Ready to Kill (5 page)

“How are they getting down there? They can’t—well, shouldn’t—fly commercial, and Nicaraguan customs agents are thoroughly inspecting private jets and charters upon landing.”

“I’ve already set it up with JSOC. All the assets are on the move.”

CHAPTER 6

Later that same morning, Nathan and Harvey finished their thirty-minute jog and reentered the Hyatt’s lobby. Despite being jet-lagged, neither of them had slept especially well. Just four short hours ago, they’d been inside an armored SUV with Cantrell. They strode into the bar and had no trouble finding a quiet spot. At 0615 the place was all but deserted. They grabbed a couple of plates and helped themselves to coffee and a continental breakfast.

“I expect we’ll hear from Cantrell today,” Nathan said. “I have a feeling she’s already heard back from our messenger. Think about it—ten hours of chartered jet time for a ten-minute conversation, plus an encrypted phone? It’s a safe bet she’s already got a plan.”

“The question is, what is the plan?”

“Well, there’s no way we’re flying into Managua under any circumstances. If that’s her plan, we aren’t going.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”

“We go in covert, or not at all. Meanwhile, we should find out if anything major’s going on in Nicaragua, politically or otherwise. Since Cantrell didn’t mention anything, I doubt there’s any serious trouble, but let’s not rule it out.”

“Do you really think Raven would sell his services to a cartel or criminal gang?”

“I honestly don’t know. I hope not. We spent a lot of time with him, but how well did we really get to know him? Like I told Cantrell, I trusted him back then, but people can change.”

“Money can be a powerful lure, especially in a poor country.” Harv fell silent for a moment. “We can’t go to war against a cartel.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“And if we find out that’s the kind of thing Raven’s involved with?”

“Then we communicate it to Cantrell. Job done.”

Harv took a sip of coffee. “I wish it were that simple. I don’t trust her as fully as you do.”

“I’m aware of that. We’ll just make sure we stick to the plan, whatever it is.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I guess I just—”

Their special cell phone chimed once. They looked at the text screen.

Call me

“Here we go.”

Nathan punched in Cantrell’s cell phone number, engaged the speakerphone function, and turned the volume down low. Out of habit, they adjusted their chairs a little so they could keep an eye on each other’s backs.

“Thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” Cantrell said. “You secure?”

“Yes, we’re inside the lobby bar at the Hyatt. No one’s around.”

“Several hours ago, our messenger made contact again,” she said. “The specifics are just landing on my desk.”

Nathan exchanged a glance with Harv.

“Embassy cameras captured a compact white vehicle pull to the curb at the bus stop. Without getting out, the driver, presumably our messenger, tossed a baseball over the fence. A folded piece of paper was attached with rubber bands. The vehicle’s plates had been removed. From the footage, it looks like a million other compact cars. The video is virtually worthless for IDing the driver. The note was a little longer this time. Basically, our mystery man wants a face-to-face with Harvey and says he won’t talk to anyone else.”

“If Harv goes, I go,” Nathan said. “It’s not negotiable.”

“Agreed. Since he left no way to contact him, we’ll just have to assume he’ll be okay meeting with both of you.”

“If he knows Harv, he probably knows me as well. We were together the entire time.”

Cantrell went silent for a moment. “What does the term ‘scatter point alpha’ mean to you?”

Nathan made eye contact with Harv and nodded an okay.

Harv answered. “It was one of four regrouping locations we’d planned to use if any member of an Echo or kilo team got separated from the group. In other words, if the shit hit the fan and we all had to bolt, we’d meet up at the closest scatter point and await retrieval.”

“Would you be able to precisely locate it for me if you had good aerials?”

“Definitely,” Harv said. “All four scatter points were on either ridgelines or mountaintops along a northeast to southwest axis. We purposely avoided choosing the highest or most prominent peaks, but each location provided a 360-degree defensible position with clear lines of sight to the north for radio communication.”

