“Hyenas? Why’s that?”
“They liked to ravage their victims. I mean, rip ’em to fucking shreds from very close range. Then they’d leave the scene in packs, laughing, like their job was the easiest thing in the world.” Holmes shivered at the thought, an equal mixture of fear and excitement surging through him. After all these years, he would finally get to see how good he was. “They’re the best-prepared soldiers in the world.”
“Come on, how tough can they be?” Jackson asked naively. “We’ve got dozens of armed men, and we’re fighting against these guys in a confined space, right?”
Holmes nodded gravely. The stories he had heard about the MANIACs bordered on legend. “True, but if these guys are who you claim, we might be outnumbered.”
AFTER stealing gear from the armory, Payne and Jones hustled into the nearby trees to establish their attack strategy. Unfortunately, their planning would be difficult since they still lacked one major piece of information: Ariane’s current location.
Payne updated his friend on everything he’d learned about the guards and the landscape. Then he filled him in on what he didn’t know. “I searched a few of the cabins before I reached you. All of them were empty.”
“Empty? Then where is everybody? Bennie said there were twenty to twenty-five captives.”
“I didn’t check all the cabins, but none of them are being guarded. Therefore, either the prisoners are being kept elsewhere, or they’ve been moved off the island.”
“Or,” Jones added, “there are several people in one cabin. In the old days, slaves used to sleep ten to a room, and I have a feeling the Posse isn’t trying to make their guests comfortable.”
Payne nodded in agreement. “So tell me, what should we do?”
Jones smiled at the question. “I thought you’d never ask.”
For as long as they’d known each other, this was how their partnership worked. Payne would name a place, and Jones would lead him there. It didn’t matter if it was a top-secret mission into Cuba or a beer-filled trip to a Steelers game, Jones was the navigator. He was the planner. A strategy prodigy. It was his specialty. He was the best there was.
Payne, on the other hand, was the finisher. The closer. The military’s equivalent of a baseball relief pitcher. He would come in when everything was on the line and finish the job. In truth, it was rarely pretty. Most of the time his work was bloody, even borderline savage. But things always worked out in the end. Always.
Give him a quest, and he’d make it a conquest. Guaranteed.
Together, they were an unstoppable duo.
Let the games begin.
CHAPTER 46
THERE
was no reason for the duo to wage battle in the open fields where a lucky shot could take them out. No, it was better to do their dirty work in the dark underbrush of the island, where they could control the game. The woods would be their playground. Search and kill, jungle style.
Without speaking, Payne and Jones communicated their ideas through hand signals. It wasn’t traditional sign language, but for them it was just as effective. They knew exactly what the other meant without saying a word, and that was critical. During night runs, sound was the biggest enemy.
On the other hand, sound could also be quite useful, the ultimate ally. By making a noise on purpose, a soldier could divert his enemy’s attention. The crash of a thrown rock could confuse a tracker. A snapping twig or a well-placed scream could quickly draw attention away from an endangered colleague. And occasionally, it could be used as a lure, a way to bring several people into an area at one time. It was a difficult thing to accomplish, but when done right, it was very effective.
Cows to the slaughterhouse, as Payne liked to say.
Eventually, this was the technique that Jones settled on. In order to make it work, they placed some charges near a small clearing that they found in the middle of a thick grove. A boulder, partially buried on a nearby plateau, would be used as the duo’s nest. The goal was to draw as many men as possible into the open area below the large stone before Payne and Jones used their elevated position to commence target practice.
After climbing the bluff, Jones settled into position next to Payne. Normally, they would’ve spread far apart, attempting to surround their victims in hopes of cutting off their escape routes, but in this case it was completely unnecessary. This assault would be child’s play, a complete blood-bath. Two experienced soldiers facing a team of untrained men was as lopsided as a battle could get. Besides, the landscape didn’t allow them to fan out over a wide range. The terrain dictated that both of them sit in the crow’s nest from the get-go.
When Payne was ready, he glanced at Jones and nodded. It was time to begin.
