“Come,” Manuel says, jogging towards the door. “There is a place we can hide.” He touches Sofía’s arm as he passes. “Rodrigo just told me about it, I’m to take you straight there. It’s Señor Dante’s underground bunker.”
“Dante has an underground bunker?” I say in surprise.
He nods. “The entrance is downstairs through the library.”
“Are you sure? I know every inch of this place, Manuel. I’ve been locked inside this prison for days. There’s no entrance to a bunker there.”
He frowns at the uncertainty in my voice. “Only Señor Dante and Señor Grayson knew about it. Señor Dante revealed its’ existence to Rodrigo yesterday, right before he boarded his aircraft.”
I grind to a halt again and the soft bulk of Sofía smacks into my left shoulder.
“Sorry señorita,” she gasps.
Is this where Dante’s been hiding his clothes and possessions from me?
My heart starts beating out a wild, staccato rhythm. How could I have lain so close to his secrets and not known anything about this place? All of a sudden my thirst for knowledge is superseding everything. I need to unmask my enigma for who and what he is. “Take us there,” I order the young guard, rushing over to him.
“We go now.” He beckons for us to follow him as he steps out into the corridor, unslinging his gun from his shoulder and unclicking the safety. Another explosion rocks the foundations of the house. Sofía lets out a strangled sob and Manuel curses.
“Get down,” he hisses and we fall to our knees in unison.
“Who’s doing this, Manuel?” I plead again. “Who’s attacking Dante’s compound?”
He doesn’t answer but in the gloom of the corridor I catch the tail end of a look between him and Sofía.
“I said, not now.”
My eyes are beginning to adjust to the lack of light as we make our way downstairs, keeping our bodies low and discreet, like creatures slithering against the wall in the darkness. Crossing the lobby, we enter the second of four doors – the entrance to Dante’s library. Here, I have a clear view of sector six from the double windows. What I see opens up my eyes to the perilousness of our situation. There are flames licking at the roof of the nearest barracks, darkening the corrugated ridges with their scorching intensity.
Dante’s enemies will show me no mercy.
Like Dante will show no mercy to them.
Shutting out my thoughts, I hurry over to join Manuel and Sofia by a large bookcase that covers the length and breadth of one wall. I can hear him whispering instructions to her in Spanish as they run their fingers along the tip of each shelf.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“A button, a lever… some sort of mechanism.”
“Here, let me help you.”
Manuel whips out a small torch from his back pocket and hands it to me. “Keep the light down, below the level of the window,” he says, crouching next to me to start searching the lower shelves.
“Are you sure this is right?” I can hear the doubt in my voice again as I run my fingers along the wood and find nothing out of the ordinary. There are no indentations, no telltale fissure. There’s absolutely nothing to suggest that a door is concealed here. Has Manuel been given the wrong information? Sofía seems to be thinking along the same lines. She starts gabbling away at him in panicked Spanish. We need to hurry. The gunfire is right outside the front door now.
“How many men did Dante leave behind?” I say, choking down my own panic, the soft torchlight bouncing off the polished mahogany as I hurry to find this elusive switch.
“Twenty,” comes the bleak response.
Only twenty?
Someone knew our situation.
Someone’s taking advantage...
At the same time my fingers encounters a smooth, metal disc set deep within the wood of the third shelf along. Holding my breath, this has to be it, I press my finger down and a low mechanical hum sounds. It’s like it’s coming from behind the bookcase.
“Watch out,” Manuel yelps, grabbing my arm and pulling my backwards as a narrow door swings outwards in my direction. I’m thankful for his lightening-quick reflexes. The door is metal-plated and at least ten inches thick, and he manages to grab hold of it right before it hits me in the face. There’s no time to lose… Unfamiliar voices are inside the house now and I can hear their heavy footsteps on the stairs. Outside, the gunfire is waning. It’s sporadic and unfocused, like the dying embers of a flame. Dante’s men are losing this battle. Our only hope of staying alive is in this bunker.