“Is that where the messenger wants to meet Harv?” asked Nathan.

“Yes,” said Cantrell. “Which means our messenger is likely one of your kilo grads. Who else would know about your rendezvous points?”

“No one,” Nathan said. “It’s entirely possible Raven himself tossed both notes over the fence.”

“I’ve considered that. And if true, we need to know what he wants.”

Harv continued, “It could also be the opening move of an extortion scheme. Pay me money, or I go public with Echo.”

“I’ve considered that as well, but if extortion were his thing, I think he would have tried it long ago. In two days, Nicaragua’s hosting an economic summit in Managua. Central American commerce ministers from Mexico to Colombia will be there. Not surprisingly, the United States is not invited. Security will be tight but not out to a thousand yards. All Raven would need is a little inside information to make a hit. As you know, even our own president isn’t one hundred percent safe from a truly great shooter.”

“And you think Raven might have his sights on one of the ministers?” Nathan asked.

“The timing of Raven’s reemergence, if we can call it that, is highly suspect. But that’s not my worst-case scenario.”

“What is?” asked Nathan.

Their conversation paused for a few seconds. Nathan waited, hoping Cantrell would be forthcoming.

“There’s a distinct possibility this whole thing is being staged to lure you into Nicaragua. There’s no way to know why. It could be anything from revenge to extortion.”

“Thank you for being candid,” Nathan said. “We’ve already talked about the risk of it being a trap, but we can’t address any tactical or security issues until we hear your plan for getting us in and out. We know those mountains well, and we can disappear if we have to.”

“It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

“You’re the only person we trust, Rebecca.”

“I appreciate that. Do you happen to remember a town called Santavilla?”

He exchanged another glance with Harv. “Yes.”

“Then you also remember a Pastor Tobias?”

“He helped us during a tight situation. We may not have survived without him.”

“Five days ago, he was shot and killed by a sniper. Presumably Raven.”

“Was that in the baseball note?” Harv asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s a bad deal,” Nathan said. “He was a good man.”

Harv asked, “Do you think the murder of Pastor Tobias could somehow be connected to the approaching summit?”

“I don’t know, probably not. All we know is that the shooting seems to have prompted the messenger to request this meeting with you.”

“When?”

“He wants to meet you in just over
. . .
thirty-three hours.”

“That’s going to be tight,” said Nathan, “especially if we have to hoof it through miles of jungle. Alpha was the westernmost point in the scatter point chain. Rebecca, you know that area. It won’t be easy or quick getting there. We are
not
making a HALO insertion. Those days are long gone.”

“I’d never ask that of you, especially at night.”

“Also,” said Harv, “your special cell phone isn’t likely to get a signal in that area. How will we communicate with you?”

“I’m working on that too. Right now, though, I need current photos of you for your fake passports and visas. I don’t anticipate you’ll need them, but it’s better to be on the safe side.”

“It looks like there’s a camera built into this phone,” said Harv. “We’ll text you some headshots in a few minutes.”

“One question,” said Nathan. “Exactly how are we getting down there?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Cantrell. “The US Navy is giving you a ride.”

CHAPTER 7

Driven by a primal desire, Franco returned to Santavilla in search of human prey. It had been too long since his last indulgence. Although one of the girls at the Silver Sands Club in Managua could’ve served his every need, she could never give him what he craved. Having his way with a prostitute was like feeding a dead rat to a boa.

He currently traveled alone but without concern. Everyone knew El Jefe’s men drove metal-gray Range Rovers, and no one would dare challenge him. Besides, he was well armed. Whenever he made a solo trip to the village, he wore a sidearm and kept an Uzi under his seat.

His timing perfect, he drove across the wooden bridge at 1955 hours. He wanted to roll into town just as the general store closed. The town looked asleep, no activity to be seen. No doubt the peasants were well into their marijuana and moonshine.

