Ready to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  Nathan watched Harv peer around the corner before entering the tunnel. Harv reached up and turned off his IR.

  “Nate.”

  “Harv.”

  His friend looked at Raven and took a knee. “I can’t believe you came in here.”

  “Tell me about it. Weren’t you supposed to head up to our SP?”

  “It hasn’t been thirty minutes.”

  “I shot two men outside the mine. Are they dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think of my green campfire?”

  “The light stick? Are you okay? There’s blood all over your hands. Your leg too.”

  “It’s just a fragment.”

  “How big a fragment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Harv pulled his Predator. “It’s still leaking pretty good, better let me have a look.” Harv sliced the fabric above the wound. “Yep, it’s a hole. I’m going to apply a pressure bandage just to be on the safe side. From all the brass I saw, your ears must be toast.”

  “It was loud, all right.” He let Harv go to work on his wound with the med kit. “I’d like to sit here a while longer. How’d you do with Raven’s other men down in town? They dead?”

  Harv sat next to him. “One of them. The other’s gonna limp for several months. Estefan’s watching them. I got your message.”

  “The footprint?”

  His friend nodded.

  “It’s really good to see you, Harv.”

  “Did you take a knock on the head? You don’t sound so good.”

  “It’s incredible. The complete absence of sound. Close your eyes and listen to it for a minute.”

  They sat there for thirty seconds, unmoving and utterly quiet. The only sound was Raven’s irregular breathing.

  “Wow,” Harv said. “Did it mess with you?”

  “Yeah, I felt it. In force.”

  “Your safety catch work okay?”

  “Just barely . . . I miss Holly. I wish she wasn’t so far away.”

  “Why don’t you check her schedule and go out to DC. I know she’d love to see you.” Harv smiled. “I’ll bet you can even get a free ride.”

  Nathan nodded, then waited a few moments, listening to Raven breathe. Then he told Harv what Raven had said about Macanas and Montez, as well as Tobias.

  “Incredible. Do you believe it?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Nathan looked at the puddle of blood next to Raven.

  Harv shook his head. “And Cantrell sent us here, directly into an operation run by the man who helped put you in Montez’s hands?”

  “She didn’t know.”

  “Know what? That Montez and Macanas had a history?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Any of it. I doubt she even knew Macanas was our old Echo recruiter. All it would take is a change of ID, plastic surgery. You know the drill, Harv. If someone wants to disappear with a new ID, they do it. It’s easier with money and connections, both of which Macanas has.”

  “I guess.”

  “What I’m saying is, I don’t believe she would knowingly do this to us.”

  “I admire your faith in her, and I agree. There’s no way she’d do it intentionally. It’s too cold-blooded.”

  “Are you just saying that, or do you really believe it?”

  “I believe it.”

  “Well, there’s hope for you yet.”

  Having finished bandaging Nathan’s thigh, Harv asked, “Now what?”

  “We go home.”

  “We have to arrange for our extraction.”

  Nathan reached into his pocket and held out the keys to Macanas’s helicopter.

  “I love you, Nate.”

  “I know . . . Just a few more minutes, okay?”

  With Harv at his side, Nathan sat there, in the lime glow of a light stick, in the middle of a Nicaraguan mountain, and watched a man die.

  EPILOGUE: THIRTY-SIX HOURS LATER

  Under a crisp afternoon sky, Nathan felt a little awkward. He had nothing against Congressional Country Club. It was a beautiful place, but it wasn’t his kind of place. He liked greasy-spoon diners, where the coffee tasted like yesterday’s brew and the food needed improvement. Places where people didn’t look too closely at their fellow customers. In truth, Nathan preferred to avoid public places altogether. Too often, people stared. Harv, on the other hand, loved luxury and fine dining. Driving into the country club grounds, he’d said, “Now this is what I’m talking about.”

  After dropping their rental car off with the valet, they found Bill Stafford waiting inside the foyer along with several sharply dressed men with bulges under their coats. Stafford acted friendly enough, but he made no effort to engage in small talk. He stayed in pure business mode, acutely aware of everyone and everything within his visual range. They followed him into the restaurant’s lounge where a few tables accommodated small groups of men. Nathan didn’t recognize any of them, and he wondered how many legislators actually came here. He didn’t think his father, the senior senator from New Mexico, showed up with any regularity.

  Entering the lounge, Nathan saw two operations officers, one seated at the bar, the other near a fireplace, both in strategically located perches. He thought he recognized them as the same officers who’d met Harv and him at Dulles.

  Seated next to a window overlooking the golf course was the only woman in the room. Roughly the same age as Nathan, Rebecca Cantrell wore black slacks and a blue sweater and her brunette hair was secured in a bun. Nathan and Harv wore newly purchased clothes—slacks and golf shirts. Their Nicaraguan civilian attire wouldn’t have allowed them admittance.

  She stood when they approached.

  “Rebecca, you’re looking lovely as always.”

