The Shadow Cartel (The Dominic Grey Series Book 4)

by Layton Green

  They were behind the compound, on the opposite side of the slope. A cloud forest covered the mountain below them, a tangle of trees and vines and mist.

  It was an easy choice. Neither the combat gear nor the helicopter bore any insignia, and the commandoes had been shouting in Spanish. None of them had any idea who had just stormed the General’s compound, and Grey wasn’t about to stick around to find out if they were friend or foe.

  As he started down the hill, Lana grabbed his shoulder. “I’m staying,” she said.

  Grey turned. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “I’m finishing this.”

  “Even if it means your life?”

  “We talked about that already.”

  Grey gripped her forearm. “Come with us, Lana.”

  She glanced at Nya, then at the war zone beside them, then back at Grey. “Get to the bottom of the mountain. I’ll find you later.”

  Lana crouched and snaked her way along the tree line, back towards the compound.

  Grey and Nya fled.

  Hand in hand, they moved through the forest as fast as the terrain allowed, stepping over rocks and giant roots, squishing through layers of moss and mud, pawing through spider webs, careening down a vertical hillside.

  At first the sound of gunfire and shouting accompanied their every step, but it gradually faded, until the forest around them returned to life. The chitter of birds and insects seemed surreal after the maelstrom out of which they had just stepped.

  The mist was omnipresent, encasing them in a hoary cocoon. The forest looked like an alien planet, trees and flowers and leeching bromeliads contorted in their search for sunlight, vines as tall as skyscrapers disappearing into the canopy. They scrambled down over loose rocks, waist-high brambles, and jagged stones that cut into their legs.

  Grey had no doubt the General had sentries posted on the hill. The only question was whether they had all reported to the compound, or were still waiting in the forest.

  They also were in desperate need of a path. Plodding through the heart of the cloud forest was taking far too long. He knew a path might lead them into more danger, but he could deal with that when it arose.

  Nya spotted it long before he did. She had been a tracker in Zimbabwe in her youth, and could work wonders in the forest. “Over there,” she said, pointing to their right, through a copse of pink and yellow flowers that hung from their vines like upside-down bells. “There’s a gap in the foliage.”

  She was right. A hundred feet away they emerged onto a tiny footpath that curved down the hill. After following it for a few minutes, the trail led them near the edge of the mountain, and they were able to get a look at their surroundings.

  The drop at their feet was precipitous. Opposite the valley below them, in the distance, was a cliff face that looked sheared by scissors. And in the narrow valley, stretching as far as they could see under a metallic blue sky untouched by mist, were rows and rows of leafy shrubs with white flowers.

  “Coca,” Grey said. “No wonder he’s holed up here.”

  Nya tugged at his hand. “Come.”

  The path wound through the forest, next to a creek dribbling down the slope. Cool damp air clung to their skin.

  As the throaty cry of a primate echoed through the woods, Nya grabbed Grey and pulled him off the path. She put a finger to his lips and pointed. Thirty yards below, just visible through the trees, a man in jeans and a windbreaker was walking up the path towards them, scanning the forest with his handgun raised to eye level.

  Grey handed Nya the spear he had taken from the blue assassin, and Nya got the idea. She stepped out of the brush and moved twenty feet up the path from where Grey was crouched. Half-hidden in the mist, she waited until the man approached, then raised her spear in a salute. He looked relieved and lowered his weapon, and Grey pounced from behind, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing a stick into the small of the man’s back. “Drop the gun,” he said.

  The man complied. Grey kicked the weapon away, relieved he hadn’t fired, then kicked out the back of the man’s knees and applied a two-handed rear choke. The man bucked and jerked, which only tightened the hold. Seconds later he was out.

  Grey picked up the gun, dragged the unconscious body off the path, and they set off again. The faint sound of gushing water drifted through the air, increasing as they descended.

  A carpet of dark green appeared on either side of the path. The air grew even moister, a world of lichen and vines and soggy earth. Pieces of broken ruins squatted in the jungle like untold secrets. The roar of water increased as the terrain shifted and the path turned upward, merging into a set of moss-covered stone steps.

