A Fortune in Blood: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 7)

by Scott Cook

  Not good, Clay thought.

  He was shown into the first door on the right after entering the central corridor. It was a Spartan military-style office with a desk and several chairs. There was even a filing cabinet. Behind the desk, on which sat a closed laptop, was a lean Hispanic man in his late forties. In front of the desk, spooning oatmeal out of a bowl was Declan.

  Clay’s heart seemed to flip flop in his chest. He was both glad to see his son and simultaneously depressed by the meeting. They really had captured him.

  “Dad!” The boy said, putting his bowl down and running into his father’s arms.

  Clay picked him up and hugged him fiercely, “You okay, buddy?”

  Declan nodded and clung to him tightly.

  “He has not been harmed or mistreated,” The man behind the desk said. “He’s a good boy and I’ve enjoyed talking with him.”

  “Garcia?” Clay asked.

  The man nodded. It was only then that Clay noticed a bandage taped to his nose. Garcia stood and extended a hand.

  “Manuel Garcia,” He said. “General of El Ejercito Popular de Liberacion… The People’s Army of Liberation. Welcome to our headquarters, Corporal.”

  Clay set Declan down and the boy went back to his breakfast. He did not shake the hand, “Who the hell do you think you are, kidnapping my family?”

  Garcia lowered his hand, although he didn’t seem overly upset by Clay’s refusal to take it, “I just told you who I am. And the abduction was only meant to lure you here, Mr. Delaney. It was worth it, if what I’m told about you is true. Although it was certainly no walk in the park.”

  Garcia pointed to his nose and smiled.

  “What happened to your sniffer?”

  Garcia laughed then, “Your brave and beautiful wife broke it for me the other day. Said she could’ve killed me if she chose. Quite a spirited woman.”

  Clay snorted, “Too bad she didn’t exercise less restraint.”

  Garcia chuckled and sat back down, “Well, what’s done is done, eh?”

  “You speak very good English,” Clay said coldly.

  “For a filthy Nicaraguan rebel,” Garcia finished with a grin. “I was educated in los Estados Unidos. I went to Florida A and M.”

  “Great, what the hell do you want?”

  Garcia waved at the other empty chair beside Declan, “Take a seat, Corporal.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?” Clay asked as he reluctantly sat. He had no desire to get chummy with this asshole, but he knew that he’d have to play along to find out what he needed to know.

  “Were you not E4, a Full Corporal in the Marine Corps when you mustered out?” Garcia asked. “That’s the information I received.”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Well,” Garcia said expansively, leaning back in his chair, “I happen to be in need of a man with infantry training who, as a noncommissioned officer, already has experience leading other men. A man who has Special Forces training and has seen real action. In short, Mr. Delaney, I want to offer you a position in my army. How does Gunnery Sergeant sound?”

  Clay snorted derisively, “Sounds like bullshit to me. Why not make me a Colonel?”

  Garcia chuckled, “I’ve already got two of them. No, I need a man who can take his place ahead of the common soldier. A man they’ll respect because he’s one of them and yet who can also lead and train them. I know you’re thinking that my little army here is a joke. A bunch of ragtag mountain peasants with delusions of grandeur. And frankly… you’re partially right.”

  Clay didn’t say anything. He wanted to laugh in the man’s face, but he also knew that Garcia had him over a barrel. Without even having to say so, Declan was a lever he could use to get Clay to do almost anything. And he had a pretty good idea of what that was to be.

  “So you want me to whip your loose group into a disciplined fighting unit,” Clay stated, “and you’ve got my son here to make sure I behave, right?”

  Garcia cast a quick glance at Declan who, although seemingly intent on polishing off his oatmeal was clearly listening intently, “True enough, Clay. Can I call you Clay? Your boy is a bonus. I’m a father myself… or was…”

  Garcia paused and a clouded look of pain crossed his features. It was so obvious and the pain so raw that Clay actually felt a pang of empathy for the man. Something had happened and it was horrific.

