He nodded to himself. That was the plan. Now he had to deal with the guards Adina would have assigned to watch over their transportation.
————
Francisco stood over Carlos as he radioed the situation to the guardhouse above.
“Mierda,” was Ramon’s immediate response.
“Exactly what I said,” Francisco agreed. “Report this to the main house, I’ll wait here.”
As the bad news was being relayed, Francisco began his efforts to revive Carlos. The technician was still lying in a leaden heap amid the toppled sacks and spilled cocaine, and he did not respond to being shaken or slapped hard across the face. Francisco took a moment to have a look around the room—bags had been moved and toppled with the white powder everywhere—and the knot in his stomach tightened.
In what seemed less than a minute he was joined by Alejandro, the head of security. He was tall and muscular, with a pockmarked complexion, coarse features, and a demeanor that seemed never to wander beyond a spectrum of angry and very angry. Other than Adina, there was not a man in the compound who did not fear him.
By way of greeting, Alejandro growled, “What the hell went on here?”
“Not sure yet,” Francisco told him. “We’ll know more once he comes to.”
The two men turned to the technician, who was beginning to show signs of life, and watched as he struggled to roll onto his back. As Carlos made a move to sit up, Alejandro leaned over and roughly took hold of his shoulder. “Stay still,” he ordered. Then he told Francisco to get some water as he grabbed two of the cloth sacks and shoved them under the man’s head. “Lay back for a moment. Until your mind is clear.”
Carlos felt light-headed but managed to focus enough to stare into Alejandro’s dark, unblinking eyes. He did as he was told, leaning back and waiting.
Francisco returned with a clear beaker full of water. He knelt down, about to give the technician a drink, when Alejandro snatched the glass away and splashed the water into Carlos’s face.
“He doesn’t need a drink, you idiot, he needs to regain his senses.” Looking back down, Alejandro watched as Carlos reflexively jerked his head from left to right and wiped his face with his hands. “You feeling more awake now?”
Carlos nodded.
Alejandro reached out and helped him sit up. “Tell me what happened. Everything.” He handed the empty beaker to Francisco and said, “You can get him a drink now.” Then he crouched down in front of the technician. “Tell me.”
Carlos said he heard a noise in the storage room. Since there was no one else in the lab and no way for anyone to get past him without being seen he was not concerned. He thought perhaps something had fallen, so he came back to have a look. The next thing he knew, someone grabbed him and hit him across the head.
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
Carlos shook his head, the effort making him dizzy again. Alejandro handed him the water Francisco had brought. Carlos took a sip.
“Was it one man or more than one man?”
“I think only one.”
“So,” Alejandro repeated patiently, “you walked in here, found one man alone, he hit you over the head without speaking, and then disappeared. Is that what happened?”
Carlos turned his head slightly to the right and looked up at the ventilation panel. “Those sacks, he must have climbed up through there.”
“And you just noticed that now?”
Carlos turned back slowly, struggling to meet his inquisitor’s frightening gaze. “Yes. All these bags . . . ,” he began, but Alejandro held up his right hand.
“Let’s not say anything we might regret later, eh?”
The technician agreed, managing a nervous nod of his aching head. Then he watched as Alejandro stood, scaled the stack of toppled cloth sacks, and had a close look at the ventilation grill. “Somebody moved this,” he said without turning back to the other two men. With minimal effort he shoved the grating inside the shaft. “Francisco, your flashlight.”
The guard accommodated and Alejandro had a look inside the duct.
“Yes, I can see we had a visitor from above. Very clever.” He switched off the flashlight and climbed back down. “But the question is, how did our visitor breach the perimeter without setting off the alarm?”
Now it was Francisco’s turn to become flustered under Alejandro’s accusatory glare. He knew the man well enough to realize lying was not an option. “There was a breach,” he admitted. “We thought it was Manuel or Eduardo, using the latrine or something. Happens all the time,” he added, as if this might excuse his carelessness in not acting sooner. “When they did not report in I went on patrol.” He could no longer hold the man’s gaze, dropping his head and staring at the ground. “You know the rest.”
“Yes,” Alejandro agreed. “And soon Adina will know, too. You can only hope for your sake that the others have caught this intruder by now. Come,” he said as he bent down and grabbed hold of Carlos under the arm, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go.”
————
The intruder, Jordan Sandor, had made his way around a group of thick-trunked trees until he was within striking distance of the four vehicles. As anticipated, there was a sentry posted on the rear portico of the house, not twenty yards away, the veranda giving him the high ground and an excellent view of the surrounding area just as the sun began to make its appearance at the edge of the morning sky. The guard was armed with an automatic rifle that he held at the ready and his head was in constant motion as he scanned this section of the compound for any unwanted activity.
In the tradecraft of Sandor’s profession, the high ground can sometimes be overrated. An early mentor pointed out that cover is often more important than position. “Finding your advantage is the key,” he said. “Always remember, if you find yourself in a fair fight, you didn’t plan well enough.”
