by Carolina Mac
Declan rolled his eyes and filled his mug.
BLAINE ORDERED BREAKFAST in the hotel coffee shop, and the boys settled in to wait for Enright to join them. He had agreed to discuss their options this morning—discuss only—nothing more. He’d been non-committal about helping them, but after four glasses of Glenfiddich at the bar the night before, Jacko Enright had hinted at his personal interest in Agent Flores and how desperate he was to rescue her.
A few pangs of jealousy stabbed Blaine through the heart, but he and Fabiana weren’t a couple any more, and hadn’t been for a long time. Enright had been working closely with her on this mission and he had every right to care about her.
But it still hurt.
The server arrived with the food and refilled their cups with a Columbian blend. “I’m liking this coffee,” said Farrell.
“It is good,” said Jesse, “but I still favor the Panamanian brand that Annie started me on. I drink gallons of it.”
“Have you talked to her today?” asked Blaine.
Jesse shook his head. “Not yet, but I checked my phone, and there were no new texts. Maybe she’s waiting for me to call her.”
“I can imagine how worried she is, Jesse,” said Blaine. “Since your last little caper at the hospital, she tries to hide it from you, but she’s been a basket case.”
“Here’s our guest,” said Travis.
Enright strode across the room in the same jeans and t-shirt he’d worn the night before. His clothes were rumpled like he’d slept in them. He sat on the chair that was waiting for him and waved to the server. “I need coffee. I’m a fuckin case.”
Jesse nodded as he added cream to his own cup. “Stressful time for you, sir.”
“Can’t tell you what the last six months have been like.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t think I can do this
anymore. I have to find another profession.”
The server filled his cup and took his breakfast order. “The one good thing Columbia is good for—coffee.” He spooned in sugar, times three and skipped the cream.
Blaine waited until everyone was finished eating before he opened the discussion. “Okay, let’s talk about the problems facing us. First, we don’t have enough men.” He asked Enright. “You have how many?”
“Twenty,” said Enright, “I can stretch it to twenty-four at the most.”
“Can you trust the men you have?” asked Blaine.
“Yep. They’ve been with me for a long time and we’ve had our share of successful busts. I can trust them.”
“The Chief of police told me Sanchez has at least a hundred men on his payroll,” said Blaine. “Is that accurate?”
Enright shrugged. “Can’t say how accurate it is, but local word around the area refers to his men as an army.”
“If we’re successful in rounding up another seventy-five men, we need weapons for them,” said Farrell. “How
accessible are auto rifles down here.”
“Fairly easy to come by,” said Enright. “I have contacts.”
Travis hadn’t had much to say. He set his coffee cup down and made a statement that caused Enright to stare at him. “I can even the odds if you get me a chopper and a couple of bombs.”
Blaine nodded. “That’s a good thought, Trav.” To Enright: “We have no authority in Columbia. Why did Markwood send Fab down here?”
“He wanted to get information on the source. Find out
everything he could about the operation, right from the fields, through every step, the growing, the harvest, routes, the transportation, all that. I guess when he found out he could take down thousands of pounds of coca, he got greedy.”
“The growing is a culture now,” said Blaine. “The farmers who were starving before and unable to feed their families, are now able to make a living.”
“Yep,” said Enright, and the biggest percentage of their goods are exported to the US.”
“Travis is partly right,” said Blaine. “The first thing we need is recon. And since Travis is our expert in that field, let’s get him a chopper.”
JESSE RETURNED TO the hotel room to call Annie while Enright and Blaine and the boys went in search of a rental
helicopter. Travis wanted to be on hand at the transaction to insure he was comfortable flying any of the possibilities.
Annie answered on the second ring. “Hey, cowboy, I was a little worried when I hadn’t heard from you.”
“Nothing to worry about, Ace. I’m fine. Taking it easy. The rest of the crew are out looking for a chopper for Travis, and I’m bumming around our hotel room. What does that tell you?”
