“Es good,” he said, shaking the door before grabbing the boy’s arm and pulling him back down the alleyway. Wolf was repelled by the youth’s situation and silently debated the prudence of taking the pimp out if the opportunity arose. The unctuous son of a bitch deserved a beating at the very least, but Wolf decided not to push it. There was nothing he and Mac could do to change things.
They were in Indian Country.
You can’t save the world, he told himself again.
Chapter Twenty
Cancun And North Of Puerto Morelos
Eagan watched as Webber set the chopper down as softly as if he were stepping off a staircase. The guy was good. It helped that Newman had popped smoke and set up some landing lights, but still, it was a good endorsement of the helo pilot’s skills. But there was also something else to consider. Somebody could have seen this thing land. Beyond the immediate LZ the area, perhaps fifty yards away, Eagan could hear the sound of waves washing up onto the shore. The moon was bright and three huge stone pyramids with the box-like shapes at their peaks were shrouded in darkness. A crumbling section of stone wall about fifteen to twenty feet tall separated two of them. The distance lights of the nearest city or town had to be several kilometers away at least. But the sight of the helicopter, lit up like a Christmas tree, descending into parts unknown could have alerted some of the locals. Maybe even the cops or the cartel boys or both. In any case, just leaving Kunish and Webber with the chopper now seemed too risky. It was their ticket out of here and he wasn’t sure exactly when they’d be taking off. It all depended on breaking Accondras and recovering that damn artifact. If it was somewhere readily accessible, the task could probably be accomplished in a few hours at the most. If not, they’d have a bit of a waiting game until they could get on the chopper and beat feet back to Belize.
They exited the helicopter and all ducked instinctively as the rotors slowed their rotations. Eagan peered into the night and took a moment to appreciate the ubiquitous darkness before activating and flipping down his night vision goggles. The green-tinctured world became illuminated and he saw Newman walking toward them. A van was parked between the broken-down wall and the largest pyramid. With the night vision goggles in place, Eagan could appreciate just how large the structures were.
It must have taken a lot of slaves to erect those big bastards, he thought. And a lot of human sacrifices and their altars.
He scanned the parked vehicle.
It looked like there was only one.
Shit.
He’d told that god damn Newman, to get two. He flipped the goggles up onto his forehead.
Newman stopped and extended his open palm toward Eagan.
He grasped Newman’s hand and exerted a bit more pressure than normal.
When Newman grimaced slightly Eagan smirked and released his grip.
“I thought I told you to get two vehicles,” he said.
“Sorry, boss,” Newman said. “The other driver I had lined up crapped out on me. Showed up drunk. You know how fucking undependable these God damn beaners are.”
Eagan thought about this and nodded. It would make for tight quarters and maybe even two trips back from the set-up site, but it was doable. He nodded an acknowledgment, but silently relegated Newman to the top of the most expendable list.
“I assume you’ve done some reconnoitering,” Eagan said. “Correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Newman said. “This was the best clear, flat area for the chopper. There’s a bunch of stone ruins over that hill, and this hole in the ground you gotta watch out for.”
“Hole in the ground?”
“Yeah,” Newman shook his head. “I was glad I came out here during the daylight hours. This hole’s about twenty-five feet in circumference and maybe eighteen feet deep. You don’t see it coming, you’ll tumble right over the edge. Got a pool of water down at the bottom, but I don’t know how deep it is. Not sure if its salt water, either, because it’s got twin waterfalls on each side.”
“Marvelous.” Eagan let his tone tell Newman that was way more information than he wanted.
“Okay,” he said in a loud voice. “Everybody form up by the van. And turn on your radios if you haven’t done so already.”
A quick commo-check showed that everyone was reading him loud and clear.
“Okay,” Eagan said into his mic. “Slight change of assignments. Wells, you stay here with Kunish and the pilot. Set up a perimeter and protect this bird. It’s our only ticket out of here.”
