Targets of Revenge (8 page)

R
ADIO COMMUNICATIONS CRACKLED
across the compound as men raced to their designated positions. Two of them hurried through the dawn light toward the rear of the main house to reinforce the sentry posted there. As they drew closer they heard the sound of tires being popped, followed by the unmistakable rumble of a vehicle speeding off into the jungle.

One of them reached for his radio. “Back of the main house,” he said.

“What is it?” Alejandro demanded.

“We’re checking now,” came the immediate reply.

The two men moved cautiously to the corner of the building, reaching there just in time to see Sandor’s jeep kicking up dust as it flew down the dirt road and out of sight. After confirming that the lookout on the veranda was dead, they made a quick survey of the other vehicles.

“We’ve got trouble,” one of them reported over his radio, then described what they found.

“No,” Alejandro barked into his radio for every man to hear, “the
maricon
who did this is going to have trouble. The two of you go find those idiots Manuel and Eduardo. The rest of you meet me on the rear veranda. Now.”

————

Sandor guided the jeep along the primitive jungle road, moving as fast as he could without losing control. There were huge bumps and
large holes, low-hanging branches and exposed roots, all of which rendered the dirt path a lethal obstacle course. He negotiated these hazards as he formulated a revised strategy for meeting up with Bergenn and Raabe.

His plan had been to take out Adina in the dark of night, then grab the pack he left outside the perimeter of the compound and circle back through the jungle. He expected it to take him several hours on foot to reach the beach east of Barranquitas, which was their rendezvous point. Raabe was going to pilot the seaplane into the gulf, set it down, and await a signal from Sandor for pickup.

Now, however, Sandor was going to arrive at the shore a lot sooner than anticipated, a lot farther south than intended, and with a lot more fanfare. He could only hope his friends got an early start on their flight.

Carlos said there was a pickup of the narcotics set for this morning. He described a clearing near the shore where the drugs would be offloaded onto a Fountain twin-engine manned by the crew that would take the cargo north. Their speedboat was likely to be Sandor’s best chance out of there if he could figure a way past the armed drug runners who would have already received word an unwelcome visitor was en route.

As he careened forward it was clear that this dirt road had no turnoffs, no alternate path through the jungle. He could ditch the jeep and make the last part of the trip on foot, but with Adina’s men coming after him from behind and a welcoming party ahead the idea did not seem all that attractive.

He decided to improvise.

————

Adina stood on the rear porch of the house, surrounded by his men. He was in his early sixties, tall, and trimly built with fine features, straight gray hair, and a dark, unfriendly mien. Even at this hour he was elegantly attired. He wore an expensive silk robe with brocade trim, his hair combed straight back and neatly in place, no evidence of sleep or panic in his reptilian eyes. When Alejandro began to give details of what had occurred and who was to blame, Adina held up his hand, commanding silence.

“I understand enough to know this is not the time for explanations or recriminations. This is the time for action.” Pointing to Francisco and one of the others, he said, “Go and get this man. Now.”

The two ran off to find a means to chase the intruder.

Adina directed his attention to Alejandro. “Come inside with me. Call ahead to our friends and tell them there is going to be a delay of a couple of hours in making our delivery this morning. Explain that we have had an intruder and ask for their help in apprehending this man. Alive if possible, yes?”

Alejandro nodded.

Pointing to two of his other men, Adina said, “You come in as well. And bring him,” he ordered, gesturing toward Carlos, whom he had purposely ignored up till then. The lab technician was standing off to the side, his eyes cast down, the look of gloom evident to all. “The rest of you, you know what to do. There may be others in the area, but it does not seem likely. Help Francisco repair the vehicles. Patrol the grounds. Find out what happened here.”

————

Sandor was keeping a close watch in the rearview mirror as he barreled ahead. He knew they would find some way to come after him, but he never expected them to come on motorcycles. He had not seen any bikes in the compound. Carlos had not mentioned them. He didn’t even hear them as they approached, with the noise of his jeep and the bouncy ride. When he spotted the first one it was coming up fast. Then he saw the second. The agile, high-powered motorcycles were a faster means of transport on this hardscrabble road than his jeep, especially since the riders knew the terrain and Sandor did not. They were keeping to the outer edges of the road, where there were fewer bumps and holes, one man on each side.