At Tobias’s church, a pit bull mix wandered into the street—he’d seen the dog before. If Tobias had been feeding it prior to his death, no one seemed to have assumed the job. The emaciated animal stopped and stared, its eyes pleading. Franco eased off the gas and rolled the passenger window down. The dog cringed and backed up a step.

“Easy boy, it’s your lucky evening.” He tossed his barbecued pork sandwich out the window. The animal flinched, then sniffed the air. It ran to the sandwich and consumed it in several violent chomps. Franco had planned to eat the sandwich on the way back to Managua later tonight, but this poor creature needed it more than he did. The dog looked up as if to thank him before retreating back toward the church.

Not wanting to draw attention, Franco applied just enough gas to keep the Range Rover moving. The Perezes’ general store was just ahead on the right. In twenty more meters, he ought to be able to see the store’s side door. He had the sensation of being watched from the windows of every building lining the street but dismissed it as paranoia. No one was around. This town’s collective light switch was flipped off after 1900 hours.

He saw her then—a bluish-white blur at the right edge of his vision. Just after his Range Rover passed the local tavern, she’d dashed from the general store’s side door toward the rear of the building in hopes of not being seen.

Nice try, sweetheart.
Franco peeled around the corner into the vacant lot south of the store and spotted her in the gap between the two Conex containers the Perezes used for dry storage. She jerked her head back, but it was too late. Scratching the tires, he accelerated across the vacant lot. He didn’t want to make it too easy, but he didn’t want to lose sight of her either.

He skidded to a stop just short of the containers. In a fluid move he slid out, swung the door closed, and hit the lock button on the remote. The Range Rover chirped in response.

He circled to the far side of the containers just in time to see her hop the chain-link fence and take off in a full sprint toward the river.
Oh, no you don’t.

She had a good head start, but she’d never outrun him. Her only hope of evading him would be to reach the cover of the trees and hide in the undergrowth. Her odds weren’t too bad, because the deepening twilight worked to her advantage. Franco never used night vision or thermal imagers for hunts like this. He considered it cheating. Even though she hadn’t eluded him yet, she deserved a fair chance. And she might get away this time—there was always a first time for everything. If she did, he wouldn’t punish her later. Franco had many faults, but fair was fair, and he never blamed others for his own shortcomings.

He allowed her an extra few seconds before beginning his pursuit. The girl was fast—he gave her that, but he was faster. Enjoying the challenge, he watched her drive her legs as she bounded across the knee-high grass. When he caught her, it would be a sweet victory, in more ways than one. Her attempt to escape heightened his desire, and he felt a stirring in his groin. He hoped it wouldn’t be too easy. The last time she’d run away, he’d caught her almost immediately. Easy prey wasn’t nearly as rewarding.

She glanced over her shoulder and changed direction, angling to the right. He guessed she was heading for the dam of rocks that allowed foot traffic to cross. On the opposite side of the pond, she’d probably turn left and try to hide in the thicker foliage. If he guessed wrong about this, she might get away.

Franco changed direction and ran straight toward the dam. If he could reach the trees before she crossed the dam, he’d be able to see what direction she went on the other side. He slowed his approach and crouched behind a rusted car near the top of the bank. He spotted her halfway across the dam, marveling at her balance and agility as she leapt from boulder to boulder. Knowing she’d look back once she reached the far side, Franco remained motionless. What she did next surprised him. Rather than look back or turn left, she stayed on the trail that led to Tobias’s cabin and sprinted up the mountainside into the trees. Three seconds later, he lost sight of her.

Clever girl. But this hunt was far from over. He scrambled down the bank, crossed the dam, and followed her into the trees. He slowed his pace and looked for movement. The girl wasn’t more than twenty seconds ahead of him, but that had given her plenty of time to disappear. Maybe he shouldn’t have given her such a large head start. Not wanting to give up, he continued up the trail. If all else failed, he could lie low and wait for her to reemerge. He had no illusions about it—she knew this forest better than he did. Rather than dwell on his disadvantage, he scanned the trees to his left. It was possible she’d turned east with the intent of crossing the river above the pond where the water wasn’t deep.

