part0048

“Yes, I meant exactly that. It’s tomorrow, and we’ve started.” Jeremiah fixed Sam with an expression that spoke exaggerated patience. “What’s the problem?”

“Don’t you think taking a gal to Mexico on the first date is moving rather quickly?” she asked and peered through the scope of her rifle at the villa they’d had under surveillance for the last hour. “Don’t get me wrong, I like your style, but I’d also like to know where this whole thing will go from here.”

“Well, the simple explanation is that we traced the money paid to some lowlifes who stole from us to this address. Usually, you would expect criminals to avoid a money trail directly to their residences, but I imagine the tax officials in Mexico are a little laxer regarding the drug money tied to a cartel boss’ home.”

“Either that or they know they’ll be fed to the guard dogs if they show up to collect,” Sam replied, still focused into the scope. “Although I’m sure the man who owns this place is a stand-up guy who made his fortune selling porcelain dolls or something.”

“No, from the electronic security, I’d say he made his fortune in IT,” he quipped.

“Yeah, because the amount of physical security around the place screams innocence.” She shifted a little to find a more comfortable position. “Seriously, I count at least fifteen patrollers with body armor and assault rifles. Wait—how the hell do you know about the electronic security in the place?”

“Let’s just say that I have a tiny—and, I assume, hot—Russian whispering all the details in my ear.” Savage grinned.

“Damn hot,” Anja said through the earpieces they were both connected to.

“Well, shoot, Savage, why didn’t you tell me you liked hot Russians?” Sam glanced at him with a smirk.

He had the oddest feeling Anja smirked as well.

“What’s more important, they like me too.” He shrugged carelessly. “I clean up good. What can I say?”

Sam chuckled and turned back to her scrutiny of the target location. “Ass,” she grumbled under her breath.

She had selected the weapon herself from the fairly military-esque arsenal on offer from Anja’s “friend.” Given the wide range available, Savage thought she’d made the right choice. They had debated over the points of the operation on the drive over and ultimately decided that her grasp of the intricacies of long-distance shooting was firmer than his. As a result, she got to play overwatch while he actually operated as the ground force.

That was how these things worked. They played to their individual skills for the most effective and efficient result. She was also a new member of this operation and he didn’t mind giving her the simpler task of providing him with cover as he raided the home of a heavily guarded cartel boss.

He’d heard the stories of how the organization was fairly sadistic when it came to punishing people who crossed them. That truth left him unmoved. They had crossed him first, which meant he had to prove to them that he was even more sadistic and more than willing to engage that part of himself. If they responded with their usual cruel aggression, he’d happily reciprocate.

It wasn’t a flawless plan, but it did have simple brute-force appeal. The straightforward approach also suited the timeline they worked to, and he didn’t mind having to improvise along the way.

Besides, most of the cartels didn’t bother to hire from a widening pool of members with former military backgrounds to protect themselves, considering how expensive it was. They usually recruited one former special forces—usually FARC—and expected them to train others in the business of keeping them safe.

The remainder of the teams were generally low-level enforcers—former police and friends and family of the boss in question. As it turned out, nepotism flourished among the drug cartels.

“Okay, do you have your facts straight?” Savage asked. The killer side of him had been silent, but it now stirred and jostled for supremacy. “I’d hate to barrel in there and end up dead because you forgot to convert imperial to metric.”

“Oh, please.” Sam laughed and shook her head dismissively. “Stop stalling. I’m well aware that our little nest is seven hundred meters from the location. I have a laser distance locator on the scope of this little beauty”—she patted the weapon in her hands—“and am more than confident that I can punch through any of the body armor our little friends down there are wearing. Which, incidentally, is why I asked for armor-piercing rounds instead of the hollow points you wanted to go with.”

“Fair enough. Okay, so I’m officially out of things to stall with. Time to put myself in the crosshairs of a bunch of angry coke addicts with military-grade weapons. Yay me.”

Savage eased reluctantly away from the sniper nest she had set up and approached the road where they’d left their car.

The heat would kill him. He grimaced and stepped into the vehicle that had baked under the one-hundred-degree sunlight for the better part of an hour while they made their preparations.

It occurred to him that Thanksgiving was still a couple of months away. Not that the holiday had any relevance for a man who technically didn’t exist. He only really thought of it because there was a very real possibility that he’d end up like one of those dry and chewy turkeys nobody really wanted to eat until everyone was drunk and no longer cared.

He put the car in drive—no, first gear since they had rented a car with a stick shift. It had been a while, but he had spent a few years driving in countries where automatic gear shifts were considered a luxury not everyone could afford. Even with this, though, he’d had to readjust to the delicate dance to use the clutch, change gears, and accelerate.

