trunk of a dead palm tree. The man was still alive, though that status was contingent on his receiving medical treatment in the next few hours. Four of the other soldiers he’d removed were already dead or almost, while the last two were tied up and unconscious at separate locations.

  It was clear a retreat was in progress. The man now lying against the palm tree had been headed back to the fort in a hurry. Nate had heard others, too, moving through the brush.

  He took the man’s weapons and dumped them under a bush thirty feet away, then returned to his hiding place near the wall. He was just in time to see two soldiers pass inside. After they were gone, he could hear no one else moving around, and soon guessed they were the last to return. The question now was, would the soldiers come back out again? Or were they going to remain in the fort?

  Twenty minutes passed without the door opening again, then he noticed movement along the top of the wall. He crawled through the brush until he was far enough back to get a better look. Five men were spread out along the top.

  It appeared as though they had decided to stay home for now. Too bad, but not the end of the world. He knew all he had to do was lure them out again.

  He’d just give them a little time to settle in while he prepared.

  CHAPTER 51

  DURAN ISLAND

  THE MAP SHOWED that the fort was located on the southwestern end of Duran Island, so they came at it from the northeast, taking the boat in as close to the beach as they could get before dropping anchor.

  Quinn held up the computer in front of Porter’s face. The map of the island was on the screen. “This airstrip,” he said, pointing at the lines indicating a landing area. “Is the cargo plane there?”

  Porter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What cargo—”

  Quinn slapped him in the cheek. “Is it?”

  “No. It’s at St. Renard’s in Córdoba. There’s no storage or fueling facility on the island.”

  That was good news. No simple way for anyone to get off. “I assume there’s a road or something to get from the runway to the fort without having to hack through the jungle.”

  Porter nodded. “A path. Starts right here.” He touched the map and moved his finger, stopping it right before he reached the fort. “And comes out here.”

  On the ride over, Quinn had questioned Porter multiple times about the strength of Romero’s force on the island. Porter said there were about twenty men. Quinn automatically doubled that number just to be safe.

  Forty against Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng. Not exactly the odds he would have liked, but odds, as he’d learned over the years, meant nothing. His little team would have the element of surprise, and that could easily tilt the balance in their favor.

  “And how does anyone get inside?”

  “There’s a door in the wall.” He pointed at the map again. “There.”

  Quinn closed the laptop. “Thank you, Mr. Porter. Now it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

  __________

  A SMALL, QUICK-INFLATING landing raft carried the three of them and their gear to shore. On the beach, they divvied out the equipment and headed inland.

  Walking through the jungle was not as hard as Quinn had feared. While there was plenty of vegetation, it wasn’t thick enough to slow them down, and within minutes they reached the clearing where the airstrip was located. The deserted runway stretched for nearly the entire width of the island.

  Double-timing it, they crossed the tarmac and entered the jungle on the other side. From there, they walked along the edge of the clearing until they reached the road Porter had pointed out.

  It was wide enough for a small car, but not much else. Quinn could see where branches had been chopped away, and guessed that it was a constant struggle to keep the path from being reclaimed by nature. To avoid exposing themselves to anyone who might be using it, they stuck to the jungle a few yards off the trail, using it only as a guide.

  Twenty minutes later, Orlando tapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Look,” she said.

  She was pointing ahead of them and up through a break in the trees. Just visible, maybe a quarter mile away, was a small section of the stone wall that surrounded Fort Duran.

  Quinn smiled to himself. Not far n—

  “Did anyone hear that?” Daeng said.

  Quinn looked over and shook his head. “What was it?”

  “I don’t know. It sounded like—”

  There was a loud crack of wood, followed by a groan that was most definitely human. The sounds had come from the right and closer to the fort.

  “That, I heard,” Quinn said.

  CHAPTER 52

  HARRIS WAS ONCE more standing next to Romero in the courtyard. The first three prisoners had received their lashes, and were hanging from their hoists, moaning in exhaustion and pain.

  It was Peter’s turn.

  “Make this one extra special,” Romero ordered Janus.

  The blond man smiled. “My pleasure.” He unfurled his whip again, and snapped it against the stone floor.

  Romero looked back at the soldier manning the camera. “You are getting everything, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Facing forward again, Romero said, “I hope you’re ready, Peter.”

  The hooded figure made no reply.

  Romero nodded at Janus. “Commence.”