  The steps led to the top of a knoll that overlooked a waterfall dropping into the mist. Beside the overlook, arms folded and grinning, was the General. His hands were in front of his body, holding something oblong and black.

  Lucho and the General’s consort were beside him. Lucho’s gun was pointed at Grey.

  Before Grey could think about making a move, four of the blue-painted assassins emerged out of the forest on either side of him and Nya, silent as death, spears poised to throw.

  At the edge of the forest, Lana found a Glock next to one of the General’s dead mercenaries. She picked it up and stalked towards the compound, eyes straining through the mist. The gunshots had faded to sporadic bursts.

  She spotted a guard shack along the perimeter and ran behind it, peering around the edge. Scores of the General’s men were strewn in and around the compound, either dead or dying. One of the helicopters drifted above a stone outcropping just beside the main house. Two more hovered a hundred yards away. Dozens of men in black gear stalked the grounds with raised weapons, looking for survivors and shooting any they found.

  Voices shouting a name, over and over.

  Her name.

  She thought she must have gone insane, or slipped back into a scopolamine-induced fever dream.

  “Lana! Lana Valenciano!”

  The men were sweeping the perimeter, calling her name and peering into the forest. Soon they would reach her hiding place. They weren’t CIA, she was sure of that. Perhaps a private defense contractor had been sent, but how in the world had they found them?

  One of the men closest to her had white stripes on his sleeve and was wearing a blue beret. He was giving orders, guiding his men around the perimeter. “Lana Valenciano!” he called, and then in English, “Are you out there? We’re here to bring you home!”

  The man’s voice bore no trace of disguised malice. She took a deep breath and stepped into view with her gun raised. She could still sprint into the jungle if needed.

  “I’m right here,” she said. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man in the blue beret saw her, lowered his weapon, and wiped his brow. “Thank God,” he said, again in English but with a heavy Spanish accent. An accent, she thought, that sounded Bolivian. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  Behind his relief was a tinge of unrealized fear. Lana kept her gun pointed at him. “And you are?”

  “Colonel Ganso sent us. He sends his regards.”

  Lana took a step back and felt her head spin. Colonel Ganso?

  “Come with me, please. The chopper’s waiting. We’re not far from the Bolivian border.”

  She recovered in a flash. Though dying to know how they had found the compound, that could wait for later. “Is everything secure? Where’s the General?”

  The soldier shook his head, face grim. “We took out his helicopters and his communications, but we haven’t found him. There’s no one left alive up here, I can tell you that.”

  Lana gripped her gun and turned towards the forest, where a path near the edge of the guard shack led down the mountain. “Then bring some men and come with me. Now.”

  Spears at their backs, the water from the falls a deafening roar, Grey and Nya were led to the General at the edge of the rocky promontory. A curtain of mist was behind him. As they drew closer, Grey realized what t
he General was holding.

  A black-wrapped bilongo.

  Lucho was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eying Grey with the desperate hunger of a starving animal. The older Indian woman was gazing into the forest as if unaware of the gravity of the situation.

  The General raised the bilongo to chest level and held it out towards Grey and Nya. His voice thundered above the waterfall. “Tata Menga says the spirits never lie. I must admit, I’ve never known him to be wrong. What do you think, Dominic Grey? Do you believe in fate, in the power of the dead? Will the spirits claim the owner of this bilongo as well?”

  Lucho strode forward to meet Grey, taking his gun and then striking him in the face, spitting on him when he dropped to a knee. As the assassins leveled their spears at Nya, Lucho pulled Grey up, spun him around, and walked him to the edge of the cliff.

  “You take from me,” Lucho rasped in his ear, “I take from you.”

  At the edge of the cliff, through a gap in the mist, Grey could see a frothy brown river at the bottom of a sheer drop, at least a thousand feet below.

  The General lowered the bilongo and took Nya by the arm. “Him first,” he said to Lucho.

