Ready to Kill (28 page)

CHAPTER 30

“I’m outside your door,”
Estefan said.

Nathan let him in. “Grab those two packs and the rifles.” Nathan looked at Antonia. “If I take that gag out and untie your hands, do you give me your word you won’t scream or try anything stupid?”

She nodded.

“Good, because it’s going to be an unpleasant experience being carried over to the lumber mill, even worse with your arms tied behind your back.”

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“Afraid I do.” Nathan cut her wrists free but left her ankles bound together with the two-foot strip. He didn’t have time to chase her all over creation. He ordered her to stand and hold still. In a fluid move, he heaved her over his right shoulder, bending her at the hips. Outside, he and Estefan pivoted their NVGs down and took off in a medium-paced jog up the street. He couldn’t ignore the sensation of her breasts bouncing against his back, and he knew she was embarrassed from being carried this way.

“You okay up there?”

“My ribs hurt.”

“Try to relax. This won’t take long.”

After fifty yards, she used her arms to encircle his waist and her wrists ended up across his groin. Although awkward, it definitely created more stability. He was tempted to say something but didn’t.

Nathan felt a good burn begin in his legs. He’d always liked physical exertion and never understood why most people tended to avoid it.

Fairly winded from hauling Antonia across five hundred yards, Nathan reached the lumber trucks and turned right.

“I’ve got you,”
Harv said.

At the office, Nathan set the girl down on the top step of the porch and took a few deep breaths. “Estefan, double-time over to the barracks. Make sure no one’s home. Surveillance only. Do not engage. If you see anyone, come up on the radio. One-mike check-ins.” Nathan saw Estefan was in great shape. The three-minute jaunt hadn’t phased him. He took off and disappeared into the blackness.

Harv nodded at the open door of the office. “There’s something you need to see in there.”

“On your feet,” Nathan said to Antonia. “We’re going inside.”

“But that creep’s in there,” she whispered.

“He won’t be a problem,” Harv said. “I’m turning on the lights. NV off.”

Nathan powered his goggles off and pivoted them up.

The bound men squinted at the sudden brightness.

Harv pointed to the open safe.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Nathan asked.

“Indeed you are.”

“Unbelievable,” he said under his breath.

“It’s no wonder I had to shoot our little friend over there. Twice.”

Sitting on a thick plywood shelf, twenty-six gold bars the size of chalkboard erasers loomed like pirate’s treasure. There were six columns, stacked four high, with a seventh column containing only two bars. The ingots were pitted and crudely made, but he had no doubt they were solid gold. Unrefined, but gold just the same.

Nathan ignored the two men secured to the post and looked at Antonia. “Did you know about this?”

The bitterness in her expression told all.

“Do you still think you and Franco were going to live happily ever after?”

Staring at the safe, she pursed her lips.

He heard muffled groaning and turned. The little man with blood-soaked bandages was whipping his head back and forth in a frenzy. The other guy looked on the verge of tears.
Understandable
, Nathan thought. He escorted Antonia over to the safe where he could keep an eye on her. Nathan hefted a bar. “Feels like two pounds.”

“Probably one kilo each,” said Harv. “That’s a little over two pounds.”

“How many ounces is that?”

Harv thought for a moment. “I think a kilo’s around thirty-five or so.”

Nathan tried to run the calculation in his head aloud. “Twenty-six bars times thirty-five ounces, what is that?”

“There’s a calculator on the desk.”

Nathan picked it up. “If we’re right about each bar being
. . .
thirty-five ounces, then there are nine hundred ten ounces in there. Multiply that by $1,400 and you get . . .” Nathan made a whistle sound. “We’re looking at more than $1.2 million. That’s at spot price for gold bullion, so it’s not worth that much, but it’s still a small fortune.”

“We can’t let Macanas keep it.”

Nathan lowered his voice. “We’ll hump it into the jungle and use our special phone to take a GPS reading. What about Estefan? He’s going to want some of this.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“We’re telling him about it, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“If Raven’s been skimming, it’s possible this is his private loot.”

“That’s a boatload of skimming. Either way, we don’t—”

Estefan’s voice cut in.
“It’s all quiet at the barracks. No one’s home.”

“Double-time back here. There’s something you need to see.”

“On my way.”

Estefan arrived half a minute later and walked over to the safe. “You’re kidding me.” Estefan picked up an ingot. “These are one-kilo bars. Each one is worth about $50,000. This is a major score!”