Sandor drew the .45 from his holster and gave the silencer a hard twist to make certain it was secure, then took aim. From a kneeling position he fired off two rounds, the first striking the man in the face, the second catching him square in the chest before he fell to the ground.
Sandor leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could toward the four parked vehicles. He had a quick check of the ignitions and inside the consoles, then felt around the tops of the tires. There were no keys.
He had no way of knowing who might still be in the house, who might have seen the sentry go down, or who was already heading this way. One thing was certain—he could hear voices coming toward him.
He figured one of the Jeeps would be his best bet out of there. Easy to hot-wire, agile through the jungle, and unlikely to have any sort of alarm.
He scrambled into the newer-looking model and, working under the dashboard, managed to get it started. He twisted the wires together so they would hold, then went to work on the remaining transportation.
Moving with haste and precision he shot out all twelve tires. Having already snapped the second magazine into his .45, he fired the remaining shots into the three gas tanks. The steel-jacketed rounds tore through the metal siding, causing gas to begin pouring out onto the ground.
The sound of the approaching security detail grew louder as Sandor jumped into the driver’s seat of the running jeep and took off along the narrow path that lay dead ahead of him, the road that Carlos told him would lead straight into the jungle and toward the shore of the Lago de Maracaibo.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
INSIDE ADINA’S COMPOUND, SOUTH OF BARRANQUITAS
RADIO COMMUNICATIONS CRACKLED across the compound as men raced to their designated positions. Two of them hurried through the dawn light toward the rear of the main house to reinforce the sentry posted there. As they drew closer they heard the sound of tires being popped, followed by the unmistakable rumble of a vehicle speeding off into the jungle.
One of them reached for his radio. “Back of the main house,” he
said.
“What is it?” Alejandro demanded.
“We’re checking now,” came the immediate reply.
The two men moved cautiously to the corner of the building, reaching there just in time to see Sandor’s jeep kicking up dust as it flew down the dirt road and out of sight. After confirming that the lookout on the veranda was dead, they made a quick survey of the other vehicles.
“We’ve got trouble,” one of them reported over his radio, then described what they found.
“No,” Alejandro barked into his radio for every man to hear, “the maricon who did this is going to have trouble. The two of you go find those idiots Manuel and Eduardo. The rest of you meet me on the rear veranda. Now.”
————
Sandor guided the jeep along the primitive jungle road, moving as fast as he could without losing control. There were huge bumps and large holes, low-hanging branches and exposed roots, all of which rendered the dirt path a lethal obstacle course. He negotiated these hazards as he formulated a revised strategy for meeting up with Bergenn and Raabe.
His plan had been to take out Adina in the dark of night, then grab the pack he left outside the perimeter of the compound and circle back through the jungle. He expected it to take him several hours on foot to reach the beach east of Barranquitas, which was their rendezvous point. Raabe was going to pilot the seaplane into the gulf, set it down, and await a signal from Sandor for pickup.
Now, however, Sandor was going to arrive at the shore a lot sooner than anticipated, a lot farther south than intended, and with a lot more fanfare. He could only hope his friends got an early start on their flight.
Carlos said there was a pickup of the narcotics set for this morning. He described a clearing near the shore where the drugs would be offloaded onto a Fountain twin-engine manned by the crew that would take the cargo north. Their speedboat was likely to be Sandor’s best chance out of there if he could figure a way past the armed drug runners who would have already received word an unwelcome visitor was en route.
As he careened forward it was clear that this dirt road had no turnoffs, no alternate path through the jungle. He could ditch the jeep and make the last part of the trip on foot, but with Adina’s men coming after him from behind and a welcoming party ahead the idea did not seem all that attractive.
He decided to improvise.
————
Adina stood on the rear porch of the house, surrounded by his men. He was in his early sixties, tall, and trimly built with fine features, straight gray hair, and a dark, unfriendly mien. Even at this hour he was elegantly attired. He wore an expensive silk robe with brocade trim, his hair combed straight back and neatly in place, no evidence of sleep or panic in his reptilian eyes. When Alejandro began to give details of what had occurred and who was to blame, Adina held up his hand, commanding silence.
“I understand enough to know this is not the time for explanations or recriminations. This is the time for action.” Pointing to Francisco and one of the others, he said, “Go and get this man. Now.”
The two ran off to find a means to chase the intruder.
Adina directed his attention to Alejandro. “Come inside with me. Call ahead to our friends and tell them there is going to be a delay of a couple of hours in making our delivery this morning. Explain that we have had an intruder and ask for their help in apprehending this man. Alive if possible, yes?”
Alejandro nodded.
Pointing to two of his other men, Adina said, “You come in as well. And bring him,” he ordered, gesturing toward Carlos, whom he had purposely ignored up till then. The lab technician was standing off to the side, his eyes cast down, the look of gloom evident to all. “The rest of you, you know what to do. There may be others in the area, but it does not seem likely. Help Francisco repair the vehicles. Patrol the grounds. Find out what happened here.”