Outrunning them was not possible. He had to stop them.

They were gaining on him from both sides, almost in range for them to begin firing. Knowing that control of his vehicle was more important than ever, Sandor could neither slow down nor could he risk accelerating beyond a speed where he could safely negotiate this teeth-jarring route. He reached for the MAC 10 that was sitting on
the passenger seat beside him and laid it across his lap. Then, in one deft motion, he downshifted, jammed on the brake, and yanked the steering wheel hard to the left.

The jeep spun violently into a sideways position across the road, becoming a deadly obstacle for the two riders. They were coming at him too fast to brake in time and the road was too narrow and the jungle too dense for them to turn off. All they could do was ditch the bikes, but Sandor was not about to allow them that opportunity. Without hesitation he leveled the MAC 10 at the oncoming men and fired a spray of shots. The explosion of gunfire was followed by the crashing of the two motorcycles into the large trees as the riders were flung forward into the air. They slammed to the ground in front of him.

Sandor jumped out of the jeep and fired two more shots at each of the fallen men—he had to be certain they were dead. Then, after the explosive sounds of gunfire and the motorcycle collisions, everything was suddenly quiet but for the Jeep’s engine. Sandor took a moment to listen, but he heard nothing else. No other motorcycles coming at him. No other vehicles.

Not yet.

He climbed back into the Jeep, straightened it out, and sped off again toward the coast.

A
DINA WAS HOLDING
an impromptu council in the main salon of the house. This compound was designed to be his safe space, he reminded them. This was his retreat, his secure respite from the outside world. Now the sanctity of this haven had been violated and Adina wanted answers. The obvious starting place was his trusted lab technician, Carlos.

“So,” he said calmly as he sat in a large, comfortable chair backed with a decorative arc of woven cane, “you had no conversation with this man.”

Carlos nodded. “Almost nothing.”

“Well which is it?” Adina asked with forced patience. “Nothing or almost nothing? As a scientist, I am sure you would agree that almost nothing is something. Am I right?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“So then,” Adina prodded him with an impatient sigh, “which is it?”

“Before he hit me, he said something about the cocaine. About taking the cocaine.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Carlos was struggling. He wanted to look at Adina but could not. “I . . . I don’t recall exactly. He struck me, so it’s a bit unclear. But it was something like ‘I’m going to take these sacks of cocaine and you’re not going to stop me.’ Something like that.”

Carlos and the other men in the room were standing. Only Adina was seated. A large ceiling fan slapped gently at the cool morning air above them. Otherwise the room had become silent.

Now Adina rose and stepped forward. He reached out and took the technician by the chin, lifting his downturned face as one might do to a reluctant child. “Carlos,” he said, “you have been loyal, you have worked hard, and you have never disappointed.” He paused. “Until now. Because now I know you are lying to me.”

Carlos began to speak, but Adina reacted by smacking him hard across the face.

“Allow me to finish.” He grabbed the man’s jaw, holding it tight so that Carlos could not avert his gaze. “I do not know what you are not telling me, or why you are not telling me. That is what makes this so difficult.” Adina’s tone made it sound as if the man’s betrayal had wounded him. “I truly need you to explain this to me.”

When Carlos began to protest Adina lashed out again, this time with the back of his hand.

“Please, do not insult me further and do not waste any more of my time.”

Carlos was trembling now, tears flowing freely down the cheeks that had been reddened by Adina’s slaps. “He asked me questions,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

“What sort of questions did he ask?”

“About the operation,” Carlos said, speaking haltingly as he added, “Refinement of the narcotics. The security we have in place.”

“I see. What else did he ask you?”

When Carlos did not immediately respond, Adina dug his fingernails into the man’s face. “I suggest you tell me everything. And now.”

