Kidnap and Ransom (29 page)

“What the hell, Jake? We’ve got to get out of here. Where’s Mark?”

“There’s a fire,” he said. “I’m getting them out.”

“But—”

“They’ll die.”

Syd turned toward the approaching fire. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll take the next row over.”

Tejada had disappeared, but Jake barely noticed. The fire was gaining momentum, increasing in intensity as it raced along the tree canopy. The light rain had been replaced by hot embers drifting down from above, singeing his hair and skin. He barely noticed. His whole life had been reduced to aim, shoot. Aim, shoot, reload.

He finished one line of pens. There was a steady stream of prisoners pouring down the aisle now. Some clutched each other as they attempted to run, tears streaming down their faces. Syd had freed nearly everyone on the other side. Jake crossed to the next row without bothering to check and see if there hostiles waiting to engage him—he no longer cared. He turned the corner safely and started freeing the next line of pens. People pressed past him, a filthy horde almost indistinguishable in their layers of dirt, fleeing barefoot through the heat and smoke. Aim, shoot. Aim, shoot, reload.

Jake was forced to stop when he dug through his pouch in vain for more ammunition. He turned to ask Syd for some, and found himself face-to-face with Ellis Brown. He looked positively enraged.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “My men have been pinned down for nearly a half hour! Where’s Riley?”

“I need more ammo,” Jake said dully.

“I asked you a question.”

“Lay off, Brown,” Syd said, appearing beside them.

They were interrupted by a bellowing loudspeaker. Syd and Brown fell silent, listening. Jake tried to discern what was being said, but his Spanish was rusty and the bullhorn distorted the noise.

“Shit.” Syd turned to him. “Jake, we’ve got to go.”

“Not until we get them out,” he said with determination.

“The army is on their way in, Jake. They’ll save the rest. But we need to get clear before they show up.”

Brown was already barking orders at his men, heading for the exit at a trot. A military-personnel carrier came screaming around the corner, nearly running them over. Brown froze, then raised his hands in the air.

“Don’t worry, Brown, he’ll only shoot if I tell him to,” Syd said cheerfully.

The passenger door of the truck swung open, and Kane stuck his head out. “We miss the party?”

Syd grabbed hold of Jake’s sleeve. “We need to go,” she said forcefully. “Now.”

“But Mark—”

“Jake, if you don’t get in that truck I’ll shoot you and have Kane throw you in anyway. Your choice.”

Jake hesitated another minute. The fire was increasing in force, but most of the pens in its direct path were empty. For the moment, the rest of the prisoners appeared safe. Without another word, he turned and followed her.

The truck was an old army flatbed covered by dark green canvas. He peered in the back. The benches lining either side were filled with Brown’s men, some looking much the worse for wear.

“We’ll ride in the cab,” Syd said.

Kane let them squeeze inside, then took the seat closest to the window. He cradled a rocket launcher, the business end of it poking out the window. As soon as the door closed Maltz shifted into gear and the truck lurched forward.

“Couldn’t find a chopper, boss,” he said apologetically.

“This’ll do.” Syd kept her eyes focused out the windshield as she reloaded her H&K. “What about the way we came in?%">

“Mexi army was up our ass the whole way here. I’m guessing that way is already blocked,” Maltz said. “Looks like we won’t miss the action after all.”

“Stick to the periphery, the fire is mostly in the center of camp.” Syd pulled open the canvas flap separating them from the rear cabin. “Brown, we’re headed into the hot zone. Get some of your men working point.”

“Roger,” Brown said. At a nod, two of his men took up positions in the back of the truck, weapons covering the road to their rear. The rest slashed some holes in the canvas sides. They jutted their guns out through the gaps after dropping to one knee on the floor of the carrier.

Maltz spun the steering wheel right and the truck swerved, nearly going up on two wheels as it took the next corner. A stream of epithets issued from the flatbed.

“A little warning would be nice!” Brown hollered.

“Sorry,” Maltz muttered. “Haven’t driven one of these in a while.”

Jake noticed sweat beading on his forehead. The sight wasn’t reassuring.

They emerged on the road lining the camp’s perimeter. Jake winced as they bumped over a pile of fatigues. Maltz did his best to avoid them, but the road was littered with bodies. No one said anything. Aside from the roar of the fire it was silent, the gunfire had abruptly ceased.

