Weapons

by Matt Rogers

  And he descended into stoicism once more.

  46

  Tulum

  Mexico

  It was a warm, clear day.

  The Gulfstream touched down at the Tulum Naval Air Base, barely a mile north of the town itself. Slater stirred from his slumber and peered out the window for a beat. He saw nothing but an endless, sweeping forest thick with dark green trees, and beyond that the small stretch of civilisation before the coast. The water was turquoise blue, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  It was paradise.

  But he knew better than to judge by first appearances.

  The co-pilot — Slater continued to use that label in his mind, despite the fact that the man was clearly U.S. military intelligence — came out of the cockpit as the wheels touched the tarmac. There was a gentle shudder as the pilot started to slow the jet.

  Slater sat up.

  ‘Got anything else to share with me?’ he said.

  The pilot said, ‘Word through intelligence channels is that the stretch of beach around Ruby Nazarian’s last known location is being monitored extensively. But we don’t know everything, and we can’t see everything. I’m sure you are aware of the cartel activity in Mexico. Organised crime is literally everywhere. It’s embedded so deep in society we wouldn’t even know where to start unravelling. So there’s endless opportunities to take advantage of their sicarios. They live and breathe money. Which the Chinese have a lot of. Understood?’

  Slater nodded. ‘I’ll be careful.’

  ‘You’d better be, because you’re not officially here. I’m sure you can understand why it’s politically sensitive to be here. Hence why it has to be you.’

  ‘That’s not the reason,’ Slater said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I’m here because I know her, and she’ll probably listen to me. That’s it. Don’t pretend it’s anything else.’

  The co-pilot shrugged. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Right. You only get told what’s necessary?’

  The guy shrugged again. ‘If you two have romantic drama, that’s none of my concern. Get back here as fast as you can. Because if you fuck it up, we’re gone. Like we never existed in the first place. Which we don’t.’

  He winked at Slater.

  Slater got to his feet and said, ‘Are you giving me firepower?’

  ‘There’s a Sig Sauer and an M4 in the jeep.’

  ‘What jeep?’

  The co-pilot jerked his thumb out one of the circular windows. Slater peered out onto the runway, and saw an open-topped jeep painted dark brown sitting empty at the foot of the stairs.

  He said, ‘It’s got a full tank. Do what you need to do and get back to us.’

  ‘Care to tag along?’

  Slater was met with silence.

  He slapped the guy on the shoulder and said, ‘Just kidding. See you on the other side.’

  He descended the stairs, adjusting the heart rate monitor the co-pilot had fitted to his chest. He relished the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck, and got behind the wheel. True to the co-pilot’s word there was a loaded Sig Sauer pistol and an M4A1 carbine resting side by side on the passenger seat.

  Slater sat there, his gut churning with unease, but that was all part of the game.

  But why is it churning?

  Because of Ruby?

  Or because it feels an awful lot like you’re back at work again?

  He threw that idea away, because it would paralyse him if he held onto it. He’d rather sort this situation out, then dwell on where his future lay. So he put the jeep into gear and took off away from the Gulfstream, heading for a collection of official-looking buildings alongside a gate in the wire perimeter of the airfield.

  There were guards, and booths, and guns, and security protocol, but Slater bypassed all of them. He barely had to look twice at any of the military personnel before they connected him to the mysterious jet that had been granted clearance to land, and ushered him straight through. He nodded politely to each of them — it was a bad idea to get on the wrong side of the local grunts — and pushed through onto a potholed road surrounded by rampant vegetation.

  The heat bore down on him, and he wiped sweat off his brow.

  The two-lane road led him to a small collection of buildings resting to the east of Tulum. There was a shopping mall, a federal government office, a tourist information centre, a Starbucks, and a gas station. Slater carried on past them, heading for the coast, following GPS directions on the phone in his lap.

  Violetta had ever so kindly provided him with Ruby’s exact location.

  There was little passing traffic, and Slater found nothing to be suspicious about in the small sample size he could analyse. There were overweight tourists and deeply tanned locals, and everything in between. But there were no hard faces or cold, soulless eyes. Slater found no hostility in the beach town. Everyone was pumped full of cheap alcohol and cheap food.

  He made it to the road running parallel to the Tulum Sea, inland from the beach, and turned right. He drove for nearly a mile before he reached a collection of lavish villas, collectively compromising an extravagant seaside resort. He parked the jeep and tucked the Sig Sauer into his waistband. It was devilishly hot. He squirmed as the sun beat down, and lowered the carbine into the footwell. Although there was urgency in the air, he opted not to storm into the quiet beachhead with guns blazing.

  Besides, there was little sign of the sicarios the co-pilot had warned him about.

  The cartels were busy running heroin and crack cocaine across the border, and buying entire governments, and trafficking sex slaves, and training child soldiers, and making billions in the process. He doubted the Chinese ying pai could even offer them enough to drag them away from those particularly lucrative endeavours.