  Janus pulled his arm back, letting the whip drape behind him, but just as he was about to let it fly, a different kind of cracking noise came over the wall into the courtyard. It was followed immediately by a second, fainter noise.

  “Stop,” Harris said.

  Janus had already paused, and turned to look at the top of the wall.

  Harris was looking that way, too. “What was that?” he called up to the sentry nearest him.

  “Don’t
know,” the man answered. He gestured behind him, beyond the wall. “Someone’s out there.”

  “You heard a voice?”

  “Yes, right after the breaking sound. Sounded like they were hurt.”

  The only one it could be was Quinn. “See if you can spot him. I’m sending the others back out!” He turned to Romero. “Maybe we should finish this later.”

  “Absolutely not,” Romero said. “There will be no finishing later. Janus can handle this fine. Go. Bring back Quinn.”

  CHAPTER 53

  NATE CREATED HALF a dozen weapons caches in places where he thought he’d need them. Each cache consisted of at least one of the seized firearms and two softball-sized rocks.

  As he was doing this, he kept an eye on the fort in case anyone ventured out, but the door didn’t open once. After he was set on the weapons front, he moved on to creating the lure.

  He figured there were two ways to get their attention—visibly or audibly expose himself. A visible exposure was not very appealing. One of the soldiers might get off a lucky shot, and injure or even kill him. A loud sound, though, was different. He could control that.

  He searched around for anything that could aid him in making the noise, and finally found something he thought would work. It was a tree, dead, but still standing. The branches looked brittle and easy to snap off. There was a large one, about the size of Nate’s arm, halfway up. If he could break that off, the noise would be heard by the sentries on the wall.

  He found the strongest vine he could, secured a stone to one end, tossed it up and over the branch, then did it one more time so that it had a good grip on the limb.

  Tentatively, he gave it a pull and then let go. The branch was definitely ready to break, but he wondered if it would be enough. They might just think it was a natural occurrence, and he’d be wasting his efforts. He would have to reinforce it with a little human touch.

  Grabbing both ends of the vine, he moved to the side, and set his legs so he could jump out of the way when the branch came tumbling down toward him. He gave it another test pull. This time, it let out a tiny pop that echoed faintly into the jungle.

  He put his whole body into his next pull and jerked down on the vine. As he’d hoped, the crack of the branch as it separated from the tree was thunderous.

  Just as the noise started to die down, he added the second part of his lure—an agonized groan. As soon as he was done, he sprinted into the brush and headed for his first cache of weapons.

  He could hear a raised voice at the top of the wall, but couldn’t make out what was being said. It didn’t matter. His interest was on the door, and the soldiers that he was sure would soon be swarming out. He’d wait for them to pass and then cull them from the herd, one after another.

  He settled into his hiding spot, his eyes on the wall. That’s when he heard it. Faint. Just a brush of something on sand. But it wasn’t the wind, or a palm frond falling to earth.

  A step. He had heard a step, and it had been behind him, not in the direction of the fort.

  Was a soldier still out there tracking him? Could Nate have missed him? Maybe the guy had hidden like Nate had, and now he was moving in for the kill.

  Whoever it was, they were good, Nate had to give them that. After the first brush of sand, there had been no other sound. But Nate knew the person must’ve been moving toward the sound of the breaking branch.

  He started to pick up the pistol, but then selected a stone that had an ax-like edge instead. If he shot off the gun, the echo could keep the other soldiers from coming back out.

  With a quick glance at the still-closed door in the wall, Nate moved back into the jungle.

  CHAPTER 54

  USING HAND SIGNALS to communicate, Quinn told Daeng to circle left and Orlando right as they neared the spot where the noise had originated.

  The groan had lasted about five seconds, and there had been no other sound.

  Quinn eased forward, gripping his gun as he gently moved leaves and branches out of his way. He saw the top of the dead tree first. As he got closer, he spotted the branch that had broken off lying on the ground. He paused and scanned the area carefully, looking for the person who had cried out. No one was there.

  The groan had been human. No question. So whoever made it had already moved off.

  Quinn was about to go round up Orlando and Daeng when his gaze strayed back to the branch. There was something odd about it. He moved in a little closer. There was a vine wrapped around the middle. Maybe it had naturally grown that way, but his instincts told him no.

