JET - Sanctuary

by Blake, Russell

  Hector dropped his cigarette butt on the grass and ground it out with his shoe, ignoring Alejandro’s frown of disapproval. “You’re going to fly that thing?”

  Jet shrugged. “It’s not going to fly itself, is it?” She regarded Alejandro. “But it makes dealing with the airports all the more important, because I won’t be going as fast as someone who knows the area well.”

  “I’m going with you,” Alejandro announced.

  Jet shook her head. “No, you need to stay and coordinate everything. And…if things don’t go smoothly, you need to honor your commitment and get my daughter and husband back. Whatever it takes.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “I’m going.”

  Hector exhaled loudly. “Alejandro, much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. You can’t run interference and deal with any surprises in the air. And if this doesn’t work, you’ll need to take the helm of the organization in your father’s absence. That won’t be possible if you’re captured or worse. This is how your father would want it. If you don’t believe me, call him and talk to him yourself.”

  Alejandro stalked off, phone pressed to his ear. Hector watched him leave and turned to Jet. “I, on the other hand, will be right next to you the entire time.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Hope you can shoot better than you dress, because it may come down to that.”

  “I can more than carry my end of the log.”

  “Good. Bring a lot of ammo. And something with more punch than those 9mms. An AK if you can, with a boxcar of extra magazines.”

  “You read my mind.”

  “Can you get your hands on some night vision gear?”

  “Should be able to.”

  Jet glanced at the helicopter and then back at Hector, whose eyes were as flat and dead as a pool of oil. For all his annoying qualities, she had no doubt that he could more than handle a gun.

  “Then we may just have a chance after all.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The mountains northwest of San Felipe, Chile

  Sweat ran down Matt’s face in spite of the chill in the concrete bunker where they were being held next to the main building of the abandoned military outpost. Hannah sat in the corner of the improvised cell – a cinderblock storage room with a guard standing watch outside. Matt was working on the handcuff that secured his good hand to a metal pipe, his skin torn raw from his efforts, but no closer to success than when they’d been dumped in the room two hours earlier. Hannah had stopped crying and had retreated into herself. A soldier stopped by once to give them water, but besides that, they’d been ignored. The little girl had been quiet, not even complaining about having to use the bathroom as Matt twisted his wrist in frustration inside the metal cuff.

  The door opened and two soldiers stepped in. The taller of the pair moved to Matt and pulled him to his feet while the other watched, his hand on his sidearm. Matt considered crushing the closest man’s nose with his head and charging the other, but with his hand cuffed to the pipe, his odds of success were slim, and he didn’t want to invite reprisals that might involve Hannah.

  He’d overheard the reports to the colonel running the operation when they’d been transported to the outpost: Jet had vanished in the cave-in – dead, with a crew digging in the rubble for her and Alejandro’s bodies. So now he was the little girl’s only hope in the world, and he couldn’t risk her safety with a foolish attempt destined for failure.

  The soldiers unshackled him and led him to the main building, the shorter of the pair staying several prudent steps behind him should Matt try anything. Matt counted a dozen men near the vehicles and suspected that there were more on the periphery, which would make any attempt at a breakout suicide, even if by some miracle he could overcome his two escorts – not likely with a broken hand and no weapon.

  The lead soldier opened the door to the main building and pushed him through. Matt found himself facing the colonel, Rodrigo, and a dark Chilean in jeans and a windbreaker. Next to him was a lean, tan man with a military haircut and a no-nonsense bearing – by far the most dangerous person in the room, Matt could instantly tell. The soldiers led Matt to a wooden chair and sat him down and then cuffed him to the arm.

  “Well, well. I see you aren’t only a coward, but also a turncoat. Nice,” Matt said to Rodrigo. “Let me guess. You found an area with cell service up by the mine?”

  “You’re a bright one, aren’t you? We’ll see how insulting you feel after we’re done with you,” Rodrigo sneered.

  The colonel stepped forward and slapped Matt with a backhand. Matt licked blood off his lip and said nothing. He was in the enviable position of not knowing anything, so there was nothing he could tell his tormentors that would be useful to them.

  The man with the buzz cut approached him and studied his face before sitting down across from him.

  “What is the expression? It’s a fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself into?” the man said in Russian-accented English.

  Matt remained silent. What a Russian was doing in the Chilean mountains at a military outpost with a couple of gangsters and a high-ranking army officer was a mystery, but Matt’s instinct was to say as little as possible.

  The Russian turned to the Chilean. “Bastian, do you have any questions for our friend before I get started?”

  Bastian nodded. “Where were you and the woman supposed to meet if you got out of the mine alive?”

  Matt blinked. Meet? What was that all about? Unless…

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matt said.

  “Come, come. We know the woman escaped. Neither her nor Alejandro’s bodies were found,” the colonel said. “And one of our patrols came across two soldiers who were assaulted by them in the next valley. So we know they stole a Jeep and their uniforms. Let’s not make this difficult. Where were you to meet if you were separated?”

  Matt eyed the colonel. “We had no plan. How would I know that she would be trapped in a cave-in and escape? Although I have to say that’s wonderful news.”