“We’ve only got two backpacks and they’re pretty full, but if we split it evenly, we’ll be okay. I think we can handle adding . . .” He worked the calculator again. “About twenty-eight pounds of gold each. Can you manage that, Harv?”

“I bet I could.” Harv nodded toward Bean. “What about him?”

Bean’s makeshift bandages were fairly soaked, but they weren’t dripping.

“He’s not in danger of bleeding out. We’ll deal with him later after we get this gold squared away.”

“And her?” Harv asked, loading their packs with the ingots.

“Please don’t tie me up with them,” Antonia said, genuine terror in her voice.

Nathan grabbed her wrist, took her outside, and lowered his voice. “I have no reason to trust you, but you have every reason to trust us. Do you doubt we could’ve easily killed you tonight?”

“No.”

Nathan pulled his knife and cut the tether binding her ankles. “You need to choose sides right now, Antonia. I don’t know what kind of a person you are, but if you stay on your current path, it won’t have a happy ending. I hope you don’t dismiss what I’m about to say as patronizing or condescending, because it isn’t meant to be. All the things you think are important—money, power, material possessions—none of them will make you happy. There’s no correlation between wealth and happiness. Absolutely none. It’s one of society’s biggest lies. You may not fully understand what I’m saying right now, but if you live long enough, someday you will.” Nathan put a hand on his chest. “True happiness comes from helping others who are less fortunate than you. It comes from doing the right thing. Nothing else works.”

“What happened to you? In the office, I saw scars under your face paint.”

“Life happened to me.”

“You’re not from around here.”

Nathan didn’t respond.

She hugged herself. “There’s nothing left for me here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You just haven’t figured it out yet.” In the amber light spilling out of the office, Nathan watched her face. She was so incredibly beautiful. Perhaps she could find inner beauty as well.

Antonia lowered her voice. “Raven always keeps two men with him. They’re like bodyguards or something. I guess not always, just when he comes up for business stuff.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nathan said. “Why’d you share it?”

She shrugged.

Estefan and Harv joined them.

“I’ll be right back,” Nathan said. He went inside the office and told Bean in no uncertain terms to leave Antonia and her family alone or he’d come back and put Bean in a wheelchair.

They all looked to the south at the same time.

A helicopter’s thumping echoed through the valley, then went silent.

“Shit,” Harv said.

“Antonia,” said Nathan, “I need the truth, right now. Does Raven fly helicopters?”

She nodded.

“Does that sound like the helicopter you always hear?”

“Yes.”

“We’re out in the open, people,” said Estefan.

They ran over to the office’s porch.

The helicopter’s drone returned, louder this time.

“You’re all dead now!” White yelled from inside the office. “You hear me? He’s gonna kill every one of you stupid fucks!”

Estefan slipped past Harv into the office and hurried over to White.

White cringed when Estefan pulled Harv’s suppressed Sig from his waist.

“Estefan, no!” Nathan yelled.

Nathan watched Estefan point the pistol at White and activate the laser. A crimson dot marked the top of White’s head. Time seemed to slow as Estefan held the man’s life in his hands.

“It’s not who we are,” Nathan said.

Estefan swung the weapon like a hammer, delivering a haymaker. The man slumped sideways against Bean’s wounded arms. Bean whipped his head back and forth in agony.

“Pull him off,” Nathan said. “Harv, kill the lights.”

The helicopter’s drone tripled when it entered the south end of the valley.

Rather than slow down and drop in altitude, the helicopter screamed over their heads at five hundred feet. Completely dark with no beacons or landing lights, it banked hard to the left, sweeping across the valley to the west. If Raven intended to land, he wasn’t doing so at the helipad.

On the lower slopes of the mountains, Nathan saw a few residential lights come on.

He aimed his rifle for a look but had a hard time acquiring the helo. He took his eye out of the scope and looked down the length of his barrel, lining up on the sound as best he could, but he still couldn’t find it.

“Harv, track for me.”

Harv moved in behind and placed a hand on his back. They’d done this before, many times. “Move left and up a hair, a little more . . .”

“I have it,” Nathan said. “Looks like a Bell. Six or eight seats.”

In the NV image of his scope, Nathan didn’t see anyone in the left seat, but there were men facing each other in the rear compartment.

“How many?” Harv asked.

“At least four in the back, but no one’s in front with Raven.”

“He doesn’t like anyone sitting next to him,” Antonia offered.

Harv said, “If he’s wearing goggles, we’re visible right now.”

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” He lowered his rifle.

The Bell kept going south.

“He’s descending,” Harv said. “Hear him cut power?”

“Yeah.”

The sound changed again as Raven reapplied power.

