The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  Again, keeping low, he swept the immediate area with the AR-15, checking both with the naked eye and through the red-dot sight Carina equipped on the sight rail. He lowered the weapon and raised the compact binoculars to get a better view of the area.

  The enormous yard—if it could be called that—stretched across a field in two directions, while the third rolled up a slight incline toward the mansion where a courtyard sat atop the plateau. He'd seen the images of the property at Carina's office. Whoever said crime didn't pay had clearly not been to this place. It was a poster child of opulence, a blatant slap in the face to the governments of two nations that whoever controlled the drugs could get away with almost anything.

  Dak didn't notice any guards patrolling the interior wall. He figured Mendoza must have pulled back the remnant of his security forces to the main house, forsaking the perimeter as he'd suspected when he saw no threat during his observation in the tree.

  The drug lord was throwing everything he could at Esperanza, looking to end the feud quickly and barbarically.

  With a clear path to the mansion, Dak sprinted across the field to a patch of shrubs next to a rock outcropping. There, he hid behind a boulder and raised the binoculars again. From the closer vantage point, he made out three guards around the near side of the mansion. Two stood next to an arched doorway that appeared to be the rear entrance into the building, the other paced a wraparound balcony on the second floor. From that vantage point, the balcony guard had a 180-degree view of the property's backside. Dak imagined a second was similarly stationed on the other side to watch over the front that led down to the road.

  Carina's intel had been stellar, including drone footage of the compound, the timing of the guards' rotations when their shifts changed, and even when Mendoza typically went to sleep.

  At the moment, the fortress was operating at thirty percent.

  When the balcony guard turned the other way and began his long walk in the opposite direction, Dak left his hiding spot. Keeping as low as he could without sacrificing speed, he circled the rise until he reached a giant tree. He stopped for a second behind the wide trunk, stole a look up at the building again, and darted toward the wall.

  The run was only fifty yards, but it felt like a thousand. Every second ticked by like a hammer blow. Dak feared someone in the building would see him, or that maybe the guard from the front balcony would—for some reason—appear at the nearest corner as he looped around.

  None of that happened and Dak skidded to a stop on the tile walkway surrounding the building.

  He pressed his back against the wall and shuffled his feet to the corner on the eastern side of the house toward the entrance. His approach had come from the northern side, allowing him to get a good view of the front and the back, though up to the point the assault team left, he hadn't seen any guards on the front side.

  Dak knew that wasn't going to last, and that it was only a matter of time until more men were deployed to keep watch of the entrance.

  Leaning into the wall, Dak waited for a moment, listening. He heard a silent click, the tap of a shoe on hard stone. Just as he'd suspected. A guard approached. Dak retreated to the side and waited.

  The guard appeared within two seconds. The man's head was turned to the left, looking out over the property. He didn't notice Dak until his periphery caught movement.

  By then it was too late.

  Dak plunged the hunting knife up through the man's throat and into his head. He twisted the tip slightly, killing the guard instantly, and then yanked the blade out. The guard fell to the ground with a quiet thump. Dak pulled the body to the side to hide it from anyone in the front of the mansion. Then he stripped the man's radio out of his ear and put it in his right ear. After he wiped the blade clean on the dead guard's shirt, he circled back to the rear of the building, satisfied—at least for the moment—that he wouldn't face an attack from the front.

  He sheathed the blade when he reached the second corner and raised his AR-15. The suppressor attached to the barrel would conceal most of the sound, though not all. It would have to do.

  Calling on his memory of where the two guards were stationed by the door, he stepped out with the AR-15 already braced against his shoulder. The red dot lined up with the farthest guard’s head. Dak moved forward, his knees absorbing the shock of each step to keep his aim steady. He squeezed the trigger. The click preceded a pink mist exploding from the side of the guard's head.

  As the man toppled sideways, the nearest guard turned his head to see what happened to his partner. Before he could turn to face the unseen threat, a second bullet bore through the back of his skull near the base of his neck.

