by Rob Buckman
"As Mike said, we had a little talk and I found out that he needed a mining engineer. Believe it or not, I am one." Bonner looked a bit embarrassed by the admission.
"A mining engineer! What on earth do you need a mining engineer for?" Kat squinted her eyes, totally unconvinced by the explanation so far. Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather sack he'd given to Charley, pouring the contents out into a glass dish on the counter.
"That's why." Both Kat and Bonner whistled, both erupting into a barrage of questions.
"The questions can wait for later. I need a smooth drink and to sit by the fire and drink it."
"Before you do. I want you to tell me how he got past you’re supposedly, foolproof security system and Max? By the way, where is Max?" She suddenly had the suspicion that Bonner might have shot him.
"That’s simple." Bonner answered. "I came in through the tunnel."
"But the steel door?"
"Oh that. He gave me the key."
"And Max?"
"Two steaks, medium rare was his price," Bonner said with a chuckle. "He'll be back in a minute, he went to check on his family. I think his girl friend is about to have a litter." Almost as he spoke, Max came charging through the door, 'ruffing’, and carrying on. Mike got his drink but before sitting down he went to the communications room. An hour later he returned, a pensive look on his face.
"Well?" They both asked, seeing his look.
"It turned out that my lead was a hot one." He sat down, after refilling his glass. "The trucks we saw in the cavern lead back to a petrochemical refinery in Texas. Then to a shipping company with a small fleet of tankers." He sipped his drink. "Both owned by Roland Hawkins."
"Wow, what a scam."
"You've got that right. He somehow convinced the drug lords down south to ship cocaine leaves to the US in liquid mash form. He'd found some way to encase it in a polymer compound. The stuff came down from the mountain in 55 gallon drums from all over the place and were transferred to tankers. From there it would go to a chemical processing plant and come out as liquid fertilizer and be shipped to the US in his fleet of tankers. He loads the tankers up in Colombia, ships the material up to the refinery here in the US and offloads it." Kat whistled in surprise.
"I see, but he had to have the customs inspector on the payroll?" Bonner said.
"You're right, he did and Rolass had found a way to encapsulate the stuff so it was virtually undetectable. The material came in as bulk fertilizer and trans-shipped to storage tanks here, then to tanker trucks for shipment to 'Peregrine Creek'. There it could be processed in total secret, with no one the wiser."
"If it hadn't been for his blind ambition to get you off the land, it might have worked."
"You've got that right." Mike commented. "All he had to do was leave me alone and he would have been home free."
"Did your contact find out where Rolass is hiding?" Bonner asked.
"Yes, he's living on some hacienda in Ecuador. My source tells me it's out in the Amazon jungle. He should have an exact location in a few days."
"You're going to go after him, aren't you?" Kat asked.
"Was there any doubt?"
"No, just don't go getting killed."
"I won't."
"You want company on that trip?" Bonner asked.
"No, you have got to stay here and get that mine in operation,” he said, reaching over to pat Bonner on the shoulder. "Thanks for the offer."
"By the way." Bonner said. "I found out how that sucker got to the middle of the field out there."
"How?" Mike asked.
"Stilts." He said with a chuckle.
"Stilts." Both Mike and Kat echoed.
"That’s right. Walked right out there and left no tracks."
"Son of a bitch. I'll have to remember that one."
"How soon are you going to go after Hawkins?" Kat asked.
"Not for a while yet. I've got to get back in shape and prepare. Soon though, very soon." Kat nodded, knowing that nothing she could say would change his mine. Nor did she want to. While Hawkins was alive, they'd never be safe.
As evening fell, all three sat in the main living room beside a roaring fire, watching the shadows play on the mountain. For the first time in many years, Mike felt at peace. His reason to live lay on the couch beside him, snuggled in his arms and a new partner sitting across the fire sipping his good whiskey. He had no doubt in his mind that he could trust Bonner. Too much had passed between them for that to enter either of their minds. Bonner's problem and the reason he'd taken the job, was money, and a very sick little girl, his daughter. She had a hole in her heart and time was running out for her. If she didn’t get the operation soon, she would die. After his wife died of cancer he had no money and no insurance to cover the cost of the operation so he turned to mercenary work to earn it. That problem was solved now, his daughter got her operation and was well on the road to recovery. Kat took a bit more convincing but after a long quiet chat with Bonner, she seemed more at ease with him. Bonner knew he'd had to work hard if he wanted to completely gain her trust but he didn't mind, it would be worth it. At last, Kat stood up and looked down at Mike for a moment, then leaned down, kissed him, then whispered in his ear.
"I'm going up to bed. Come up in fifteen minutes." She whispered with a last touch of her finger on his face as she walked out.
"My friend. You have found yourself a very fine lady. I wish you long life and happiness."
"Thanks Will." They toasted each other with their glasses and drank. "What about you?" Mike asked in a soft voice.
"My lady died of cancer a years ago. I don't think I'll find another one." Even as hard as he was, he couldn't quite hide the note of sadness in his voice.
"If you had told me a month ago that I was going to find mine, I would have called you a liar. You never know what life is going to bring you." Hearing this, Bonner chuckled. "What's so funny?" Mike asked.