  He took another few steps forward. The way the dirt was freshly kicked up around the branch, he knew it was definitely the thing that had made the noise. He grabbed the vine and gave it a tug. The end that was not wrapped around the branch was heavier than it should have been. He pulled again, and saw that it was tied to a rock.

  Son of a bitch!

  “Back!” he whispered harshly. “Everybody back!”

  It was a trap of some sort. The branch had obviously been pulled down on purpose. And the groan? Just the cherry on top.

  This close to the fort, it had to be meant to get the attention of the people inside, but why someone would want to do that was something he’d have to figure out later. Right now, he needed to get away.

  Crouching, he ran into the cover of the brush, and then oriented himself so he was heading back to the point where he and the others had originally split up.

  He ducked below several branches and went the long way around a dense thicket, taking the quieter path.

  He sensed motion a split second before he heard the near-silent step. As he started to turn, someone wrapped an arm around his neck. He grabbed it with one hand, and tried to pull it off while twisting his gun around with the other so he could shoot his attacker, but the person behind him rammed a knee into the side of the gun’s suppressor, and slammed it upward again, this time into Quinn’s fingers.

  Quinn tried to hold on, but the gun slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. Around him, the world was starting to go black as the blood to his brain was being cut off.

  In a last-ditch effort, he staggered forward and then thrust himself back, hoping to throw the attacker off balance. Though the man didn’t let go, the move did loosen his hold around Quinn’s neck, and brought Quinn back from the brink of unconsciousness.

  He grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and yanked down hard. He could feel his attacker lose his balance, so Quinn dropped to a crouch. The guy rolled over his back, sprawling to the ground on the other side.

  Quinn snatched up his pistol, pointed it at the man. “Don’t move.”

  CHAPTER 55

  THOUGH NATE DIDN’T have a very clear view from his position, he was able to make out three soldiers as they moved off in different directions.

  How the hell did I miss three?

  Clutching tightly to his rock, he moved in as close as he dared and waited for one of them to pass by.

  A minute passed, then two.

  Suddenly a voice cut through the silence. It was a whisper, hard and decisive, but too low for Nate to make out the words. For a second, he heard someone run, then all went quiet again.

  Come this way, he thought. Right here. I’m waiting.

  He closed his eyes and listened intently.

  The noise was slight—the branch of a bush, maybe, its leaves rubbing together for only a second.

  Someone was close.

  A light step. It could be heard only because it was just a few feet away.

  As Nate opened his eyes, a man passed his position and started walking away. Oddly, he wasn’t wearing fatigues like the others, but he had to be from the fort.

  Another one lost from the herd.

  With the guy’s friends probably close, Nate had to be careful about drawing their attention, so he set the stone on the ground. For this one, he would use his hands.

  Three steps forward.

  On the fourth, he knew the man had heard him. H
e threw his arm around the man’s neck and squeezed.

  CHAPTER 56

  “NATE?” QUINN SAID.

  Nate, dirty and bruised and beaten, stared up at him. “Quinn?”

  Quinn reached down and helped Nate to his feet.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “What are you doing out here?” Nate shot back.

  “What do you think we’re doing here? We came to get you.”

  “The others with you…?”

  “Orlando and Daeng.”

  Nate closed his eyes, his head lolling back, relieved.

  “Are you all right?” Quinn asked.

  Before Nate could answer, Daeng emerged from the bushes to the left. He pulled to a sudden stop when he saw Nate. “Well, that was easy.”

  Quinn rubbed his neck. “Not quite as easy as you think.”

  Orlando joined them a moment later. “Oh, thank God,” she said.

  She threw her arms around Nate, but he instantly winced and pulled back from her grasp.

  “Sorry. Just a little sensitive,” he told her.

  She moved around behind him, and lifted the back of his shirt before he could stop her. “What the hell?”

  Quinn stepped over so he could see. Nate’s back was lined with bright red welts and open wounds that could have only been caused one way.

  “You need to sit down,” Quinn said.

  “I’m okay. Really, I’m going to be fine.”

  “No,” Orlando said. “You won’t be fine if we don’t do something. These wounds are going to get infected, if they’re not already.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “We need to take him back to the boat,” Orlando said to Quinn.

  “No,” Nate said.

  Ignoring him, Orlando went on. “The sooner we get him to a hospital, the better.”

  “No!” Nate repeated. “Not yet. There are others still being held.”