  Garcia took a breath, “My… my son and daughter are dead. My wife… she may or may not be. Although if not, I suspect it would be better if she were. At any rate, I blame the Nicaraguan army and the government for it. They… they did things. And it’s time for a change. So while I would hate to do anything unpleasant… I have to do what’s neccesito, comprende?”

  Clay’s fists clenched, “Yeah, I get it.”

  “On the other hand,” Garcia said more amiably. “If you help me, you’ll be well treated and your boy cared for like my very own. And honestly, Gunny… you’ll be helping in a good cause. Too long the people of this country have been oppressed by a government that sees them as little better than animals. It’s time that the Nicaraguan people took control over their lives and got to live like human beings.”

  Garcia seemed to have a strong conviction. That was evident in both his manner and speech. It could all be nonsense for all Clay knew, but the self-appointed general seemed to believe in what he was saying.

  And Clay knew enough about fanatics to know that once they sunk their teeth into an idea, it was damned near impossible to turn them away from it. Or fight them without overwhelming force.

  After all, what did he care? If the guy wanted him to train his troops in close order drill, PT and weapons discipline then what did it cost him? The more he cooperated the better off both he and Dec would be. The longer it went on, the more time Scott would have to come up with a way to extract them.

  That was his and his son’s only hope now. So Clay decided to bide his time. He’d cooperate and he’d study the situation. Every cage had a door. It was only a matter of picking the lock and choosing your time of escape. Either that would come from outside, from his friend, or from inside, from himself.

  “All right, general,” Clay said, “I’ll agree to work with you and your men. It’s not like I have much of a choice, after all.”

  “Excellent!” Garcia said, extending his hand again. This time Clay took it and shook it firmly with an extra-hard grip.

  “Give me a rundown of what you’ve got going on here,” Clay said. “Personnel, munitions, vehicles and logistics. Also who is who and what skills they all possess.”

  Garcia smiled and leaned back in his chair, “I’ll have everything you need prepared and sent to your office, which will be right across from mine. For starters, I have two hundred and thirty-five people here. One hundred and sixty are enlisted soldiers. Of these, twenty percent are women. I have an officer in charge of a division of forty. These are Captains. Then two Colonels under me, each one in charge of two divisions and their officers. The divisions are divided into two platoons each, consisting of twenty soldiers.”

  Not exactly Marine Corps organization, but that was no surprise to Clay. He frowned, “No platoon leaders? Squads?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Garcia said, “yet I’d like to organize that, certainly. That’s something I’d hoped you’d help me with.”

  “Well, the platoons should be divided into four squads,” Clay said, “With a noncom in charge of each. Then a Sargent in charge of each platoon who then answers to the officer. Frankly, I’d have made those captains Lieutenants and the Colonels Captains. You’ve already ranked them so high there’s nowhere for them to go. Maybe it doesn’t mean that much, but them being so high up creates a big gap between the trooper and the officer.”

  Garcia only shrugged, “It’s somewhat meaningless, really. I see your point, but it is what it is.”

  “Well,” Clay continued, “we’ll work out who’s in charge of who later on. Please go on.”

  �
��As for living conditions,” Garcia said. “Most of the soldiers live in tents. We do have some better housing for the officers, including several RV’s we’ve liberated. You and your son will have one of these. As I said, other than the one hundred and sixty soldiers and the six officers, we have about fifty camp followers. Civilians who stay with us and exchange work for shelter and protection. We have cooks, laundresses, mechanics and others.”

  Clay met his eye, “Comfort women?”

  Garcia smiled wryly and nodded, “Yes, a few. Necessary as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  Clay made no judgement, just waved for Garcia to continue.

  “We have several fuel tankers, as you probably saw,” Garcia went on. “A variety of Jeeps, pickup trucks, the Army truck and a bus. Additionally, we have several small boats in the river below.”

  “I thought I saw an LZ… a landing zone,” Clay stated. “Do you have aircraft as well?”

