Wrath of the Gods (A James Acton Thriller, #18) (James Acton Thrillers)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Probably wondering what happened to their three buddies.

  She glanced over at Rosa, hiding behind the tree next to her. “Can you hear what they’re saying?”

  Rosa nodded. “He says he wants to know what happened to their friends.”

  Exactly like I thought.

  The group structure was breaking down. That could be good, though it could also be bad. The less unified they were, the easier they might be to take on, but it could also lead to rash actions, not the least of which could be the killing of the hostages.

  And if that were to happen, she’d never forgive herself.

  She closed her eyes, fighting the burn.

  If they die because of what I did…

  “One is coming!” hissed Rosa.

  Laura opened her eyes and saw one of the men heading their way, angry words tossed over his shoulder at the others. The leader dismissed him with a wave of his hand then turned around, resuming their trek.

  Laura’s mind raced as she watched the clearly agitated man storm toward them. She had little time to act, and in her overconfidence, had closed the gap with the others too much. Shooting him this close would invite pursuit by his friends, or at least heavy, sustained gunfire that could hit her or Rosa. It might also create the tipping point where they could kill the hostages so they could run away faster.

  But if they’re left to wonder…

  If they were left to question what had happened to him, they might push forward, human nature to hope for the best when scared, not necessarily leading to the right decision. She and Rosa could hide, and let this one live, yet it would mean losing the golden opportunity to thin the ranks by one more.

  She glanced over at Rosa, the poor woman terrified, her eyes wide, her chest heaving. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

  Rosa shook her head.

  “It’s easy.” She handed her the Beretta she had liberated earlier. “This is the safety.” She flicked it. “It’s off. If something goes wrong and he comes at you, just point it at his chest and keep squeezing the trigger until he stops.” She smiled. “And make sure you keep your eyes open. You’re more likely to actually hit something.” Rosa shook out a nod, staring at the weapon with horror. Laura pointed toward the trees to the right. “Hide in there. You’ll be okay.”

  Rosa stumbled toward the cover, the gun gripped loosely in both hands. Laura reached into the backpack and removed a length of yellow rope looped into the tarp. She tied several overlapping knots in the center then coiled the rope around both hands, giving it a good tug to make sure it was secure.

  This will be a first.

  She pressed her back against the tree, the sounds of the approaching hostile now loud, the man apparently making a point of stepping on every branch he could, the noise perhaps giving him a false sense of security, evolution wiring humans to think loud noises scared away predators—and today she was a predator.

  Yet there was a flaw in his logic.

  Human predators were rarely scared by loud noises.

  He was only feet away now, walking quickly, clearly hoping to find his friends soon so he could return to the safety of his comrades. It would be his downfall. She spotted Rosa through the trees, the woman shaking like the leaves that surrounded her.

  And if she could see her, then so could her prey.

  She signaled for her to get farther back and Rosa nodded, fading into the background.

  A branch snapped and Laura cringed.

  Her target stopped, saying something in Spanish, his tone suggesting a question.

  There was no reply.

  His weapon appeared, held out in front of him as he inched toward Rosa’s position. If he were to fire blindly, he might hit the poor woman.

  She had to act now.

  She stepped out with purpose, her hands raised high over her head, then dropped them down before he could react. She pulled the knot tight against his throat and spun, using her back as leverage to pull his feet off the ground as her hands crossed over her head. He struggled, his feet flailing in the air as he rocked back and forth, but she kept pulling as hard as she could, battling to maintain her balance, his superior weight threatening to bowl them both over, and if that should happen, he could break free.

  She tipped to the right and shoved her foot out, stabilizing the struggling load, grunting from the effort as the battle behind her changed, the hands flailing against the rope weakening, the stifled shouts turning to gurgles, the attempts to wrest free, fading.

  And then he went limp, a final sigh escaping his crushed windpipe, the knot having served its purpose. Laura collapsed to her knees, exhausted, but continued to hold on tight. Finally she let go, shoving one shoulder up, rolling the dead weight off her and onto the jungle floor. She cringed when she saw his face, his eyes bulged, his tongue sticking through his lips, his neck bloodied and bruised. She felt for a pulse and found none.

  He was dead.

  Rosa appeared from the bushes, the weapon pointed at her, Rosa’s hands still shaking.

  And the look in her eyes had Laura wondering just what the woman’s intentions were.

  60

  Bus Station

  Tepich, Mexico

  Officer Hector Santana hugged his wife hard, trying to appear as calm as possible though it didn’t matter. His wife was panicked. “You need to calm down,” he whispered in her ear and she nodded, her entire body still trembling. “Call me as soon as you get to your sister’s, okay?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Okay, now go.” He gently pushed her toward the door and she stepped onto the bus, turning back to give him one last look. He smiled at her, trying to convey all the confidence he didn’t feel. She blew him a kiss as the doors closed, the driver impatient at the delay. Santana watched as the bus pulled away, the center of his universe walking down the aisle, her eyes still on him until the bus turned the corner and she was out of sight.