“Tells me you might be acting sensibly for a change?” She giggled, and suddenly Jesse wanted to be at home.
“Things aren’t looking good for Fab.” He gave Annie the details and brought her up to date.
“That’s terrible. How’s Blaine taking it?”
“He’s not smiling, that’s a fact. And knowing that this
Enright guy is personally involved, isn’t helping either.”
“Wish I was there.”
Jesse shook his head, even though Annie couldn’t see him. “No, you don’t. A hundred and twenty degrees and the boys are getting ready to stomp through the fuckin jungle.”
“Why don’t you come on home, sweetheart? There can’t be much you can help with, is there?”
“Not much. I wanted to be here for Blacky. What kind of a partner am I if I don’t participate?”
“You’re a partner that isn’t well. At least, not yet.”
“Is there another reason you want me to come home? I thought I detected something.”
“You’re a good detective, sugar. I’ll give you that one.”
“So… there is something?”
“Same old. Race is remembering… things. Pieces of the past and putting pressure on me.”
“What kind of pressure?” Jesse felt the green in his veins sloshing around whenever Ogilvie was in the picture.
“Oh, you know. The same old bullshit.”
She’s being evasive.
“Is he putting moves on you? Physical moves?”
“A couple. Nothing serious.”
“I’m coming home. I’ll be on the next plane.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.”
Fuck, she wants me home, but didn’t want to tell me why.
THE PRIVATE AIRSTRIP outside of Rionegro was nearly deserted. Mechanics serviced a couple of small planes, and one Gulfstream taxied down the runway, preparing for takeoff.
“Don’t see any choppers,” said Travis.
Enright pointed. “In the hangar around the back. Let’s go inside and talk to Roberto.”
Blaine’s cell rang before he got to the door of the building. “Hang on a sec,” He held up a hand. “Be right there.” He pressed talk, and then, “Hey, Detective Lopez, what’s up?”
“That murder you dumped on me—Zahn—supposedly affiliated with the DEA but nobody will admit it—drives me fuckin crazy—all the government bullshit.”
Blaine prodded him. “Something come up?”
“Yep, I’m sending you a recording. Can’t hear it too well, but I think it’s Agent Flores calling for help.”
Blaine’s heart thumped so loudly, he could hear it.
“Where did you get this message?”
“Came in on Zahn’s phone while the lab techs had it. They sent it over to me.”
“Thanks, Detective. I could use some help.”
“Me too. Any hints on who did Zahn?”
“Someone from Markwood’s office. The fucker burned Fab. Markwood knew the bust on the Hernando Cartel wasn’t going down—for whatever reason—and the fuckers left her to die. Zahn knew about it. Markwood had to eliminate Zahn to keep his credibility and his job. There’s your motive.”
“Okay. Now, I just have to find the shooter.”
“Yeah, sorry I’m no help on that part.”
“At least I’ve got a clear direction
and I’m not looking at Zahn’s neighbors or a random condo robbery or some fuckin thing.”
“There’s got to be agents working under Markwood that hate him—I know I do—and would like to see him go down.” Blaine huffed a chuckle. “Find a weak link in his crew and lean hard. You might shake something loose.”
“Thanks, Blacky, you always give me a direction.”
FARRELL WAVED to Blaine to hurry up, as they rounded the corner of the compact airport office with Enright. Behind the main hangar, and connected by double doors was a
second, smaller hangar. Inside were two choppers. Travis
instantly gravitated towards a Cayuse and began checking it out. One of the maintenance men joined him and they were lost in a lengthy discussion that involved a lot of hand gestures.
“I’m going to round up what we need for later, Trav,” said Blaine. “Be back in a couple of hours.”
Travis nodded. “I’m good here, boss.”
“I’ll stay with my partner,” said Farrell. “Maybe I’ll learn something.” He winked at Blaine.
