Silver Lead and Dead (Evan Hernandez series Book 1)

by James Garmisch

  “Roger?” Evan whispered.

  “Aye?”

  “Mail-delivery time.”

  Evan heard muffled voices and the sound of a radio in the main room. The closet in which he stood was a large walk-in that smelled of leather and cedar. He spied a couple of shirts that he liked.

  The hand grenade dropped through the slot in the door, and Evan heard the screams.

  “Grenade!”

  “Blow the hallway up!”

  “We can’t!”

  Three women screamed simultaneously, and the yells of several men could be heard.

  Boom!

  Evan felt the urge to yell something ridiculous and settled with, “Remember the Alamo, motherfuckers!” He burst into the room, preparing to shoot anyone who moved.

  A man had either dove or been thrown onto the hand grenade.

  His body was torn in half and smoking like brisket.

  Two men, wearing matching white T-shirts and camouflage pants, tried to pick themselves off the floor. They were bloody, stunned, and deaf. Evan popped them both in the head with a single round each.

  Next he dropped to his knee and shot two clueless-looking men who stood on either side of the only remaining Mario. He ignored two young women who began to scream and cower in the corner of the cabin.

  Mario dove from his hiding place behind the girls and took up a new hiding place behind Jorge Valdez, who was taped to a chair.

  Evan felt someone grab him around the arms as he stepped from the closet. He realized it was a female by the hair in his face and the manicured nails that gouged at his eyes. She smelled great. Evan picked her up with one arm under her armpit and hip tossed her onto the wide bed that separated Evan from Mario and Jorge. She was light and landed soft.

  Mario shot at him and missed.

  The girl landed on a large, naked dead man, who Evan could only assume was the real Mario or Daddy Mario.

  “Stop! Stop!” Mario screamed hysterically. He had almost shot his own girlfriend while trying to hit Evan.

  “Stay there, sweetheart; don’t move!”

  “I am not lying on a stiff dead man!”

  The beautiful woman he had hip tossed lay facedown with her head toward Evan and her feet facing Little Mario. Her torso was across the dead Mario’s belly. It was a rather silly pose, and somewhat erotic in a sick sense.

  Evan brought his weapon up to his cheek and got in a comfortable shooting position. He slowed down his breathing. His dip was going dry.

  “I am in, Roger. You guys can blow the door.”

  “Aye, lad,” Roger mumbled.

  Evan never took his eyes off his target and spat onto the carpet. He could see video monitors through his peripheral vision. Dark Cloud operatives were clearing out the wounded and setting a breaching charge against the door.

  “Gross!” exclaimed the girl on the bed.

  “You a model or something?” Evan asked. His eyes and weapon did not move when he spoke.

  “Yes. Look, can I get up?”

  “Only if you wanna get shot.”

  “I am being poked by something hard. This is sick.”

  “I can shoot you.”

  “I fine here.”

  “Good girl. Looks like the late Mario is enjoying that!”

  “You’re sick,” she exclaimed. “Who the hell are you people? Jorge, is this man yours?”

  Little Mario tried to make himself smaller behind Jorge. He held a snub nose .357 to Jorge’s head.

  Evan took in the scene and calculated distances.

  Jorge was pale and in a good deal of pain. He had a makeshift tourniquet around his wrist and a large bandage and ice pack duct-taped to it. His forearms were taped to the chair. His face was swollen. He regarded Evan with tired, defeated eyes, yet he was still in there. The arrogance, the fighting spirit.

  “You go first,” Evan said.

  “You are not in a position!” Little Mario squealed. He sounded as if he might come unglued and either cry or start shooting.

  The unstable ones were the worst. Evan regarded the gorgeous actress and figured she was what kept him calm.

  “OK. Me first,” Evan began. “Jorge, are you OK? I don’t care about Mario. My real name is Evan by the way. Navy is here.”

  Jorge laughed more with pain than anything. He had figured most of it out by now. “Evan, tell this idiot that I did not steal his money!”