I feel a hand on my shoulder guiding me into the darkness as my small torch jerks and then steadies to reveal steps leading downwards to a short, stone passageway and a pair of metal-plated elevator doors. Behind us Manuel is still swinging the concealed door back into place. I feel a sharp frisson of panic as the locking mechanism connects with a soft clunk and the damp walls start closing in on me.
“Quickly,” he says, bounding down the steps and ushering us towards the elevator. He smacks his hand against a button set back into the wall and the doors spring open. Bright strobes flicker on over our heads and, moments later, we’re plunging downwards into the great unknown.
I glance at my fellow passengers on this strange, wild ride. Manuel is standing tall with his gun cocked and ready and his fingers held lightly on the trigger, every inch a brave soldier. His battered face looks even worse in this harsh light. Sofía is still wearing her nightdress and is shivering like a leaf left out in the storm. Her pretty face is streaked with mascara and her eyes are glistening from unshed tears. She looks much younger than I initially thought, no more than twenty. No one says a word. I know they’re both avoiding my gaze.
“Ok guys, start talking,” I say, breaking the strained silence, my voice surprisingly steady considering what the hell is going down right now.
Sofía just stares at the floor. Manuel tries to grit his broken jaw and winces.
“Tell me!” I shriek as my fear and exhaustion collide in a raw, mess of emotion. This isn’t my war but Dante’s chosen to put me frontline of it anyway. I need to know what’s going on. I need to know everything.
“Señor Dante’s brother,” mumbles Manuel earning himself a sharp reprimand from Sofía. “We need to tell her, Sofía.”
She shakes her head at him violently. “You heard what Señor Dante said… He’ll kill you this time, Manuel.” I can see her pleading with him with wide, scared eyes.
“What did Dante say?” I focus on Manuel who’s clearly the looser-lipped of the two.
“That we were to never speak about what this place is. Not around you.”
I digest this with more than a trickle of apprehension. “Tell me about Dante’s brother.”
“Señor Emilio?”
“Emilio? The guy in Colombia?”
Manuel just shrugs.
“Ok,” I breathe, trying to hold onto the last semblance of my patience as the elevator begins to slow its descent. “Why does Emilio want to destroy Dante’s compound?”
“He’s a bad man, Señorita,” squeaks Sofía, piping up. “All bad. Not just a little bad like Señor Dante.”
A ghost of a smile touches my lips. It’s touching to hear I’m not the only one who thinks so. “But isn’t he meant to be halfway to Colombia to meet with him…?” I trail off as a terrible realization dawns.
Oh my god.
“Emilio’s double-crossing Dante!”
Manuel nods and curses and I see rage flaring behind his dark eyes on behalf of his betrayed boss. By the time Dante lands in Colombia and realizes what’s happening his compound will be decimated.
“What does Emilio want? His weapons?”
He gazes back at me steadily. “No, señorita, Señor Emilio is here for the one thing that Señor Dante prizes most of all. He is here for you.”
An icy shiver ripples through me. “Me? But how could he possibly know about… Valentina,” I wail suddenly. “She was working for him, was
n’t she?”
“Señor Dante and Señor Emilio are… were… business partners.” The elevator crawls to a stop.
Business Partners?
For some reason these words scare me more than anything else has this evening.
Another silence fills the small space between us, clawing and suffocating me as I fight to quell the tide of panic rising up inside. “Manuel,” I say, rounding on him again as the doors finally slide open. “I need to know what business they partnered together. Was it mercenary contracts?”
He shakes his head at me, and the icy shivers increase, tenfold. “They are big bosses, Señorita Eve... Cartel bosses from South America.”
“What did you say?”
My voice sounds little more than a rasp, a fading cry from a bird with a broken wing.
“Narcotics, señorita … cocaine.”
I reel sideways and slap my hand against the side of the elevator to stop myself from falling down. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. “No that’s wrong, he’s a mercenary,” I counter weakly. “He told me he was a mercenary.”