  He fell next to his partner as if someone had shoved him in the back.

  Dak picked up his speed and rushed toward the doors, skirting under the view of huge windows along the way.

  When he reached the rear entrance, he paused, double-checked the two guards with a nudge of his right boot, and pulled on the latch.

  The door swung open easily, and he stepped inside.

  Dak swept the room with his weapon. A couch to the right near a fireplace, a grand piano to the left, and a staircase winding up to the next level exposed no new threat. That wouldn't last long. The next patrol could be seconds away.

  He eased the door shut and hurried to the left, past the piano and into a study.

  Dak stopped at the threshold where two dark wooden doors led into the room. He checked the left first where shelves filled with books wrapped around a sitting area. He continued his scan, whipping the weapon around to the right.

  He froze.

  There, behind an ornate desk, sat Mendoza. The drug lord's head drooped onto his right shoulder, a bullet hole through his temple.

  Standing next to him, Luis held a pistol with a suppressor attached to the barrel.

  Fourteen

  Uruapan

  Luis sensed the intruder and snapped his pistol up, aiming it at a lethal pair of jade eyes that he'd seen so many times before.

  Dak kept the red dot squarely over Luis’ heart.

  "Dak?" Luis spoke the word, befuddled. "What are you doing here?"

  "We both know what I'm doing here, Luis."

  The bitter scent of smoke lingered in the room, hovering near Luis and the dead man, then gradually made its way across the room to where Dak stood.

  Luis inclined his head. "Ah. You came to kill me? Is that it?"

  "Very astute of you."

  The red dot in the sight never wavered from the white button-up shirt his old friend wore. The rest of the ensemble looked exactly like what you would expect a drug lord's lackey to wear—beige linen pants and expensive, brown leather shoes.

  "How did you get in here?" Luis asked.

  Dak cocked his head to the side. "Do you really have to ask, Luis? How many years did we serve together?"

  "True." Luis lowered his weapon; resignation filled his face.

  Hesitation crept into Dak's mind, and he didn't know why. "That Mendoza?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to keep Luis talking.

  "Yes."

  "Why did you kill him? You taking over the cartel? Have you really turned so far to the dark side that this is who you've become?"

  "No," Luis said quickly, almost too quickly. He shook his head and repeated the answer. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with it anymore."

  Dak searched Luis for the truth. It covered the man's long-drawn face, eyes full of regret, and a hint of deep sadness.

  "It was the only way," Luis continued, "to keep my parents safe, my relatives. My cooperation with Mendoza meant they wouldn't be in danger."

  "Doesn't sound like you thought that through," Dak said.

  "Maybe. Maybe not. But he's dead now. They'll be safe."

  Dak turned his head left and right. "I don't think that's how it works, Luis. Unless you had designs on taking over the cartel yourself. Is that your plan?"

  Luis paused for a second, considering the question. "
I don't want to be the head of a cartel, Dak. I never wanted any of this. And I didn't want to leave you in that cave."

  "Ah. But you did it anyway."

  "Bo would have killed me. You know that."

  "Yeah," Dak said with a nod. "So, to save your own neck, you were willing to cut mine."

  "No," Luis said, shaking his head vigorously. "When they buried you in that cave, leaving you for dead, I hoped you would get out. Then I heard about how you returned to base, how the colonel tried to arrest you."

  "I suppose you tried to tell him I was innocent, that Bo and the others… that you were the ones who betrayed me?"

  Luis dropped his head. His chin nearly rested on his chest. "No. I didn't." He lifted his head to meet Dak's piercing gaze again. "I wish I had, but I didn't. I can't go back and change that now."

  "Nope."

  "But I can help you find the others," Luis insisted.

  For a split second, Dak let down his guard and felt a pang of hope flutter in his chest. "What did you say?"

  "Williams, Collier, and Trask. I know where they are."

