by Joe Gannon
But he was wrong. Again. By the time they’d pulled the stacks of bills and counted them, there was $250,000 laid out from Evelyn Zuniga’s coffin. It stank of putrid death.
3
Ajax awoke with a deep shiver in the pitch dark.
Amelia.
It was a thought, and a word, and a feeling all at once. A whimper and moan. The milky white of her skin and the gray pallor of her corpse. It was two green eyes and a dozen bloody holes.
Every wreck and ruin of his life he could accept. Like a field he’d sown and then failed to tend. He’d watched the weeds grow and choke whatever love had been in his marriage and had not cut them back. He’d seen the weevils crawling over his commitment to the Frente, and he’d not pulled them off. It had happened gradually, fertilized with rum, and there was residual sadness but no real regrets.
But Amelia. Amelia.
He tried to say her name, tried to lift his hands to his face. But he couldn’t—his hands felt like stones; he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak her name.
That’s when he realized he was not awake, but dreaming. Dreaming of her.
He opened his eyes. It was unusually still in the little room with the two small cots he was sharing with Gladys. The moonlight illuminated his surroundings well enough, but everything was made translucent by the mosquito net shrouding him. Still, there was no mistaking the silhouette standing at the window.
Amelia? He whispered it, “Amelia?”
A head turned. But he already knew it was not her, because as soon as he’d whispered her name he felt that his hands were full—the Python’s pistol grip in one, The Needle in the other.
“You just don’t quit do you?”
He lifted the mosquito net and stood. As he did the ghost seemed to turn his gaze out the window. Then he passed through the wall and out of the room. Ajax stood in his bare feet. He could make out Gladys’s sleeping outline in her cot. When he went to the window to have a look, he heard, distinctly in the too-quiet darkness, a small metallic click.
Then another one.
The unmistakable sounds of someone shutting a car door. Two doors.
They had come for him.
He silently leapt to Gladys’s side, clamped his hand to her mouth, his lips to her ear.
“Don’t move. There are armed men outside.” He felt her body stiffen, but her eyes met his. “Where are the AKs?”
“In the Jeep.”
“Get your boots on and grab your pistol. Go to the front door and wait for me. Don’t fire unless they try to come inside.”
He slipped soundlessly into Gloria’s room, woke her as he had Gladys, and ordered her under her bed.
“And don’t come out no matter what you hear.”
He found Gladys combat-ready by the door.
“We’ve got to get out of here, draw them away from the buildings.”
“Contra?”
“Not unless they’re driving cars.”
Grimly she nodded, and Ajax knew she was ready.
“We go out the back door around to the front. I go left, you right. Wait until I get to the trees. I’ll fire twice so you know. You watch the return fire to see if they follow me, but don’t shoot. Get to the Jeep and get those AKs. Then try to come up behind them.”
“How will I know who’s who?”
“I’ll fire twice each time. They’ll unload all over the place.”
“Okay.”
He put his hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently. “We’re expendable, Lieutenant. No more civilians die.”
“Yes, Captain.”
They went silently out of the house and to their posts. Ajax waited for more light. There was no sound, no movement. He assumed the Conquistadores were doing likewise. He belly-crawled away from the house, the dew soaking his shirt and pants. When he was about five yards from the trees that led to the coffee fields, he took up a prone firing position, and waited the longest minutes of his life. But it was long enough for the earth to turn that fraction until night was gone, but dawn had not yet come. He’d read poems about this moment, clichéd references to fingers or feathers of light. He knew it only as the moment all ambushers prized, and all defenders dreaded.
Ajax saw movement. He fired twice, and rolled for the trees.
Two AKs on full auto raked the ground where he had been. He low-crawled into the bush until he had some tree trunks for cover, then fired twice more. The return fire was too high and leaves dropped like rain. The Conquistadores had made the classic mistake of assuming that because they were standing and firing, he must be, too. He was relieved to face mere assassins and not combat veterans. On the other hand, they had rifles and he had two more shots in the Python.