  Garcia shook his head, “Not yet, but perhaps soon. As for munitions, we have AR-15’s and Sig Sauer 9mm pistols. A very small amount of explosive ordinance, again we hope to expand this soon, and about a hundred thousand rounds in total.”

  “Impressive,” Clay said and meant it. That was a lot of combat materiel for a bunch of farmers. This group had been well funded so far.

  “As I say, I’ll have detailed lists available to you,” Garcia said. “We’re well stocked with food and other supplies. We can hunt, fish and buy what we need as well. We have other means of acquiring things, too.”

  “Yeah, I saw that,” Clay stated. “Your raids into Costa Rica for one. But that doesn’t explain how well funded you seem to be.”

  Garcia only shrugged, “there are ways.”

  Clay’s stomach soured at that. There certainly were ways for a group of poor Nicaraguan peasants to make some big money. They could run drugs or join in the human trafficking business. There was big money in getting drugs and people through Central America. You had to go around or through Costa Rica, whose drug interdiction efforts were considerable, but that only meant even more profits for those who could get the job done.

  “And what about my son?” Clay asked, eyeing Declan who was eyeing him.

  “He’ll be provided with an escort,” Garcia stated. “I have a very nice woman working with us who can stay with him. He’s free to roam around or help out if he wants. Think of it like a summer camp, mijo.”

  Declan only shrugged. Clay tousled his hair, “It’ll be okay, pal. Let’s just do what these folks want and everything will go smooth.”

  “Good advice,” Garcia said, standing. “Now, I’ve got some work to do, Gunny. Why don’t you two have a look around and Rosalita will show you where you’ll stay.”

  Clay stood, stiffened to attention and snapped his heels together, “Aye, aye, sir!”

  Garcia grinned, “Very good… but you didn’t salute.”

  “Jarheads and squids don’t salute under a deck or uncovered,” Clay informed him.

  Garcia nodded, “I see… we’ll have to remember that. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to teach us, Gunnery Sergeant.”

  “Does that include the officers, General?” Clay asked.

  “Most likely… although they may resist at first. I’ll see to that,” Garcia said. “Please also take some time later to study the information I’ll have prepared for you. There is… an operation… I’d like to have you help me plan. The faster you can get us ready, the better.”

  “Operation?” Clay asked, feeling uneasy in his mind.

  Garcia seemed to wave that off, “We’ll talk later. It’s not important at the moment. I’ve got many things to do today.”

  Clay and Declan walked out of the office and out of the building. Declan was about to say something but Clay put a hand on his shoulder and a finger to his lips.

  A young and attractive Nicaraguan woman was waiting for them outside. She wore what seemed to be the uniform. Black jeans and long sleeved polo shirt with a patch on the left breast with EPL stenciled in white on green.

  Clay had no idea what her rank was, or even if she was a civilian camp helper or soldier. He did guess who she was, though.

  “Rosalita?” He asked.

  “Si, Gunny. I’m Rosalita. Would you follow me, por favor?” She said in a friendly tone. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  She led them past the motor pool to a separate area a little beyond the largest section of tents. This must be officer’s country, because Clay saw no less than four motor homes, the biggest of which was a brand new class-A behemoth that he’d bet was Garcia’s. In addition, there were half a dozen camping trailers parked side by side. She led them to the innermost, which was a thirty foot job with two propane bottles attached in front. It also had a set of slide outs which were currently extended.

  “It’s quite comfortable,” Rosalita said. “The batteries are charged, although the air conditioning won’t last long on them. You don’t really need it, though. I think you two will find this comfortable, no?”

  “Thank you, uhm…” Clay said, groping for a rank. “Are you a soldier, Rosalita?”

  “Si. But I mainly act as secretary to the General,” She replied. She hesitated for a moment and seemed to grow shy. “Señor Clay… Gunnery Sergeant… I met your wife.”

  Declan’s eyes lit up at that, “you were the lady who took her into the tent when we got to the other place… you and that fat lady.”

  Rosalita smirked at that, “Yes. That was Sergeant Gomez. She is… she will not bother you.”