  He sighed, closing his eyes as he struggled to control his hammering heart.

  Please, God, keep her safe.

  He spun on his heel and headed for his truck, his eye catching the station manager on the phone, staring at him.

  And any confidence he had that his wife would be safe, left him.

  61

  South of Tepich, Mexico

  Rosa’s hands trembled as she gripped the gun in both, aiming at this woman who absolutely terrified her. She stared at the body of the man she recognized from town, his face a contortion of bulging flesh, his neck torn apart, his killer standing over him, her chest heaving from the effort of her cold-blooded deed.

  She was a maniac.

  Four were now dead, one from a knife in the throat that had soaked her in blood, the stains still evident on her clothes. Two by expertly fired shots, shots fired through a plastic bottle, something she couldn’t imagine anyone except a trained killer knowing how to do.

  But this, this latest act, had been gruesome beyond compare. To strangle someone to death—to know how to strangle someone to death, was something Rosa had never thought anyone she would actually meet in person could know. Certainly not a woman.

  She’s mad! She’s dangerous!

  Her eyes focused on the tip of the gun, the barrel bouncing around as she struggled to steady her aim, her trembling hands and hammering heart making it impossible. She could shoot the woman and end it all. She could still fulfill her original plan. Before, she had thought there was no way to overpower this woman, but that had all changed the moment she was given the gun.

  She had the power now.

  All she had to do was squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger and it would all be over.

  She’d call for the others and they would find her, and she’d be rewarded. She would be allowed to live, and so would her family.

  Right?

  It would happen that way, wouldn’t it?

  “Look at me.”

  Laura’s voice startled her, Rosa forgetting that there was a human at the other end of the barrel for
a moment. She tore her eyes away from the gun, staring at the woman who had her so frightened.

  Just squeeze the trigger and you’ll save your family.

  “Rosa, I need you to calm down and lower the gun.”

  Rosa’s eyes returned to the weapon, now shaking even more.

  Kill her and it’s all over.

  Her shoulders tensed as she inhaled with a gasp. She held her breath and closed her eyes, her finger squeezing slightly on the trigger.

  You’ll never be able to look your children in the eyes again.

  She cried out, tossing the gun to the side, tears bursting forth as her shoulders shook. Arms enveloped her as the taller woman embraced the one who would have her dead.

  “It’s okay, it’s all over.”

  How could she be so forgiving? How could this woman, who a moment ago she was about to kill, be so caring? “I-I’m sorry. I’m just so scared. I have a family. I-I just want to live. I want them to live.”

  Laura squeezed her tight, a hand patting Rosa’s head. “I’ll tell you what. When we get out of this, I’ll move you and your family anywhere in Mexico that you want. Deal?”

  Rosa stared up at her, a wave of hope rushing through her. “You can do that?”

  Laura nodded, a gentle smile on her face as she wiped Rosa’s tears away with a thumb. “Yes. Would you like that?”

  Rosa’s head bobbed rapidly, already picturing returning back home, away from this godforsaken town.

  “Then do we have a deal?”

  Rosa smiled. “Yes.”

  62

  Route 295

  North of Tepich, Mexico

  Esperanza Santana gripped the handle on her suitcase, her knuckles white, the rigid edges digging into her legs unnoticed. Her breathing was rapid, her vision narrow, her eyes focused on the back of the driver’s head, her mind not registering what it was, just a random point in space it had decided was the least threatening thing around her.

  The bus was about half-full. Most were asleep, though there was no possible way that awaited her tonight. She closed her eyes.

  Calm yourself or you’ll have a heart attack.

  She pictured her father, dead in his bed, a massive heart attack taking him in his sleep when she was a child. It ran in the family, and she worried it would one day take her, or worse, one of her children.

  A car engine revving behind the bus distracted her. Tires squealed and headlights sliced through the dusk beside them as a car raced past them, waking several of the passengers. The bus driver cursed as the car cut in front of them. Brake lights lit and the distance between the car’s bumper and the bus narrowed rapidly. Another curse followed by a prayer erupted from the driver as he slammed the brakes on, tossing the unprepared passengers against the seats in front of them, Esperanza fortunately already bracing in anticipation.

  Angry shouts were silenced as all four doors of the car opened, the occupants stepping out, the headlights of the bus giving everyone a clear view of the men responsible.

  Men with guns.

  Esperanza’s hands gripped the suitcase even tighter as she sucked in a breath, holding it.

  “Open the door. Now.”

  The driver complied, the doors opening with a hiss, his hands rapidly shooting up. Two of the men boarded, the first facing the passengers, the other keeping a gun pointed at the driver.

  “Which one of you is Esperanza Santana?”

  Esperanza shrank in her seat, lowering her head behind her suitcase. Footsteps slowly approached.

  “Show yourself, or I start killing.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears and she felt dizzy. Her held breath escaped with a gasp as she rapidly drew in lungsful of air. She was going to die. They were here to kill her.

  Which meant they had probably already killed her husband.

  She glanced at the terrified passengers sitting across from her, a woman and her little daughter, cowering in fear.

