“Yes, sir.”
Nate rolled his latest takedown against the rotting trunk of a dead palm tree. The man was still alive, though that status was contingent on his receiving medical treatment in the next few hours. Four of the other soldiers he’d removed were already dead or almost, while the last two were tied up and unconscious at separate locations.
It was clear a retreat was in progress. The man now lying against the palm tree had been headed back to the fort in a hurry. Nate had heard others, too, moving through the brush.
He took the man’s weapons and dumped them under a bush thirty feet away, then returned to his hiding place near the wall. He was just in time to see two soldiers pass inside. After they were gone, he could hear no one else moving around, and soon guessed they were the last to return. The question now was, would the soldiers come back out again? Or were they going to remain in the fort?
Twenty minutes passed without the door opening again, then he noticed movement along the top of the wall. He crawled through the brush until he was far enough back to get a better look. Five men were spread out along the top.
It appeared as though they had decided to stay home for now. Too bad, but not the end of the world. He knew all he had to do was lure them out again.
He’d just give them a little time to settle in while he prepared.
CHAPTER 51
Duran Island
The map showed that the fort was located on the southwestern end of Duran Island, so they came at it from the northeast, taking the boat in as close to the beach as they could get before dropping anchor.
Quinn held up the computer in front of Porter’s face. The map of the island was on the screen. “This airstrip,” he said, pointing at the lines indicating a landing area. “Is the cargo plane there?”
Porter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What cargo-”
Quinn slapped him in the cheek. “Is it?”
“No. It’s at St. Renard’s in Cordoba. There’s no storage or fueling facility on the island.”
That was good news. No simple way for anyone to get off. “I assume there’s a road or something to get from the runway to the fort without having to hack through the jungle.”
Porter nodded. “A path. Starts right here.” He touched the map and moved his finger, stopping it right before he reached the fort. “And comes out here.”
On the ride over, Quinn had questioned Porter multiple times about the strength of Romero’s force on the island. Porter said there were about twenty men. Quinn automatically doubled that number just to be safe.
Forty against Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng. Not exactly the odds he would have liked, but odds, as he’d learned over the years, meant nothing. His little team would have the element of surprise, and that could easily tilt the balance in their favor.
“And how does anyone get inside?”
“There’s a door in the wall.” He pointed at the map again. “There.”
Quinn closed the laptop. “Thank you, Mr. Porter. Now it’s time for you to go to sleep.”
A small, quick-inflating landing raft carried the three of them and their gear to shore. On the beach, they divvied out the equipment and headed inland.
Walking through the jungle was not as hard as Quinn had feared. While there was plenty of vegetation, it wasn’t thick enough to slow them down, and within minutes they reached the clearing where the airstrip was located. The deserted runway stretched for nearly the entire width of the island.
Double-timing it, they crossed the tarmac and entered the jungle on the other side. From there, they walked along the edge of the clearing until they reached the road Porter had pointed out.
It was wide enough for a small car, but not much else. Quinn could see where branches had been chopped away, and guessed that it was a constant struggle to keep the path from being reclaimed by nature. To avoid exposing themselves to anyone who might be using it, they stuck to the jungle a few yards off the trail, using it only as a guide.
Twenty minutes later, Orlando tapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Look,” she said.
She was pointing ahead of them and up through a break in the trees. Just visible, maybe a quarter mile away, was a small section of the stone wall that surrounded Fort Duran.
Quinn smiled to himself. Not far n-
“Did anyone hear that?” Daeng said.
Quinn looked over and shook his head. “What was it?”
“I don’t know. It sounded like-”
There was a loud crack of wood, followed by a groan that was most definitely human. The sounds had come from the right and closer to the fort.
“That, I heard,” Quinn said.
CHAPTER 52
Harris was once more standing next to Romero in the courtyard. The first three prisoners had received their lashes, and were hanging from their hoists, moaning in exhaustion and pain.
It was Peter’s turn.
“Make this one extra special,” Romero ordered Janus.
The blond man smiled. “My pleasure.” He unfurled his whip again, and snapped it against the stone floor.
Romero looked back at the soldier manning the camera. “You are getting everything, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Facing forward again, Romero said, “I hope you’re ready, Peter.”
The hooded figure made no reply.
Romero nodded at Janus. “Commence.”
Janus pulled his arm back, letting the whip drape behind him, but just as he was about to let it fly, a different kind of cracking noise came over the wall into the courtyard. It was followed immediately by a second, fainter noise.
“Stop,” Harris said.
Janus had already paused, and turned to look at the top of the wall.
Harris was looking that way, too. “What was that?” he called up to the sentry nearest him.
“Don’t know,” the man answered. He gestured behind him, beyond the wall. “Someone’s out there.”
“You heard a voice?”
“Yes, right after the breaking sound. Sounded like they were hurt.”
The only one it could be was Quinn. “See if you can spot him. I’m sending the others back out!” He turned to Romero. “Maybe we should finish this later.”
“Absolutely not,” Romero said. “There will be no finishing later. Janus can handle this fine. Go. Bring back Quinn.”
CHAPTER 53
Nate created half a dozen weapons caches in places where he thought he’d need them. Each cache consisted of at least one of the seized firearms and two softball-sized rocks.
As he was doing this, he kept an eye on the fort in case anyone ventured out, but the door didn’t open once. After he was set on the weapons front, he moved on to creating the lure.
He figured there were two ways to get their attention-visibly or audibly expose himself. A visible exposure was not very appealing. One of the soldiers might get off a lucky shot, and injure or even kill him. A loud sound, though, was different. He could control that.
He searched around for anything that could aid him in making the noise, and finally found something he thought would work. It was a tree, dead, but still standing. The branches looked brittle and easy to snap off. There was a large one, about the size of Nate’s arm, halfway up. If he could break that off, the noise would be heard by the sentries on the wall.
He found the strongest vine he could, secured a stone to one end, tossed it up and over the branch, then did it one more time so that it had a good grip on the limb.
Tentatively, he gave it a pull and then let go. The branch was definitely ready to break, but he wondered if it would be enough. They might just think it was a natural occurrence, and he’d be wasting his efforts. He would have to reinforce it with a little human touch.