They’d enjoyed a few laughs on the drive there. He’d ground a couple of gears and even stalled once before he settled into the new routine. Despite the humor in it, he knew familiarity with the vehicle might well save his life. Who wanted to stall if you needed to make a hasty getaway?

The winding road made the drive a little longer than a simple hike would have been. It had also allowed them to park and set their nest up out of view in the thick shrubbery that surrounded the Alvarez home.

“I stand by my earlier statement that this is a bad idea,” Savage said as he pulled the old VW to a stop in front of the heavy steel gates of the mansion. No one had paid particular attention to the mild protest, of course, and this did give him a few moments of possible surprise he could use. Casually, he stepped out of the vehicle. It was too hot for a coat, unfortunately. The first thing the guards would see when they peered through the cameras was a man with a shotgun, an assault rifle, and a pistol walking up to the gate.

“We need to time this perfectly, okay?” he reminded Anja as he stepped in front of the barrier and focused on the men who approached on the other side. They looked more confused than alarmed. He could imagine that one man walking up to a house surrounded by heavily armed men, despite being well-armed himself, could easily be considered insane.

Which was exactly what he wanted them to think. He couldn’t merely storm the fortress. Guile and cunning were needed, or things would go badly.

“I know, okay?” Anja replied. “I have it working perfectly from my side.”

“Well, if I get started and you don’t come through on your end, I’ll look stupid.” He scowled when the dozen guards who had broken away from the patrol gestured at him and laughed. “And I hate looking stupid.”

“Don’t worry, I have your back, sexy American.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, sister,” he retorted in as sexy a growl as he could manage.

“Qué estás haciendo aquí? ” one of the men shouted, coming in closer. “Vete o dispararemos! ”

“Do you need a running translation?” she asked.

“I think I have the gist of it.” He raised his free hand and projected the most intense, arrogant attitude he could. In this heat, it was difficult to keep up the act, but his teammate responded immediately, as planned.

Sure enough, when his hand raised, the heavy metal gates began to swing back and opened wide enough for him to enter. The surprise and confusion on the men’s faces were palpable as Savage stepped calmly through the gates and waved his hand again. He smirked when they closed obediently.

“Come on, boys,” he said to stunned onlookers. “You have to admit that looked as cool as fuck.”

Their immobility and apparent inability to shoot the man who had strolled into their domain like an other-worldly apparition confirmed their agreement with his less than eloquent summation.

“If you thought that was cool, though…” He pointed finger guns at two men selected at random. “Wait until you see this.”

He mimicked a hammer cocking with his right thumb. Sam took her cue and delivered a neat, red-blossomed hole to the target’s head. He teetered a couple of steps to the side and fell and his brains erupted across the perfectly manicured grass.

Savage cocked his left thumb and another man dropped. It seemed to confuse them further that it wasn’t the one he had pointed at. Still, it made sense for his teammate to eliminate the one who was actually drawing his weapon.

“That’s right, bitches.” Savage raised the assault rifle hanging from a strap and aimed it at the men who stood in shock and bewilderment. “I have a big fucking gun too.”

“Demonio!” one of the younger guards screamed as he abandoned his weapon and backpedaled. The others were distracted by one of their own quickly breaking ranks, and while not all of them were as superstitious as the first, Savage could tell they had real doubts about engaging.

This was his time to capitalize and he selected his targets. His weapon carried armor-piercing rounds, too, that would penetrate even the better-quality body armor these men wore. Of course, the slugs wouldn’t do as much damage once they actually reached flesh, but he could live with that. He pulled the trigger and nodded with satisfaction when a third man slumped heavily against one of the others.

He rapidly identified a second target as Sam acquired her third. Simple teamwork between him and his sniper partner enabled them to sweep through the dozen men before they even had time to try to return fire.

The young man who had tried to flee, thinking their attacker had demon powers, was the last to die. Savage didn’t have much sympathy, even though the kid seemed barely a year over twenty.

Still, the youngster hadn’t stood much of a chance. He could hardly be expected to hold firm, especially when he had been dutifully raised in an environment that called for holy water first and asking questions later.

Savage ejected the empty magazine from his M16A7, retrieved a spare from his pocket, and slapped it home before he chambered a round.

“That was good shooting back there, Sam.” He smiled and strode toward the mansion ahead at a calm but brisk pace. His gaze searched the location to identify where the other guards were stationed.

“Do you have eyes on the others? Either of you?” he asked finally when his search revealed nothing of value.

“It looks like most of the outside is undefended,” Samantha said. “You have a clear approach to the house.”

“And the doors are already unlocked,” Anja said. “It feels like cheating when they use these smart houses—like they don’t mind when someone like me slips inside and controls their lives. There were three men who rushed into the basement when the shooting started. They have an armory there, so I locked them inside.”

“How secure is that locking mechanism?” Savage asked and paused to peer into the house he found unlocked, as promised.