Playing a hunch, Franco veered to his left and paralleled the mountain’s contour. If she’d come this way, she’d been stealthy. The crickets and toads hadn’t stopped their singing.

There!

He saw it then, fifty meters away, a flash of white that stood out like a cigarette on a putting green. She must’ve stopped running and gone to ground. He took a step to the right for a clearer line of sight.

Got you!

He could see her white blouse between two smaller trees. Like a predatory cat, he eased from tree to tree, being careful to avoid any sudden movements or noise. His camouflage fatigues blended perfectly into the colors of the forest. Even if she looked his direction, she’d never see him. She would’ve been better off trying to put some distance between them.

He closed to within ten meters and froze.

Something felt wrong. Her blouse didn’t look right, and the forest had gone quiet.

It could only mean one thing.

Franco pulled out his handgun and whipped around.

The skin on his arms tingled at the same moment he knew he’d been tricked.

He heard her before he saw her. With a shrill cry, she flew at him. Dressed only in her bra and shorts, she looked incredibly sexy, but now wasn’t the time to admire things. He jerked his head to dodge her fist coming at his face. He avoided the worst of it, but two knuckles still connected. He pivoted low and swept his leg. Anticipating his move, she jumped and his boot passed harmlessly beneath her. She squared off and assumed a low stance, her fists held in a defensive position. She was feisty but no match for him.
Why not toy with her a little?

He lurched forward, deliberately moving more slowly than necessary. She sidestepped and tried to kick him in the groin, but he was ready for her move. He stopped short, and her foot found only air. He smiled when she lost her balance and fell.

The sweet taste of victory at last.

He pounced on her and pinned her hands over her head. She tried to head butt him, but his arms were several inches longer than hers, and he easily avoided contact.

Knowing she’d been beaten, she stopped struggling.

Franco lowered his voice. “You gave it a good effort. You’re definitely getting stronger and faster, but I think you need another
. . .
private lesson.”

She laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist. They’d gone through this mock chase many times. He lowered his head and gently kissed her. “Try not to make it so easy next time.”

“Easy? You walked right past me!”

“I’ll reluctantly admit your ruse worked, but I would’ve found you eventually.”

“I’m getting better. I almost nailed you with that left jab.”

“True, but your eyes gave you away. You should’ve looked at my chest, not my face.”

“You can’t see my eyes, it’s too dark.”

They both felt the carnal desire now. Franco removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. “I believe it’s time for your lesson to begin.”

They made love without concern for each other’s needs. Franco liked the challenge. The girl’s selfish desires heightened his excitement. Because she was half his age, she had twice his sexual energy—a good combination. Just before she climaxed, she whispered how much she enjoyed being his mistress. He found the comment amusing but didn’t let on. Why ruin her fun?

Fifteen minutes later, drenched with sweat, Franco wanted to ask her what she’d been doing at Pastor Tobias’s church meeting the day of the shooting, but it could wait. At least she’d told him about the meeting. Although Franco hadn’t directly said it, he’d implied Tobias’s days were numbered. Perhaps she’d felt some guilt. Understandable, but he didn’t want her second-guessing her role as his personal spy. He had no emotional connection to her. They shared nothing beyond the physical relationship, and she’d never asked for anything more. She had to know she was being used as a tool for information, but her desire for a life outside Santavilla overrode her sense of self-worth.

Of course, Franco knew he too was being used. And just as she sought to leave Santavilla, he planned to leave Nicaragua one day. He had his sights on Las Vegas. Now
there
was a town. Nightlife. Women. Gambling. Booze. You name it, Vegas had it. If Macanas could keep a penthouse in the Trump Tower, why shouldn’t Franco as well? That was the only life worth living—to be your own boss, make your own decisions, and not be held accountable to anyone else.