Did he?
Oh my god this can’t be happening.
I can’t bring myself to ask it. I can’t bring myself to put forth the one question I’d do anything to escape the answer to but, to my horror, my lips start moving of their own accord.
“What is Dante’s surname?” I hear myself whisper.
I already know what they’re going to say. It’s like I’ve known the truth all along but I chose to tuck it away in the darkest recesses of my mind and allow myself to be swept up in all his Machiavellian beauty. It’s been there, staring at me right from the very beginning: the money, the hired guards, the lavish compound, the Colombian connections...
“Santiago, señorita,” Sofía mutters, dropping her eyes to the floor again. She can’t bear to witness the utter devastation in mine for a second longer.
“His name is Dante Santiago.”
21
Dante
By the time we land in Leticia, dusk has already fallen over the sedate jungle gateway town. We load our equipment into the waiting vehicles and set a course for Emilio’s compound. The humidity is more intense over here. For those of us born in South America it serves as nothing more an irritation and an extra notch on the air conditioning unit. For others, like Joseph and Tomas, it’s cloying and insufferable, and they’re dripping with sweat before we’ve even left the airport.
We’re travelling off-road now on simple dirt tracks that jar every damn bone in our bodies despite the jeep’s excellent suspension. The headlights keep throwing up strange reflections in the curbside undergrowth, circular eyes of indistinguishable creatures. Some might call them supernatural but all that stuff is bullshit. True horror already exists in this world in men like us.
A strange atmosphere has settled over the vehicle. It’s an awareness fueled by a soldier’s instinct. My finger holds fast to the trigger of my gun. No let-up. I’m gripped with a readiness to fight, to kill, and for the first time today I’m putting some real weight behind Joseph’s words. He’s right, something’s off… Rattled, I reach for my cell to call Emilio.
No answer.
We’re five minutes out from his compound when Eve’s face flashes before my eyes. At the same time I feel an overwhelming compulsion to turn around and head back to the airport.
“Tomas, stop the car.”
He hits the brakes immediately and the two convoy vehicles behind us slither to a stop as well. I share a look with Joseph. His icy greys are stabbing me through the darkness. We need to trust our instincts here. Mine has saved my life too many times in the past to discredit it now.
“You feel it too,” he states bluntly.
I nod, the rancid taste of unease in my mouth. “Tell the men to arm themselves.”
Joseph exits the jeep and jogs over to the other vehicles as I sit back in my seat, guts churning. I see Eve’s face again but there’s no shy smile for me. Instead, it’s one of pain and terror. The hand resting on my knee clenches into a fist.
I never should have left her.
There’s a perpetual slamming of car doors in the distance as my men unpack their weapons and quickly load up with ammo. I can sense the truth creeping up on us. Everything is about to be revealed but it’s damn painful in the interim. All this ‘calm before the storm’ shit can go fuck itself.
“Tomas, get me Rodriguez back at base.”
“Sure thing, jefe.”
I listen to the call ring out.
Well, isn’t that the worst goddamn sound in the world?
“Try again.”
No answer.
“Call the main house. Call my housemaid.”
There’s nothing in my voice that betrays the dread taking hold of me. I’m a master of emotional suppression.
Same thing. No answer. Saliva pools in the back of my throat as Joseph climbs in beside me again. “The men are armed and awaiting orders. We have enough firepower to light up the goddamn jungle if needs be.”
Emilio wouldn’t dare. He wouldn’t fucking dare… would he?
“Dante, did you hear what I said?”
“We’re walking into a trap,” I declare coldly. “Tomas, turn the vehicle around. We need to get back to the airport as soon as possible.”
We listen to him grind the metal of the stick shift as he forces it into reverse and that’s when the first rocket hits us.
The vehicle directly behind us disintegrates straightaway, spewing burning shards of metal outwards in all directions. It pitches our car forward as the windows blow out, spraying us with debris. My ears are ringing. I can see Joseph screaming in my face but I can’t hear a fucking thing. I glance over my shoulder. There’s nothing left out there except a flaming carcass.