  “Thank you, Nathan. Hello, Harvey.”

  “Director Cantrell,” Harv said.

  Bill Stafford helped Rebecca with her chair and left the table.

  “I thought you were working graveyard,” Nathan said.

  “We collared our bad guy. I’m still adjusting to the change in hours.” Rebecca glanced at her watch. “Since we don’t have much paper on your op down there, fill me in from when we last talked.”

  Nathan thanked her again for sending in the recons to support their insertion. He also thanked her for permitting them some downtime before being debriefed. After landing at NAS Norfolk, both of them had been utterly exhausted. They’d slept for nearly twelve hours.

  It took about five minutes for Nathan to go over the chronology. Rebecca asked a few questions but otherwise listened with genuine interest. Knowing the director’s time was limited and valuable, Nathan kept his update brief and on point.

  “Keying in on Antonia clearly paid dividends,” Cantrell said.

  “We got lucky. Things could’ve turned out quite differently.”

  “Still, you did a good job containing the situation.”

  The three of them fell silent for a moment.

  “The McClusky’s skipper wasn’t particularly happy about a civilian bird landing on his boat,” said Cantrell, “but he said you made a competent landing. I’m paraphrasing here, but he also said you two looked like you’d been dragged down a dirt road without missing any potholes.”

  “That’s probably an accurate assessment. Thank you for keeping her offshore.”

  “No problem. She’s been used for drug interdiction, so it was a good fit. I’d just assumed the McClusky would be sending a helicopter for you, not receiving one from you.”

  “At the time, it seemed like our best option.” Nathan looked at his friend. “Harv did all of the flying, even the landing. I handled the radio work.”

  She looked at Harv with a raised brow.

  Harv said, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The helipad looks tiny at a distance, but it’s actually pretty big. The wo
rst part was flying one hundred miles out to sea without much of a fuel reserve. I gotta tell you, seeing the McClusky emerge out of the darkness was a damned beautiful sight.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Harv smiled. “Let’s just say I have a renewed respect for naval helo drivers.”

  After landing on the frigate, they’d cleaned themselves up and eaten several pounds of chow. The Black Hawk ride over to Gitmo had seemed endless. From Gitmo, they’d hitched a ride on a Herky bird up to Virginia, practicing the old adage, “Sleep when you can.”

  “About the gold you brought back with you,” said the director, “it’s entirely your call what to do with it. Did you have something in mind?”

  “Estefan has a good idea,” said Nathan. “His wife wants to fund a program to care for people in Santavilla who’re suffering from mercury poisoning. It should make a difference for quite a few villagers, and it’s also a way for Estefan to honor his father’s memory.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I like it.”

  “If we can get the program up and running, Antonia’s going to be a part of it. She’s planning to work as a volunteer and then pursue a nursing career. I told Estefan that Harv and I would pay for her schooling if she’s truly serious about it.”

  “That’s quite generous of you and forgiving. I’ll make sure the full value of the gold is transferred when the program’s ready. Just say the word.”

  “Thanks, Rebecca.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “His wife isn’t expected to have any complications, but they’re keeping her a few more days just to be on the safe side. Estefan’s going to rebuild his house with the insurance money. I let him keep one of the gold bars. At first he didn’t want to take it, but I told him he’d earned it.” Nathan smiled. “It didn’t take a strong argument to persuade him.”

  “You delivered an expensive helicopter.”

  “What helicopter?”

  “Exactly.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  He looked out the window. “Just thinking about that mine.”

  Rebecca didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “So how’d you do down there?”

  He knew what she meant. “Better than I expected. To be honest, I didn’t have a lot of time for introspection.”

  “Probably for the best,” Harv added.

  “About Macanas . . .”

  “About Macanas.” She pulled a tablet from her briefcase. “Needless to say, this is for your eyes only. We were able to confirm everything Raven told you except for the dirt on Estefan’s father.”

  She slid the device across the table. The sound was muted, but the screen showed a green night-vision video, obviously taken from an orbiting aircraft.

  “Macanas’s home?” Nathan asked. The hilltop mansion looked big enough to be a small hotel resort, complete with two pools, a tennis court, and several freestanding buildings—probably his staff’s residences.

  “Keep watching.”

  Nothing looked out of the ordinary until a dozen figures emerged from various locations along the perimeter wall and ran toward the house. A few seconds later, all the ground-floor windows flashed simultaneously.

  “SEALs?”

  “Marines.”

  “Outstanding,” Nathan said.

  The video skipped. “That’s a six-minute jump.”

  The same number of men emerged from the house, scaled the perimeter wall, and disappeared into the trees.

  “This is good footage,” said Harv. “A drone?”

  Rebecca nodded as she took back the tablet. “A small one. It has the radar signature of a seagull. That footage is from ten thousand feet.”

  “Incredible,” Harv said.

  Nathan leaned back in his chair. “I’m assuming Mr. Macanas is no longer a . . . concern.”

