Devil's Dance (Trackdown Book 1)

by Michael A. Black

  Zerbe shrugged his shoulders with an accompanying shake of his head. “That’s the best I could do. Use the duct tape.”

  McNamara frowned and glanced at Wolf.

  This whole thing’s unraveling like a ball of yarn in a room full of cats, Wolf thought. How are we going to pull it off without getting real rough?

  Then the possibility of having to kill the bodyguard surfaced in Wolf’s mind once more. Even if the guy was unsavory, as he’d surmised earlier, it still wasn’t particularly pleasing. He couldn’t justify dealing out death like he had in the army. This wasn’t Afghanistan or the Sandbox, and Cancun wasn’t a combat zone. At least not yet.

  But he couldn’t let Mac down, so there was little or no choice.

  “I guess we can see how it goes,” Wolf said. “Like he said, we’ll have the element of surprise, and he’s probably not going to want the bodyguard coming into the house with him.”

  “I don’t know,” McNamara said, shaking his head. “I’m starting to have some real bad vibes about this.” He turned to Zerbe and jabbed a finger into the PI’s chest. “You weren’t straight with us about the guns you were supposed to get.”

  “Hey, I tried. Did the best I could. Honest.”

  “The best you could.” McNamara’s tone was laden with sarcasm. “That don’t seem like too much right about now. So how do we know the rest of this plan of yours isn’t just as messed up?”

  Wolf saw the rolls of sweat beading up on the PI’s face. The odor wafting off his thick, barrel-like body had the pungent tang of fear.

  “It’s not,” he said. “You gotta trust me. I got a lot riding on this, too.”

  “Not as much as we have,” McNamara said. “Taking all the risks.”

  “It’ll go down like clockwork,” Zerbe said. “That guy, Accondras is a fucking pussy, I tell ya. All you gotta do is Tase him and take out that guard.”

  “That’s all we gotta do, huh?” McNamara said.

  Zerbe shrugged. “I never was much good at the muscle stuff. That’s why they hired a couple of pros like you.”

  Flattery is the last resort of the desperate, Wolf thought.

  Mac didn’t seem to be impressed either.

  “Well, let me tell you something, bud,” McNamara said. “Him and me, we track people down for a living. If we find out you ain’t been playing it straight with us, I’ll personally track you down, no matter where you are, and make you wish you never were born.”

  Zerbe’s head bobbled up and down with fractional nods. He said nothing.

  As they stood there his cell phone chirped.

  “That’s gotta be Salvador,” Zerbe said, the nervous edge causing his voice to crack. “Or José.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Helipad At The Von Dien Estate, Belize

  Eagan watched as the others, Cummins, Reynolds, Harper, Wells, and Nasim, all sat and belted themselves in. They each had their gear and their weapons stacked neatly in front of them, their hands glossy in the new latex gloves. No fingerprints just like in the Sandbox. Eagan had told Kunish to go sit up the co-pilot’s seat and familiarize himself with the craft just in case he had to take over. The craft was a big Sikorsky S-92 with plenty of room to seat them all comfortably and had a quiet zone feature that made conversation possible. The pilot, Webber, said that it went for about seventeen mill. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind about Kunish being up front. In fact, he welcomed the company. The helicopter pilots’ brotherhood was alive and well, even when flying something this expensive.

  Seventeen million, Eagan thought. And Webber had mentioned that Victor Delta had a fleet of them.

  Christ, the old Buddha was one rich bastard. Perhaps an adjustment to the bonus would be in order.

  Eagan got the impression that this wasn’t Webber’s first foray across the Belize/Mexican border. Reno and his buddy, Black Hercules, looked a bit ill at ease. Maybe they noticed that everybody, all the Vipers, were wearing body armor, while they had none. But he’d shown them the two fully loaded Glock 19’s which made it clear that they were a definite part of this whole thing.

  The fact that neither gun had an internal striker was something they didn’t know, nor would they until the time came. In a way the impotent Glocks were sort of appropriate metaphors for these two buffed-up, steroid fueled MMA fighters turned bounty hunters: all show and no punch. He smiled at the two of them and flashed them the thumbs-up sign. They smiled back.

