by Matthew Rief
Just as we headed for the metal spiral staircase, the helicopter’s engine whined, and it took off, heading away from the compound.
“What the hell?” I said, looking up in disbelief. I grabbed my radio. “Ange, any sign of Wake?”
“Negative,” she replied right away. “The chopper never landed. No one got on or off.”
We looked up, watching as the helicopter flew south, piercing the dark evening air at what we assumed was its full speed.
It never landed. Nobody got on or off.
Ange’s words played over again in my head.
Why would Wake call in a helicopter, then not use it? Unless…
Scott and I raised our weapons and turned around at the sound of voices. But it wasn’t more guards. It was one of the girls in the corner.
“Fueron por ese camino,” she exclaimed, pointing toward the railing beside her.
My Spanish wasn’t great, but I knew enough to understand what she was telling us.
They went that way.
We moved slowly toward where she was pointing. When we reached the railing, we realized that there was a set of outdoor stairs that ran along that side of the house as well.
Suddenly, we heard voices coming from inside the house. Scott looked at me, and motioned toward the open sliding glass door.
“Está bien,” I said softly to the girls as Scott and I headed for the door.
We entered and crossed the bedroom, heading back toward the main staircase. The moment we stepped through the doorway, two big guards sprang on us from around the corner.
The first tackled me to the hard marble floor of the indoor balcony. My Sig fell from my grasp and we rolled twice before I managed to land a strong blow to the side of his head. He retaliated, but I jerked my head at the last second, causing his knuckles to crunch as they slammed into floor instead of bone.
As he groaned, I added to his pain with a strong kick to his balls, then shoved him forward. Putting space between us and the railing, I dropped onto my back and jerked his body over the top of me. A strong leg press completed the move. He shattered through the glass railing of the balcony and yelled as he free-fell toward the living room floor. His screams ended in an instant as his body slammed onto the marble thirty feet below.
I looked up from the guard’s mangled body and spotted a figure standing in the middle of the living room. Even in the dark, I recognized him instantly.
It was Brier.
He was standing stoic, facing me and holding out an object in each of his hands.
“Better luck next time, Dodge!” he shouted.
In my peripherals, I could see Scott standing over the body of the second guard. He lunged toward me with his weapon raised, ready to take down Brier. I reached for my Sig as well. But we were both too late.
As my name left Brier’s lips, he dropped the two objects. In an instant, two streams of gas hissed from the floor, covering the living room in a thick cloud. For a moment, I thought it was smoke. Then I caught a familiar and unpleasant whiff of toxic gas.
“Tear gas,” I said.
Brier vanished within the cloud that quickly rose and caused me to gag.
We stumbled into the master bathroom and grabbed two bath towels. Dampening them in the sink, we pressed them to our faces and headed downstairs. Our makeshift gas masks were far from perfect. The gas still burned our eyes and caused us to gag as we reached the bottom, but they were better than nothing.
Moving into the haze, we found the two grenades and kicked them into the dining room. It took a minute for the cloud to abate enough for us to look over the room. I blinked my tear-filled eyes and scanned the room with my handgun raised. It was empty.
“Ange, you see where they went?” I said into my radio.
“Negative, Logan. Beach side’s quiet.”
We listened for the sound of an engine as we searched the room for clues as to the direction they’d gone. But the place was quiet aside from the dying tear gas grenades in the dining room.
I took a step toward the door, then Scott stopped me with a hand.
“Wait,” he said.
He knelt and pointed at the large Persian rug. The corner beside him was tucked under itself.
He looked at me, then grabbed the corner and pulled it up. We both gasped as we laid eyes on a trapdoor. It wasn’t cheap or made out of wood. It was metal and built to shut perfectly flush along the marble floor.
We folded the carpet over and traced the minuscule space along the edge of the metal square until we found a slit large enough to grab. Gripping tight, we pulled up. It was heavy and took our full strength to fully open. We noticed hydraulics on two of the sides.
“Must be a way to open this mechanically,” I said.
Scott nodded. We dropped into the dark space and rushed down a narrow staircase. Shining our flashlights ahead, we kept our weapons raised each step of the way. The stairs leveled off at a concrete-floored corridor. Sounds emanated from up ahead. Voices, mechanical groans, then the sounds of starting engines.
We sprinted as fast as we could toward the sounds. Within seconds, the corridor opened up to a room with a metal platform on one side and a large compartment flooded with water on the other. Floating in the water was what looked like a custom catamaran racing boat. It had a sleek hull and was painted solid black. Its big engines moaned as a massive garage-style door rose into the ceiling ahead of it.
Just as we reached the room, I caught a glimpse of Brier’s face. He was on the boat and managed to shoot me a smirk before dropping from view and slamming a hatch door shut behind him.
We rushed toward the craft and fired off a rapid succession of rounds at the boat. Mere seconds after we entered, the engines roared, and the boat accelerated out into the ocean in the blink of an eye.
SIXTEEN
“Get the fuck in here!” Richard Wake yelled at Brier.
The head of his security dropped down into the cramped interior, slammed the hatch, and quickly tightened it down. Wake ordered the pilot to his right to get them out of there.