He had no choice but to become part of the landscape and wait for them. This was what he’d been so good at as a guerrillero. Blending with the bush had meant not just camouflage. He had precious little of that now. It also meant slowing the heartbeat, shallowing the breath, lowering the blood pressure, emptying the mind of thought, and elevating the senses. Being less human, becoming more animal. Prey did this before flight, predators before fight.
He felt more than heard footfalls, then silence. Then two long bursts ripped the trees, followed by the metallic clacking of magazines being changed out. They were trying to flush him by blind firing. An excellent tactic—if you were hunting birds. The earth was turning quickly toward dawn, but it was still mostly night. They were scared.
“Montoya!”
That was Cortez. Ajax used the sound to locate him, and then slowly slid behind a tree. They could walk up on him now before they spotted him.
“Montoya, we’re here to arrest you!”
Cortez again, which meant Pissarro was probably flanking him.
“Lieutenant Darío! We know you’re with him. Montoya is wanted for murder in Managua.”
Keep talking, you idiot. He had a good fix on Cortez to his front, so turned his eyes and ears to his right, Pissarro would come that way.
“Darío! You help us and all the rest is forgiven! Otherwise you go down with Monto…”
The last syllable was cut off by a long burst of fire from Gladys. She’d gotten to the AKs. You’re a good man, sister! Ajax saw a jerky movement a few meters to his right, leapt to his feet and fired twice. Pissarro went down as if shot, but Ajax couldn’t be sure.
“That’s all six, Ajax, don’t move!”
There was a millisecond to be gained in such moments, Ajax knew that. If you could act without thought, you could beat the bullet by that millisecond the shooter needed to pull the trigger. In combat, action without thought separated the dead from the living. Ajax had lost that millisecond because he’d recognized the voice.
“You got the snake in your hand and that’s all six shots. Don’t fucking move!”
Rhino.
Ajax turned around.
“Don’t move brother, I’m begging you!”
“Rhino?”
Rhino was ten meters away, a deadline sight down his AK to Ajax’s chest.
“I ain’t you, Ajax. I’m sorry.”
Rhino advanced until he was only a few feet away.
“Rhino.”
“It’s true, Ajax, I saw the warrant. They got eyewitnesses. I’m here to make sure you get back alive.”
“I’m shot!”
That was Pissarro.
“Rhino.”
“Don’t give me that look, brother. I ain’t the Great Ajax Montoya. I’m sorry. I can’t just walk away. I’ve got to live in the world. I follow fucking orders. You’ve always been royalty. I’m just a prole.”
“You didn’t always have such a flair for speeches. Do you think…”
“Shut up, you’re not distracting me. Cortez!”
“Here!”
“Move toward Pissarro and see how bad he is! Lieutenant Darío! The next shot I hear I empty my clip into Captain Montoya’s chest. Tell her, Ajax. Tell her. Save her fucking life and tell her.”
Ajax counted
to ten. It was full dawn now. If he’d been standing on a beach facing east, he’d see the sun just peeking over the horizon. In the mountains not yet, but the light had changed and all was visible now.
“Tell her.”
“Gladys! Hold your position! Don’t fire unless you hear a shot, then kill anything that moves!”
Rhino shook his big head. A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead. He was bleary-eyed. Ajax figured he’d been laying out here for hours. “Not what I said, Ajax. But it will do. Drop the snake.”
“Why? You said it was empty.”
“It is. But I’d like to avoid massive blunt trauma.”
Ajax looked at the Python, hefted it in his hand. “You remember the night I brought this back?”
Rhino chuckled. It seemed to Ajax to be genuine mirth. But he kept his bleary eye sighted onto Ajax’s chest. “Of course I remember. The night you had us sneak into the Guardia compound and steal the keys out of their trucks. Fucking genius, man. Pure genius. The newspapers called you the Prince of Peace, but to us you were always Spooky. El Terrorifico. It wasn’t just tactics, man, you cared for our lives. If we’d’ve stormed that compound a lot of compas wouldn’t’ve made it home. That’s why we loved you, man. When we rolled into Managua, we would’ve made you king if you’d told us to.”