“He’s going to land at the south end of town,” said Nathan, “probably west of the bridge in the open field where the power lines aren’t a factor.”

“He’s on the ground,” Harv said. “He just throttled down to an idle.”

“How do you guys know all of that?” Estefan asked.

Nathan said, “We’re both pilots.
Shh.
”

A few seconds later, they all heard it—a sudden increase in power, followed by the growing
whoop-whoop-whoop
of blade slap.

“He’s in the takeoff curve,” Nathan said. “Heading straight for us.”

Harv nodded. “It’s a good bet he just unloaded some of his men.”

The helicopter roared over their position and continued north without changing direction.

“He’s going for the open-pit mines to bracket us in this valley. Harv, you stay with Estefan and engage the men coming up from the south.”

Nathan took off in a dead run for the road.

“Wait!” Harv yelled.

Nathan stopped and turned, counting precious seconds. “If Raven gets eyes on us first, we’re all dead. I need you and Estefan to cover my six.”

“Damn it. Take the TI.” Harv shucked his pack.

Nathan shook his head and resumed running. “Keep it,” he yelled back, “I’ll be okay.”

Harv’s voice boomed through his ear speaker.
“I want your word you won’t do anything heroic or reckless up there.”

“You have my word. Shoot to kill from now on, Harv. Anyone carrying a weapon is fair game.”

“Shit, Nate. I hate it when you do this.”

“I’ll be okay. We’ve got the radios.”

“You gave me your word.”

“Absolutely, you have my word.”

“Estefan and I are going to lay low and let our enemy come to us. Good hunting, partner. Don’t get your ass killed. I like my world with you in it.”

“Relax, Harv. Raven doesn’t stand a chance.”

CHAPTER 31

Nathan Daniel McBride ran.

He knew this would push his physical endurance to the limit.
Mind over matter
, he told himself. Although he could run faster than his current pace, he wouldn’t be able to sustain it. He had to find the right balance between going too slowly and exhausting himself prematurely.

In less time than it took for Raven to land and shut down the helicopter, Nathan needed to sprint more than nine hundred yards up a steep road, in unfamiliar territory, in the dead of night, and face an unknown number of enemy combatants—one of whom was a sniper who’d been trained by none other than himself.

Although he’d told Harv that Raven didn’t have a chance, he didn’t believe it for a second. Barring some kind of miracle, if Raven saw Nathan first, it was over.

Though it bore its own risks, separating from Harv and Estefan had been the best tactical decision. If all three of them pursued the helicopter, the men Raven had dropped to the south of Santavilla would retake the lumber mill and add an extra man to their numbers. Raven’s cousin was out of the fight, but the white shirt could still join the fray, assuming his brain wasn’t hemorrhaging from Estefan’s pistol-whipping. Harv’s plan to remain at the lumber mill’s office was solid. Nathan had no way to know if Raven had actually dropped gunmen off at the south end of town or not. His brief landing there could have been a ruse. If Nathan had taught Raven anything, it was to use deception to his advantage, especially when facing the unknown. Still, if Raven had dropped men on the south end of town, they were no more than ten minutes away from Harv’s position.

“Harv, you copy?”

“I’m here.”

“Can you still hear the ship?”

“Barely. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t descended yet.”

“You and Estefan should switch Sigs so you have the suppressed weapon.”

“We already did.”

“Where’s the girl?”

“She’s still with us. She doesn’t want to go home.”

“It’s your call, Harv.”

“She won’t make trouble.”

“Raven’s men might approach from the river.”

“We’ll be ready. We need a new scatter point.”

“If I go silent for more than thirty minutes, give White Shirt a flesh wound in the leg, lose the girl, and take Estefan up to our original SP. Wait there for me.”

“Silent for thirty minutes? As in
. . .
you’re dead?”

“Don’t assume the worst
. . .
it may only be a radio issue.”

“A lot can happen in half an hour.”

“Confirm for me what you remember about where I’m headed from the aerials.”

“The photos only covered the south half of the pit mines. The road you’re on turns right at a small pass between two peaks up there. It follows the side of the mountain and begins a gradual descent into the open-pit-mine area. I recall seeing some wide, flat sections on the road that looked like fill areas. The right side of the road looked really steep, nearly vertical in places.”

“Could Raven land on the road up there on those wider areas?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

“Those are spoil dumps,”
Estefan added.
“From adits.”

“Adits?” Nathan asked.

“Raven just throttled down,”
Harv cut in,
“but I seriously doubt he’s landed yet. If I’m right, I should hear him increase power for the landing.”