“They built a nuclear bunker around it, all tied with a pretty bow with some of the best electronic security that money can buy,” the hacker replied.

“Let me guess—a system a friend of yours designed?” He trusted her, but he also didn’t want to be shot in the back by someone who had slipped through under her radar.

“Hell no, I designed that shit.” She laughed.

“So, if it’s that secure, you’re talking about three very untrained, very angry men in a room full of what I can assume is a significant stash of military-grade weaponry.”

As if on cue, the entire building shook and a loud roar exploded from the basement. “Well, I guess that proves the point I wanted to make—that they might actually do something for our long-term benefit.”

“I hear you loud and clear.” Her laugh sounded almost evil. “Anyway, I locked our target in his bedroom on the second floor. He was in the middle of his siesta, so the only weapon he has access to is what appears to be a very expensive Colt Army with naked women carved in ivory on the handle. Obviously, it still fires, so keep your guard up. Oh, be warned. Our friend’s siesta did include a couple of younger women in bikinis.”

“I doubt they’ll be in bikinis by the time I get there.” Savage sidled up the marble staircase without incident and reached the heavily gilded doors that hid Alvarez’ personal quarters. Their background was old oak but the structure itself was cast iron, which made it impossible for anyone to force their way through.

Thankfully, he utilized something subtler than muscle. He gestured dramatically with his hand as Anja opened the doors to provide entry.

“When it’s only you around, it looks lame,” she said as she closed the doors behind him.

“It felt cool, and that’s all that matters.” He grinned and paused a few steps in to peer at the cameras above him before he swept his gaze over the large, very lavish apartment. The concept behind it appeared to be a statement of authority. Like the entire mansion, it boasted of wealth, power, and influence, a less than subtle statement declaring superiority and projecting invincibility.

He wondered vaguely if his target’s inner sanctum would reveal the real human essence of the man or was simply another extension of his façade, like his home.

Savage negotiated the living room, alert for possible dangers, and admired the art decorations. They screamed money, of course, but even he could appreciate the classier pieces even though he’d never be tempted to own them himself.

Soft cries and whimpers issued from a couple of women inside what he assumed was the bedroom. A moment later, harsh curses clearly indicated that the man within knew his life was in danger.

The operative stepped into the room and made a rapid sweep of the corners before he focused on the people. No security men had rushed to defend their employer, but their absence didn’t necessarily mean he could relax.

A somewhat confusing scene unfolded. The two women were, as he’d assumed, naked. Both were young and perky and definitely not his type, but he could see the attraction. Alvarez would definitely be a man who went through a mid-life crisis in style.

One of the women huddled in the corner of the room. She sobbed and covered her ears and tried to make herself as small as possible.

The second was held around the neck by the third person in the room, a tall, corpulent man with a greying mustache and a pot belly. He bellowed in Spanish for the girl in the corner to shut the fuck up and brandished the classic Colt revolver in his hand.

The room fell silent when the trio caught sight of the intruder, who took another step into the room.

“Look… Al—can I call you Al?” Savage said and trained his weapon casually on the man in front of him. “I’m not here to kill you, and while I really don’t care if you shoot either of these girls, I’d rather you didn’t kill them. They seem innocent, for starters. Besides that, having to conduct these negotiations is stressful enough without the prospect of being distracted by two dead nubile girls.”

Alvarez peeked out from behind his human shield. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked in almost perfect English.

“Which part? It was something of a monologue back there and covered a few points.”

“You’re not here to kill me?” the man asked. “Then why did you kill all my guards?”

“In my defense, three of them killed themselves while trying to break out of your armory.” He shrugged and fought a grin because honestly, he didn’t think his opponent would appreciate the humor. “And…well, while I don’t want to kill you, I doubt you would have taken my suggestion that you give me the money you owe very well if you had fifteen or so armed goons around you, right?”

Alvarez nodded. “Good point.”

“Now, let the girls go and we can have a chat, hombre to hombre.” Savage butchered the pronunciation deliberately and the other man actually winced.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll be forced to shoot the girl in front of you through her right leg,” he explained calmly and took another step forward. “It’s armor-piercing ammo so it’ll hit you in the leg—or maybe the kidney. I can’t really guess accurately with you behind her, but it’ll be one or the other. And it would make this conversation far more difficult.”

The cartel boss took a moment to think before he finally let the hammer drop gently forward on his weapon and released the girl in front of him.

“Get out of here,” the operative said. “Both of you.”

He wasn’t sure if they could understand him, but they had most likely intended to do that anyway. In fact, they didn’t bother to even attempt to gather their clothes before they scuttled away without a glance at either of the two men.

“Now we talk, yes?” Alvarez asked. “Hombre to hombre, and you don’t kill me?”

