Shark and Wolf stood for a second watching the chaos unfold. Shark looked at Wolf. They gave each other a nod and headed into the darkness.
CHAPTER 15
Surveying the Damage
As the sun rose, Shark and Wolf climbed onto a small ledge on the side of a mountain. Down below in the distance they could see the smoke still rising into the air from the train derailment the night before.
Shark watched the smoke as it trailed into the cold, grey sky, then turned his attention to Wolf. “If Shaw is still alive and figures out we caused the derailment, he is going to come for us.”
Wolf moved his eyes from the sky toward Shark. “Let him try.”
Shark turned his head and surveyed the area. He looked down at the train tracks that trailed off into the distance. “We’re going to need to stay close to this ridge line. The train tracks are running north and south. If we follow them south they should lead us back to the town of Matadore. From there, that guard said it was twenty miles west, along a dirt road, to the mill.”
Wolf gave Shark a nod in agreement. They turned and briskly hiked along the cliff face, making sure to keep the train tracks in sight whenever possible.
Shaw walked down the side of the burning, twisted piece of machinery that used to be his train. He walked past the dead bodies of some of his men and noticed the large puncture wounds still dripping blood. It must have been the elephants, he thought. He looked down and noticed that all the animal cage cars were intact and still on the tracks. At least there’s something to be thankful for, he thought. He continued to walk down past the animal cars, then looked up in disbelief. All the doors had been opened, and all the animals were gone. A look of disgust formed on his face. “Damn it!” he screamed. “Four million in machinery up in flames and now all my prized possessions are gone as well. Someone will pay.”
A young guard named Johnson approached. “Mr. Shaw, sir. A word, please.”
“What is it, Johnson?” Shaw replied.
“Well, it’s Cole and Rodgers, sir. They were stationed in the caboose last night and there appears to be no sign of them. It looks like they may have run off.”
“Do you think they could have had something to do with this?” Shaw asked angrily.
The young man shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure, sir. We also can’t seem to find Mr. Boone.”
“The caretaker is missing, too?” Shaw said as he thought about the scenarios. “I could see Cole and Rodgers having something to do with this; they were both always a little disgruntled, but Boone—he was my inside man, I had him on a personal project. Keep looking, Mr. Johnson. Let me know if anything or anybody turns up.”
Shaw continued walking down the line of cars and noticed something that seemed odd. He had come upon Shark’s cage and the door was still locked. Why would they leave him behind? he thought as he swung the heavy door open. The car was dark and the smell intense. He could see Shark moving in the corner. He took out a flashlight and shone it into the train. The light wobbled around until Shaw steadied it. He looked at his caretaker’s bloody face; his eyes were swollen and his lips shivering. He was huddled in the corner like a small, scared child. “What is it there, Boone?” Shaw asked cautiously. “Where’s Shark?”
Boone tried to speak but could only get out a small, inaudible whisper.
Shaw was growing impatient as he removed a revolver from its holster. He slowly climbed into the rail car and moved the flashlight back and forth, making sure to check each corner. He approached Boone and noticed the bleeding limb. “Johnson!” Shaw yelled.
Within seconds the young man appeared at the door of the car. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“It was Shark that was responsible for all this. I want him found, and I want him taken alive. He can’t be far. Old Jack might have an idea where he’s headed.”
“Will do, sir. I’ll put together a team and get on it immediately.”
Shaw turned back to face Boone. “Now, what to do with your useless piece of flesh?”
Boone tried to speak but could only muster a gurgle, a sound that was muffled by the bullet fired into his brain.
Shark and Wolf walked for hours, sometimes forced by the movement of the trail into the dense cover of the Amazon jungle. Rain fell and made the hike difficult in parts but Shark and Wolf trudged on, both propelled forward by a common mission, to save Vixen, Cahira, and Frenchie, and to seek revenge on Old Jack.
As the clear Amazonian sky turned to a canvas of a thousand stars, Shark and Wolf stopped and found dry timber to light a large fire. They lay back, taking in the mesmerizing beauty of the flickering universe. They both put their hands behind their heads and continued looking up at the stars as they spoke.
“I’m sorry about your friend Dog Z Boy,” Wolf whispered. “I only knew him for a few hours but he seemed like a pretty cool guy.”
Shark took a deep breath of the fresh jungle air. “We go way back. He was my best friend, and I’m going to miss him. I appreciate your words and also the help you’ve provided.”
“Don’t mention it. Like I said—we’re both Rangers and that’s a bond that can’t be broken.”
“See any action, Wolf?”
Wolf reflected for a second. “I did, in Chile. I spent a lot of time in mountains just like these. How about yourself?”
“Well, if there is one thing about the military, if it’s adventure you seek, it is adventure you shall find. I was all over the world—Pakistan, India, the Congo, even spent some time down in Tazmania.”
“Really, Tazmania? I heard there was some pretty brutal fighting down there.”
“There was. We spent twenty-two days protecting a town with only ten residents. It cost us forty men to protect those ten people, but in the end each one of them survived. No one should be forced from their home.”
