Finally, the lieutenant spoke to the foreigners again. "He will come."
Then he called to his soldiers. The two men pointing rifles at Jacom stepped away from the rental car. They took positions watching the foreigners. Soldiers blocked the other exit at the far end of the alley.
Lyons and Blancanales sat with Lieutenant Soto on the truck ramp. The headlights of the rented cars lit the scene. Blancanales used the wait to question the lieutenant.
"Your commander is a patriotic soldier?"
"Claro que si! Why do you ask such a question?"
"And as a senior officer, he earns a good salary, yes?"
"He is comfortable. Why do you..."
"Lieutenant, I do not mean to insult your commander. But I must ask. Has he become inexplicably more comfortable, even wealthy in the past year?"
"He says he has been successful in his investments."
"He says?"
"I do not interrogate my commander."
"And your sergeant. Is he a successful investor also?"
"No," the lieutenant laughed. "For a gift for his grandchild's baptism, he borrowed the money from me."
"Could you perhaps ask the sergeant to watch the street? If anyone other than your commander appears, if the sergeant sees cars or trucks he does not recognize, could you ask him to notify you immediately? Please do not misunderstand me. But it is possible that anything is possible."
The lieutenant nodded and spoke quickly into his walkie-talkie. A voice answered immediately. The lieutenant relayed the message to his captors.
"He sees many headlights."
Lyons yelled, "Wizard! Jacom! Off the lights! Right now!"
Moving slowly, Gadgets set down his Uzi, then leaned into the car to switch off the headlight. The lights of the second car went black an instant later.
They heard engines. Tires squealed around corners. Blancanales spoke quickly to the lieutenant.
"Tell your soldiers to take cover! The International..."
"You are my prisoners, you don't give me commands!"
"Lieutenant! They are the enemies of your nation and ours! Your men will die if...''
Tires screeched to a halt. Autofire shattered the night. Bullets shrieked the length of the alley. A soldier screamed with pain.
Soldiers returned the fire. Other soldiers shouted to their lieutenant for instructions.
"We're on your side, Lieutenant," Lyons told the Mexican officer.
"Return my pistol!"
Lyons eased down the old Colt's hammer and passed it to the lieutenant.
Snapping back the hammer, Lieutenant Soto aimed at Lyons's face.
13
Autoweapons flashed, lighting the alley like strobes. A single tracer streaked across the darkness, sparked against a wall, spun wildly into the night.
Gadgets stayed flat on the asphalt. He heard a wounded man screaming. Slugs hammered the rented car, glass shattered and fell. Voices shouted Spanish. The wounded man called for his friends to help him, his words going from sobs to moans to cries for help again. Gadgets reached out and grabbed Vato's arm.
"What're they saying? What's going on?"
"The soldiers call the lieutenant. For instructions. The lieutenant calls for soldiers to take the prisoners. The gang tells them to run away, to leave the North Americans."
Gadgets shouted toward the warehouse ramp. "Pol! Ironman! Let the lieutenant go."
"I did! He's pointing a pistol at me."
"Silence!" Lieutenant Soto ordered.
Slinging his captured Uzi over his shoulder, Gadgets slipped out his Beretta 93-R. He touched the extractor to confirm a round in the chamber. Then he whispered to Vato.
"Count to ten, then switch on the car lights for an instant. Just an instant. On and off. Think you can do that without getting shot?"
"When the gang sees the lights..."
"I know, I can dig it. Instant target. Just on and off. I only need a millisecond of light."
"To free the others, yes?"
"That's the scam."
"Go."
"Just do it and get down. One!"
Counting to himself, Gadgets crept across the asphalt to the ramp. Before the firefight, he had seen Lyons and Blancanales with the Mexican lieutenant in the corner of the freight dock. Now he navigated by memory through the darkness. The shouts and shooting covered his steps.
His fingers found the concrete ramp. Paralleling the ramp, he continued to the spot where the ramp met the elevated loading dock. Kicking through litter, he heard Blancanales arguing with the lieutenant in an urgent whisper. Gadgets pointed the Beretta into the black.
The lights came on, Gadgets lining up the sights on the Mexican officer, the lieutenant turning, the muzzle of the Colt swinging around, Lyons moving, Blancanales shouting, "Don't kill him."
Darkness again. Then the Colt flashed, lighting the image of Lyons pushing the Colt up to the sky with his left hand as his right fist hit the lieutenant's jaw. Gadgets held the Beretta ready as he listened to Lyons disarm the Mexican.
"You punk," Lyons cursed. "You bozo excuse for soldier. Your men are getting killed and you won't talk sense. You just lost your command. Pol, tell those soldiers out there what to do."
"Can't do it. They wouldn't listen to me. He's their officer. Lieutenant, may I suggest that you take us prisoner later?"
"You surrender?"
Lyons refused. "Noway!"
Blancanales negotiated. "We'll continue talking after..."
Gadgets solved it. "Hey, Lieutenant. Our cars are shot to shit, we're on foot, we're in a strange city how're we going to get away? Talking about surrender don't mean a thing. Because you got us."
"True," the lieutenant said. "And perhaps the other things you said are true. But there will be many questions. For you and whoever sent you into my country. Stay here."
They heard his boots hit asphalt. He called to a soldier. At the other end of the alley, weapons flashed, the gunmen firing when they heard the lieutenant's voice. Trash scattered, cans rolled.
"Whose side is he on?" Gadgets asked.
"He doesn't understand the situation," Blancanales answered.
"I do." Lyons dropped off the loading dock. Crabbing across the asphalt, slugs zipping through the night above him, he blundered into someone and banged into the car.
"Who is..."
"That you, Vato?"
"Si. Qutes.... What is the problem?"
"Problem's over. Where's Jacom? Anything from Ixto or Davis or Kino?"
"Nothing from the others. Jacom is there." Vato pointed somewhere in the darkness. Lyons could not see his hand.
Then the night went white. The alley became a black-and-white scene of shifting forms and lines touched by bursts of red. The warehouses, the loading doors, a gunman running in the center of the alley the scene and moving images oscillated as a searing white point of light above the alley swung on a tiny parachute.
In the flare light, the soldiers sprayed full-auto 5.56mm bullets at the running gunman. The cloth of his suit shook and rippled with the impacts of high-velocity slugs. A mist sprayed behind him, thousands of tiny drops glittering with magnesium white light. Dead in the air, the gunman never completed his stride.
"Los otrosl"The lieutenant shouted again and again.
Soldiers aimed their weapons at the gunmen at the far end of the alley, where several sedans and pickups blocked the exit. The white glare exposed three gunmen in the open. Rifle fire from the platoon threw one man against a truck, spun another. The third man went flat behind a mound of trash. Bullets tossed bits of garbage into the air. Cans clanked and jumped.
Lyons took his Atchisson from the car. He took two full Atchisson mags from the floor and shook off the broken glass. The mags went in the left-hand pockets of his pants. Snapping back the cocking lever to chamber a round from the magazine in the weapon, he waited.
Tires skidded, headlights appeared at the other end of the alley as the International cut off any escape.