“Too bad they didn’t spring for some Claymores,” Wells said.
Eagan smirked. “You fuckers have AK-Forty-sevens. I’m sure you can protect it from curious cops or cartel shitheads, should they happen by. Speaking of which, we’re only going to be about fifteen or twenty klicks from here, but there’s no repeaters so these radios won’t cover that range. So use your burner phones to keep me posted of any problems.”
Wells and Kunish nodded and began walking back toward the helicopter.
“Remember, don’t take off without us,” Cummins called to them. His voice sounded nervous, and the fun hadn’t even started yet.
The pussy has spoken, Eagan thought.
He herded the remaining six of them toward the vans, the adrenaline thrill of what was yet to come beginning to course through his veins.
Chapter Twenty-One
Near El Meco, Cancun, Mexico
After familiarizing himself with the area around the house, Wolf slipped back inside through the open window and joined McNamara inside the house. They both stood in the darkness of the unlighted room on opposite sides of the door. Wolf couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness. There were too many variables and not enough planning. He’d been in far more dangerous situations before and worked with less. So had Mac, but never with so little logistical support. If things went bad, they couldn’t count on Zerbe. He’d made it clear that he was going to wait in the van with Paco, and the whereabouts of slimy José was anybody’s guess. Wolf trusted the lot of them about as much as a trio of wheels on a car without fastening lug nuts. At least their intervention tonight would spare the boy any indignities at the hands of Accondras. That was something positive that could be accomplished, not that it would probably make much difference in the long term for the kid.
But at least it was something.
Wolf thought about the youth’s situation, of the dull, hopeless expression in his eyes and it reminded him of the countless despondent children he’d seen on the other side of the world. Hungry kids cheated out of the joys of youth, with no hope for the future. He felt his hatred of the situation and this entire place grow and couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Most likely, Mac felt the same.
The musty smell of the place was starting to grate on him when he heard voices. McNamara perked up, too. He gestured toward the window and Wolf pulled the shade away from the frame ever so slightly.
Four men and the boy approached. One was Salvador, the other appeared to be Accondras, judging from the pictures and description they’d be given. He looked like he’d put on some weight, but Wolf was certain it was him. The other two men were Mexican nationals and looked hard and competent. Wolf could tell they both had handguns concealed under billowing flowered shirts, and the larger one carried something wrapped in a blanket that looked to be the shotgun that Zerbe had mentioned.
Two guards … This added a new layer of complications to the situation.
But at least there was no Uzi.
The four men stopped about fifteen feet from the door. Salvador still held the youth’s arm. They were engaged in a muffled conversation.
“There’s two of them,” Wolf whispered. “Two guards.”
“What?” McNamara said. “Shit. They armed?”
“Yeah. Looks like two handguns and a shotgun.”
“This gets better all the time,” McNamara said. “And all we got’s a Taser, two butterfly knives, and a pair of nunchucks.” He took a deep breath and let it out. �
��What say we just say fuck it and slip out the back way?”
Wolf thought about it, but then said, “What about the kid?”
McNamara slowly nodded. “Guess we’re in then.”
“You pay me now,” the waspish pimp said in a low voice. “You take him, then I go.”
Accondras was wearing a camo backpack that appeared to have some items inside. Wolf wondered what that could be and thought about the possibility that the child molester might be armed as well. Accondras reached into his pocket, took out some pesos, and began counting them out. The two guards stood there with amused smirks on their faces. They were obviously privy to what was about to go on, so suddenly the thoughts of taking them both out didn’t seem as objectionable as before.
Accondras stopped counting the money and looked at Salvador.
“Why you sweating so much, amigo?” Accondras asked.
His voice was rather high pitched.
“Es muy caliente,” Salvador said. “Very hot.”