“Yeah, well, democratic socialism and all that.”
“Yeah.” Rhino nodded at the AK he was holding. “See how that’s worked out.”
Ajax half-cocked the Python and rolled the cylinder over his palm. “The boy I killed for this, he was only maybe fourteen.”
“The Guardia were all pigs for the slaughter.”
“That’s the thing, Rhino. I don’t think he was military. I think he was his jefe’s homo. The bottom to the colonel’s top.”
“No shit? That why you executed the colonel?”
Ajax tucked the Python in his belt, and nodded yes.
“I wondered about that. But look, hermano, you drop the snake to the ground.”
“The thing is, though, that boy’s ghost has been following me lately.”
Rhino laughed, but his firing posture tightened up as he did.
“Spooky’s gonna tell me a ghost story? Great. But my arms aren’t tired and neither is my trigger finger. Gladys won’t fire on me when I’m this close to you. Stall all you want. You are going back with me.”
Rhino, Ajax knew, was not the brightest light in a room full of candles, but he was no idiot. Ajax had seen movement behind Rhino. Not a person, but there was no wind to explain the tremors the bush. Ajax was stalling.
“Your compas are not going to take me back alive.”
“They’re not my compañeros.” Rhino spit to prove it. “You are. And I will take you back alive. It’s why I came. I don’t know what they’ll do when you get there, but Rhino will take Spooky home alive.”
Ajax wasn’t sure Rhino could do that. But he saw the movement behind him. And if Gladys could get the drop on Rhino, he would kiss her on the mouth. Deeply. He was sure of that.
Of course, he was wrong. Again. Whatever or whoever was behind Rhino had hair on its face. He didn’t lose the millisecond this time, but went straight down.
“Drop, Rhino!”
Rhino’s AK followed him down, and he wasn’t sure if he would fire. Nor would he ever know. Bullets ripped Rhino from buttock to neck. As he fell dead, his AK pointed skyward and he fired a long burst into the treetops. Ajax grabbed the rifle and rolled clear expecting more fire. Strangely, neither of the Conquistadores opened up on him. He low-crawled back to where he reckoned Gladys might be. Still, no bullets tried to find him.
“Marrrrrrrrrtin!”
Krill.
“Marrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtin!”
Now this was scary. Ajax wasn’t afraid, yet. But this was scary. He had to concentrate, not dissipate, so he took a chance and crawled, loud and fast, to where he hoped Gladys was. After about ten yards they spotted each other. And she wasn’t alone.
Epimenio.
He lay next to her holding an aged, but still handsome semiautomatic shotgun. Ajax was incensed, but could do no more than shake his head. He broke open the magazine in Rhino’s AK; not many left. He looked at Gladys and mouthed, Ammo? She handed him a bag stuffed with clips and pointed to the other AK and even a first aid kit she’d fetched from the Jeep. He kissed her on the mouth.
“MARRRRRRRRRTIN!”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and mouthed, Who’s that? He pressed his lips to her ear.
“Krill.”
She blanched.
“Martin, my friend! You left so quickly. I have to admit I was angry at first. So many men gone to heaven. And so quietly! But I have come to admire you. We are brothers in our souls, yes?”
“Captain.”
Epimenio was an unwelcome burden, but he still seemed to have the hunter’s skills that had bagged the jaguar.
“You should be in the house with Gloria.”
“No, señor, I have done enough to her already. But the Toyota those three others came in is just over there.” He pointed behind them. “None of the Contra are near it and the keys are in it. It’s even pointed down the hill.”
That was good news. They might be able to make it in a sprint.
“Martin! We have been watching the widow’s house. We saw you come yesterday with your pretty friend. We have been debating if she is lesbiana. Is she? But not Red Cross, I think. We were coming for you last night when the other three arrived. They moved like hunters. I thought, this is like a Mexican telenovela. Who loves who, and who is the betrayer! Stay tuned! But I saved you from them. They were going to kill you, yes?”