  Yeah, he thought. That’s the price of doing business, chumps. The payoff’s right around the corner.

  The rotor blades came to life and began a slow rotation, then started to pick up speed. Cummins was fumbling around with something he was trying to pull out of his ditty bag.

  If I didn’t need that fat pussy to complete the money transfer, Eagan thought. I’d toss his ass out the door right now.

  His dislike for the man seemed to grow by leaps and bounds, the longer this ungainly partnership lasted.

  As the craft rose from the helipad, leaving the lush tropical scene below them, Eagan checked for any more recent texts on his cell phone.

  He had a new one: pigeon’s en route will advise.

  It was from Zerbe.

  Eagan texted back: and the other pigeons?

  fed as prescribed. will advise.

  The “prescription” was that Wolf and friend were to be given only enough equipment to complete the abduction of Accondras. Eagan felt they should be easily able to complete that, but he certainly didn’t want them to have any firearms to fall back on when the real fun began.

  He took in a deep breath.

  The clock had started.

  The estimated flight time was thirty-eight minutes, going over the Caribbean Sea and then heading inland to just south of Cancun and north of Puerto Morelos at the site of the now abandoned hotel. Newman would be waiting there with the vehicles. Once they touched down, he’d leave Kunish behind with the chopper, while the rest of them proceeded to the prearranged coordinates. They were in for a big surprise, once the Vipers rolled up and took charge. Eagan was actually looking forward to seeing Wolf’s face. Maybe he’d mark him up a bit. But then again, the fucking half-breed was supposed to be a bad ass. At least that was the word when he’d been in Leavenworth, and he had survived the shanking attempt. Eagan thought about it some more. Did he have time for such a pleasant diversion?

  Maybe it would be more fun to see how Wolf paired up against the other two bounty hunters. Those guys were professional mixed martial arts fighters. He thought back to tales he’d heard about the Nazi guards in the concentration camps making the Jews fight each other to the death. It might be fun to watch. The payoff was going to be death for all of them once they had the artifact anyway, but he had to keep the four bounty hunters alive for the short term. At least until he had Accondras deliver the location of the damn artifact.

  The authorities would find a nice little desert shootout where all parties had died.

  And thus, business before pleasure.

  No loose ends.

  The helicopter banked exposing the lush blanket of greenery perhaps 500 feet below them now. Eagan adjusted his earpiece and microphone.

  “How’s everything looking, Webber?” he asked, more to verify the communication system was working than to inquire about the flight.

  Webber’s reply came through crystal clear in Eagan’s earpiece: “Looking real good, sir.”

  “Roger that,” Eagan said. “Advise when we’re within range.”

  The noise of the accelerating rotors drowned out all other sounds, but Eagan caught a glimpse of sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. The stench came seconds later as Cummins fumbled with a paper bag he was holding in front of his face. The fat jowls expanded, and then he heaved a burst of vomit into the bag’s open top. The unsteady movement of the chopper made catching all the discharge impossible and some of it dribbled over the front of Cummins’s body armor.

  Blowing chunks again, Eagan thought. He’d done
it before in Iraq.

  The rest of the Vipers all sat stoically, not showing any emotion at the disgusting loss of control. All except Nasim, who caught Eagan’s eye with a sly wink and a smile.

  Eagan nodded in agreement.

  Yeah, he thought. Still a weak sister. Just like back in the Sandbox.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Near El Meco, Cancun, Mexico

  Wolf took an immediate dislike to Salvador, who came sauntering up to them in the narrow alleyway with a young boy about seven or eight in tow. The man was wispy thin and had gold linings around the discolored teeth lining the front of his mouth. He brought a cigarette in a long holder up to his lips and drew deeply, causing the embers to glow. The boy made a whimpering sound and Salvador reached down and slapped him.

  Wolf was about to protest when McNamara reached out and grabbed Salvador’s arm.

  “Do that again and I’ll shove that fucking cigarette up your ass.”