  "Williams is dead," Dak informed as if mentioning he'd squashed a bug.

  Luis looked surprised. "Dead?"

  "I suspect he's at the bottom of the ocean right now off the coast of Miami. I wasn't the only person he owed a debt."

  "I see."

  Dak let him stew before he spoke again. "Why? Why do you know where they went, Luis?"

  Luis sighed. "Because I knew that one day you would find me."

  "And you thought helping me would save you?" Dak spoke with cold steel in his voice.

  "No," Luis said dejectedly. "I did it because it was the only thing I could think of to right the wrong. I should have stood up to Bo and the others. I made a mistake, a big one. I know that. I knew it all along and was too afraid to do the right thing."

  Dak considered the irony. He'd witnessed Luis in battle. The man was a fierce warrior, as strong and courageous as any he'd seen, yet he cowered to Bo, not just in the cave, but all the time. Dak wondered what it was about the man that Luis feared, but now wasn't the time to ask.

  "You don't know where Bo is?" Dak pressed.

  Luis shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Dak. I did try to find him, but he's dropped off the map. Collier and Trask did too, for a while. They were difficult to locate. But Mendoza's resources are… were considerable." He regarded the dead man to his right with a tilt of the head. "Trask is in Colorado. Bought property on a mountain. I figure he probably built a cabin there, went off-grid."

  "That didn't help him, though, did it?"

  "Collier was trickier," Luis said, ignoring the question. "Last I heard, he was in Kentucky in a—" Luis stopped abruptly and pressed his earpiece.

  Dak heard it too.

  A man's voice spoke frantically in Spanish. Within seconds, another voice joined the first. Soon after, shouts came from various points outside the mansion.

  "They know you're here," Luis said.

  "Thanks," Dak said, his response smothered in sarcasm. "My Spanish isn't that bad."

  Dak took his eyes off Luis and turned as he heard footsteps rushing toward him. A guard ran recklessly around the corner and Dak squeezed the trigger. The round caught the man squarely in the chest and dropped him to the ground in mid-stride. The guy slid to a halt near the grand piano.

  More voices filled the radio, ordering men to secure Mendoza. They didn't know it was too late for that, or that their head of security was the one who'd killed him.

  Dak slammed the heavy doors shut and bolted them. There were still the windows along the outer wall, though, and that would make them easy targets.

  "How many men are still here?" Dak demanded, stalking over to the desk where Luis still stood.

  "We only left sixteen in reserve," Luis said. "The rest went to pay Esperanza a visit."

  "I figured."

  Luis looked puzzled, then realization washed over him. "It was you," he said. "You were the one who set up the deal to screw over Mendoza. But… how did you know?"

  "Not the time, Luis. Please hold your questions until the end of the gun battle." Dak stepped around behind the desk and grabbed the back of Mendoza's chair. He glanced at his ex-teammate. "But yes, it was me."

  He shoved the chair out of the way, sliding it around to the front of the desk.

  "What are you doing?" Luis wondered. Still holding his pistol, he considered pointing it at the back of Dak's head and executing him in cold blood. It would be easy. The intruder had let his guard down. Luis could kill him, then blame the American for the assassination of their leader. With Mendoza out of the way, Luis would make the obvious successor to the throne. He felt his fingers tightening on the pistol.

  He exhaled and loosened his grip.

  "Putting Mendoza between us and anyone else who might be coming. A gunshot popped from somewhere outside the building. A window shattered to the right, near the far corner of the room.

  "Here they come," Dak said. He ducked down behind the desk once more, using it as a barricade.

  Luis did the same, taking cover next to his former friend as they'd done in combat so many times before.

  "So, what's the plan?" Luis asked. "We wait here and shoot our way out?"

  "Something like that." Dak stole a peek over the top of the desk and noted the shooter's location outside. Darkness descended onto the estate, but with it came the bright glow of floodlights that switched on automatically.