On the way to the Rubicon, Jesse called Blaine’s cell. “Hey, man, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, but Ace isn’t. She didn’t want to tell me, but Race is giving her trouble. He’s becoming aggressive.”
“What? Aggressive how?”
“You know, Blacky, like putting moves on her.”
“Oh, shit no. I didn’t think he could remember the two of them as a couple.”
“Well, now he can—or at least pieces of it.”
“You go ahead. There’s nothing more you can do here,
anyway. We should be home in a couple of days.”
“My flight is at three,” said Jesse. “I’ll pack my stuff and take a cab to the airport.”
“Okay, keep in touch. It pisses me off that she’s having trouble, but I never wanted Race living at the ranch in the first place and you can remind Annie I said so.”
Jesse chuckled. “Yeah, that will cheer her up and put you in the good books.”
I’m glad Jesse is going home. One less thing to worry about.
ENRIGHT GAVE VERBAL directions to Blaine and they left the city heading west. Traffic thinned as they passed through lower income neighborhoods, into a section of the city with streets no wider than laneways. Tiny makeshift houses
co-mingled with trailers and shacks of all shapes and sizes. Dogs ran wild, chickens scratched in every front yard and
naked children played in the dirt.
“Turn down here.” Enright pointed to a dirt track barely visible between two flowering bushes.
Blaine drove a few feet along the track and hit the brakes when he saw a wire gate in front of him.
“It’s locked,” said Enright, “I’ll get it.” He jumped out, fished a key out of his pocket and released the padlock. “This area doesn’t look like much,” he said when he jumped back into the Jeep, but it’s a lot safer than the city. Fewer gangs and most people don’t have anything worth stealing. I have stuff that I don’t want to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Uh huh.” Blaine nodded his head. “Less chance of getting robbed or blowing your cover if you’re invisible.”
“Bingo.”
Blaine parked the Jeep and Enright led the way around the tiny house to a metal supply shack he had erected himself. “This is where I keep the stuff for my crew. We’ve been waiting for so damn long for this one to go down, there’s got to be an inch of dirt on everything.” He pulled out his keys and undid a large lock.
AFTER HITTING ENRIGHT’S supply shack and a couple of dealers in the city he had ongoing agreements with, the
Rubicon was loaded for their mission. “Let’s pick the boys up at the airport and have a planning session over dinner,” said Blaine. “Every fiber of my being is telling me to hit Sanchez fast and hard, but in my head, I know we can’t chance it until after Travis has a look and we make a solid plan.”
“From what I’ve heard,” said Enright, “and this is rumor only, Sanchez has built himself an impenetrable fortress in the middle of the jungle. One road in and the same road out. No escape route if things go to hell in a handbasket.”
“I get it,” said Blaine. “If you don’t come out a winner, you don’t come out.”
“You got it.”
ANNIE WAITED IN the arrival’s lounge for Jesse. He’d only been gone a couple of days, but she had missed him. More so, because Race was returning to shades of his former self, even though his neurosurgeon had assured her and the DA’s office that Race would never be normal—or what passed for normal in Race’s situation—ever again. He was ruled unable to stand trial. Would that hold true if parts of his memory came back?
What a nightmare. This can’t be happening.
She put her thoughts in the back of her mind for the time being and greeted Jesse as he came through the doors, smiling and searching the room for her. “Over here, sugar.” She gave him a wave and he headed in her direction. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled under her breath as she studied his tanned face, “he’s exhausted.”
“Hey, Ace.” Jesse wrapped her in a warm embrace and kissed her. “I missed my wife.”
He’s not projecting much sound. I better get him home.
“I missed you too, sugar pop. More than you could imagine.”
CHAPTER TEN
Friday, March 10th.
THEY ARRIVED at the airstrip before dawn to do the pre-flight check. When they were set and cleared for takeoff the first vestiges of light made their way into the pewter sky.