Accondras stared at him for a few seconds and Wolf began to wonder if the man suspected a double cross, then he looked down at the boy, who was still passive, and began counting the pesos into Salvador’s outstretched palm again. Shifting his back toward the two guards, Accondras leaned closer to the pimp. When he spoke, it was in a low tone, but Wolf could still discern it. “What do you want me to do with him after? Same as last time?”
Salvador blew out a quick derisive breath. “Sí. Same as last time. Leave him in there and I will send somebody to get rid of the body.”
Get rid of the body … Same as last time.
Wolf was sickened by the thought and more determined now than ever to put a stop to what was about to happen.
“He’s planning on killing the boy after he’s through with him,” Wolf said, still keeping his voice low.
“Fuckers,” McNamara said. “How you want to play it?”
“Can you handle Accondras by yourself in here?”
McNamara grinned. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Wolf grinned too and handed McNamara the Taser. “Wait till he comes in and locks the door behind him. Tase him in the other room and then take him out the back way. The boy, too.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to sneak out the back way now and take out those two guards.”
“Two armed men by yourself?”
“Hopefully they’ll think I’m just a drunken Mexican and take me for granted.”
“Pretty risky.”
“We got no choice,” Wolf said. “If something goes wrong in here and they break through that door we’ll be sitting ducks.”
McNamara’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and he nodded. “Guess we don’t have much choice, do we?”
They heard Salvador say in a loud voice, “Here es de key. Enjoy yourself, my friend. Until next time.”
He was signaling them. Apparently, he had no compunction about betraying Accondras since he had his money.
No honor among thieves or pimps, Wolf thought. Good thing.
He motioned Mac toward the second room and they both darted behind the suspended curtain. They’d left the window propped open and Wolf went to it and slipped one leg through the opening. He looked up at McNamara.
“Good luck, top,” he said.
McNamara smiled. “Been a long time since somebody called me that. A longer one since I deserved it.”
Wolf held out his hand and they shook. As he slipped out the door, he adjusted the nunchucks under the left side of his shirt, and then took off at a run, the sandy earth making a grating sound beneath his boots. After passing three houses, he stopped and spun himself around a corner. The space between the two structures led to the alleyway he wanted. Creeping down the dank passage, he paused and did a quick peek around the corner. Accondras was dragging the boy inside the house about thirty feet away. He tried to estimate how long it would be before he entered the bedroom and Mac hit him with the Taser.
Probably about thirty or forty seconds, he thought. Definitely under a minute.
His foot bumped against something and he saw that it was an empty glass bottle that had probably once held tequila.
Perfect.
He bent down and grabbed it with his left hand, hoping the crust of dirt wouldn’t be that noticeable in the moonlight as he stepped out into the alleyway and began walking toward the two guards. One was leaning toward the other one, his back toward Wolf. A flash of light signaled that they were taking a smoke break. The shotgun was leaning against the front wall of the target house.
Smoking on sentry duty, Wolf thought. Careless.
The guard facing him looked up, his eyebrow rising quizzically as he stared in Wolf’s direction. Wolf adopted an uneven gait, bringing the bottle up and then cocking his arm, as if he were taking a drink. All the while he tightened his grip on the glass neck. One of the guards said something to the other one that sounded like, Un borracho—A drunk.
Good, Wolf thought. They’re buying it.
Now if only the ruse would allow him to get a few steps closer.
“A donde vas, chingado?” one of the guards said in a harsh sounding tone. Where are you going, fucker?
Not too friendly a bunch, Wolf thought.
He tightened his grip on the bottle.
A few more steps …
Doubts began to flash in his mind: his hair was cut way too short. His clothes didn’t fit your typical Mexicano. His boots were regulation army desert-style terrain footwear. Add them all up and he be wearing an emblem on his chest advertising that he didn’t belong here.
One more step closer.
The second guard half turned, his face cracking in amusement.
“Piensas tenerlo algunas dinero?”
You think he has any money?
They’re planning on rolling me, Wolf thought. Good. Bring ’em on.
Another step.