“I’m with you. It seems like all wars are based on reshuffling of land. It seems that if everyone just stayed where they were, we would all be at peace.”
“Yeah, it gets a little more complicated when you throw in religion and vendettas so old the people fighting about them don’t even remember how or when they started.”
“It’s a crazy world,” Wolf said. “I’ve seen some horrible things and met some horrible people. And I’ll tell you, Old Jack and this Shaw character are right up there with the worst of them.”
“When I get my hands on Old Jack he will regret the day he was born,” Shark said. He turned his head and looked at Wolf. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Wolf turned toward Shark with a questioning look on his face. “What is it?”
“How did you get involved with Old Jack?”
Wolf turned and again focused on the stars as he spoke. “Yes, Old Jack. After I got out of the army, I went into the security business. High-profile type stuff—rock stars, politicians, businessmen. I’m not exactly sure how Old Jack found me, but when he did, he offered a lot of money so I took the job. I didn’t know exactly what he was into, but to tell you the truth I didn’t care. It wasn’t my job to ask questions. I arrived in Fiji about a week before Vixen. The next thing I knew we were all searching for treasure. Then Old Jack tells me we need to take a quick trip to the Keys.” Wolf looked over at Shark. “That’s when we met you.”
“So, that night at Gill’s when I was playing Old Jack in pool, I saw you take a few quick steps from the door as if you might have been ready to attack me.”
“First of all, I’m not totally crazy. I know superior adversaries when I see them. Secondly, I already had a bad feeling about Old Jack. He was creepy. Money or no money, if anything went down that night, I would have jumped in on your side. I hope you believe me.”
Shark believed Wolf. There was no reason for him to lie, and he had already proven himself as a reliable friend. Shark looked up at the sky. “You know what, I do believe you.”
“Thank you, that means a lot to me. It really does.”
They sat in silence, exhau
sted from the long hike. Shark watched as clouds moved in and covered the stars. As the night’s darkness deepened, the entire jungle seemed to fall silent, lulling Shark into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 16
Conquistadors Cantina
It was late morning when Shark and Wolf left the cover of the jungle and headed across a large open meadow toward the small South American town of Matadore. The tall grass was swaying in a warm, light breeze.
“We need to find some sort of transportation,” Shark said with heavy breath. “I know we can easily hike the distance to the mill but what I’m really concerned about is time.”
They stopped walking to take a brief rest. Shark looked over at Wolf. “Once they piece together that we were behind the release of the animals and the derailment of that train, it won’t take long for them to figure out where we’re headed. Old Jack knows my connection to Vixen. He’ll use it against me, and if he beats us to the mill, she could be in serious trouble.”
They walked through an empty field, its grass flattened and brown. They turned the corner of a large building and could see the train depot and rail yard where they had stopped a few days before. Shark looked back and realized the field they had crossed was actually the place where the big circus tent had been placed.
Shark looked up and down the deserted main street. They walked for a quarter mile, then saw a sign that read: Conquistadors Cantina-Sticks–Pics–and Libations. The bar was attached to an old hotel called Hotel D’Elegante.
Shark admired the two motorcycles parked on the sidewalk out front. “I think we found our place.”
Wolf was looking over the bikes. “Nice rides,” he said as he ran his fingers across the leather seats. “Maybe we can convince the owners to let us borrow them.”
“Either that, or we just might have to win them. We need to walk in with total confidence, like we own the place. That should start to stir things up.”
Shark knew that every pool hall or bar with a pool table had one thing in common. It didn’t matter if it was Gill’s in Florida or Conquistadors in Matadore. They would each have a player who felt as if he personally owned the table and didn’t like strangers challenging him on it. Shark would readily admit to being that player at Gill’s and knew that inside Conquistadors, there would be someone equally protective of his green felt turf. He understood that the best way to get to them was to challenge them.
As they entered the bar and the old door swung closed, the bright light of day gave way to total darkness. Shark was the first to adjust his eyes to the dim light and spot it. He looked over at Wolf and could tell that he had also spotted the pool table in the far corner of the room.
They looked at each other with defiant confidence. They smiled, showing the whites of teeth and fang, and strolled toward the back of the bar to take possession of what they pretended to believe was rightfully theirs.
The bar had the lingering scent of stale beer and a floor littered with old peanut shells. Shark noticed several sorry-looking human patrons lined up at the bar, hovering over half-filled pints of beer and empty shot glasses. He could feel their eyes locked keenly on him as he passed. Shark tried to determine which one was the top player, then figured the man would find him soon enough.
Shark grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall. He rolled it across the table, checking its straightness. Wolf followed suit. Shark reached down and retrieved the balls from under the table. He set the rack and gave Wolf the break. Wolf gave his cue a long draw back and a quick forward stroke, making the balls scream across the surface. The sound of the large, powerful break made heads turn from the bar. A few of the patrons stood, drinks in hand, to watch the game.
Shark was acutely aware they had spectators. He expected it. Humans were curious by nature.