  Evan smiled grimly. “Hey, idiot. Jorge did not steal your money. My boss did. The whole navy is right outside, so this thing is pointless.”

  “We negotiate,” Mario said.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I am rich!”

  Evan tried not to laugh. “Not so much anymore!” Evan gently squeezed the trigger but did not let his round fly.

  The girl began to cry. “Please, please no kill him. He is cornered; he needs a way out! I will do anything you want. Let us go, please!”

  Jorge rallied and tried to sound reasonable.

  “Evan, you killed all my men. You destroyed my chances at building a new Mexico! You owe me. My fight has never been with you. Kill Little Mario. He is a wuss. I will make you rich.”

  “No, no, don’t kill my Mario!” The actress sobbed. “Kill Jorge! I will make you rich, Evan! This man is a liar!”

  Mario pulled the hammer back on the handgun till it clicked.

  Jorge remained calm, despite the fact that Mario was becoming hysterical. The actress was crying now. Jorge cleared his throat and spoke in a fatherly tone to Evan. “Evan, my friend, there is a million dollars in gold in Mario’s safe. Kill this freak and set me free. I will owe you.”

  Jorge coughed and tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer.

  Evan saw movement on the monitors and knew his remaining teammates were clearing Roger out of the way and preparing to blow the door. Evan asked a very simple question: “Jorge, is the agency financing your political operation?”

  Jorge got real quiet and for a second forgot about his hand. He looked Evan in the eye and whispered his words as if he was acknowledging a subtle truth that he wished he could deny. “Snake? Los Pepes?”

  The model began to sniff and sob louder. Evan was not sure if she was acting or not, but she looked good doing it.

  Little Mario yelled, “Shoot her. It was all her idea!”

  The girl yelled louder; Little Mario shrieked. Evan was not amused and was beginning to get a headache again. He locked eyes with Jorge.

  Jorge stared back, unblinking, and then he smiled.

  That’s when Evan knew the truth.

  Jorge Valdez was working for the freaking CIA.

  “I hate you, Mario. You would betray me after all the sex and crap I put up with from you?”

  “You drove me to this, you crazy bit—”

  “I am lying here on top of your stiff dead father. The man who used to grab my breasts in public while you did nothing! Now here you are again, afraid and doing nothing! You killed your father. Have some follow-through for once, you weak little coward!” she screamed with the high-pitched, shrill tone that only a woman could master.

  Evan could not handle it anymore. He spat on the floor and shot Little Mario in the forehead.

  The girl screamed.

  The door blew off the hinges.

  Jorge kept smiling.

  Evan smiled back.

  CHAPTER 43

  What Goes Up

  Tanya screamed as Gerard sliced a thin line across the top of her breasts with a razor blade. She fought hard against the duct tape that bound her ankles and wrists. The plastic bag over her face was beginning to suffocate her. She watched the world turn blue and then red.

  “I am going to take you two somewhere far away and spend months working on the two of you, until there is nothing left!” Gerard said coldly.

  He then pointed to Tommy with the razor blade and said, “I am going to make you two pay. The old man, he can watch!”

  He left her on the floor of the idling airplane in
between the seats next to Carla.

  The massive flying boat was sixty feet long, which made it longer than the wooden pier. A tiny floating dock jutted off much lower than the main dock. The tail section of the Grumman Albatross flying boat towered over the end of the dock. The massive wingspan stretched out nearly one hundred feet. The noise of the twin propellers was deafening and drowned out all other noise from the chaos near the house.

  Gerard stood up and wobbled a little unsteady. One of his men approached.

  “Boss!”

  “What!” Gerard said with a frustrated tone not unlike a child being interrupted from play.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  “At this point, you idiot, I will believe anything,” Gerard shrieked.

  He was beyond angry and doing his best to stay in control. The navy was taking the island. The fighting was all but dead from what he heard. It was only a matter of time before they came to this part of the island. He hoped to use his hostages as shields, and maybe they would not shoot him down.

  “Try me,” Gerard exclaimed. “Well?”