  Grey felt the gun press into the back of his head. Nya screamed. Before Lucho could fire, Grey heard shouts and gunfire in the clearing behind him.

  He used the distraction. Without turning, Grey grabbed the arm that was gripping his shoulder, then dropped to one knee too fast for Lucho to fire his weapon. As Lucho’s body weight tilted forward, Grey yanked down on the limb with both hands and gave a violent twist of his torso, letting go of Lucho’s arm as he brought his own shoulder almost to the ground. Lucho flipped forward, tumbling over the edge of the cliff. His gun went off as he fell, a harmless shot that echoed in the gorge, drowning his scream.

  Grey turned. All four of the blue-painted women were slumped in pools of blood. Lana was racing towards him with a contingent of men in black combat gear, weapons raised. Then he looked to his right and saw the General backed against the edge of the cliff, holding Nya in a bear hug. The General’s consort was at his feet, blood pouring from a head wound.

  “Stop!” Grey screamed at Lana. “Don’t shoot!”

  Lana held out a hand, and the men stopped advancing. She took a step forward, her weapon pointed at Nya and the General. She had no shot and Grey knew it.

  Grey’s heart was thumping wildly against his chest. He had to force the words through his mouth. “Take me,” he said to the General.

  The General smiled. Nya tried to squirm, but her arms were pinned. When she tried to rear back with her head, he raised her off the ground as if she were a toy.

  “Anything,” Grey said. “Amnesty. Anything. I can make it happen.”

  The General looked from Grey to Lana to the phalanx of men behind her. Grey saw it in his eyes, not just the madness but the terrible ego and pride, the willingness to die rather than admit defeat, give society its due.

  “No,” Grey moaned, as the General stepped backwards off the cliff, Nya tucked into his arms.

  Grey lunged for them, but he was too late. The last thing he saw was Nya looking back at him as she fell, her eyes full of love.

  Grey’s lunge had taken him to the edge of the cliff, off balance. He hung suspended for a moment, teetering on the precipice, not bothering to right himself, and then Lana was pulling him backwards. He bellowed and threw her off him, unable to think, unable to breathe. His moral compass spinning wildly, he looked around for someone to kill, some of the General’s people who might still be alive, their blood a balm for the jagged tear in his soul.

  Finding no one, he sank to his knees and then the ground, crawling towards the edge of the cliff, calling for Nya with a soundless scream.

  CORAL GABLES, MIAMI

  The dominoes slipped through Colonel Ganso’s fingers, stacking and falling in neat little rows. Lana saw him look up as she approached from across the garden.

  “Lana, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “As if you didn’t know I was coming.”

  Lana sat. The maid brought tea for the Colonel and coffee for Lana. As soon as the maid retreated, Lana said, “How’d you do it?”

  The dominoes stacked and fell, stacked and fell.

  “I finish debriefing today, with the Deputy Director,” Lana said. “He’s going to want answers.”

  Colonel Ganso looked at her calmly. “He already has them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The Colonel brought his cup to his lips. “It was an easy choice for him. The General was disposed of, and the life of his most promising agent was spared.”

  It was a hot morning, clear and bright. Lana wiped a bead of sweat from her lip as a blue and gold macaw swooped into a palm. “What? Why am I hearing this from you? You need to tell me right now what the hell happened back there, and why you were involved.”

  Click click click click click went the dominoes. When the Colonel finally met her eyes, she saw the too-familiar concern that had always unnerved her.

  “Are you sure you want to know, Lana? Some things are better left buried. But I won’t deny your request, not this time, if that is your wish. It was agreed that I should be the one to tell you.”

  “Talk.”

  The sun glinted off his slicked-back hair. He crossed his legs at the knee. “Did you never wonder why I stayed in Miami?”

  “Political asylum, of course. Though criminal asylum is a better term.”

  “In the beginning, perhaps. But regimes change, the old guard has been replaced. No, Lana, I could have returned. As you discovered in Peru, I still have many friends in the Andes, many allies.”