"I was just thinking, I hope to heaven that I don't have to go through the same as you to get her." They both laughed at that one.
Exactly to the second Mike opened the door to the bedroom and stepped in. Kat had started the fire and it was the only light that filled the room. She knelt on the bed waiting for him, dressed in a sheer black negligee and little else. The firelight playing on her hair, highlighting the hills and valleys of her body. Walking over, Mike sat down beside her, his eyes drinking like a thirsty man. She didn't try to hide anything as his eyes traveled up her body, coming at last to her eyes. This time he let himself fall into their cool green depths, not even trying to stop himself. He felt her hands undressing him, and helped where he could, not wanting to come back up. At last, he reached up and gently pulled the silk ribbon holding the negligee together, watching it fall away. Gold glittered at her waist, and he saw what she was wearing underneath. A wide gold slave chain. She saw the question in his eyes.
"It's for you Mike. You told me in the cave I should wear one, now I am. In this bedroom I'm whatever you want me to be."
"God damn it Kat." He said gently. "I was half out of my mind with fever." He swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat.
"You don't like it?"
"Kat Ballard. That's no way for a lady to act."
"At the moment, I'm no lady. Just a very, very hot female."
"You mean bitch don't you?" He whispered in her ear.
"Whatever you want." She answered with a laugh, kissing him again. "Mike?"
"Yes."
"Where did you put the documents you found?"
"Documents?" It took a moment for him to connect with what she was talking about. His mind was on other things.
"I looked for them in the place Dad hid them, they were gone."
"Oh those!" He said with a smile. "I put them in a safe place."
"So you had them all along."
"Yes, and you were right, I checked. Your father did pay off the tax lien."
She kissed him again. "You're a bastard, a
no good, low down dirty rotten scum sucking creep." Each word was punctuated with a hot kiss.
"You want them?" He asked.
"No! I want you." She murmured.
"If you were my wife you could have both."
"I am your wife. We can go through the legalities later."
"If you say so lady." They kissed, and kept on kissing. Touching and exploring each other, until each was ready. She looked at him then and smiled.
"Now it's my turn." She said, pushing him back down onto the bed, straddling his hips.
"Your turn? For what?" Mike groaned as he said it, feeling her hips move on top of him.
"I told you, I was going to kill you. I just didn't say how." Kat lifted her hips and slowly moved down on his manhood, gasping in pleasure.
"How?" He panted, hoping for the right answer. He got it.
"With love."
"Oh my! What a way to die."
THE END
EPILOGUE:
Two ghostly figures glided through the dense jungle, looking more like monsters than men. Each was festooned with dangling vines and moss from head to foot, even their faces. One paced behind the other, slightly off to one side out of the line of fire should anyone start shooting at them. Unlike most, they didn’t hack their way through the underbrush but ducked and weaved their way under or around anything in their path. Under the high canopy, the light was reduced to a green twilight with patches of sunlight reaching the ground where trees had fallen, flattened by high winds during the violent tropical storms and a shallow root systems unable to hold the giants up. This was the normal cycle in the Amazon jungle, the brief interlude giving the lesser plants time to race upward towards the life giving sun before the gap closed. Here everything was wet, from the low-growing shrubs and bushes and the constant rain of moisture from the tree tops above. The ninety degree heat and ninety five percent humidity made a sauna pleasant by comparison. Their only relief was when they forded a river or stream, or a few moments laying down in a shallow pool fully dressed. Here, dry was a relative term and neither bothered undressing or anything so mundane. Lay down in the pool, cool off, and then start walking again and letting the water drain as they moved. The only thing dry were the contents of the waterproof pouches and Burgan rucksacks.
By a circumspect rout from Panama, an Air force chopper had dropped Mike and Bonner off at two days march from where Roland Hawkins was hiding. They didn’t dare ship out from Quito, the Capital of Ecuador as Roland Hawkins would probably have that covered. He’d know the moment they took off. Not that Mike didn’t trust the Ecuadorian Military or Air Force, but money talks and Hawkins had a lot of it to spend. They’d also come in from the eastern side of the Andes mountains, stopping at military field camps and oil drilling sites to fill up. Knowing how cautious Hawkins was, Mike suspected he’d have any land or air approaches from the west covered, especially since there was only one road leading to the town of El Charco near where he was hiding. The road carried on and ended up at Puerto Francisco de Orellana, also known as El Coca. In places, it was heavy going as they had to scramble up almost vertical hillsides, thickly covered with heavy brush and trees. This made climbing a little easier as without the vegetation they’d have to use ropes and pitons. Over the years, before the oil company built the road, the local population had cut trails through the jungle, and in places stretched steel cables across deep, fast flowing rivers to aid them in crossing, even in the ‘dry’ season. The closer they got to El Chaco, the hillier and steeper the ridges became, as they were now climbing into the eastern foothills of the Andes. Topping out on a high ridge, they took a breather both feeling the heat, humidity and the strain of climbing.
“Damn! I’m getting to old for this shit.” Bonner grouched.
“You and me both, my friend.”
“Guess we are getting old.”