Carlos attempted to nod, but Adina’s grip made it painful for him to move. His cheek began to bleed. “He asked about the other room in the lab.”

“Of course he did. And what did you tell our inquisitive friend in answer to these questions?”

Summoning what little courage remained, Carlos looked him in the eyes. “I told him nothing, Adina, nothing. That was why he hit me.”

Adina let go of the man’s jaw and shoved him hard in the chest. Carlos stumbled backward until one of the guards grabbed him and deposited him on a hardwood stool, where he sat with his face in his hands.

“So this man, whoever he was—I assume he did not introduce himself?”

Carlos shook his head.

“Naturally. Did he speak Spanish or another language?”

“A little Spanish. He was an American I think.”

“So this American, he was not here to steal cocaine, he was here for other reasons. Am I right?”

Carlos nodded, still not looking up. “I think so.”

“And you, being a scientist rather than a man of action, you saw danger, presumably a weapon of some sort, and so you told him everything he wanted to know. Am I right again?”

Now Carlos lifted his face. “No Adina, I told him nothing.”

“Of course not. Yet he continued to ask you all of the questions you have described despite the fact that you continued to tell him nothing.” Adina began pacing back and forth in front of Carlos. His voice louder when he said, “Just as you are telling me nothing right now.”

“Adina . . .”

“Carlos, please, after all this time you do not take me for a fool, do you? You do not expect me to believe this little fairy tale you have concocted, do you?”

Carlos began to speak but Adina stepped forward, grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back. “This intruder managed to get past two sentries, find his way into the lab, then make his way out, steal one of our vehicles while disabling the others, and you expect me to believe he could not persuade you to tell him anything he wanted to know?” Adina let go of Carlos and gestured to one of his guards. The man removed his gun from its holster and handed it to Adina. “Now tell me, Carlos, do you really expect me to believe that or do you have something else to say?”

The technician’s eyes widened as he saw Adina take the automatic, his gaze following the gun as Adina held it at his side while he began striding back and forth across the room.

“The anthrax,” Carlos blurted out. “I think he was here because of the anthrax.”

Adina nodded thoughtfully. “And you told him.”

“I had no choice, don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. Anything else?”

“He asked about you?”

“By name?”

“Yes.”

“What did he ask?”

“He wanted to know if you were here. Which building you were in.”

“And you told him. Because you had no choice.”

Carlos replied with a vigorous nod. “I knew your guards would capture him.”

Adina stopped his pacing and turned to face him. “And so they shall. But you, unfortunately, have proved yourself both a coward and a traitor.” Adina leveled the automatic at the man’s terrified face, waited a moment, then lowered the gun and returned it to his bodyguard. “Take him back to the laboratory,” he told Alejandro. “Lock him in the secure room so he has time to contemplate his fate.” He looked down at the weeping technician. “I’ll deal with him later.”

C
RAIG
R
AABE WAS
piloting the Otter as they banked to the port side and headed toward the Gulf of Venezuela. Their course would take them directly above the inlet that led from the gulf into the large expanse of the Lago de Maracaibo.

Just before takeoff Doug Carlton offered to join Raabe and Bergenn on the flight, but they knew the captain would find himself in enough trouble if his involvement in this escapade became known. They told him not to exacerbate the situation by riding shotgun into enemy territory.

“We’ll be fine. Anything goes wrong on your end,” Raabe told him, “you can say we held you at gunpoint.”

“How about you just bring Sandor and this seaplane back?”

“That’s the plan,” Bergenn assured him.

At first light they had taken off from the calm waters near Oranjestad and were now preparing to make their way to the shoreline near Barranquitas, where they would hopefully be able to retrieve their teammate.

The Lago de Maracaibo is populated by numerous oil rigs, so the area is accustomed to seaplane and speedboat traffic not typical for other large bodies of water devoid of commercial drilling activities. Men and equipment are constantly being shuttled back and forth from the large platforms, which made the flight less obtrusive and Sandor’s exfiltration plan less dangerous.