  Salvador looked perplexed for a moment, but the intention of Mac’s statement needed no translation. The thin Mexican shrugged, but still held the youth’s arm.

  McNamara turned to Zerbe.

  “What the hell’s this shit? You didn’t say anything about a kid this young being involved.”

  “Relax,” Zerbe said, the corner of his mouth pulling back into a half-assed smile. “Can we help it if Accondras insisted on seeing the merchandise before taking the plunge?”

  “Es el mismo tipo de joven,” Salvador paused and shook his head. “Same as de last time. Why you care?”

  Wolf watched as McNamara took in a deep breath. He was silent for several seconds, staring at Salvador, and then transferring his gaze to Zerbe.

  “Where’d this kid come from?” McNamara asked.

  “Does it matter?” Zerbe said. “He’s hardly a virgin, and anyway, I told you he’s not going to be hurt. He’s just the bait.”

  McNamara glanced at Wolf, who was silent. He wasn’t liking this any more than Mac was, but in his heart, he knew there was nothing they could do to change the situation. They’d both seen disturbing and despicable things on the other side of the world and knew their power to change most of them was nonexistent.

  “Hey,” Salvador said. “You pay me now. Primero.”

  Zerbe reached pulled reached into the inner pocket of his sport jacket and removed an envelope and handed it to the thin Mexican.

  He clenched his teeth around the cigarette holder and accepted the envelope with his left hand. His right still held the boy. Leaning down, he whispered something in Spanish to the youth then released his grip on him. The kid just stood there, unmoving. Salvador used both hands to count the money in the envelope and then shoved it into his pocket.

  Wolf caught a glimpse of the boy’s sad, vacuous stare, and wondered if the child had been drugged. He seemed on the verge of being stuporous.

  You can’t change the world, he silently told himself again. But I can try to avoid any more collateral damage. Ride it out, but make sure the kid doesn’t get caught up in any crossfire.

  But then again, neither he nor Mac had any guns, so how could he.

  It added a new complication to the plan and made dealing with the armed bodyguard even more hazardous and complicated.

  “You got a key to the house?” McNamara asked.

  Salvador reached into his pocket and produced a long skeleton key. It looked almost ornamental. McNamara grabbed it and told Zerbe that he and Wolf were going to check out the house.

  “Good idea,” Zerbe said. “I was told you guys were pros.”

  There was a sarcastic lilt to his tone, and Wolf felt like belting him. He felt angry at Mac, too, for getting them into this mess, but most of his anger was directed inward. It was his fault for messing up in Iraq, getting tossed into prison, and now going along with this ill-conceived plan. He should have done a better job of talking Mac out of this venture.

  He followed his mentor to the door of the house and Mac slipped the scalloped end of the key into the keyhole and twisted. The door opened and Wolf immediately took note of the locking mechanism. It was a small rectangular wedge of metal that slipped into a bracketed metallic encasement in the door jamb. The wood of the jamb itself looked like it had seen better days.

  About as sturdy as a cargo hatch secured by rubber bands and duct tape.

  He surveyed the rest of the structure. It was composed of two dust-covered rooms, separated by a dangling blanket with numerous holes worn through it. A dilapidated broom leaned against one wall and three piles of swept detritus were lined up in the corner. The room they were in had apparently once served as a kitchen, dining, and family room. The remnants of an ancient, rusted stove resided upon a piled section of bricks, still bearing an odiferous patina of burnt grease, was next to a dust covered window. The other room was the sleeping quarters and contained a filthy mattress and two canvas cots. A dirty pillow, its case stained with several different shades of discoloration, resided on the mattress. Another crud-encrusted window was set into the far wall, perpendicular to the mattress. It was about three feet off the floor.

  The honeymoon suite for a child rapist, Wolf thought. Garida de apañar.

  At least it was going to be a good thing taking this scumbag, Accondras, out of the game. In the long view, it wouldn’t change things much down here, but it would be one small step toward making a better world.

  McNamara clapped him on the shoulder. Wolf saw the saddened expression on his friend’s face.