Four good men.
Dead.
“Move!” I roar at Tomas, my voice sounding remote and disconnected as he puts the pedal to the floor, hitting 60mph from nothing in a matter of seconds, skidding over the dirt track as we temporarily lose traction on the loose stones. My eardrums are starting to clear when there’s another loud boom behind us as a second vehicle is destroyed.
“What the fuck is going on?” Joseph yells, staring in disbelief at the two fireballs we’ve left raging behind us. It’s just Tomas and us now. Everyone else is dead. All the other vehicles have been taken out.
Moments later I hear the revving of another engine above the sound of our own. Peering through the smoke and chaos, I see the headlights of a large jeep tearing up the track in our wake. Bullets start to ricochet off the trunk and we’re lurched sideways as one of the back tires is hit and blows out.
“Grenade launcher,” I snarl at Joseph but it’s too late. Out of nowhere something hard and powerful slams into the side of us, pitching us over the curb and out into the jungle. Our vehicle hits a boulder and flips one-eighty, and now we’re skidding down a small ravine on our asses. I can hear Joseph and Tomas cursing as leaves and branches rip at our hands and face, and broken glass slices through the skin on our forearms. Something hard smacks into the side of my head and the other men go quiet.
We slide like this forever until we slam into a couple of trees a couple of hundred feet down. We’re by a river. I can hear the gushing currents. There’s a groan of crumpled metal as our vehicle rights itself, snapping my neck back against the seat as its slams back down to the ground.
The engine dies.
Stillness.
My left shoulder is screaming like a motherfucker but otherwise I’m unhurt. With some difficulty I manage to unclip my seatbelt to go check on the others. Tomas is out cold, a sinister trail of blood oozing from the back of his skull. Joseph looks dazed but ok.
Fuck – what a ride.
“We’ve gotta move. Help me with the door,” I tell him. It’s all about survival now. I need to get back to Eve. I’ll deal with the perpetrators of this shit-storm later and I’ll relish every brutal, bloody minute of it.
Joseph nod
s wearily and leans over to my side but it’s too late. We hear their footsteps and curses before we see their flashlights.
“Señor Santiago, are you still alive?” comes a mocking voice out of the darkness and I hear the accompanying mirth from his compatriots. “It’s good to see you back in the jungle where you belong.”
Ricardo.
That ugly son of a bitch. So my brother betrayed me after all…
“Put your guns away. You’re completely surrounded. There are thirty men out here with itchy trigger fingers.”
I glance at Joseph. We’ve beaten those odd before but back then I only had myself to keep alive. Now I have Eve.
“Hold your fire,” I roar. “We’re coming out.”
“Throw your guns out first.”
On my command Joseph does as he says, and I follow after. We keep hold of our knives, though. They’re still concealed beneath our clothes. I ram my heel against the panel of twisted metal that used to be my door and it crumples outwards. The next thing I know the glossy, black muzzle of an AK47 is caressing my forehead.
“I’m taking no chances, asshole.”
Ricardo’s shattered socket looks even more repulsive than I remember. I’m going to enjoy relieving him of his second eye before this night is through.
“Take me to my brother,” I say coldly.
Ricardo just smirks at me. “I’m afraid Señor Emilio is a little indisposed right now.”
“Why? Where is he?”
“He decided he had a yen for American bitches. Looks like I’ll be getting a turn after all.”
“You motherfucker!”
Lurching forward, I grab the muzzle of his weapon but he smashes his elbow into the side of my head before I have a chance to do some real damage. For a moment my world teeters on the edge of blinding pain and then it’s hurtling into blackness.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I regain consciousness to that noise. It’s one I recognise immediately. It’s a sound synonymous with prison cells and places of torture the whole world over, that and the screams of pain and the futile pleading from its inhabitants. Seldom do the bravest souls outlive it.
Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1) Page 16
