“What do you do for your contact?” I demand. “What’s your role in all this?”
He’s breathing heavy and panicking, seeing the look I know I have in my eyes. It’s a look of impatience, and it’s a look so dark, you can see Hell itself in my baby blues. It’s a look I’ve perfected over years of dealing with demons. Good to know I can still turn it on and off when required, despite burying those demons long ago.
“I ’upply guns,” he says, finally. “I ge’ paid ’o ’ranspor’ weapon in’o the coun’ry and all over ’he worl’.”
Gun-running?
“Who are the guns for?”
“Whoever wan’s ’em, I guess. I dunno who he gives ’em ’o, hones’ly.”
“What’s your contact’s name?” He hesitates, so I lean in and press my forearm against his throat. “His name?” I yell.
“He calls hi’self Ares,” he says, looking more afraid.
Ares. The God of War.
Whoever this Ares is, my money’s on him being the same person who green-lighted the mission to hijack my plane and bring me here. So he’s paying Carlos Vega and his cartel to smuggle weapons into the States and everywhere else? But why?
I look at Vega. I’ve got all I’m going to get from him, I know that. I believe what he’s told me. I glance quickly at the side we’re leaning against and spy a screwdriver.
Without another word, I grab it and jam it hard into the side of Vega’s neck, all the way to the handle. His eyes widen in shock, and he clutches at his throat, gargling as blood spurts from the wound. I step back, allowing him to sink to the floor. He falls sideways, dead.
“Goodbye, Carlos,” I mutter to myself before looking at the door. “Now, how do I get out of here?”
19
I’m outside the garage, leaning flat against the side of the small building, staring over at the main house. I’m in the corner of one of the gardens at the back. I imagine any vehicles are parked out front, so I have to get into the house, find my bag and my guns, and make my way through unseen.
Well… I’ll settle for just getting through the house. Unseen is probably asking a bit much.
I compose myself and then sprint over to the door I remember standing at earlier, keeping as low as I can, all the while looking around for anyone patrolling the grounds. It’s probably close to three hundred yards, and I cover the distance quickly, ignoring the dull ache in my torso as my heart rate increases.
As I approach the house, I see a man turning round the far corner toward me. I drop to the floor, sliding across the grass and coming to a stop by a small wall with white, cast iron railings in it, which makes up the large patio area at the rear. I crouch down close to the steps and listen for the footfalls of the sentry. Ideally, they’ll head down the steps toward me, but it’s no issue if they don’t.
I wait for a few moments and hear them passing me as they cross the width of the patio. I chance a peek over the wall and through the railings. The man is level with my position, walking away from me. He’s carrying his AK-47, loose at his side, with one hand resting on it.
Slowly I stand before creeping up the steps. Staying low, I move behind the guy, pausing a moment to make sure he’s not heard me. Happy he hasn’t, I pounce forward, placing my left hand over his mouth and pulling him into me as I pinch his nose with my right. I drag him backward away from the house and down the steps, clamping down on his face tightly. By the time we’re standing down by the wall again, he’s dead. I release him, and he drops to the floor. I take his weapon and quickly frisk him for spare ammo, and then head back up the steps. After a few steps, I pause and look back at the corpse.
His upper body looks a similar shape to mine…
I quickly bend down and take off his badly-colored shirt, throwing it on and fastening all but the top two buttons. It’s hideous, but it fits. I pick up the gun and head inside the house.
Standing in the doorway from before, I think back to what I’ve seen of the house. I know what’s to my left, because that’s where I woke up the first time. I could go straight on or right, but I think I’m best sticking with what I know.
I head left and down the hall to the large living room with the brown leather sofa in it. The women are still sitting there, with their backs to me, laughing and giggling. I take one step into the room just as two men enter from the opposite side. Our eyes meet, and we all freeze momentarily.
I raise my rifle and fire a few rounds before they can react. The one on the left catches the brunt of it and drops to the floor, his trigger finger twitching, as he dies, enough to fire off a few rounds himself, but they’re not aimed anywhere in particular. The second guy has enough time to react, diving away to the right and out of view behind the sofa.
The women’s giggles turn to screams, which is the last thing I wanted. Nothing attracts people more than females screaming.
Except maybe gunfire, I guess… Shit! This place will be crawling with cannon fodder any second…
I run into the room, firing blind and hitting the second guy as he positions himself on the floor. I hear the squelching impact as the bullets hit his body. I rush over, retrieving his rifle and taking care not to slip in the pooling blood seeping out from underneath him.
With an AK-47 in each hand, I exit the room the way they had entered and head to where I woke up. Nearby, but out of sight, I hear raised voices and commotion, so any element of surprise I had was now gone.
I enter the room and skid to a halt as seven men all spin around and look at me, their rifles primed and leveled at me.
I chuckle nervously. “Has anyone seen my bag?” I ask, before lifting both rifles up and firing from the hip in their general direction.
They only weigh about eleven pounds a-piece, but when you’re holding them up one in each arm and firing them while running, it quickly puts a strain on your muscles.
The rifle itself isn’t designed for accuracy, and I’m in no position to take aim. I just fan both rifles back and forth across the room, soon hitting everyone in front of me. They all flail to the floor; not one of them, thankfully, having enough time to get a shot off.
I take a second to regain my composure, and then run across the room to the door at the opposite end, going through into another hallway. The large double front doors are ahead of me, and I see my bag resting at the side, which is a stroke of luck. They must’ve put it there after taking me to the garage.
I rush over to it, checking quickly before I drop the rifles and open it up. Both my Berettas are inside; along with all the other equipment I remember having. They must’ve put all my stuff back in there after I’d left with Vega.
No sign of my cell though, which is a pain in the ass.
I sling it over my back, tucking one of my guns at the back of my waistband and keeping one in my right hand. Quickly, I look around to make sure no one’s nearby, and then I slowly open the front door, trying not to make a noise.
A voice shouts behind me as I turn the handle. I look over my shoulder and see a man at the top of the staircase gesturing at me with his rifle. I quickly raise my Beretta and fire once, hitting him in the throat, before opening the door and stepping outside.
I was right, in that there are indeed several vehicles, parked at various angles, in front of the house. There are also, however, five men standing in a line with their AK-47s aimed at the front door, blocking my exit.
I don’t even think about it, I just run to my left and start firing blind. I somehow make it to the corner of the house, diving around the bend, as I click down on an empty chamber. I lean against the wall, breathing heavy. I switch my Berettas around, making a note to remember the one at my back is now empty, and peek round the corner at the main courtyard.