Nathan spoke between breaths. “I can’t hear much over my breathing.”

“Save some energy, Nate.”

“Yeah, I have to slow down
. . .
or I’ll be trashed at the top.”

“Nate, we don’t have to engage Raven and his men right now. We can easily slip away and wait for a better opportunity.”

“Let’s play this out
. . .
We can fall back on that
. . .
if things go south.”

“Your ghillie won’t help you much during your sprint up the middle of the road. Keep your head up as best you can and stop running near the top. If you don’t get immediate eyes on Raven, beat feet into the cover of the trees and put it on. He might have an NV scope with TI capability. The ghillie will help mask your heat signature.”

“Will I have a clear view
. . .
of the whole basin from the pass?”

“You should. There are some trees here and there, but it looked like the moon up there. Raven will have multiple places to land.”

“Antonia told me that Raven
. . .
always keeps two men with him
. . .
I think you can count on facing two
. . .
possibly three men moving in from the south.”

“Copy. You sound winded. Don’t burn all your energy going up that road. You’re carrying almost thirty pounds of gold.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Nate, you can pull your pack off and toss the bars while you’re running. We’ll find them later. They’re not worth your life.”

Nathan could only imagine Estefan’s horrified expression, but he strongly considered doing it. With each stride, the gold banged against the small of his back like a meat tenderizer. “I’ll deal with it
. . .
I’m going radio silent
. . .
to breathe.”

He sucked in a few quick deep breaths to recover from talking. The burn in his legs returned in force as the road began a steeper ascent along the east side of the canyon. He caught a faint echo of Raven’s main rotor, looked up, and nearly fell. He needed to watch his footing. The road had loose rocks, ruts, and potholes.

Concentrating on his breathing, he drew in a lungful every three strides and exhaled three strides later. The sounds of his footfalls became a metronome, and he used the rhythm to regulate his breathing. Step-step-step, inhale; step-step-step, exhale.

Mind over matter
, he repeated to himself. He’d been through worse physical ordeals—a lot worse.

After two hundred yards the road steepened even more, forcing Nathan to slow in order to maintain the same energy output. To take his mind off the hideous muscle burn, he imagined himself in a helicopter watching the vertical speed indicator rise as he traded velocity for an increase in climb rate. He applied left cyclic and a tiny amount of left pedal to stay centered in the middle of the road as it took a hairpin turn toward the west. He envisioned the compass needle gradually rotating counterclockwise toward 270 degrees.

Harv’s voice broke his trance.
“He must be down, Nate. I don’t hear anything. He can’t leave the helicopter until he shuts down, but his men can get out. How are you doing?”

“I’ve got a rhythm going
. . .
I’m in the zone.”

“Be careful, partner.”

“Count on it.”

On a whim, he pulled his cell and checked for a signal. Nothing yet, but he might get a connection at the rim. He’d check again later. Knowing it would cost a few seconds, he stopped running and held his breath for an instant. Hearing nothing but crickets and trickling water, he continued running.

His legs screamed for oxygen, and he increased the frequency of his breathing. He flashed back to his boot camp days and silently sang a cadence from
Full Metal Jacket
to control his strides.
Up in the mornin’ to the rising sun, gonna run all day till the runnin’s done. Ho Chi Minh is a son of a bitch, got the blue-ball crabs and the seven-year itch.

After five repetitions, he estimated he’d been running for just over two minutes. At this pace he ought to be close to the halfway point. When Raven touched down—likely within the last thirty seconds or so—he’d have to remain in the helicopter during the engine shutdown. If Raven’s ship were a Bell 429, the engine cooldown was amazingly fast. Nathan remembered reading that it only needed thirty seconds and its main rotor could be stopped inside of two minutes after landing. One thing was certain, Raven wouldn’t risk striking his main rotor on the steep side of the road up ahead by trying to land in too small of an area. Crashing a helicopter, even a few feet in the air, can yield fatal results. The ship was filled with Jet-A fuel.

Nathan sensed this was going to be a close race.

He dug deeper and summoned some precious reserve energy. He had to arrive at the pass first. If he could get a bead on Raven, he could end this fight before it started, but he faced a major hurdle. His rapid heartbeat and breathing weren’t conducive to making a precision shot. His sight picture would be jumping all over the place. He doubted he could make a kill beyond two hundred yards. The reverse was also true. If Raven bolted from the helicopter and made a mad dash straight up the basin’s wall, he’d be winded as well. Nathan doubted Raven would follow the road on foot unless he landed somewhere on or near it.