“The rest probably took off into the woods,” Syd guessed.

Kane grunted his assent. “Army sent them running.”

“Funny that the army showed up now,” Syd commented. They passed a row of pens that were lit up like a torch. Fire danced along the rooftops. As they crossed the next aisle, a machine gun sputtered at them. Jake instinctively hunched his shoulders, trying to duck, but in the tiny truck cab there was nowhere to go. A bullet pinged off the windshield, pocking but not shattering it.

“Bulletproof. Thank God for small favors,” Syd said.

Maltz gunned the engine, and the truck forged ahead.

“Everyone okay back there?” Syd called out.

“Be a lot better if the ride was smoother,” Brown grumbled.

“Feel free to walk,” Syd said. “Your choice.”

There was no response.

Maltz turned right again. The exit gates were a few hundred yards away.

“Almost there,” Syd said. Jake barely dared to breathe.

Suddenly the whump of rotors was overhead. The same helicopter Jake had seen before swept past, spun and lowered down to face them, blocking the exit. The spotlight zeroed in on the cab, blinding them. Jake held up a hand to block the glare. Maltz slowed, then came to a stop.

Kane pointed the rocket launcher forward and glanced questioningly at Syd. Her lips pursed.

“Hold off, they’re not firing on us yet,” she said, laying a hand on it. She called into the back, “Brown, we’ve got”

A pause, then Brown said, “What do you want to do?”

“It’s a Bell 206 armed with missiles. Stand down for now.”

Someone barked orders in Spanish through a bullhorn. Ropes unraveled from the chopper and dark figures slid down them. Within minutes they were surrounded by men in uniforms labeled PGR, brandishing automatic weapons.

Jake felt a flare of rage. This was the helicopter that had killed Mark. These people were responsible for his death. He reached past Kane and turned the door handle.

“Jake, wait—” Syd protested.

He ignored her. Slinging his legs over and climbing out, he started to lift his sidearm. The bullhorn blared again. The voice sounded angry. Jake ignored it. He marched straight toward the helicopter, prepared to fire.

“Jake, no!” a voice shouted.

Jake froze, disoriented. This time the protest was coming from the helicopter. Another figure appeared in the door and slid down a rope, then came running toward him. He lowered his gun when he saw who it was.

“Isabela?”

Syd was half out the truck cab, prepared to cover Jake and most likely get mown down, when lo and behold the pharmacist appeared. Syd frowned. Isabela wore the same black uniform as the men surrounding them, a PGR patch on her sleeve. At an order from her, they lowered their weapons—some more reluctantly than others.

“What the hell is going on?” Maltz asked, perplexed. “That the chick Riley showed up with?”

Brown’s head poked through the canvas. “Still holding back here?”

“Looks like it,” Syd said. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

She climbed down and slowly approached Jake and Isabela, keeping her sidearm ready. “So,” she said. “Looks like you weren’t telling us everything after all.” Syd glanced at Jake, finding it overwhelmingly hard to resist saying “I told you so.”

“My apologies.” Isabela’s meek demeanor had vanished. “I was working undercover in the pharmacy, trying to infiltrate Los Zetas distribution system. Mark nearly ruined months of work.”

“You should have told us.” Jake sounded enraged. Syd’s grip on her H&K tightened.

“I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

“PGR works for the Attorney General, right?” Syd said.

“Yes. We handle anything narcotics-related.”

“So that intel about the rival cartel raid?”

“Our operatives within the Sinaloa cartel spent months convincing them to attack. When you showed up, we realized if anything went wrong we could blame the Americans. So we changed the timetable.” Isabela surveyed the wreckage around them. “It worked. We probably set both cartels back years.”

out, “You sent my brother on a suicide mission.” His fists were curled in tight balls, jaw clenched.

“It was important. The man he was rescuing was one of our best agents.” She looked around. “Where is Mark? In the truck?”

“He was killed by a rocket from your helicopter,” Jake said. “The fire nearly took out every prisoner here, too.”

Isabela waved an arm, and the men surrounding the truck headed away from them in twos. “They’ll save as many as they can. We already have units opening pens on the north side.” She regarded him. “I’m sorry about Mark.”