“No shit! I thought it was because we were out of condition for this sort of thing.”
“That too.” They picked a position between the giant root fan of a kapok tree, and using a small camp stove, Mike brewed up a cup of coffee to go with the MRE’s. Pushing his head cover back, Mike sipped his coffee while surveying the countryside around them.
“Beautiful, isn’t it.” Bonner murmured.
“Yeah, except humans keep buggering it up.” Mike replied, nodding toward the distant road. All along it, they could see the shacks and crude houses people were building, as well as the litter and garbage they brought with them. “At the rate they are going, there won’t be any true jungle left.”
“Too much ‘slash and burn’.”
“Not to mention illegal logging and polluting the rivers. Pretty soon you won’t be able to drink from them like you use to.”
“Shame but there’s too much money to be made out of exploiting the jungle and the people.” While they chatted, Mike pulled out his tablet and switched it on and pulled up the area map.
“According to the GPS the Hacienda compound is about two miles from here.”
“Sounds about right. How do you want to play this? Same as we planned?”
“Yeah. Let’s make sure Rolass is in residence first, then level the playing field.”
“You know what, Mike?”
“What?”
“I’ve been a Merc for ten years and in all that time I never really enjoyed the killing. It was nothing more than a means to an end—except this time. This time I’m going to enjoy killing that son-of-a-bitch and anyone who gets in the way.”
“You and me both my friend, you and me both.”
* * * * * *
Mike settled down into his shooting position and pulled the L115A3 into his shoulder. He focused on the sight picture through the Cubic Corporation’s XG sniper scope with its integral, one shot, crosswind and range laser measurement system that provided a ballistic aim point in the riflescope sight. It took a bit of arm twisting for Mike to get his hands on one and the one of a kind sniper scope and mate the two. The L115A3 was credited with a confirmed kill at 2.47 kilometers. On November 2009, the Accuracy International L115A3 sniper rifle was the weapon used in the most prodigious feat of marksmanship in military history, two consecutive confirmed kills at 2.47 kilometers were followed by a third shot which disabled the much smaller machine gun the two combatants had been carrying. The British sniper rifle used in Afghanistan had reportedly killed six insurgents with one bullet from a distance of 850 m or 930 yards. Being somewhat of a perfectionist when it came to shooting, he’d also brought .338 Lapua Magnum ammo, plus a few specialty rounds for good measure with the suppression system and flash hider he knew he could do a lot of damage before anyone knew he was there. Roland Hawkins made a short appearance on the patio but he didn’t look he usual suave self and Mike resisted the urge to end it all right then. This kill was going to be up close and personal, as they say. Rolass was going to know terror before this night was over, and pay the price for all the misery he’d inflicted on others. They waited for dusk and timed the guard change, marking the position of each.
“Strictly amateur night out there, Mike.”
“I hear you. Local bully boys probably. What about inside the house?” Bonner adjusted the ‘hot & cold’ spotter scope with its ability to see heat signature through walls.
“I’ve got about twenty so far. It’s a bit difficult to see anyone at the back of the place.” Mike nodded and scanned the U shaped cluster of buildings. By all reports, the hacienda was the hangout for a local drug kingpin and, in some ways, more of a fortress than a home. The rear of the place was nothing more than a blank concrete wall with a walkway on top for the guards to patrol. In the center of the U sat a giant swimming pool and gardens with a flagstone patio by the house. On the left he could see six white SUV’s, betting they were fitted with armored glass and Kevlar body panels to stop incoming rounds. On the right sat a helicopter, right out in the open instead of behind revetment walls like it should be.
“Where you going to start?”
“Range
on those SUV’s. I’ll take them first. We don’t want the rabbit running away.”
“Wouldn’t get far with those IED’s we placed on the road.” Bonner chuckled.
“Yeah, Claymores are such a versatile weapon.” Buried in the road pointing up, they were powerful enough to flip a light vehicle like an SUV upside down.
“Got the range. Next?” He asked, punching in the data into his ballistics computer.
“Helicopter.”
“Got it. Next?”
“The guards on the walls and roof. Furthest first and working towards the front.”
“Got all five.” He said a moment later.
“Good, I’ll take out the radio antenna next.”
“Got it. Tight shot that one. Not much to shoot at.”
“If I hit the base it should take it out.”
“Right.” Bonner didn’t doubt he could make the shot.
“I’ll take the guys on the ground next in no particular order.”
“Got it. You ready to rock and roll?”
“I’m good. SUV’s first.” Bonner read off the click adjustment and Mike checked on windage through the scope. “Round downrange.” He whispered and he squeezed the trigger for the first time. Other than a loud ‘putz’ sound, there was no loud give-away crack usually associated with a rifle shot.
“Hit – gas tank leaking.” Bonner muttered. Five more rounds went down range with no one being the wiser.
“All gas tanks leaking.” Mike could hear the laughter in Bonner voice.
“Didn’t think they’d armor the gas tanks.” He said with reloading. Five rounds in the magazine and one in the breech gave him six more shots. He waited for the two guards near the helicopter to reach their maximum distance before pumping three rounds in the machine’s gas tank.