  No one will die because of me.

  She held up her hand, still crouching behind her suitcase. “I-I’m Esperanza Santana.”

  63

  South of Tepich, Mexico

  Laura picked up Rosa’s discarded handgun and shoved it in her belt, quickly searching for anything useful on her latest conquest’s person, finding nothing of value. As she did so, she kept a wary eye on Rosa, not sure if she could trust her anymore. She could understand the woman’s fear. She had been indoctrinated into a society of criminals that valued loyalty and silence beyond all else. When something went wrong, they silenced all who could expose them, as was evidenced by the ambush on her and the others in the trucks. There were no questions to be asked before shooting, or after. They wanted everyone who could link them to the drug lab erased, and Rosa was evidence.

  In her panic, she could tell the police what she knew before returning to the frame of mind where she remembered her life depended upon her silence. El Jefe obviously wasn’t willing to risk survivors keeping their mouths shut when they were emotional. Rosa knew she was dead, and probably had thought that she might save her life if she delivered her boss the only other person to escape the ambush. It would prove her loyalty, her sanity, and Laura had to admit, if any one thing could save Rosa’s life, it would probably be that. Yet there was an equal chance he would thank the woman then kill them both, regardless.

  But Rosa now had an option.

  An option she hadn’t had when she insisted on sticking with her. She had a way out for her and her family. The question was would the promise of freedom be enough to overcome the fear she had been living under for so long.

  Laura slung the AK-47 over her shoulder and turned to Rosa. “Ready?”

  Rosa nodded, her mood slightly brighter than a few minutes ago. Laura pressed forward, wishing she had eyes in the back of her head as Rosa followed. She had to get over the distrust and focus on what lay ahead, otherwise she might walk into a trap. There were only two hostiles left, and if she got lucky, she just might free everyone before they reached the town.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “How much farther?”

  Rosa shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never been through here, but it can’t be much farther.”

  “And you’re sure we’re headed toward the town?”

  Rosa pointed up at the sun, low on the horizon, only slivers of it visible through the thick canopy overhead. “We’ve been heading toward town the entire time.” She pointed to their right. “The road is only a couple of kilometers from here. I think they’re scared someone might see them, so they took this route.”

  “Any idea where they’ll go when they reach town?”

  “They’re probably going to El Jefe’s house. It’s like a fortress. If you want to save your husband and your friends, you’ll have to do it before they get there.”

  Laura frowned. Judging by how far she estimated they had walked over the past two days, she figured they couldn’t be more than an hour away from town. She might have to act soon. There were only two hostiles left now, and they were in a hurry, probably scared they would die next.

  Give me the chance, and I’ll make sure you do.

  64

  Municipal Dump

  Tepich, Mexico

  Officer Hector Santana sat in his SUV, out of sight as he tried to figure out what to do. His phone vibrated on the passenger seat and he picked it up. He pressed the Talk button and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “We have your wife.”

  His entire body tensed as he held his breath, recognizing El Jefe’s voice. He gripped the steering wheel as he battled to maintain control. “Why? She’s done nothing. I’ve done nothing.”

  “We both know that’s not true. Bring me the tracker or she dies.”

  Santana closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “She’s dead anyway. So am I.”

  “Perhaps. But it’s how she dies that should concern you. She’s a little old, but she’s a fine looking woman. I think the boys here might like to show her a good time.”
<
br />   Santana opened his eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as his upper lip curled. “You lay a finger on her and I’ll kill you.”

  El Jefe laughed. “That’s the spirit! If I don’t see you within the hour, she’s meat for my men.”

  65

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters

  Langley, Virginia

  Chris Leroux stood in front of the large display, his hands on his hips as he watched a convoy of vehicles leave El Jefe’s compound. The Mexicans had thus far provided them with only cursory updates on what the drones were showing—essentially that the hostages had not yet arrived, and little else.

  Leroux was having none of that.

  It hadn’t taken long for his team to hack the feed. They could now see everything the Mexicans were seeing, the only limitation was they had no control over the drones. They could take over if they wanted to, though that would tip the Mexicans off to the hack, and perhaps cause a diplomatic row.

  “Do we have sat coverage?”

  Sonya Tong tapped at her keyboard, another display showing the feed. “For ten minutes.”

  “Okay, make sure we see where that convoy is headed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Randy Child cleared his throat. “Maybe this would be a good time to hit them?”

  Leroux shook his head. “No, Acton isn’t there yet. The Mexicans won’t move until their excuse to assault the compound arrives, and we have no idea when that will be.” Leroux glanced over at Tong. “Get me Delta.” A few key presses and whispered words before a nod. Leroux adjusted his headset. “Zero-One, Control, be advised we have a convoy of a dozen vehicles leaving the target compound, heading east, destination unknown, over.”

  “Copy that, Control. Do we have eyes on the compound yet?”

  “Affirmative, Zero-One.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at Child who nodded, his fingers attacking his keyboard. “We’re patching you into the Mexican drone footage now.”