  “Yes, that’s a fair assumption. The NNP recovered close to $150 million worth of illegally obtained antiquities from his property: Mayan, Incan, Aztec . . . The man didn’t discriminate. Many of the artifacts were solid gold.”

  “What happens to them?” Harv asked.

  “This hasn’t been confirmed, but Torres plans to donate them to museums, some of which are in Colombia and Venezuela.”

  “So Raven’s evidence . . .” Nathan began.

  “Is helping Colombian and Venezuelan authorities close the books on a pair of high-profile crimes. Consequently, relations between the US and Nicaragua are a little stronger than they were a week ago. It seems you and Harv have earned a few more brownie points in high places.”

  “We’re not keeping score. Harv and I went down there to help a friend. Something’s puzzling me, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How did you get permission to conduct the raid on Macanas’s property?”

  “We traded for it.”

  “Raven’s evidence again?”

  She nodded. “Since Colombia and Venezuela are resolving the murders, the economic summit is moving forward as planned. I’m assuming you didn’t see my texts to get out of there.”

  “I checked for a signal after we were airborne and saw them. Thanks for the heads-up. I’m sorry we didn’t see it in time.”

  “I appreciate your continued trust, Nathan.”

  “Like I told Harv, had you known who Macanas was, you would’ve told us. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  “Yes, I would have.” She looked at her watch again.

  “Look, if you’re pressed for time . . .”

  “I’m expecting someone.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Right on time,” Rebecca said, looking over Nathan’s shoulder.

  Nathan turned.

  Holly!

  “Harv, you arranged this.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Nathan got up and hurried over. Holly practically disappeared inside his grasp. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to be hugged like this. “You saved my life,” he whispered.

  She looked puzzled.

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Holly said. “You are okay, aren’t you? No new holes or broken bones?”

  “Nope, I’m good.”

  Holly wore a business outfit similar to Rebecca’s, but slightly more muted in color. She and Rebecca had about the same build and hair color, but Holly was a few inches shorter. Holly’s eyes were hazel, not brown, and her face reflected Slavic genes from a few generations ago.

  “You look great, Holly. You really do.”

  “Thank you.”

  Both Harv and Rebecca stood as they approached the table.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Holly,” Rebecca said.

  Nathan recalled they’d met briefly in San Diego during the Montez situation. Holly gave Harv a tight hug and shook hands with Rebecca.

  “Well,” Rebecca said. “Look at the time. I’m afraid I’ve got to be going.”

  “Speaking of,” Harv said. “My tee time has arrived.”

  “This is beyond staged,” Nathan said. “It’s a full-blown conspiracy.”

  Rebecca put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and thanked him again. Together, she and Harv left the lounge with the other operations officers in tow.

  “Harvey asked me not to return your calls. He wanted to surprise you.”

  “I’d just assumed you were busy, but I should’ve known he’d do something like this. He’s an amazing friend.”

  She gave him a long, dreamy look and smiled slightly. “Nathan?”

  “Yes?” Nathan took a drink of water.

  “Take me down to the driving range.”

  He nearly spit the water on the table. “What?”

  “You know, where they hit golf balls?”

  �
�Oh, that. Yeah . . . Sure, I mean . . .”

  She grinned.

  “You really want to do that? Right now?”

  “Do you have something else in mind?”

  “Well, no . . . It’s just that you’ve never expressed any interest in learning to golf.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  “I’m a horrible golfer, but I’ll try. I know the mechanics, I just can’t perform them.” He gave her a long look of his own. “Are you messing with me?”

  “No, I really want to learn. Helicopters too.”

  “Now that’s something I can do. Do you want to get a rating or just know how to do it?”

  “I want to be a pilot, like you.”

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today.”

  “I’ve really missed you, Nathan. I need to get some pleasure back in my life. My new job is . . . stressful. Don’t get me wrong. I’m very good at it and everything. But I feel like I’ve almost forgotten how to live. I never take vacation time anymore.”

  “Remember what I said about this when we first met?”

  “How could I forget? I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Don’t get me wrong—I love my work, but I don’t want to be married to it.”

  They enjoyed a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

  “You really serious about the driving range?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll have to teach me how to hold the club.”

  “I, ah . . . should be able to help you with that.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Walking out of the lounge, Holly leaned in and whispered, “Would you like to see my condo later?”

  “You know, there are some things a guy just has to put up with.”

  She punched his arm and, thankfully, missed the bruised spot.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks are owed to the entire Thomas & Mercer team. There are too many to list here, but my editor, Alan Turkus, is a joy to work with, and he makes the journey from story concept to finished product a treasured experience. Thanks are also owed to Jacque Ben-Zekry for coordinating the 2013 On The Lam conference. Jacque, we all had a great time. And a special thank-you goes to Jeff Belle, VP of Amazon Publishing. His vision for the future of publishing is second to none, and I’m honored to be included in Thomas & Mercer’s family of authors.