BOOM!!! An explosion shook the earth, and a flash of light brightened the nearby sky. Everyone near the burning cabin flinched and turned their heads toward the trees. The prisoners were apparently in the woods. Holmes gave orders to pursue them.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!! Payne and Jones squeezed off a few rounds for additional attention, plus they wanted to make sure that their weapons were functional. The last time they’d used Terrell Murray’s guns they were very disappointed with the results.
BOOM!!! A second charge exploded. Payne and Jones tried to lure the guards to a specific spot in the woods. They couldn’t afford to have any strays sneaking up behind them. It would ruin their plans and cost them their lives. No, they needed everyone to appear in the open area below the boulder, right where the guards would be most vulnerable.
BOOM!!! The last of the small charges was detonated. Neither Payne nor Jones wanted the woods to be too bright when the guards arrived. They wanted a soft glow, just enough light to see their targets, but not enough light to give away their own location. Candlelight to kill by.
“Do you hear that?” Payne whispered as he screwed the silencer onto his MP5K. His weapon was capable of spitting out nine hundred rounds a minute, and now that its silencer was in place, it would make less noise than an iPod.
Jones smiled. He heard several footsteps approaching through the grove. “Here come the first contestants on
The Price Is Life
.”
Nodding, Payne focused on the area below, but he wouldn’t fire his submachine gun until the small pocket of space was completely filled with guards. He needed to make sure he could get everyone at once.
One by one, the black men emerged from the trees. Two, then five, then ten. Thirteen in total. Unlucky thirteen. They glanced around, looking for the source of the commotion, but found nothing. They stood there, confused, unable to choose their next move, for none of them had the experience or the authority to take control.
“Like cows to the slaughterhouse,” Jones mumbled, stealing Payne’s line.
Payne nodded again, his face devoid of emotion. “Moooooo!”
Pfffft! Pfffft! Pfffft! Pfffft! The guns hissed, spraying in silence.
Pfffft! Pfffft! Pfffft! Pfffft! Their venom flew, striking its mark.
There wasn’t any time for the guards to react or fire back. Hell, they never even knew what hit them. One minute they were standing, searching for the escaped prisoners. The next they were sprawled on the ground, marinating in each other’s blood.
There were no screams, no tears, and no pleas of mercy. Death had been silent and swift.
ANTICIPATING an easy victory, Jackson and Webster followed the guards at a leisurely pace. Thirteen men against two. With odds like that, they figured it would be a massacre, an absolute slaughter. And it was—just not in their favor. When they arrived at the scene, they found nothing but bodies. All of them black. All of them dead. Victims of gunfire. Head shots. Heart shots. Limbs tattered. Pistols still hol stered. Rifles unfired. The smell of war lingered in the air. Crimson poured from gaping wounds, flooding the forest’s floor. Death was everywhere.
And Webster couldn’t handle it.
When he realized what had happened, he dropped to his knees and vomited. It was the first time that he’d seen a corpse outside of a funeral home, so the sight of the baker’s dozen was too much for him to handle. He was the brains, not the brawn. He took no part in the actual torture and disposal of the bodies. All of that was outside of his realm.
“They killed them! They killed them all!” He staggered to his feet, wanting to confront Jackson, but was unwilling to walk among the gory remains of his fallen comrades. “Octavian was right! These guys are the best! Look what they did to your guards! Just look!!”
“Be quiet!” Jackson whispered sternly. “They might still be around.”
The thought hadn’t crossed Webster’s mind. The killers could be in the trees, watching him at that very moment. He gagged as more vomit rose from his belly.
Jackson rolled his eyes in disgust. He didn’t have time to babysit. He needed to focus all of his attention on the battle site. He needed to look for clues while the trail was still warm. “Don’t worry. I might not have their training, but I can be a warrior if I have to be.”
As Jackson finished speaking, his radio squawked, causing him to flinch in fear.
The incoming voice said, “This is Octavian. What’s going on out there?”