  Or perhaps they could…

  But he stuck to his original plan, and draped a tarpaulin sheet from the rear seats over the carbine to shield it from any prying eyes.

  Then he got out, locked the jeep, and lowered his shirt over the Sig Sauer at his waist.

  He passed a couple of intoxicated Americans on the way into the resort. They offered a cheery pair of “hello”s, and he returned the favour. Then he pressed through, striding down a central path cutting through the villas, and moved straight past the reception building. He acted like he belonged nowhere else in the world, and no-one confronted him.

  He made it to the private stretch of beach without incident. There were traditional wooden huts spaced a comfortable distance apart along the white sand. There was bright blue water, and overhanging trees, and the sand was silky smooth under his boots.

  He figured he could spend a few years here without complaining.

  He walked fast, aware of how open and unprotected the beach was. There was near limitless room for hostiles to be spread out in the jungle, but he reminded himself that wasn’t the cartel’s style. If they truly had been paid to take her out, they’d come in hard and fast. They wouldn’t deem stealth a necessary facet of this particular job.

  They would underestimate their target, because she was a woman.

  Slater almost wished he could step back and watch that altercation play out.

  But he wasn’t here to play games.

  He kept walking, and found the hut he was looking for, and walked right up to the closed door.

  His heart thrummed in his chest.

  He ignored it.

  He reached up to knock.

  A slim hand reached around from behind, and caught his wrist, and spun him around, and pressed a blade to his throat.

  Her amber eyes glowed.

  Slater didn’t bother going for his gun.

  He half-smiled and said, ‘Hey.’

  47

  Ruby Nazarian said, ‘Did you let me do that?’

  Up close, she was as alluring as he remembered. She had the brightest, most intense eyes he’d ever seen. Her hair was tied back, revealing the same tanned, angular face, and
her lips hovered half an inch apart, like she could taste the violence she could dish out with the subtlest flick of her wrist.

  And she was still in phenomenal shape — she was wearing a tube top and loose floral pants that accentuated her physique in all the right places.

  You don’t dabble in the world of black operations without being in peak physical condition.

  Slater could attest to that.

  He said, ‘I figured it was a possibility. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings. I figured you’d get the jump on me one way or the other.’

  She took the knife out from underneath his chin, and returned the half-smile. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘It has.’

  ‘How’d you find me?’

  ‘I have contacts.’

  ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘I didn’t used to. I do now.’

  She furrowed her brow. ‘You’re back in bed with—?’

  ‘No,’ he said, then paused. ‘Well, my friend might be. Quite literally. We’ve been dealing with a government handler — Violetta. You heard of her?’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘Of course not. Lynx was a separate beast. I didn’t get access to your side of the pond.’

  Slater shrugged. ‘Trust me — we didn’t get access to much either.’

  ‘Told where to go and what to do,’ Ruby said. ‘But not why.’

  Slater smiled. ‘Maybe we have more in common than I thought.’

  She said, ‘Let’s cut the shit, okay? Uncle Sam sent you. If you came to get rid of me, you’d better be more prepared than that.’

  ‘Unless I have help,’ Slater said. ‘Unless I’m a distraction, and there’s shooters in the trees—’

  He saw her stiffen, and said, ‘I’m kidding. Don’t slit my throat.’

  ‘I was about to.’

  ‘Listen — you’re in danger.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  ‘No, you won’t. You’re not the judge, and neither am I. But the real judges have determined that you’re about to be public enemy number one, deep in cartel country. Which isn’t good for anyone involved who cares about your wellbeing.’

  She stared at him. ‘Oh, I’m sure they care about my wellbeing.’

  ‘They do. Maybe for political reasons, but they care all the same.’

  ‘Political?’

  ‘The Chinese have put out a hit list. I’m on it. Jason King’s on it. And now you’re on it.’

  ‘The Chinese?’

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it on the plane.’

  She stared at him. ‘I’m not going with you.’

  ‘You have to.’

  ‘You think I care about what the government wants me to do?’

  ‘It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that powerful people want you wiped off the face of the earth so you don’t show up in future to cause them problems. They already sent hired guns after King and I.’

  ‘How’d that work out for them?’

  ‘Not well.’

  ‘So you think I need babysitting, then?’

  ‘I told you this is cartel country.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’

  ‘You think you can handle an army storming this beach?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to protect me, then,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Neither of us can survive that. We need to go — right now.’

  She seemed to sense the urgency in his tone. It wasn’t like Slater to get spooked. But he’d been privy to a number of episodes with various Mexican cartels in the past, and he knew the depravity and brutality they were capable of. And, despite everything, he deeply cared about Ruby Nazarian. She was a fucked-up girl in a fucked-up world, but she’d come out the other side with some semblance of sanity. And that wasn’t something to gloss over.

  She hadn’t swallowed a gun, and neither had he.

  That was something powerful, given what they’d mutually been through.

  He couldn’t put into words how badly he wanted her to agree with him, but she seemed to sense it.

  And he knew why.

