Echoes of a Distant Summer (102 page)

“Tercero? Tercero, venga aquí! Venga!”
San Vicente moved cautiously down the corridor whispering,
“Hombre! Dónde está?”

Even in the darkness, Deleon could see that he was carrying a heavy strongbox and an automatic rifle. Had Deleon kept the heavier caliber
machine pistol, he might’ve considered shooting San Vicente and ending it right there, but the truth was he wanted to kill San Vicente up close and personal: He wanted to kill him with his knife. He waited until no more than three paces separated them before he rushed his adversary. San Vicente heard him after his first step, but his ability to turn was slowed by the weight of the strongbox, and by the time he swung his rifle around, Deleon easily blocked it with a chopping blow, knocking it out of his hand. San Vicente dropped the strongbox and tried to defend himself, but Deleon was too quick for him. Deleon thrust his blade into San Vicente’s chest, but it was deflected by a metal object under his bulletproof vest. San Vicente fell over his strongbox and sprawled on the floor. In the darkness, Deleon could not risk continuing his attack. There was always the chance that San Vicente might have a handgun. He pulled his pistol and waited until San Vicente regained his feet.

San Vicente pulled his own knife and challenged, “You want knives? I’ve got a knife and I’m facing you! And Tercero is somewhere behind you!”

“Tercero won’t be coming to help,” Deleon answered as he judged the distance between himself and his prey.

“You killed Tercero?” San Vicente asked incredulously.

“Just like I’m going to kill you,” Deleon answered as he started toward him.

San Vicente circled to his right and suggested, “We can both leave here alive, and I’ll call things equal between us.”

Deleon stopped for a moment and laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea then replied, “You’ll never leave here!”

San Vicente tapped his chest and growled,
“Entonces mátame!
Kill me if you can!” He charged Deleon, who easily ducked under his slashing blade.

Deleon closed quickly with him again, ignoring his feint, and thrust past his guard. This time there was nothing to deflect his knife. He drove the blade up to its hilt into San Vicente’s stomach, twisting it up and to the right. As he was falling San Vicente tried to counterattack, but Deleon blocked his knife with his forearm and head-butted him hard across his nose. San Vicente fell backward and hit the floor heavily. “Now things are equal between us!” Deleon said as he wiped his blade on the hall curtains.

San Vicente gasped, “You black fuck! You didn’t keep our agreement!”

Deleon chuckled. “You were the one who said agreements were made to be broken.”

San Vicente growled, “I’ll be waiting for you in hell!”

“See you there.” Deleon walked over to him and fired his .22 into San Vicente’s head. He turned away and picked up the automatic rifle. This was a weapon he knew. He checked the chamber to ensure that it was loaded and headed for the basement. Outside the gunfire had fallen silent. Deleon deduced that if the police hadn’t come by now, they weren’t going to show up at all. No police involvement meant that Jackson was in control of the compound. It also meant that the possibility of his leaving the compound with his life was minimal. Surprisingly, that did not disturb him. If he could get Elizabeth then he could perhaps trade her for safe passage, but he didn’t really want safe passage. He wanted a face-to-face with Jackson Tremain to repay him for stealing his opportunity to kill Xavier. He wouldn’t mind dying if he could take Tremain with him. Plus, it all had a poetic, Shakespearean quality: the last DuMont and the last Tremain who mattered dying together. His mood was light; he almost smiled as he opened the door to the basement.

As soon as Deleon had partially opened the door, Rex’s head surged through it and bit his left hand, the hand in which he was carrying the automatic rifle. The rifle clattered to the floor as Deleon put his weight against the door and slammed it hard on the dog’s head. The animal loosened its grip with a yelp and Deleon was able to force the door shut, but his thumb, index, and middle fingers of his left hand were torn open and bleeding. His left hand was useless. He picked up the rifle one-handed and fired a burst through the lower part of the door. He reopened the door and saw the dog lying midway down the stairs. Deleon fired another burst into the dog and stepped over him as he descended into the basement. There was only one emergency light illuminating the basement at the bottom of the stairs. As soon as Deleon saw the door to her room open, he knew Elizabeth was either dead or had escaped. He went on and searched her room anyway. Deleon stumbled over Alejandro’s mangled body, but there was no sign of Elizabeth. Frustrated, he turned and retraced his way up the stairs.