  He looked her in the eye, a long and lingering gaze. Lana looked down at her hands and back up, swallowing hard. “Don’t tell me you stayed for me.”

  Stacked and fell, stacked and fell, stacked and fell. Then, for the first time she could remember, Colonel Ganso picked up the dominoes and placed them carefully in their case. He folded his hands on the table and met her eyes.

  “Lana, it wasn’t just you I’ve been looking at all these years. And when I look at you, it is not for the reason you think.”

  A bead of sweat dropped from Lana’s forehead to the back of her arm. Her voice was a shimmer of sound above the waves of heat in the garden. “What are you saying?”

  “Think about it,” he said softly. “I think you know.”

  Not for the reason she thought it was . . . the Colonel staring at her in the pool as a teenager, and at her mother as well . . . his resemblance to her father, her mother’s type of man . . . the men who found her during the rape, just the type of thug the Colonel would employ . . . her father leaving and her mother choosing to stay in that huge house by herself, even after Lana left . . . Lana’s green eyes that no one else in her family had . . . no one but the monster sitting across from her . . .

  Lana put a hand to her temple, feeling as if the ground had just slipped out from under her feet.

  “It was a brief affair in the beginning,” the Colonel said, his voice quiet. “Physically, at least. We have always loved each other. We love each other still. But after you were born and she realized who your father was, your mother swore me to secrecy. And I agreed.”

  “Why would she care?” Lana said bitterly. “She hated my father.”

  The Colonel leveled his gaze. “She didn’t do it for him.”

  Lana hesitated, then murmured, “You wanted to protect me.” She pressed her fingers harder into her temples and took a deep breath. “I . . . this is all too much. Too much. But even if it’s true, how’d you find me in Peru?”

  “I knew your mission. My men were on standby as soon as you left Cuzco. We lost you in the Andes, but thanks to an Interpol request from an associate of Dominic Grey’s, the Deputy Director and I tracked you to a village named Kukukatari. When you went deeper into the mountains and . . . stopped moving . . . we knew we had the right place.”

  “You’re not answering my questions. How did you�
��” She cut herself off. “The Deputy Director? You were working with him? But that still doesn’t explain the raid.”

  The General uncrossed his legs and crossed them over the other knee, his back straight throughout the shift in posture. Lana didn’t think he was going to respond, until he folded his hands in his lap and looked pained, as if embarrassed by what he was about to say.

  “Secrecy wasn’t the only step your mother and I took to protect you,” he said. “After what happened to my family in Bolivia, the enemies I knew were out there, your mother and I . . . did something else.”

  “Something else? Like what?”

  “What would you have done, Lana? If you were me? If your entire family had just been murdered by your rival, and your new family, your precious little girl, would suffer the same fate if your enemies discovered a hint of the truth?”

  “I would have moved.”

  “The risk would have remained. I preferred to stand guard against it.”

  Lana thought about what had happened at the General’s hideout, at the improbability of the rescue team finding their location. She thought about it some more, and then it all came together like the crash of a thousand marbles. Feeling dizzy, she put a hand on the table to steady herself.

  “You gave me a tracking implant,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “When I was a child.” She looked away, and when she looked back, she saw the truth in his eyes. “My God,” she said, her mind spinning at the knowledge, “that’s how you found me during the rape.”

  “No, my dear, the rape was the catalyst. After that point, we realized constant surveillance was impractical, and the implant technology—at least on the black market—had improved. The procedure was administered during the exam for your school physical, under the guise of a vaccine.”

  “If you had me under surveillance before that,” she said bitterly, “then what the hell happened in that house?”

  The Colonel covered one of her hands with his own, his face drawn. “To this day, I regret that your mother and I waited so long to look for you. You must understand, you were house-sitting and the rapist must have already been inside, attempting a robbery. We did not start searching until you failed to return our calls. I am truly sorry, Lana. My heart was broken. And I am pleased to say I did not make the same mistake twice.”