“That’s right.” Savage smiled when the man set his pistol aside and lowered his own weapon in turn. Of course, the Mexican could have a weapon hidden somewhere, but the fact that he wore a bright red speedo and nothing else made the prospect unlikely.

“What do you want to talk about?” the cartel boss asked. “Although I would like to know which of my friends gave me up. Professional courtesy, as I’m sure you’ll understand. I give you what you want, and you let me take my revenge on someone who isn’t you.”

“I would, but honestly, I’m simply tracking the money.” He fixed the other man with a hard look. “The money you’re taking from Pegasus.”

“Who?” Alvarez narrowed his eyes in thought. After a second, they widened as the name suddenly clicked into place. “That stupid asshole Charles? If I give you what you want, you won’t kill me?”

“No, I won’t kill you, dumbass.” Impatience colored his tone and he wondered how many damn times he’d have to repeat himself before the dickwad believed him. “You owe over fourteen million dollars, American. Plus, another ten grand I spent on incidentals—no, you know what?” He stepped closer to the abandoned Colt and inspected the ivory handle which was, as a matter of fact, engraved with naked women. “I’ll take this, and we’ll call it an easy five grand.”

“That sounds fair.” Alvarez looked a little regretful but nodded toward a painting on the wall. “My personal safe is behind that. The code is eight-seven-five-three-six-six-nine.”

Savage tucked the weapon into his pocket once he’d checked it to be sure it wouldn’t fire before he approached the artwork. Sure enough, there was a safe behind it. He smirked at the unsurprising cliché as he punched in the numbers. It clicked and opened to reveal what looked like far more than fourteen million.

“Do you have a bag somewhere?” he asked Alvarez and turned to face him. “I forgot to bring one of my own and—oh, never mind, I found one.” He retrieved and opened an expensive burlap, which had obviously been left there for this precise purpose. Silence settled around the two men as he started counting the money he slid into the bag.

“Will you go after Charles?” the cartel boss asked finally as Savage worked quickly and quietly. “Because if you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to go after you. I need to make this look good, or my people will think I’m weak. So, you are either someone I’ve hired to target the man and I wanted you to prove your skills to me personally, or I hunt you for revenge.”

“Don’t threaten me.” He smirked but his tone was cold. “It’s not a nice thing to threaten your friends.”

“You are breaking into my home,” Alvarez shouted.

“I didn’t say close friends,” he grumbled under his breath.

“My men are all dead,” the man countered.

“Fine, acquaintances, then. Out of simple curiosity, how much money do you have in here?”

“A couple of months’ worth,” he answered with a shrug. “Your money is all in there. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worried, pal,” Savage said with a smile. “That’s fourteen million and…did we say five thousand?” He dropped another stack of bills inside before closing the safe again.

“An honest mercenary.” Alvarez looked genuinely confused. “What a delightful surprise.”

“I’ll tell you what, big guy. If I don’t take care of this Charles guy, I’ll return half this money. Not the five grand, though. I need that to cover my personal expenses. You know how these things go. So, are we agreed?”

He stepped closer and proffered one hand while the other held the assault rifle. The cartel boss looked more confused than before but shook briskly.

“Agreed, Mr… What do I call you?” he asked.

“I’m Savage,” he replied with a small grin and shook the drug boss’ hand once again to seal it.

“Well, obviously.”

He opened his mouth, a little startled by the comment, and blinked before he realized that the truth of his name had slipped right over the man’s head. Well, there was no need to correct him on it, so he smiled and released the hand he now realized was clammy with sweat.

“Consider me another sadistic, savage merc. But not one for hire. Not by you, anyway.”

The bag was a little heavier than he’d anticipated, and he grunted as he shouldered it before he made his way back toward the exit. Once he was out of eye and earshot of Alvarez, he pushed into a jog. While the conversation was civil enough, he knew the cartel lord would not easily forgive this little incident. They needed to get out of the range of his wrath—and out of the country—before a veritable army of crooked cops and angry goons initiated a manhunt.

“Are we clear for departure?” Sam asked once she saw him leave the building.

“Yep, and we should probably make it a rapid exit,” Savage replied, not quite out of breath by the time he reached the car. He bundled both weapons and cash into the back seat and slid behind the wheel to start the engine. “Pack up the nest and meet me where we were parked.”

“Copy that.” Five minutes later, Savage eased to a stop from where Samantha was visible lugging all the equipment. She added her pile to his and fell into the passenger seat, and he floored the accelerator to take the out of there before she’d even fully closed the door. A cloud of dust puffed indignantly behind them.

“I’ve cleared a route for the two of you to leave the country,” Anja said. “You might want to move the weapons and cash from the back seat and put it all somewhere less visible before you reach the border—or anywhere near civilization for that matter. Your safe window won’t last for long, so I suggest you avoid scenic roads.”