  That unspoken connection they shared. They’d waged war together in Colombia, and in the North Maine Woods. That trumped any need to build a deep bond over a number of years. Besides those altercations, they’d barely interacted, save for a whirlwind one-night-stand in a hotel in Colombia, but the relationship you formed in combat was deeper than any other form.

  Ruby said, ‘You promise to tell me everything on the way back?’

  ‘Only what I know.’

  ‘What are they going to do with us when we get there?’

  ‘It’s all up in the air,’ Slater said. ‘I know about as much as you do. But you can’t stay here. Not when the narcos are open to offers from the highest bidder, and more than happy to get involved in anything for the right price.’

  She said, ‘If they even think about—’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Trust me — I know.’

  Her gaze drifted over his shoulder, and she said, ‘We’ve got company.’

  He spun fast, and his heart skipped a beat, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a dark-skinned man in the resort’s uniform striding barefoot over the sand toward them. He was old and bald and had a thin build, and his skin was wrinkled from years of sun exposure. He sauntered right up to them, glanced at Ruby once, then kept his gaze on Slater.

  He didn’t blink.

  It seemed like he was thinly masking fear.

  He said, ‘Sir, is your car outside?’

  ‘Yes,’ Slater said. ‘I’m visiting my friend here. I’ll be on my way shortly.’

  ‘I understand, sir, but that’s not the problem.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  The guy gulped. ‘There is someone here to see you, and I would encourage you not to keep him waiting.’

  Slater cocked his head. ‘Okay. Who is he?’

  Then the fear turned to frustration. Something about Slater’s demeanour irritated the worker. The man said, ‘We would all appreciate it if you kept business like this away from our establishment. We don’t want you bringing your trouble here. Keep it away from our resort, sir. We don’t deserve this sort of harassment.’

  Slater realised the guy wouldn’t be saying another word.

  The man turned on his heel and walked off.

  Left alone on the beach, Slater turned to Ruby and said, ‘Have I convinced you yet?’

  ‘I’ll get my gun,’ she said.

  ‘And everything you need,’ Slater said. ‘I’d wager you’re not coming back here.’

  She said, ‘My gun is all I need.’

  Then she stepped forward, impossibly close, and touched her delicate lips to his. She reached a hand around to grip the back of his neck and kissed him ferociously. He returned the favour.

  She stepped away, and pivoted on the spot, and threw a sly glance over one shoulder.

  He watched her unlock her hut and step inside, admiring the view the whole time.

  As she disappeared, she called back, ‘It’s sure good to see you again.’

  ‘You too,’ he said.

  48

  Slater knew exactly what he’d find waiting by the jeep.

  He only had to make it to back to the naval base. That was it. It was a short drive before they’d be in the sky and out of Mexico for good. So, frankly, he didn’t give a shit who he pissed off on the way there. That was the one advantage he had over the cartels. They would expect obedience, and if he knew what was good for him he would give it to them, but that had never been Slater’s strong suit.

  So he approached the parking lot with the type of aggression that would get you executed in a heartbeat if you spent any longer than an hour in Mexico.

  There was a scion of one of the cartels waiting for them, leaning one muscular arm on the door. Slater could tell instantly he was a third or fourth generation spoiled brat with a sociopathic streak. He was in his early twenties, with a mess of dark
black hair over his forehead and a body forged from hours pumping iron each day and shooting up every designer steroid under the sun. He had that unwavering confidence too — everything he wanted in life, he reached out and took.

  He had the money, and the power, and the guns, and the girls.

  He shouldn’t even be here, not handling a situation with stakes like this, but the head honchos must have figured if the target was a lone woman, they could send one of their descendants to puff his chest out and get some experience under his belt.

  But, of course, it wasn’t just the scion. Slater could see the collection of SUVs — big Suburbans with tinted windows — milling around the entrance to the resort, off the beach road. The young cocky kid had been sent in to lay down the ground rules, and the rest of the sicarios — the real hard-hitters — were out there on the perimeter in case the targets got any ideas.

  The kid watched them approach, and he flashed a grin of pearly white teeth as he openly stared at Ruby.

  He called out, ‘My, oh my, señorita.’

  He licked his lips.

  Slater pulled to a halt right in front of the kid, up close, in his personal space. The guy didn’t even acknowledge him. He kept staring at Ruby, practically panting like a dog.

  Slater said, ‘Hey, buddy.’

  The kid glanced across, disinterested. ‘I’m not here for you. Fuck off.’

  ‘But I’m here all the same,’ Slater said. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Your whore is going to come with me.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘Because those are the orders that were handed down to me.’

  The kid said it lackadaisically, as if it couldn’t be a genuine possibility that Slater would resist. Now that would be something to behold. Everyone — literally everyone — knew the control the cartels possessed. They knew who was who. No-one would dare to resist them. If they told you what to do, you’d do it, or they’d make it so painful for you and your family that you’d wished you’d never existed in the first place.

  So when Slater reached out, took the kid’s arm off the door, and shoved him away from the jeep, a ripple speared through the atmosphere.