The moment Brier’s rear plopped down into the seat closest to the hatch, the pilot did as he was told. He gunned the throttles all the way forward. With two 700-hp inboard engines, the advanced craft jolted up to speed like a rocket blasting from a launchpad.
The force slammed Wake back into his seat, and he watched through the small windshield as they burst out of the secret chamber, splashed through the cascading waterfall, and motored into the bay. The speed demon cut through the surface of the water, leaving a thick carpet of white bubbles churned up behind it.
Wake glanced at the cockpit beside him. The speedometer quickly rose up over fifty knots. Just as they neared the open ocean beyond the bay, they heard a loud banging sound against the port side of the hull. It was followed by a second sound moments later. Both were easily heard even over the loud sounds of the engines.
“The hell was that?” Wake yelled. He looked at the pilot and then to Brier.
“They’re shooting at us,” Brier yelled back. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “You should’ve let me kill them!”
The pilot took them out of the bay. They listened for more sounds, but none came. They were in the clear. They’d lost a handful of men, but they’d escaped. And so had Wake’s colleagues on the helicopter.
He looked forward. They were shooting across the water at the boat’s max speed of eighty knots. In less than half an hour, they could reach the mainland of Honduras. Once there, he could fly anywhere in the world. He didn’t know how his enemies had done it, but somehow they’d been compromised. Somewhere along the line, they’d slipped up.
“You knew those guys back at the compound, Brier?” Wake said, eyeing his head of security with a stern gaze.
“One of them was Logan Dodge,” he fired back. “Didn’t get a good look at the other guy.”
Wake fumed. His left eye twitched.
Logan Dodge.
He’d heard the name before.
It was the same guy who’d put a halt to their operation in the Gulf. And the one who’d killed his former lover and business associate Carson Richmond.
“How do you know him, Brier?” Wake said, his voice loud and stern over the sounds of the engines.
“Long story. We fought in the SEALs together. I was one of his platoon officers. Then he sold me out when shit hit the fan in Venezuela.” Brier shook his head. “You should’ve let me kill him.”
Wake shot him an evil look. “Shut the hell up,” he replied. “Don’t you see what just happened? That asshole nearly took us down. He managed to figure out where I was and pull off an effective attack.”
Brier smirked. “Not effective enough.”
Wake raised his Cabot 1911 handgun, aiming it straight at Brier. The experienced former Special Forces member didn’t flinch.
“You failed me, Brier,” Wake said. “Those guys cut through your men like they were amateurs.”
Brier swallowed hard. He fully expected to die. He’d seen what Wake did to his subordinates when they pissed him off. Time and time again, he’d seen it.
Wake shifted the barrel to aim at Brier’s head. His finger touched softly on the trigger.
“If it happens again, Brier, you’re gonna look back on this moment and wish I’d pulled the trigger. Understand?”
Brier matched his employer’s gaze and nodded slowly. “Let me go after him. Let me find him and take him out.”
Wake calmly lowered the weapon and thought for a moment. He was a businessman. He couldn’t help but think in terms of numbers, of losses and gains. Least amount of risk for the greatest reward. To get Logan, he’d start with a subordinate of his who was both deadly and hated Dodge.
He’s also of little importance to me anymore, Wake thought. If he dies in the pursuit of Dodge, it won’t affect me in the slightest.
Zero risk. Good chance of reward.
If he didn’t kill Dodge, he’d send someone else again and again until the job was done. There was too much at stake for the vigilante to meddle into his business again.
Wake glanced over at the pilot. “Change our course,” he ordered. “Take us to Toledo.”
The pilot nodded. He turned the helm to the right, performing a slow sweeping turn.
“Belize?” Brier said. “Why are we—”
“To pay a visit to Dante Salazar.”
Brier couldn’t believe it. “You’re gonna send Dante? After what happened in Cuba?”
“If he’s healed and ready, yes.”
Wake knew Dante to be a fierce and deadly fighter. After what Dodge had done to him back in Cuba, he knew that the former gang leader would be like a caged hungry tiger.
And I’m gonna let him loose.
SEVENTEEN
We stood behind the wall of water with our handguns raised. I breathed heavily from the running and fighting.
“Ange, they’re speeding away on a—”
I stopped midsentence as the sound of a rifle echoed from out over the water. We could hear it even over the sound of the crashing waterfall. It was followed moments later by a second shot.
“Yeah, I saw them,” Ange said a moment later. “Struck their hull twice but they’re already out of the bay. Gotta be gunning it at over eighty knots now.”
“Your shots didn’t slow them down?” I said.
“If they did, I can’t notice it.” She sighed and added, “It’s long gone, Logan.”
There was a short pause.
“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say Wake was on that thing?” Ange added.
“Yeah,” I said. “And Brier.” My mind shook from Wake, and I remembered the unexpected actions that had rushed our assault earlier. “Shit, you heard from Jack?”
“Yeah, after the third call. That crazy conch got out of there unscathed. He’s on his way back to the lodge.”
I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes remained forward, staring into the cascading water as I lowered my radio.
It hurt to see Wake slip through our fingers. After all the planning and recon we’d done, we’d managed to get into his house and take down most of his security detail. But none of that mattered.