  “Yes, I understand the cave-in wasn’t predictable, but let’s try this another way. Where would you go if we let you free?”

  That was an easy one, and Matt didn’t have to invent an answer. “I…I have absolutely no idea. Probably back to the hotel.”

  Bastian cursed under his breath. “This is a waste of time. The hotel’s crawling with police. He’s not going to tell us anything. Or there’s nothing to tell.”

  The Russian nodded. “Perhaps. But he knows a few things I’m interested in.”

  Matt stared him down, but felt a quiver of unease.

  When the Russian spoke again, his voice was a purr. “Who is your young lady friend? What’s her name and her background?”

  “Her name? That’s what you want to know? Naomi. Naomi Dove. As to her background, how the hell would I know? I just hooked up with her a couple of weeks ago. She’s tripping around South America with her kid. She was lonely and I got lucky.” Matt looked around, hoping they were buying it. “Or unlucky, it looks like now. What’s all this about?”

  Matt’s only hope was to deny everything and play dumb. His story was non-disprovable, and Hannah was too young to be of any use. He’d assume the role of a single man on the prowl who’d met a woman in need and decided that he’d get more out of the deal than he invested. Completely believable and logical.

  The Russian wasn’t buying it. Not a word, Matt could see.

  “She was involved in the gunfight at the hotel.”

  “If you say so. I don’t know anything about that. I was in the room with the kid. She went out for a soda. Next thing I knew it was the Wild West, and then we were running for our lives.”

  Rodrigo shook his head. “They were acting like husband and wife on the trail. He’s lying.”

  “Look, she’s gorgeous and fun to hang out with. What do you want from me? I didn’t ask to get shot at in some mine in the middle of frigging nowhere, and I sure as hell have no idea why you’re so interes
ted in some spacey chick I met in a bar.”

  Half an hour later, the soldiers dragged Matt back to the storage room, blood soaking the front of his shirt, his face bruised and cut from blows. Leonid watched him go and walked to one of the windows. Bastian stood and moved next to him.

  “What do you think?” Bastian asked.

  “Not a single thing he said was true. Not one.”

  “That was my impression. But how do we proceed, knowing that?”

  Leonid glanced up at the sky, the afternoon’s bright light fading as high overcast drifted from the west and dusk approached. A woodpecker flitted from tree to tree, bursts of color marking its flight as its bright plumage flashed in the dying sun. He turned to Bastian.

  “We know she’s alive and that we have her daughter. So we need her to know it, too. Think about it – what woman wouldn’t do anything to save her child? If we make this the worst-kept secret in the world, she’ll eventually hear about it, and then, trust me, she’ll come to us. The trick will be being ready when she does. As you’ve seen by now, she’s not an ordinary adversary.” He paused, as if considering a riddle, his expression pensive. “But with enough firepower, even the most lethal predator can be stopped. We just need to get her in our sights, and I’ll do the rest.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Igor and Fernanda sat at a sidewalk café on the downtown pedestrian boulevard in Mendoza, sipping espresso and nibbling croissants as Fernanda spoke on her cell phone with their agent.

  “We’re at a dead end,” she said. “We’ve questioned everyone at the casino and spoken with the gentleman in the police department you suggested, but there’s nothing on our target – she’s vanished as though she never existed. I’d suggest that you circulate her photograph to anyone you can think of in this region. Maybe we’ll get a hit. But right now there are no leads.”

  “That’s disappointing. I’d hoped with you on the ground there…”

  “We’re all disappointed, but that’s not going to get us any closer to finding her. Turn over some rocks. Put her face in front of every pimp, drug dealer, mugger and lowlife in South America. It’s all we can do, unless you’ve got a rabbit you can pull out of your magic hat.”

  “Very well. Stay in Argentina until you hear from me. At worst you’ll have a day or two of fine wine and gourmet food.”

  “While I appreciate the vacation tip, that’s not going to get us paid, now, is it?”

  “Leave your phone on. I’ll call when I have something.”

  Fernanda hung up, placed the phone on the table, and watched as a group of high school students walked by, talking overly loudly, a few of the boys smoking, the girls with forbidden piercings adorning their young faces. A kit of pigeons paraded in lockstep across the cobblestones to where a pair of old women were throwing them chunks of stale bread while a lone saxophonist blew a haunting riff from a doorway, his case empty except for a few tarnished coins. She regarded Igor and sighed.

  “I love Rio, but I could get used to this.”

  “You’d be bored inside of a week, my love.”

  “We could always fly back and whack someone for old time’s sake whenever we got the urge.”

  He slid his hand across the table and took hers. “Always the romantic, aren’t you?”

  “That’s why you married me.”

  “That and the sex.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, we have some time to kill. Race you back to the room?”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter 29

  San Felipe, Chile

  The flight to Santiago from Mendoza had taken an hour to clear for the flight plan and another half hour for the actual flight. Unfortunately, Drago didn’t have anyone available in Chilean immigration to walk him through, so he’d been forced to leave his weapons in a locker in Mendoza for later retrieval. Renting a car had been a pain, everything taking twice as long as it should have, and by the time he made it to San Felipe, twilight was bruising the sky with magenta and purple.