  Clay nodded in understanding, “I see.”

  “Your wife was muy brave,” Rosalita said and smiled at Declan, “and your son, too. Well, if there is anything I can do…? NO? Okay, please take your time. I’ll wait out here.”

  Once inside the trailer, which was well appointed and seemed fairly new, Clay and Declan flopped onto the sofa and sighed. Clay put his arm around the boy, “You okay?”

  Declan shrugged, “I guess. These people seem okay, I guess.”

  “Yeah…” Clay mused, thinking about how they must get their money. And then about Scott’s suspicions about Miles. “For now. I think we’d best do what they ask. No tricks, no trying to run away, okay?”

  Declan nodded, “For how long?”

  Clay grinned, “Until I give the word, Marine. Before we can do anything, we need to study this place. Get a good feel for what goes on here. Where the guards are posted, who goes where and when and all that, you understand?”

  The boy nodded, “So that we can escape easier.”

  Clay grinned, “Right. In the meantime, if we’re really observant and patient, it’ll also give Uncle Scott a chance to come and get us.”

  “You think he will?”

  Clay chuckled, “Oh yeah… he came after you, Aubrey, Shelby and Mom, right? He’ll come, dude… and God help these guys when he does.”

  Chapter 25

  When my alarm went off at four in the morning, I was slightly disappointed to find myself alone. I went to bed alone, so it wasn’t a shock, but I stupidly let myself fantasize about Lisa slipping into my cabin again.

  Of course, had she actually done so, I’d have had to turn her away. She had just found out the hard way that good ole Miles wasn’t quite so good after all. She was hurting and vulnerable and it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of that.

  I headed along the main deck and stopped at the second to the last cabin. One of Umberto’s men, Jorge, was standing guard by the door. We’d zip tied Palmers ankles and locked him inside the previous night and Umberto had arranged for his men to stand guard outside the cabin in shifts.

  “All good?” I asked Jorge softly in Spanish.

  He nodded and grinned, “No problem, senor.”

  I went down to the next cabin, which was Lisa’s. When I got no answer to my soft knock, I tried the knob and found the door unlocked.

  I entered into rich darkness, the curtains still drawn over the single port. She was probably still sleeping, having
imbibed quite liberally the night before when we’d returned from Cuidad Verde. I was sorry to have to wake her.

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I did indeed see a small form curled up under the covers. I watched her sleep for a long moment, my mind wandering back to many great memories. I finally sighed softly and went to stand next to her side of the bed.

  I bent down and put a hand on her shoulder and her eyes popped open. She sat up quickly and to my surprise, pulled me into a passionate kiss. It went on for nearly thirty-seconds before I reluctantly pulled away.

  “Uhm… it’s me,” I said, clearing my throat.

  Her hand lightly stroked my face, “Did you think I didn’t know that?”

  “Well… I wasn’t sure… you were asleep and…”

  “Scott… I could never even think of another man when I’m doing anything with you,” Lisa said softly.

  I shrugged.

  “I really hurt you, didn’t I?” She asked.

  “Lisa… it’s okay, what’s done is done,” I said. “I didn’t come here to get some kind of confession. If anything, maybe I should apologize. I said I wasn’t mad that you left… but I guess I was. I meant what I said about understanding that you had to do what was right for you. As for Miles… I suppose I’ve been pretty hard on you when it comes to him.”

  “I get it… especially considering the evidence. And the fact that he and Karen…”

  I sighed and extended her a bit of kindness, “Those are two different things, I guess. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Miles is evil, just doing something stupid and out of his depth…”

  She scoffed and then laughed, “You’re actually trying to make me feel better about it? Why would you do that? This is a perfect opportunity to drive the wedge in.”

  I looked into her eyes and didn’t answer.

  She touched my face again. In a very small voice she said: “Because you don’t want… don’t want to see me hurting. My God…”

  I sat straight up and cleared my throat again, “I didn’t come here to get into this again… sorry. I actually came to ask about your motorcycle.”