  “Go ahead and say it,” McNamara said. “I really screwed up getting us into this, didn’t I?”

  Wolf said nothing.

  McNamara pursed his lips. “Damn, that kid out there’s not much older than Chad.”

  The mention of Mac’s grandson seemed like an abhorrent inclusion to their current situation.

  “Let’s keep the kid out of it as best we can,” Wolf said. “Ideas?”

  McNamara exhaled and glanced around. He went to the window and managed to lift it about a half-inch before the upper edge collided with a metal pin imbedded in the frame. McNamara gripped the pin and pulled it loose, then raised the window to its uppermost position. He was then able to slip the pin back into the hole, securing the window’s upraised position.

  “Just like the Holiday Inn,” he said. “But it don’t cost as much.”

  Wolf was glad to see his friend’s tenebrous mood had lessened, at least for the moment.

  McNamara leaned his head out of the opening and then ducked back inside.

  “Looks like another alley leading to our rendezvous place,” he said. “Best we incapacitate the son of a bitch in here with the Taser, and then toss him through the window. We can slip the kid outta here, too, and we’ll meet Zerbe down the way.”

  Wolf smiled. “Whaddaya mean ‘we,’ white man?”

  McNamara chuckled. “You got a better plan?”

  “I’m thinking about the bodyguard. If he hears something, that front door, even if it’s locked, will offer about as much delay as your first girlfriend’s underpants.”

  “So what you’re saying is one of us stays in here,” McNamara said. “And the other one takes out the bodyguard.”

  “That’s the way it’s got to be,” Wolf said. “We can afford to leave an armed assailant out in front of the place.”

  McNamara compressed his lips again.

  “Dammit,” he said. “Why’d I get us into this thing? I let my wanting to get one up on Reno overload my better judgment.” He looked at Wolf. “I’m sorry, Steve. We can just slip out this back window now, if you want, and we’ll get the hell out of this damn country on the next plane out.”

  “And miss out on the chance for a big payday?” Wolf said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Plus, there’s that kid. I don’t want to step out now and leave him to get mauled by that asshole, Accondras.”

  McNamara took a deep breath, then nodded.

  “I look more like a Mexican that you do,” Wolf said. “You stay in
here with the Taser and take out Accondras. Throw him out the back window and head for Zerbe and Paco and the truck. I’ll take out the guard and come meet you.”

  “And what if he’s got that Uzi?”

  Wolf shrugged. “Then I deal with it. One way or another.”

  McNamara shook his head, but a sudden harsh-sounding knock on the front door was accompanied by Zerbe’s guttural voice.

  “Hurry it up. They’re here. Salvador’s got to go meet them now.”

  Wolf and McNamara hurried to the door and Mac handed the key back to the thin Mexican. The man’s expression was a mixture of smugness and disdain.

  Lucifer personified, Wolf thought.

  “So what’s your plan?” Zerbe asked.

  Wolf looked at Salvador. “Get your money from Accondras and let him take the boy inside. We’ll make the grab inside and take him out a back window.”

  The thin Mexican nodded.

  “We don’t want the boy getting hurt,” Wolf said. “Where can we drop him?”

  Salvador expelled a short burst of air out of his mouth. “Any place. No importa.”

  “It’s importa to us,” McNamara said. “Tell him not to say anything once he’s inside and that we’ll let him out the back window.”

  With a frown and a shrug, Salvador addressed the boy in Spanish. The words hardly seemed to register on the youth’s face. Wolf listened to the one-sided conversation and as much as he could follow, the thin Mexican had repeated the instructions almost verbatim.

  “Are we fucking done yet?” Zerbe said. “I can’t be seen here.”

  Wolf told him to go back the way they’d come and have Paco move the van to the designated position out of sight down the alley. “Wait there until we get there.”

  Zerbe frowned. “Of course. How long do you think it’ll take?”

  “Hopefully, not long,” Wolf said.

  Zerbe nodded and looked at Salvador. He waggled his fingers at McNamara, who stepped back inside the house. Salvador pulled the door closed, slipped the key into the lock and secured it.