He silently thanked Harv for reminding him to drink lots of water, because right now, it was pouring out of him. His shirt was plastered to his chest. He pumped his arms to keep his legs going, but with every stride a tiny amount of additional fatigue crept in. He returned to the cadence. Although his body screamed to slow down, he overruled it with willpower. He had to keep going. All of their lives depended on him seeing Raven first. He glanced up, looking for the pass Harv had described. He ought to be able to see it by now. If only he could—

There!

Nathan saw a wide area of exposed earth up ahead.

Starting about one hundred yards ahead, most of the trees had been cut down. That had to be where the road turned east between the peaks and followed the mountain before starting down into the open-pit basin. It felt good to be so close. The barren area ahead must be one of those spoil dumps Estefan mentioned. What was the word he’d used before Harv interrupted? Abit or adit? It didn’t matter—he was nearly to the pass, and the road was finally leveling out. Rather than increase his speed, Nathan used the flatter terrain to maintain his current pace, which gave his legs a much-needed break. As tempting as it was to run faster, Harv was right. He needed to conserve energy, because he had no idea what he’d be facing up here.

He closed to within fifty yards and saw where the road curved sharply to the right, forming a vista point of sorts. If Harv were right, he should be able to see where Raven had set the helicopter down from there. He slung the M40 over his left shoulder and pulled the suppressed Sig from his waist. In his current state, he’d never be able to hold the rifle steady. And he might not be able to hold the Sig steady either.

Finally, almost fully spent, he slowed down to a fast walk and reached the overlook. To avoid being seen from below, he kept a safe distance from the edge. In the basin below, entire swaths of forest had been stripped away. Scattered randomly, huge open pits containing muddy ponds littered the area. The entire basin looked like a war zone. Dotting the mountainside on the far side of the valley, black mine openings were accented by man-made spoil dumps of blasted rock. He spotted Raven’s helicopter near the middle of the basin but saw or heard no movement. He gauged the distance to Raven’s helo at five hundred yards.

He’d done it! He’d beaten Raven up here.

His excitement ended when he heard footfalls.

In the green image of his night-vision goggles, two armed men followed by a third scrambled up and over the edge of the road like ants coming out of a hole. They all wore digital combat uniforms and looked like pros, not mercenaries. He whipped his head around for cover, but the entire right side of the road offered nothing but a vertical face. He glimpsed an area of deep shadow, but he’d never reach it in time.

A mere twenty yards away, they ran directly toward him, though it wasn’t clear whether they’d seen him yet. The two men in the lead had M-4 assault rifles slung across their chests in the patrol carry position. They also wore right-handed sidearms.

Nathan focused on the third man. He didn’t carry a sidearm, but he held a scoped rifle in the classic tucked-carry position under his right arm—in the exact way Nathan had taught him more than twenty-three years ago. He also wore a pair of NVGs. Nathan couldn’t see the entire rifle, but he was sure it wasn’t an M-4.

Raven.

Caught completely in the open, Nathan had no choice but to shoot it out. There wasn’t time for any other course of action.

Suddenly sensing they were no longer alone, the two lead gunmen stopped running.

Raven yelled, “Shoot him!”

In a purely instinctive move, Nathan sucked in a huge lungful of air, dropped to one knee, and toggled the laser. But the man on Raven’s left was faster. Before Nathan could level his pistol and acquire a target, the gunman’s pistol came out of its holster in a fast-draw motion quicker than Nathan had thought humanly possible.

The handgun flashed twice, and Nathan steeled himself for the ugly result. Contrary to common belief, getting shot doesn’t automatically end a firefight. The human body can sustain a fair amount of trauma and still function, at least for a while.

The darkness of night saved Nathan’s life.

Both shots missed low and left, giving him the half second he needed.

He held his breath, painted Fast Draw’s chest, and squeezed off a two-round burst. One of the bullets whistled away after finding the gunman’s M-4, but his target’s good fortune ended there. The second round slammed home. The man jerked from the impact but didn’t go down. Nathan double tapped him again and released a labored breath.

Eleven rounds left in the Sig.

Raven fired from the hip and bolted for the edge of the road.

The concussion of sniper rifle report shuddered Nathan’s body and slammed his ears. His NVGs showed a green javelin of fire reaching for him.

Five yards short and left, the rocky surface exploded. Even though he wore NVGs, he instinctively raised an arm to protect his eyes. The move saved his goggles. His left forearm took a stinging blow, from a chunk of rock, he hoped, not a bullet fragment.