  Gerard walked past his man and sat in the captain’s seat. The nose of the plane faced out toward the open sea. Tanya strained to hear the muscle-bound thug who stood near her yelling to Gerard.

  “Look! Jorge has escaped. He is down on the beach right now. He called me on the radio. Got away in a speedboat!” the Scorpion said loudly and waved his arms.

  “What!”

  “That is what I am trying to tell you! Pena and Raul and Paco, they are bringing him up from the beach. He is wounded badly!” the Scorpion exclaimed.

  Tanya could not believe her ears. Her heart raced, and she said a quick prayer: “Either have Carla and me and Tommy die in a plane crash or, I don’t know, just deliver me please!”

  Carla was sobbing and shaking. Gerard had duct-taped a plastic bag over her head as well.

  Tommy was tied to an empty seat, his white hair red with dripping blood.

  Tanya was sure that he was dead. From her vantage point on the floor of the vibrating airplane, she could see his limp hand hanging into the aisle. Blood dripped off his fingers. He did not move.

  Tanya tried to not breathe and conserve air. She knew that the four men and Andre Pena had untied the airplane and prepared it for takeoff. The twin propellers were whirring loudly, and the plane shuddered as Gerard hit the throttle. The door was open, and she could smell humidity, heat, and aviation fuel. Within moments the airplane would be airborne.

  “Please let me die before that sadistic bastard touches me,” she pleaded in her prayers.

  Suddenly, Gerard leapt up and pointed at his bare-chested sidekick. The man had a tattoo on his back of a nude Mexican girl wearing a sombrero. He had scars that looked like puncture marks across his middle.

  “Go! Go get him inside. Carry him if you have to, but we have to go now!” Gerard yelled.

  “Will we make it?” the Scorpion demanded, uncertain.

  “Stop asking questions. Do it! Go!” Gerard slapped his friend lightly.

  Tanya watched the man grip his shotgun and leap from the plane’s side door onto the floating dock.

  Gerard went back to manning the controls.

  “Please, God give me—”

  That’s when Tanya felt something touch her fingertips as she shoved her hands underneath the seats. Her hands were behind her, and she was slowly wiggling free of the duct tape. She brought her knees to her chest and used her core muscles to sit up. She was far enough behind Gerard that he did not notice.

  Carla had stopped sobbing and was watching Tanya.

  Tanya reached for the object. She about had her left hand free.

  Gerard stood up suddenly and looked through the side door of the plane. He was smiling and clapped his hands.

  Suddenly, he sprinted off the plane with a spring in his step.

  “Carla, sit up!” Tanya grabbed the screwdriver. It was six inches long and rusty. “We have seconds!” Tanya ripped the bag off her own head and ripped at the duct tape around her ankles, stabbing it with the screwdriver.

  Carla chewed like a mad hamster at the tape around her wrists until Tanya could free her. Carla pulled herself together and stood up, after almost tripping, and checked her father. “He is breathing!”

  Tanya ran to the rear of the plane and looked at the emergency door. It was oval and large enough to push people or equipment through. She followed the printed directions on the door and pushed it open. She saw blue water and the end of the dock. She was sure that they could jump into the water, move underneath the pier, and then make it to the rocky beach and hide somewhere.

  “Tanya, look!”

  Tanya turned around, feeling a bit dizzy.

  Carla was half dragging and half supporting her father, Tommy.

  The three of them stared out of the tiny round windows from the tail section of the plane. They had an elevated perspective down the wooden pier, looking over smaller boats. They could see the hill and the concrete-block shacks where they believed that the men had gone.

  “Oh, shit!” Carla screamed.

  A Black Hawk helicopter seemed to come from nowhere. It hovered low while about half a dozen men wearing black and carrying weapons leapt off. Another helicopter was hovering near the beach slightly out of Tanya and Carla’s view. Men were fast roping down and out of her sight.

  “Look!”

  Tommy began to moan, and Carla had to sit him down.