————
Sandor was keeping a close watch in the rearview mirror as he barreled ahead. He knew they would find some way to come after him, but he never expected them to come on motorcycles. He had not seen any bikes in the compound. Carlos had not mentioned them. He didn’t even hear them as they approached, with the noise of his jeep and the bouncy ride. When he spotted the first one it was coming up fast. Then he saw the second. The agile, high-powered motorcycles were a faster means of transport on this hardscrabble road than his jeep, especially since the riders knew the terrain and Sandor did not. They were keeping to the outer edges of the road, where there were fewer bumps and holes, one man on each side.
Outrunning them was not possible. He had to stop them.
They were gaining on him from both sides, almost in range for them to begin firing. Knowing that control of his vehicle was more important than ever, Sandor could neither slow down nor could he risk accelerating beyond a speed where he could safely negotiate this teeth-jarring route. He reached for the MAC 10 that was sitting on the passenger seat beside him and laid it across his lap. Then, in one deft motion, he downshifted, jammed on the brake, and yanked the steering wheel hard to the left.
The jeep spun violently into a sideways position across the road, becoming a deadly obstacle for the two riders. They were coming at him too fast to brake in time and the road was too narrow and the jungle too dense for them to turn off. All they could do was ditch the bikes, but Sandor was not about to allow them that opportunity. Without hesitation he leveled the MAC 10 at the oncoming men and fired a spray of shots. The explosion of gunfire was followed by the crashing of the two motorcycles into the large trees as the riders were flung forward into the air. They slammed to the ground in front of him.
Sandor jumped out of the jeep and fired two more shots at each of the fallen men—he had to be certain they were dead. Then, after the explosive sounds of gunfire and the motorcycle collisions, everything was suddenly quiet but for the Jeep’s engine. Sandor took a moment to listen, but he heard nothing else. No other motorcycles coming at him. No other vehicles.
Not yet.
He climbed back into the Jeep, straightened it out, and sped off again toward the coast.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
INSIDE ADINA’S COMPOUND, SOUTH OF BARRANQUITAS
ADINA WAS HOLDING an impromptu council in the main salon of the house. This compound was designed to be his safe space, he reminded them. This was his retreat, his secure respite from the outside world. Now the sanctity of this haven had been violated and Adina wanted answers. The obvious starting place was his trusted lab technician, Carlos.
“So,” he said calmly as he sat in a large, comfortable chair backed with a decorative arc of woven cane, “you had no conversation with this man.”
Carlos nodded. “Almost nothing.”
“Well which is it?” Adina asked with forced patience. “Nothing or almost nothing? As a scientist, I am sure you would agree that almost nothing is something. Am I right?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“So then,” Adina prodded him with an impatient sigh, “which is it?”
“Before he hit me, he said something about the cocaine. About taking the cocaine.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Carlos was struggling. He wanted to look at Adina but could not. “I . . . I don’t recall exactly. He struck me, so it’s a bit unclear. But it was something like ‘I’m going to take these sacks of cocaine and you’re not going to stop me.’ Something like that.”
Carlos and the other men in the room were standing. Only Adina was seated. A large ceiling fan slapped gently at the cool morning air above them. Otherwise the room had become silent.
Now Adina rose and stepped forward. He reached out and took the technician by the chin, lifting his downturned face as one might do to a reluctant child. “Carlos,” he said, “you have been loyal, you have worked hard, and you have never disappointed.” He paused. “Until now. Because now I know you are lying to me.”
Carlos began to speak, but Adina reacted by smacking him hard across the face.
“Allow me to finish.” He grabbed the man’s jaw, holding it tight so that Carlos could not avert his gaze. “I do not know what you are not telling me, or why you are not telling me. That is what makes this so difficult.” Adina’s tone made it sound as if the man’s betrayal had wounded him. “I truly need you to explain this to me.”
When Carlos began to protest Adina lashed out again, this time with the back of his hand.
“Please, do not insult me further and do not waste any more of my time.”
Carlos was trembling now, tears flowing freely down the cheeks that had been reddened by Adina’s slaps. “He asked me questions,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
“What sort of questions did he ask?”
“About the operation,” Carlos said, speaking haltingly as he added, “Refinement of the narcotics. The security we have in place.”
“I see. What else did he ask you?”
When Carlos did not immediately respond, Adina dug his fingernails into the man’s face. “I suggest you tell me everything. And now.”
Carlos attempted to nod, but Adina’s grip made it painful for him to move. His cheek began to bleed. “He asked about the other room in the lab.”
“Of course he did. And what did you tell our inquisitive friend in answer to these questions?”
Summoning what little courage remained, Carlos looked him in the eyes. “I told him nothing, Adina, nothing. That was why he hit me.”
Adina let go of the man’s jaw and shoved him hard in the chest. Carlos stumbled backward until one of the guards grabbed him and deposited him on a hardwood stool, where he sat with his face in his hands.
“So this man, whoever he was—I assume he did not introduce himself?”
Carlos shook his head.
“Naturally. Did he speak Spanish or another language?”
“A little Spanish. He was an American I think.”
“So this American, he was not here to steal cocaine, he was here for other reasons. Am I right?”
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