  The gunman fired again, this time letting loose a flurry of automatic gunfire. Rounds obliterated the window's jagged remains and smashed into the desk. Several peppered the wall behind it, destroying a brass clock on a shelf, and punching holes through expensive artwork.

  Dak slid to the corner of the desk and raised his weapon. He put the red dot on the target and squeezed the trigger three times.

  The gunman's body shook as he absorbed two of the rounds before falling to his knees, then out of sight.

  More shouting ensued from all around Luis and Dak's position. Then new voices came through the radios.

  Luis' face turned crestfallen as Dak looked to him with questions in his eyes. He already knew the answer. He'd heard the same orders.

  The men in the SUVs were turning back to help squelch the sudden attack on Mendoza's compound.

  "It's Marco," Luis said. "He's bringing back the assault team."

  Fifteen

  Uruapan

  Dak and Luis managed to survive the initial onslaught from Mendoza's men. They had surrounded the room and fired copious amounts of bullets into the study. The front of the oak desk looked like it had been through a tornado, with holes and jagged pieces of wood splintering off from its façade.

  The desk held, though, leaving Dak and Luis unscathed.

  They knew that wouldn't last.

  The two former Delta Force operators knew that when the reinforcements arrived, they would be overrun, and that was minutes away.

  "You think this Marco character is willing to throw everything at us?" Dak asked as he sat on the floor with his back against the right-hand filing drawers.

  "Definitely," Luis answered. "Marco is savage. I'm pretty sure he's never liked me, either. I think he wants to take over the cartel."

  Dak lowered his AR-15 and grabbed one of the pistols from his hip. He leaned around the corner and fired another three shots through a window at a silhouette beyond.

  The target jerked and then withdrew, taking a round to the shoulder. Dak immediately retreated to the safety of the desk's cover as another volley followed the outburst.

  Within seconds, the shooting ceased again.

  The men firing at them would run out of rounds at some point, or at least Dak hoped that was the case. He figured that was the reason for their conservative approach thus far as they waited for reinforcements to arrive.

  "Is there another way out of here?" Dak asked.

  "Out of the study?" Luis met his gaze. "No."

  Dak swore to himse
lf.

  "But there is a secret passage leading out of the compound. It's in the basement, attached to Mendoza's war room."

  An eyebrow arched over Dak's right eye. "War room? He has a war room?"

  Luis shrugged. "The guy was a planner. I'm not sure if you noticed, but these cartels are engaged in a war."

  "You don't say."

  Another smatter of gunfire roared from outside the building. The ravaged drywall behind the desk puffed clouds of white dust, the tattered remains of the surface ripped with each bullet.

  When the cacophony died down again, Dak exhaled. "So, secret passage, huh?"

  "Yeah. But the door will be covered on the other side by Mendoza's men. We'll be easy targets for the guys outside. We won't even get close."

  Dak looked down at the two grenades and the flash-bang attached to his vest. He could take the chance and throw one through a window, but he could miss and the thing might take a bad bounce. They'd be safe behind the desk and there was an outside chance the shrapnel would take out some of the men close to the windows, but that was doubtful.

  Then Dak remembered seeing a fireplace in a sitting area near the bookshelves on the other side of the room.

  "That fireplace is gas, yeah?" he asked, a flicker of hope rising in his chest.

  "Yeah," Luis said. "Why?"

  Dak glanced over at his friend and handed him the pistol. "Cover me," he said.

  "What?" Confusion filled Luis' eyes.

  "On three, we open fire. Aim for the two farthest windows. I'll take the two closest."

  "Why do I have to take the farther targets?"

  Dak sighed. "Because I'm on this side. It doesn't matter if you hit them. We just have to get Mendoza's men to back off for a second."

  "What are you going to do?" Luis searched his old friend for answers.

  Dak met his eyes. "Something crazy."

  Luis snickered the way only a man with nothing left to lose could.