by Dick Stivers
A door closed with a slam. Jefferson heard voices speaking Spanish. He waited, listening with his ear to the door.
Couldn’t be the Team, Jefferson realized. They talked English. To each other. Except for Wizard. He talked jive.
More voices. A voice whined in English. Jefferson recognized the voice as that of the desk clerk, a fat little man who talked about “excellent” television programs.
In the silence of the room, both Jefferson and Senor Rivera heard the faint creaking of hallway floorboards as several persons approached their room. Jefferson looked to Senor Rivera. Then he looked to the senora and the three girls.
Senor Rivera went to the bed. Shaking his wife and daughters, he woke them. He whispered instructions as a voice whined in the hallway.
Jefferson stepped away from the door. He pressed his back against the wall. With a thousand bedspring squeaks, the senora and the three girls left the bed and crowded into the bathroom.
The desk clerk whined. “This is the room — don’t…”
Metal smashed flesh. As Jefferson panic-flexed his arms to close the sawed-off shotgun’s bolt, a foot kicked the door.
The hallway’s dim light silhouetted a broad-shouldered young soldier with an Uzi submachine gun. Muzzle-flash lighting the tiny room, the auto-fire reports deafening, the Blancotore the bed apart with high-velocity 9mm slugs.
Slugs shattered the window and hammered the walls.
He stepped in, waving the Uzi from side to side.
Putting the 12-gauge bore against the Blanco’schest, Jefferson fired. Heart and lung tissue sprayed the hallway.
A second soldier stepped forward, his Uzi flashing.
In his panic and adrenaline courage, Jefferson did not feel the bullets. He pumped the shotgun’s action and fired point-blank into the gut of the second man. Then he pumped the action again.
The room seemed distant, as if all the walls had suddenly retreated. Jefferson coughed blood. But still he stood.
Staggering, placing one foot deliberately in front of the other, he looked into the hall. He saw only the desk clerk’s body on the ancient, filthy carpet.
Something tore Jefferson’s head. He heard the shots as he fell back into the room. He did not feel himself fall, he still gripped the shotgun, but he no longer stood.
“Mi hijo!” Jefferson heard Senor Rivera call out. A sheet of flame seemed to sear his vision. He realized he lay on his back, his head against one of the bed-frame legs. The light from the hallway blinded him. He squinted against it.
A silhouette appeared. Movement and grunting. Jefferson saw Senor Rivera pull the butcher knife from the torso of a third Blanco, then try to drive the knife in again.
But the wounded Blancoshoved Rivera away. As his life faded, as if in slow motion, Jefferson saw the Blancoaiming his Uzi to kill the father of the children hiding in the bathroom.
Save the children…
Jefferson pointed the shotgun at the Blancowith his left hand and forced his right hand to close on the trigger.
A flash.
No silhouette.
Crying.
Darkness.
Voices and hands. A light. Blood in his mouth. The voices of the Team. Pol, Wizard, the crazy one. The faces and hands of the girls, touching him. The girls he had saved.
A siren and the blue white lights of Los Angeles streaking through his vision. He would be saved…!
For the Team — for Pol, Wizard and the crazy one — Quesada joined Unomundo as living proof that a bizarre new Third Reich was continuing to grow in Central America. But that was a job for tomorrow…
*
***CODE TWO*** FROM JD/WASHINGTON
TO BROGNOLA/STONY MAN *** IMMEDIATE *** PURSUANT TO STONYMAN REQUEST FBI ATTEMPTED ARREST OF COLONEL QUESADA MIAMI RESIDENT SALVADORAN NATIONAL X HOWEVER SUBJECT FLED BEFORE ARRIVAL OF OFFICERS X WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN X QUERY FORWARDED EMBASSY SAN SALVADOR X JUSTICE DEPARTMENT REMINDS STONYMAN THERE IS NO EXTRADITION TREATY BETWEEN UNITED STATES AND EL SALVADOR X JD ***
FB2 document info
Document ID: ac7b8060-b2eb-4522-9f37-26f3d9019536
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 2005-07-27
Created using: FB Tools software
OCR Source: OCR Highroller
Document authors :
Денис
Document history:
v 1.0 — создание fb2 OCR Денис
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