He began singing “Celito Lindo” in a loud voice. It was the one Mexican folk song he remembered, and even then, he didn’t know all the words.
But of course, he didn’t need to.
The closest guard reached out to grab him and Wolf stumbled to the side to avoid the man’s outstretched arms.
A sudden grunting moan emanated from inside the house. One guard’s face pivoted toward it. Wolf took an exaggerated step to the side, stepped in front of the alerted guard, and then swung the bottle upward in an arcing movement so that the solid roundness of the cylindrical glass struck him right across the bridge of his nose. Because the blow was a backhanded motion, it didn’t carry a lot of power, so Wolf pivoted and delivered a quick overhand right to the man’s now bleeding nose. He took a half step backward and brought both his hands to his face.
Wolf’s back leg shot upward in a front snap kick to the second man’s exposed groin. His legs were wide apart and provided an inviting target. Wolf could feel the instep of his boot connect with a whipping motion, and after a second or two delay, the man crumpled. The first guard had recovered enough to pull push back his shirt exposing the handle of a large semi-automatic pistol in a leather holster affixed to his belt. Blood was streaming from his now-twisted nose, pouring over a thick mustache and down his chin. White teeth glinted between twisted lips, looking like a glimpse of bone through torn flesh.
Wolf’s left hand seized the man’s wrist, stopping his draw. The gun edged slightly out of the holster and the man’s fingers curled around it. Wolf slammed a ridge hand into his adversary’s throat, causing him the make an abrupt gurgling sound. Keeping his left hand securely on the man’s right wrist, Wolf pivoted and delivered two knee strikes to the abdomen. Each one sounded like a cardboard box being stuck with a baseball bat. He began to drop to the ground, his fingers abandoning the grip on the firearm with limp abandon. Wolf let him fall, but followed him downward, pulling the gun from its holster as the man fell.
The second guard rolled on his side and was pulling out his weapon. Wolf’s right hand curled around one of
the nunchucks. He whipped the Okinawan bludgeon from his belt and lashed out with it. The round stick whirled downward crashing onto the second man’s forearm. He cried in pain and the gun slipped from his fingers. Wolf whirled the nunchucks again and this time brought the second stick smashing against the guard’s right temple. The man rolled over in a writhing heap. Wolf shoved the first gun into his beltline on his right side. He then stooped and picked up the second handgun, placing that one on his left side. Both of the guards were still breathing, but unconscious.
Probably better than they deserve, he thought as he remembered their amusement and indifference at the fate of the boy. These two were hardly men of honor.
Whirling, Wolf grabbed the shotgun and thought about tossing it onto a nearby roof.
Fingerprints, he thought. Can’t afford to be leaving those behind. With that he shifted the rifle to his left hand and retrieved the bottle with his right. Taking two long steps he heaved the bottle over the rooftop and then took off at a fast gait. He thought about checking the house to see if Mac and the boy and Accondras had all made it out of there all right but decided against it.
I got to believe they did, he thought, and worked his way to the next narrow opening in the row of houses.
So far, he hadn’t seen anybody, but that didn’t mean that nobody had seen him. Slowing down, he edged sideways through an opening, feeling layer after layer of sticky nettings of spider webs clinging to his face. Finally, he broke free and emerged into the alleyway. Pausing to look both ways, he caught a glimpse of movement about thirty yards to his left.
Two shadowy figures trundled down the alley, one huge and oversized, the other smaller and seemingly stunted.
The boy was running alongside Mac, who had Accondras slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
No Man’s Land, Southwest Of Cancun
Eagan sat in the front passenger seat and watched the weak illumination of the headlights bouncing over the decrepit ribbon of asphalt extending before them. Even the roads in Iraq had been better maintained, at least initially. Newman seemed to be doing a good job of avoiding the major potholes and cracks as well as swerving to avoid the occasional stumbling pedestrian and wayward animal. The man knew the route and was a competent driver, so Eagan mentally took him off the shit list. For now, anyway.
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