He needed a plan B now, but he didn’t have one. One thing was for
sure, he had to get out of the building. If Jackson had Elizabeth, Deleon figured that he would blow the compound to rubble from a distance. Deleon cut a long piece of backing off one of the curtains and wrapped it tightly around the fingers and thumb of his left hand. Holding one end between his teeth, he tied the bandage securely. He opened the injured hand with a grimace. At least with his fingers wrapped together he would be able to grip objects with his left hand. He went to the next staircase and began making his way to an upper story. Perhaps he could find a hiding place from which he could shoot Jackson. He would probably have to expose himself in order to get off a shot. With limited use of one hand, the rifle was unwieldy and his pistol wouldn’t provide a killing shot from any distance.

As Deleon started up to the second floor, he heard voices, voices speaking English. He climbed the stairs slowly and silently. He heard two men’s voices; one was groaning in pain while the other was trying to soothe him. Deleon dropped down into a crouch. He had not dared hope for such luck, but it looked like fate was now smiling upon him. He stopped four or five steps from the top of the staircase and listened. The muffled conversation sounded as if it was originating in the vestibule of the second-floor entrance, a large room off the hall. There were no other sounds in the hallway. Using all his guile, he moved catlike up the remaining stairs and across the hall. Keeping to the wall, he tiptoed to the vestibule’s doorway and listened.

“I’ve got the tourniquet as tight as I can, Dan,” Rhasan said with concern. “I can’t get it any tighter.”

Dan gritted his teeth. “Try and give it another half turn, Rhasan. The blood’s still oozing out! Oh, shit! It’s looks like I’ve lost a quart already. Where are vampires when you really need them?”

Rhasan made a face. “I don’t think we can stop it. The bullet went clean through your thigh and the hole in the back is pretty big.”

Dan lay back flat on the floor. “I’m getting groggy. Hard to stay awake …”

To Deleon, it sounded like there were only two men in the vestibule. He peeped around the corner and saw that he was correct and both men were faced toward the outside door, away from him. They were on the floor next to a low coffee table beside some heavy wooden chairs. He moved quietly into the room, relying on stealth to get as close as possible before he made his presence known. He was within ten feet before either man noticed him.

It was Rhasan who saw Deleon first. A questioning frown crossed his face then he demanded, “Who are you?” He started to reach for the Uzi, which was a couple of feet behind him.

“Don’t!” Deleon warned, pointing the barrel of his rifle at Rhasan. “Not if you want to live another minute!” Deleon moved forward swiftly and kicked the Uzi across the room.

Dan lifted his head, but he couldn’t focus on the voice. “Is that you, Jax?”

Deleon didn’t answer. He walked around Dan to make sure that he had no weapon. Dan’s face was sweaty and he was starting to tremble a bit. Deleon told Rhasan, “He’s beginning to go into shock. If you want to help him, tear down one of the curtains and cover him. But don’t make any sudden moves, or it’ll be you lying on the floor with bullet holes in you!” Rhasan got up obediently and pulled down one of the heavy drapes that lined the wall. He made sure the tourniquet was still tight then tucked the drapes around Dan’s body.

Deleon studied Rhasan. The boy had a bit of a goatee, but his brown skin had the smooth softness of youth. In prison he would be considered a virgin fuck. Such a boy would be reserved only for the most powerful gang leaders. He was a real prize. Deleon regretted that he did not have the time to sample the boy’s flesh, but his thoughts gravitated to the business at hand; destiny was pressing and it required all of his attention.

Rhasan said to Deleon, “Whoever you are, you can still escape. My uncle will be here soon. He’ll be coming to check on us!”

Deleon smiled. “You’re Jackson’s nephew? Good. Very good. I want to see your uncle.”

“What do you want with him?” Rhasan demanded. A look of alarm spread across his face.

“That’s my business. I want you to call him.”

Suddenly Rhasan understood. He pointed at Deleon and exclaimed, “You’re a DuMont! You don’t just want to see him, you want to kill him!”

“You answered the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Now, go and call him!” Deleon’s voice was cold and hard. “Do it now!”

Rhasan pounded his chest with youthful bravado. “You can kill me! I don’t care! I’ll never call him!”

Deleon snorted at Rhasan’s foolishness. Rhasan was too valuable to injure immediately. Deleon merely pointed his rifle at Dan’s supine body and said, “I’ll put a bullet in him for every time I have to ask you!”