“He only went back because he thought he was saving your father. And a lot of those prisoners were executed.”

Isabela shrugged. “It was a calculated risk. We had other lives to worry about.”

“Not ours, apparently,” Syd said. “Since you made sure we’d go in first.”

Isabela appraised her. “Yes, but you were going in anyway. This created the distraction you needed, otherwise none of you might have survived. Did you free Calderon?”

Syd eyed Jake, who looked ready to empty a clip in Isabela’s head. Which she’d be in favor of, if it wouldn’t get them all killed. She stepped in between them. “We got our guys,” Syd said. “I doubt yours made it, though.”

“That is a shame. Garcia was a good man.” Despite her words, Isabela didn’t appear particularly dismayed by the loss. She looked past them. “You are sure Mark is dead?”

Jake whirled around. A two-headed beast shrouded in soot and blood and dirt was approaching through a haze of smoke.

Kane slid out of the cab and raced to help ease the second man to the ground. The other figure straightened, and Jake’s heart leaped. It was his brother.

“Mark!” he yelled, running forward.

Mark took a step, then faltered and dropped to the ground.

Thirty-Five

“What are these things?” Rodriguez asked, running a hand over the bumpy white wall they crept along. The building Stefan had entered was still fifty feet away. They’d opted to get as close as possible before risking the open plaza. That meant winding through a jagged maze that just cleared their shoulders. They stayed low, trying to move silently.

“They look like skulls,” Kelly said. Rodriguez jerked his hand away. “Ritual sacrifice, remember?”

“As if this place weren’t creepy enough,” Rodriguez muttered.

Kelly waved a hand to silence him. They were almost at the end of the row. From here, they’d have to cross a wide plaza leading to the chamber Stefan had vanished into.

“Read

Rodriguez nodded, and she set off at a trot. Her right leg screamed with every step. Long lines of pain shot up her hip and into her lower back. Kelly gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it. Painfully aware of the gravel crunching underfoot, she panned her Glock from side to side. The shadows were impenetrable. Had Stefan heard them? Was he waiting to pounce?

It felt like an eternity before she reached the small opening Stefan had vanished into. It appeared to be one of the less excavated sections of the ruins. No concrete buttressed the floor, and the entry was a three-foot-tall slit in the mottled stone.

“Ladies first,” Rodriguez murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Kelly eased her way inside. Darkness swallowed her completely. She had a flashlight in her pack, but didn’t dare use it. The floor sloped down at a slight angle, as if they were descending into the bowels of the earth.

“What is it with you and tunnels?” Rodriguez muttered in her ear.

Kelly didn’t reply, although she’d been wondering the same thing.

She felt her way along the rough wall, hoping the bumps under her fingers weren’t more human skulls. It was hard to gauge distance, but after what felt like fifty feet she detected a glimmer up ahead. Kelly slowed her steps, trying to creep soundlessly toward the light source.

The tunnel they were in terminated abruptly at a larger chamber. Kelly stopped just shy of the entrance. A shadow suddenly darkened the doorway. She drew back and held her breath. After a moment, it disappeared.

In a low voice Rodriguez said, “Let’s take him now.”

Kelly nodded her assent. She crept forward, a foot at a time. More shadows flickered and danced across the walls—the light must be from candles.

Kelly peeked her head into the room, then frowned. She felt Rodriguez at her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone.”

“What?” Rodriguez poked his head up alongside hers. The chamber was wider than Kelly had expected, a rough oval twenty feet in diameter. There were no other visible exits.

“Where the hell did he go?”

Kelly stepped into the room. It was empty save for a candle guttering in a glass jar. Faded murals lined the walls, pocked by small enclaves holding heaps of bones. A thin layer of dust hovered above the dirt floor. Kelly held a finger to her nose, fighting off a sneeze.

“Man,” Rodriguez said. “This guy really is magic. How does he keep doing that?”

“Not magic. There has to be another way out,” Kelly said with determination. Stefan was flesh and blood—their fight had proven that. She thought back to their encounter at the university years earlier. “Check for trapdoors.”

“Yeah? That seems a little…unlikely,” Rodriguez said. “This is an archaeological excavation. Professionals have been all over this site. If there were a secret entrance, they’d probably found it by now.”