Enright occupied the co-pilot’s seat. Farrell and Blaine sat behind. Blaine had never seen Travis fly a chopper, but it had been listed on his resume as one of his specialties in the Marines. He watched him at the controls and sensed his confidence. Travis would get the job done.
Farrell kept his blue eyes glued on Travis and held his breath as his partner powered up the Cayuse and eased it off the ground.
Enright gave general directions. “His compound is north of the city, away from any main roads and well hidden in the jungle. The canopy is thick in spots and we might miss it. We can’t afford too many passes, or we’ll put him on alert.”
“Isn’t he used to government cops flying over?” asked Travis.
“I don’t think they’ve bothered him too much.”
“Why don’t they take him out if he’s one of the biggest cartels in the country?”
Enright shrugged. “It’s a different culture. They do things their own way and in their own time.”
FABIANA COWERED in the bottom of the shower
enclosure, letting the hot water soothe her sore and aching body. Tears of helplessness slid down her cheeks as she felt close to giving up. Sanchez had used her roughly all night long and this morning, when he’d finally left the bed and stepped into the hallway, she’d heard him tell his right hand, Marko, that he would soon get a chance with her.
She threw up thinking of that stinking, ugly brute coming near her. As she dried off, she heard the bedroom door open.
Oh, no. He’s back.
“Fabiana, it’s me, Angelique.”
Fabiana wrapped a towel around her and opened the
bathroom door a crack. Angelique stood just inside the bedroom door holding a breakfast tray. “Where is he?” Fabiana whispered in Spanish.
“The men have all gone somewhere. I don’t know where or when they’ll be back. Only the house keeper is downstairs.” She set the tray on the table by the window and took a close look at Fabiana. Shades of blue were beginning to appear all over her body. “Oh, he’s hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Fabiana walked to the window and looked out on the new day. Warm and sunny like always, but what did it matter? Did good weather make dying any easier? She pulled the towel tighter around her and turned to Angelique. “Did he leave guards outside the house?”
“One at the front and one at the back. You can’t get out.”
“I�
��m going to try,” said Fabiana. “There’s nothing else for it—I’ll die here, or I’ll die on my own in the jungle. I’d rather die alone than have that monster kill me. Do you want to come with me?”
Angelique shook her head. “I’m afraid he’ll kill me.”
He’ll kill you anyway, but it’s your choice.
Fabiana touched her arm. “I’m afraid too, but I have to try. If I don’t he’ll pass me around to all his soldiers and that will be worse than dying.”
“I understand.” Angelique’s eyes welled up. “Several have raped me since we arrived.”
“I’m sorry.” Fabiana hugged the young girl who’d been her only female friend these past months. “If I could have prevented it, I would have.” She glanced at the breakfast tray, ignored her growling stomach and dressed quickly in the same jeans and t-shirt she had taken off—her only clothes. She sat on the side of the bed and laced up her running shoes.
“Should you wait until nightfall?”
“I can’t wait. There may not be another chance. I have to try while Sanchez is out of the compound.”
“I’ll take coffee to the guard at the back of the house and try to distract him,” said Angelique. If you step out the
kitchen door while he’s looking at me, you can run into the jungle and hide.”
“I wish I knew which way to go to when I get to the road. It was dark when Sanchez brought me here.”
“Rionegro is to the south of us,” said Angelique. “I heard one of the soldiers say that.”
“Thank you, that’s helpful. I’ll use the sun as my guide.”
ANNIE TIPTOED out of bed at dawn, leaving Jesse softly snoring. The trip had been too much for him, as she knew it would be, but her opinion seldom counted when it came to Jesse’s wellbeing. Jesse had a will of iron combined with a steel moral fiber that compelled him to work for the greater good—even if it killed him.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt and headed to the kitchen to start the coffee. As she took those first steps out of the safety of her room and down the hallway, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and gave her a shiver. Not a good sign so early in the day. What mayhem was Race going to toss her way today?”