We’d let the snake slither away.
It hurt, but that was it. What was done was done. There was nothing we could do to change it, so there was no point lingering on it.
I lowered my weapon, turned to Scott, then motioned back in the direction we’d come. He nodded back and we strode quickly down the narrow corridor.
With the house clear of hostiles, we performed a quick intel sweep. We weren’t surprised to find that the security room on the second floor had been completely cleared out. What hadn’t been taken with them had been destroyed in an incinerator. Somewhat dejected, we wrote off finding anything useful. But as we stepped for the door, my foot kicked a small object. I thought it was a BIC lighter at first. Then I glanced down and saw it resting against the bottom of the doorjamb. I bent down and picked up a small black rectangular piece of plastic.
“A USB drive?” Scott said, leaning over me.
I pocketed the tiny memory storage device, then rose to my feet.
Maybe this op wasn’t a total failure. Maybe this USB had information we could use to figure out where he was going next.
It was a long shot, but it was all we had.
We headed back down to the dock where Ange had the Exotic Pearl tied off. After grabbing our gear from the water, we quickly motored out of there. I glanced over my shoulder at the compound, only visible by the glow of the moon.
Sure is an impressive place. Shame nobody’s going to be enjoying it for a while.
We called local authorities once we were out of view of the compound and told them we’d heard gunshots coming from the expensive property. We also told them that we’d heard girls screaming. When they asked for more info, we hung up. It wasn’t like we were lying.
We arrived back at the lodge to the sight of Maisy yelling at Jack. They were standing in the driveway just up from the shore. She had her hand on her hips and was intermittently pointing her finger between Jack’s face and her parked Volkswagen. I couldn’t make out most of what she was saying, but clearly she wasn’t too happy with the state in which Jack had returned it to her.
After tying off the Pearl, we headed over to provide backup. Scott took over and quickly calmed her down, promising that he’d fully cover the cost of a newer replacement car. To assuage her anger, he gave her a stack of bills, then took her aside and talked to her privately.
While they talked, I hugged my old friend.
“I nearly had a heart attack when the bullets started flying,” I said. “Glad you’re alright.”
“Me too, bro. You guys get Wake?”
I shook my head.
Maisy was calmed down then and said good night before going back to bed. Scott had paid for the damages and been assured that she wouldn’t call the cops. Regardless, he reasoned it best to get out of there after some shut-eye.
We went over what had happened while eating the two pizzas Jack had tried to deliver.
“I gotta hand it to you, Jack,” Ange said. “When you create a diversion, you go a hundred percent.”
He grinned. “Once Buffett came on, I couldn’t help it.”
After finishing up, the conversation turned serious.
“He’ll come after us now,” I said. “Brier saw me. The guy even yelled out my name.” I paused and took a sip of water. “He and Wake won’t let this go. After what happened tonight, I’ll be at the top of his most wanted list.”
We fell quiet for a moment.
“Let’s just hope this thing’s full of useful intel,” Ange said, motioning toward the USB on the table beside us.
We’d inserted it into our laptop but couldn’t access any files. The device was clearly well secured. But we knew that there was one guy who could most likely hack into it.
“I’ll make sure Murph gets it as soon as possible,” Scott said. “In the meantime, you guys ne
ed to lie low somewhere. Just until we can figure out where he ran off to.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t really have to. I wasn’t exactly the run-and-hide type. Neither was Ange. And even if we did try and lie low someplace, I knew it wouldn’t be long before Wake found us. His arm of influence was far-reaching and powerful. I always preferred to face my problems head-on, and I reminded Scott of that.
“I get that,” he replied, “but this time’s different. We just need to give Murph time to crack this thing. A day or two, I’d guess. Then, if it gives us a clue to his location, we’ll engage Wake again. If it comes back empty, we’ll reevaluate then.”
Scott called Wilson on his sat phone and asked about the boat that Wake had escaped on. The CIA deputy director informed us that they hadn’t been able to track its movements. I wasn’t surprised. They’d escaped on a modified racing boat of some kind. A craft that had rocketed them away from the shore faster than a blink. And I was sure that Wake had given the boat the best electronics that money could buy, making it incredibly difficult to track.
It was getting late. With the commotion we’d caused over at the compound, we decided it was best to finish the conversation some other time. As much as we would’ve enjoyed spending a few nights at the overwater bungalow paradise, we had to put distance between ourselves and the incident.
Just past 0200, we loaded everything into the Cessna. Scott and Jack headed back toward the mainland on Exotic Pearl while Ange and I took off into the evening air. Thankfully, we had a full thermos of freshly brewed coffee to keep us awake.
We headed north up to Cozumel, a Mexican island right off the coast of Playa del Carmen. After refueling, Ange brought us back into the air, and we made the jump across the Gulf back home to Key West. The morning sun was up by the time the pontoons splashed down in Tarpon Cove Marina.
We received a quick update from Scott on the drive home. They’d boarded a small private flight from Goloson Airport in La Ceiba and were just landing at Key West international. He told me that Jack would catch a taxi home and that he’d keep me updated with Murph regarding the USB.