Rhasan put his hands up, pleading, “Don’t shoot him. It’s me that’s disobeying you. I’m the one that’s not going to call!”

“I’m going to fill him up with bullets then I’m going to start on you. What do you bet that when I make you scream, your uncle will come in here anyway? And, boy, I
will
make you scream! This is time number one. Go to the door and call your uncle!”

Voices from outside precluded Rhasan’s response. “Rhasan? Dan?” It was Jackson’s voice.

Deleon shouted, “Your nephew’s in here! He’s in here along with one of your friends! If you want to see either one of them alive, you’ll come in here by yourself! This is Deleon DuMont speaking! I’ve been waiting to meet you! And I warn you, don’t do anything foolish! The boy will die first! If anyone else comes in, I’ll kill them!”

Outside on the balcony Jackson started toward the door, but Elizabeth yanked him back. Her eyes were filling with tears. She shook her head. “No, you don’t! Don’t throw it away after all of this! How do you know he just won’t kill you?” Jackson tapped his vest, to which Elizabeth replied, “All he has to do is knock you down with a few shots, then he can take his time killing you!”

Jackson touched her face. “How can I not go? Both Dan and Rhasan came here as a favor to me.” He pulled out of her grip and said to Esteban, “Don’t let anything happen to her!”

They heard Deleon’s voice shouting, “I’m waiting in here! And I’m getting impatient!”

Jackson walked to the edge of the door and demanded, “When I walk into the room I want you to release Rhasan and Dan!”

“And if I don’t?”

“We’ll assume the worst and come in firing!”

Deleon laughed cynically. “Sure thing! I’ll let them go! I just love agreements!” Standing behind Rhasan, he pushed the barrel of his .22 into the base of his skull, pressing the sharp blade of his knife under the boy’s chin to keep him from trying to escape. Deleon hadn’t decided whether he would kill the boy or not; it depended upon the whim of the moment as well as circumstance.

Jackson stepped into the room with a pistol in his hand. Immediately he saw the gleam of the blade at Rhasan’s throat. He stepped out of the doorway and moved along the wall. He said in a quiet voice, “I’m in here. What’s the shouting about?”

“Put down your gun and I’ll show you!”

“I’ll put the gun down when you let Rhasan go. Otherwise, kill him now. There’s no way I’m putting this gun down until he’s released.”

“You fool! You must think I’m playing! Your friend will pay!” Deleon turned the .22 on Dan’s unconscious body and saw a movement from Jackson out of the corner of his eye. It made him hesitate and hunker down. That movement saved his life. Jackson fired off two quick shots. The first clipped the barrel of his pistol, knocking it from his hands, and the second whizzed a quarter of an inch over his head. He felt its passage. Deleon switched the knife into his good hand and ducked down behind Rhasan.

“Let Rhasan go and I’ll put the gun down!”

Deleon knew that Jackson was too good with a pistol to play out his situation too long. If he killed the boy, Jackson would kill him. It wasn’t a fair exchange. At best, it was a knight for a king. The game would be over. Jackson started pacing on a horizontal to where Deleon was holding Rhasan. Deleon tightened his grip on the boy and growled, “Stop right there! I’ll kill him! I may not kill you, but I’ll definitely kill him!” Jackson stopped moving. He stood still, the pistol pointed obliquely in Deleon’s direction. Despite the pain Deleon stuck the fingers of his left hand into the boy’s nostrils and pulled the boy’s head back roughly then dragged the edge of his blade around the boy’s throat, cutting just the first thin layer of skin. He held the point of his knife against the side of the boy’s neck. From this position, he could throw his knife with deadly accuracy should Jackson move within ten feet. He would’ve played a waiting game with Jackson had he not heard the soft, shuffling sound of someone moving on the stairwell. He had no time. He had to let the boy go. He had to gamble that Jackson was stupid enough to believe that he had to honor the agreement to put his pistol down. Deleon gave Jackson a big smile and said, “All right, I’ll release the boy, then you put your gun on the floor.”

Jackson smiled back. “I’ll put my gun on the floor when he and Dan are out of the range of your knife.”

Deleon frowned and said, “I’m going to trust you this time. Get out of here, kid!” He let go of Rhasan, who fell to the floor and scrambled away.

Jackson ordered, “Rhasan, get Dan under the arms and drag him out of here!”