Jackson whispered. “Dead. Everyone’s dead. Payne and Jones killed them all. Theo and I showed up one minute behind the guards, and we found corpses. Thirteen fuckin’ corpses. Blood everywhere. No sign of the prisoners, but our guys are dead!”
“You’re sure.”
Jackson kicked one of the men in front of him. He didn’t move. “Yep.”
Holmes felt his pulse quicken and noticed the hairs on his arms stand at attention. Thirteen kills in less than ten minutes. My lord, these guys
were
good. “What did they use for weapons?”
“Guns,” Jackson answered. “I don’t know what kind, but they have rapid-fire capability. I don’t see any shells near the guards, so I guess they didn’t have time to fire back.”
“Where the hell did they get weapons like—”
Holmes stopped before he finished his statement. Nervously, he glanced at the cabin on the far end of the row. The door looked closed from a distance, but there was only one way to know for sure.
“Guards!” he shouted. Two men left the burning cabin and ran to his side. “Check the armory and tell me if anything’s missing!”
The men saluted crisply, then ran off.
As he watched them approach the storage shed, Holmes felt the tension rise in his body. If Payne and Jones had located the artillery, there was a good chance that they’d stolen enough equipment to wipe out the entire island. Instead of seizing the Plantation one guard at a time, they could do it one acre at a time.
Within seconds, the guards reached the cabin and studied the partially opened door. The armory had been violated. Drawing their weapons, the two men kicked the door aside and prepared to fire at the perpetrators. It was the last move they would ever make. Because of their inexperience, the men failed to notice the wire that had been tied to the base of the door. When they bumped the cord, it triggered a fragmentation grenade, which exploded in their faces. The fragger, designed to launch razorlike pieces of metal over an extended area of space without the impact of a large explosion, tattered the men with shrapnel, killing both men instantly.
Holmes grimaced as he heard the muffled blast, followed by the guards’ silence. The sounds proved what he already knew in his gut. The Plantation’s artillery had been compromised.
“Damn!” he muttered.
He wasn’t the least bit concerned about his men, but he was worried about the missing weapons. It was going to make his job much harder to accomplish.
He grabbed his radio once again. “Harris? Theo? Are you there?”
“What do you need?” Jackson whispered. He was walking through the trees with Webster, trying not to make a sound. “We’re on our way back now.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Not to alarm you, but Payne and Jones got into Terrell’s gear. There’s no telling what other surprises they have in store for us.”
“What do you mean by surprises?”
“I don’t know,” Holmes admitted. He still needed to get someone inside of the armory to check the inventory. “Land mines, flame throwers, grenades, rocket launchers. Shit, they could have anything.”
Without responding, Jackson and Webster increased their stride significantly.
CHAPTER 47
WHEN
Greene saw the site of the explosion, it hit him like a punch in the gut. It was Jones’s cabin, and there was nothing left of it. The wooden frame had collapsed, succumbing to the intense heat of the fire. Debris, spread from the power of the initial blast, littered the manicured yard. Clouds of smoke lingered in the air, making it tough to breathe or even see.
“Damn,” he muttered as he removed his mask and cloak. “This can’t be good.”
Holmes, Jackson, and Webster saw Greene’s approach and rushed to his side. Before they even said a word, Greene tried to assess the severity of the situation but was unable to do so because of their wide range of emotions. Holmes had the cold glare of a terrorist. Blank face, intense eyes, neither a frown nor a smile on his lips. He had seen this type of shit before and wasn’t fazed by it. Jackson, though not as polished as Holmes, was still under control. His eyes showed some concern, like a sick man waiting for test results in a hospital, but he did his best to mask it with a broad grin. This was his first combat, and overall, he was holding up well.
Then there was Webster. He was the complete opposite of the other two men. In fact, if he had been a horse, Elmer’s would’ve been negotiating for his glue rights. His face was pale and sweaty. His body trembled. And his eyes were as big as pancakes. If not for the tragic possibilities of the situation, Greene would’ve laughed at him.