  Drago drove to the hotel, but was taken aback when he saw what must have been the town’s entire police force in front of it. He parked in the lot and made his way to the office, where a heavy-set woman stared at him from behind the reception desk like a vulture. A worker was replacing the glass in one of the windows, and Drago’s practiced eye took in the bullet holes on the far side of the courtyard, each marked with a piece of blue painter’s tape, presumably for ballistics.

  “What happened here?” he asked, his tone friendly.

  “Hotel’s closed until day after tomorrow,” the woman snapped, her patience obviously frayed.

  “Oh. That’s a shame. I need a room.”

  “Not here, you don’t. There are technicians and police everywhere. Sorry.”

  Drago nodded sympathetically. “How about the restaurant? I could use a cup of coffee.”

  “I’ve got one girl working. She can do coffee, but no food.”

  “Sounds like a deal. Are those bullet holes?” Drago said, peering through the window at where the police were largely standing around, talking and smoking.

  “Like I said, the hotel’s closed. Yes, there was a shooting here. First and only time in thirty-seven years we’ve had any problems at all. A gang from out of town, they’re saying. Bastards. I’ll be lucky if I see any customers this season now, even though none of it has anything to do with the hotel.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. If it’s any consolation, I’ll be back. But in the meantime, where would you recommend staying?”

  She reluctantly gave him the name of another hotel. “They’re okay. Not as nice as my place, but still, not terrible.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Drago entered the restaurant and sat by the window. A couple of pensioners were nursing their coffees at the next window, clearly entertained by the comings and goings of the police. Drago ordered a cup of coffee from the bored waitress and leaned over with a wave at the old men.

  “Hell of a thing, isn’t it?”

  Both shook their heads and frowned. “It’s a different world these days,” the one facing Drago said. “No place is safe anymore.”

  “A crime. What happened?”

  “Gangs. What else? Shot the place up. I heard there were a dozen of ’em killed. Slaughtered ’em like hogs.”

  “Really? Any idea what it was about?”

  “Who knows? Drugs, money, power. Animals, all of them.”

  “Good Lord. Were there any survivors?”

  “Not that I know of. Although I’m suspicious of all the army in the area today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Haven’t you noticed? There’s some big deal happening in the hills. I keep my nose clean, you know, but you see things when you’ve got time on your hands. Hear things.”

  The other pensioner nodded at his friend’s sage observations. “There was another shootout up there somewhere around a mine. My nephew runs a market at the edge of town. He overheard the soldiers talking.”

  “I didn’t realize San Felipe was so dangerous.”

  That got both old men started on the general moral decline of Chile in particular and young people in general. Drago listened politely, milking what more he could from them, and then excused himself from the discussion to place a call on his cell. When his agent answered he sounded out of breath.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m in Chile in a shit hole called San Felipe. Seems like something went down at the hotel the Argentine told me about. But that’s ancient history. Do you have any contacts that could monitor the Chilean military and get me info on a shootout at a mine outside of town? I just heard about it, and I’m going to ask around, but I’m leery of attracting too much attention.”

  “You think that has anything to do with your man?”

  “San Felipe is the kind of place where the locals sit around outside watching the snow melt for excitement. There was a gun battle at the hotel where his girlfriend was supposed to meet the Arg
entine’s contact, and now another one at a mine close to town. What do you think?”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Do that. You know my number.”

  Drago disconnected and engaged with the old men again, but that well had run dry. He chatted up the waitress but learned little new, other than that there had been about ten guests staying at the hotel when the gunfight had taken place the prior night, and all had cleared out before the police arrived.

  “Can you imagine what that must have been like? Were any of the guests hurt?” Drago asked, pretending to be charmed by the young woman’s rustic beauty.

  “Not that I heard. And one of the policemen said that it was super weird because there were no bodies when they got here. Blood everywhere and the walls looking like a shooting gallery, but not one body. Creepy.”

  Drago didn’t think so. The gangs had wanted to remove as much evidence as possible before the cops arrived. That they’d been able to told him the locals had been in on it. “Yeah. I can’t believe you’re even working today.”

  “Tell me about it. But what’s funny is that with all the police, I’ve had a pretty good day so far. They tip okay.”

  Eventually Drago decided to drive up into the foothills and see if he could spot any of the rumored military presence. There was no telling when the agent would get back to him, and he was going stir-crazy, having gotten so close so quickly only to hit a wall. He stopped at the only market on the way out of town and chatted up the man behind the counter, but learned nothing he didn’t already know, except that the clerk had heard the shootout had happened at least twenty-five kilometers up the main road.

  Drago exited the little market and pointed the car north, hoping to at least get a glimpse of the army deployment before the agent called. It was either that or listen to another hour of oldsters lamenting the collapse of civilization, and he didn’t think he could manage that without a few stiff drinks under his belt. He was just entering the curvy part of the mountain road when two army Jeeps passed him going in the opposite direction, three soldiers in each.