Ajax’s mind was approaching the speed of light, but no matter how fast he thought, the math would not change. They were fucked.
“Epimenio, work your way back to the house.”
“No, señor.”
Ajax grabbed him by the throat. “Shut up. Get back there. Hide that shotgun. There is a lot of money we took from Evelyn’s grave. Tell Gloria to give it to Krill to buy her life.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Tell Krill we came here with guns to steal the money and forced you to help us. Gladys, you’re gonna make for the Land Cruiser. There might be radios in it; either way you get out of here and go to the nearest army base.”
“Where?”
“Matagalpa.”
“That’s hours away.”
“I’ll keep Krill busy.”
“By yourself?”
“No, Cortez and maybe Pissarro are out there somewhere. You’ve seen that movie—the outlaw and sheriff always join forces to fight the Apache.”
“You said we were the Indians, remember?”
“Well, then, warring Indians join forces to fight the white man.”
“Marrrrrrrrtin! Are you worried about the other two? Don’t be. My men got them, and my other men are already between you and the widow’s house.”
“Fucking mind-reading piece of shit!” Ajax hissed.
“Listen Martin.” Krill’s voice rose a notch as he shouted to his men. “Muchachos! Make our new friends sing for Martin.”
There was what Ajax would’ve called a pregnant pause. Then Cortez and Pissarro sang out in horrible screams that went on and on.
Ajax shuddered. “Upside down.”
“Upside down, Martin. Remember?” Krill called out.
Still the Conquistadores screamed. Gladys got what some called a deer-in-the-headlights look about her, and Ajax could see how young she was. How afraid. He shook her.
“Don’t lose it, Gladys. We gotta move—now. You and Epimenio head for the car, I’ll pin them down.”
“No, Captain. Let me.” Epimenio got to his knees. “Then you two run.”
“Fuck no!” Ajax grabbed him by the arm and was shocked when the humble campesino pushed the shotgun to his face.
“It was me, Captain. Me. They made me tell on don Enrique ever since he got back from prison. State Secu
rity. Comandante Malhora said if I told him things Enrique would not go back to jail. Gloria would not lose the finca. I’ve been telling them for years. I told them about the jaguar, the airstrip, that Enrique went to Managua to report the men with the plane. That’s why I got to Managua so fast. I got scared they would hurt him. They did. I told them don Mateo had found something, too. Look what I have done to them all.”
He broke Ajax’s grip and bolted toward the still screaming Conquistadores. Ajax watched in amazed horror as Epimenio threw the shotgun to his shoulder and fired at a dead run.
“Cover him! Cover him!”
He rolled a few yards away from Gladys and opened up with the AK at any shape, sound, or muzzle flash. His first firefight in years and the old feeling returned: One eye shooting straight while the other sought the next target. Shots came from all directions, ripped into the trees and ground around them, but he heard five blasts from the shotgun. When it fell silent, so did the screams.
Then Krill’s voice over it all. “Stop! Stop shooting! Hijos de puta! Cease fire!”
Krill’s men obeyed but Ajax finished his magazine.
“I want Martin alive!”
Ajax knew they had to make their break now, a mad dash or die. But in the heightened quiet following a firefight he heard a small cry, like a song bird dying.
“Gladys.”
He scrambled to her side. She still clutched the AK to her chest, already soaked with blood.
“Gladys! Oh my God, Gladys!”
“Ajax.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her voice had the dreamy quality of shock. He had to pry the rifle from her hands before he could pull her shirt open. A bullet had ripped a hole through her side and out her back. He ripped open the first aid kit and pressed two trauma bandages over the entrance and exit wounds. She moaned again.
“Shhhh. Shhhh. You’re gonna be okay. I got you. I got you. See? Bandages. Bandages.”
“Marrrrrrrrrrrrtin! Is your dyke leaking? Ha! Ha!”
“Kill that fucker for me, Ajax.”
“I will, but first we got to get you out of here. Hold still.”
He hurt her tying the bandages off, but it had to be done. She bit down on her lip and took it.