  Carla and Tanya were so amazed by the assault that they failed to notice a figure running back to the plane.

  “Gerard! Carla, find a weapon!”

  Tanya was hysterical. She had to move.

  The helicopters unloaded their teams while the door gunners sprayed a burst or two near the four fleeing Scorpions. Two paused to aim their weapons at the helicopters and were literally torn into pieces. The other two men dove to the ground and let themselves be attacked and secured by the commandos.

  Gerard had managed to flee just in time. He realized that somehow Jorge had been used as bait to draw the Scorpions away from the plane. He did not bother to ask himself if Jorge had been tortured or went willingly. He had always been a master of the deal.

  The Zodiac had landed on the beach driven by a man whom Gerard did not recognize. Jorge’s appearance horrified him. His arm was in a sling, and he looked badly beaten. No sooner had he and his men begun helping him from the boat did the GAFE assault teams swoop in.

  Gerard, Gerard, had no delusions of escape anymore.

  “It’s over, Gerard,” were Jorge’s only words.

  Gerard Blaise, former French Foreign Legion member, pilot, outlaw, and commander of the most feared, brutal gang in Mexico ran for his life. “I am going to die fighting, but first I will kill that bitch!”

  Gerard avoided the bullets and the men and made it through the sand onto the dock, running as fast as he could. He had his machete in his hand and cursed that he had left his handgun sitting on the pilot seat in the plane.

  The sound of helicopters, the smell of exhaust, and short two-round bursts reminded Gerard that he used to be one of those guys. Now he was running down a dock with no shirt, wearing combat boots and cargo shorts. He would die by his own hand like a warrior, he hoped. “Only after I hack that computer girl to death!”

  Gerard’s rage against females burned deep inside and erupted in a white hot furry. He saw Tanya as the embodiment of every woman who had angered him. He loathed them and had only two uses for them.

  He sprinted down the dock and leapt onto the floating pier.

  Need my gun.

  He climbed into the cockpit and saw her.

  The computer girl stood before him with her hands behind her back; she had managed to get free. The teenage girl in the bikini was holding a fire extinguisher. She tried to spray him but had not read the directions first. It would not fire.

  “What’s this? The wonder twins?” Gerard laughed.

  He kicked the teenager in
the abdomen. She buckled and went down like a sack of laundry. She began gasping for air. He looked Tanya straight in the eye and swung his blade with two hands right at her neck.

  “Die, bitch!”

  Suddenly, she was not there.

  Tanya was not a physically strong girl, but she was, pound for pound, mighty for her size. She was quick and agile, and if she had anything, it was power and speed.

  She dropped to her knees and thrust the screwdriver with all her might into Gerard’s side between his ribs.

  He yelled and then screamed. He suddenly could not breathe so well. He wrenched the screwdriver from her hand and his side, flung it, and started punching her in the face.

  “Ahhh!” he yelled.

  She felt his blood pour from the wound. His fists slammed into her jaw. She protected her face and collapsed in a defensive posture. He was losing strength and collapsed on top of her. He coughed up blood and tried to catch his breath. She had weakened him, but he could still kill her. She felt as though she was being crushed.

  Tanya wrapped her legs around his middle and squeezed with all her might, and then she put her arms around his neck and tried to pull him close. He had less leverage to punch her, and she could bury her face into the side of his face. She sunk her teeth into his cheek.

  Tanya was losing consciousness. Blood ran down the back of her throat. He was going to kill her. She began to lose strength as he fought to push her legs off him.

  His pain intensified, and he tried to get a breath. He coughed and spat blood. He began to headbutt her and grip her elbows.

  “He is too strong, Carla! Help!”

  Tanya bit him again, as hard as she could, and visualized herself in one of those horror movies where people eat each other. She ripped a section out of his neck.

  “Aaahhhh! Ffff.”

  Gerard’s fight went the other direction. He let go and tried to get away. He screamed and panicked. His lung was punctured and now part of his face was missing. He now sounded like a wounded pig instead of a sadistic killer. He tried to get away.