They played five games, Shark intentionally letting Wolf win each one. A big man, who looked like a lumberjack, made his way from the corner of the bar and approached the table.
“I know you guys. I watched you perform at the circus the other day,” the man said. “I like how you protected that zebra.”
Shark and Wolf both nodded at the man.
“Let me buy you guys a few rounds,” the man said as he waved to the bartender, who immediately rushed over two beers.
“That’s very cool of you,” Shark said to the man as he took a beer from the bartender. “Thanks.”
Wolf took his beer and raised it in the air. “Appreciate it.”
The three of them clanked their bottles. “Don’t mention it,” the big man said.
Shark knew that the big man was the main player he was waiting for. He knew the routine, the classic hustle: befriend your enemy, make him feel comfortable, make him feel secure, then make him feel as if he is a superior player. After that, surprise him by taking him for everything he’s got.
Shark looked at the big man and pointed to the table. “Do you play?”
“Oh, I’ve been known to knock them around a bit.”
Yeah, I know you have, Shark thought. He handed the man a cue. “Let’s play a game.”
“Sure, why not.”
They stumbled through the first few games, each intentionally playing badly, trying to convince the other that they were not that good. But Shark’s strategy was not working. Two hustlers trying to hustle each other was just not possible. He knew he would have to go for the jugular and just lay everything out on the table. He’d have to try to take the man down, pro to pro.
Finally, after another easy missed shot by the big man, Shark made his move. “You can’t possibly be that bad, and to be honest, neither am I. I think we both know that.”
The big man nodded in agreement. “Two hustlers trying to hustle one another never works.”
“I was thinking the same thing. The only thing to do is play for real. What do you say to one hundred bucks?”
Shark knew the big man could not back down from the challenge. He had called him out on his own table and now he would have to play.
The big man was overconfident. “Sure, let’s go, I’ll even give you the break.”
That was the first mistake the big man made. They racked the balls and Shark ran the table in short order. The big man was a little shocked as he handed over the cash.
The big man had the break on the next game and had a good run before missing a rail shot on the seven. Shark again made quick work of the table and ran it. Another hundred bucks in his pocket. “Go again?” Shark asked.
“All day, my friend,” the big man replied.
CHAPTER 17
The Beating
Old Jack found himself tied to a chair. He could taste the blood from his face dripping past his dry, cracked lips, a result of repeated strikes to his head. Through his swollen eyes he could see the fat man’s fist as it again headed toward his face. In another instant he felt its impact push the flesh of his face inward; he heard a crack and felt a surge of pain.
He watched the fat man massage his knuckles as he pulled back his hand. “Bony little sucker, aren’t you?” The fat man readied his fist and again struck him in the face.
Old Jack felt confused. Who was this guy and why the hell was he beating him senseless? He had not been asked any questions. The man had grabbed him from his bed at the posh hotel, tied him to a chair and just started beating him. But even if he was given the chance to speak, his mouth was so swollen that he probably would not be able to get out any words. He tried to move his fingers and realized from the pain that they were swollen. Writing would also present a problem.
He felt another strike to his head, followed by more radiating pain, and dizziness.
Through blurred vision he could make out the image of long white hair tied back in a ponytail. He watched as Shaw entered the room. “Well, Old Jack, I told you once never to disappoint me. It seems that shark you sold to me in such high regard is a bit more trouble, than say, maybe the five hundred grand I paid you for him. The son of a bitch derailed my train, destroyed my locomotive, and set all my ani
mals free.”
Shaw sounded angry. Old Jack knew that was not a good thing.
Shaw continued his rant. “Things were going fine, things were going smooth, but then you called. I have a unique opportunity, you told me on the phone. Was I interested, you asked. It’s the deal of a lifetime, you said.” An evil smile grew slowly on Shaw’s face. “And now, after hours of my man spending quality time with you, there is still nothing you are willing to share with me about where this shark might be headed.”
Old Jack understood why he was being beaten. He tried to speak but could only utter a mumble.
“You sit there, and all you can do is mumble?” Shaw slapped him in the head, the stabbing pain causing him to see a bright flash of light. “I should just kill you now.”
Old Jack managed to raise his arm and made the motion of a pen with his hand.
Shaw looked down at him, moved to the bedside table, retrieved a pen and piece of paper from the drawer, and handed it to him. Old Jack placed the pen between his crumpled fingers and tried to grip it. The pain was intense. He scribbled the name, Vixen, onto the pad.
Shaw read the note with guarded skepticism. “Who’s this Vixen?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow.
Old Jack scribbled again, girlfriend of Shark.
“Vixen is Shark’s girlfriend?” Shaw asked directly.
Old Jack nodded his head, yes.
“And you undoubtedly know where this Vixen is, and can use her to recapture Shark?”
Old Jack again nodded his head, yes, over and over.
Shaw raised his arms in the air in astonishment. “Why didn’t you just tell my man that in the first place?”
Shark & The Wolf: Predators and Prey Page 13
