Now, hiding behind bushes, waiting in the silence, I thought to myself: Please let his men be there.
In my earphone, I heard Tyner signal to his team leader, and then say in Spanish, “Red Team, we are in position. Let’s make some bacon.” He was telling them to open fire.
If Tyner expected a reply, he was disappointed because there was none.
We waited through a silence that seemed to originate in some dark place within me-the place where fear resides, perhaps-and that silence ballooned out into the night, permeating shadows and magnifying the vibrations of air molecules. The inner ear bridges an ancient barrier between land and water, taking sound waves and translating them into waves of liquid before the brain can then read them as electrical impulses.
That yapping dog-why didn’t someone in the village silence the damn thing?
In my earpiece, I heard Tyner repeat his order-“Red Team, we’re in position…” Then, long moments later, I heard him whisper, “Shit,” convinced they could not hear.
He stood, about to signal some command to me… and that’s when the world around us began to explode.
Tyner’s men were out there, all right. No doubt about that now. Possibly, there’d been a delay because of a bad detonator fuse. No way of knowing, but the first signature of attack was a series of three powerful explosions to the north of us that filled the night sky with volcanic showers of sparks and flame.
Then all of the lights in the hacienda compound blinked out.
In my earphones, I heard Tyner say in English, “It’s about time, boys.”
Then there was the rattle and whistle of small-arms fire, concentrated on the north end of the property, followed by shouts and one shrill scream from the direction of the main house.
I was standing and didn’t even realize it. Was already moving toward the wall. Full of adrenaline, full of an overpowering desire to find Amelia and Janet, I’d completely blanked on our battle plan until Tyner caught me from behind.
I felt his small hand grab my shoulder. “Steady, Ford. We’re going to give them the full minute. Let the guards clear our area before we go in.”
Now, very close, I could hear answering gunshots from inside the compound. Automatic rifles and pistol fire. The guards had rejoined forces, apparently, and were fighting back.
Tyner threw the thick rubber pad he was carrying up so it hung over the wall-in South America, the tops of nearly all walls are protected by shards of broken bottles cemented in place-and he said, “Give me a stirrup up. I’ll go in, secure the inside of the wall. When I whistle, follow me. I’ll go left, you go right.”
I was so chemically charged, so eager, that I nearly threw the little man over the barricade when he put his boot in my hands. I heard a burst of three rounds from his weapon, distinctive because of the sound suppressor- phuuut, phuuut, phuuut -then a shrill whistle. I vaulted up onto the top of the wall, rolled off the pad, and came to my feet.
Through the night-vision goggles, I could see scattered whitewashed buildings in a broad courtyard. Ahead was the main house, a massive place with an ornate, tiled roof-probably red. To my right, or the east, was a grove of citrus trees and a couple of big mangos. To the west was what might have been a small horse barn, but it had been fortified with bars on the windows. There was a heavy concertina-wire fence connected to it.
The layout matched the satellite intelligence that Harrington had provided.
My heart was pounding so hard, the skin on my chest and neck was vibrating, and I could feel the rush of blood in my brain. If they had brought Amelia here, and if Janet were still alive, they would probably be inside the barn.
Tyner was to my left, kneeling over what I realized was the body of a man. Whispering into his transmitter, he said, “He was a runner, trying to get out of fighting. Deserters. These are the ones you’ve got to watch out for because they’re never where you expect them to be.”
He had what looked to be surgical scissors in his hands, and he was doing something with the dead man’s fingers. When I realized what, I turned away.
“Don’t go soft on me now, Ford. You think the Colombian government takes my word for the casualties we inflict?”
I said, “You couldn’t wait and do that later?”
“Absolutely not. We’ve got no guarantees we’re going to secure this place. Money’s money.”
I was already moving toward the barn.
33
Because we were separated from the plantation’s north wall by the main house, we were protected from the main line of fire. Even so, I could hear the whistle of spent rounds ripping through the trees and ricocheting off rock walls. Ahead, there was a lot of screaming in garbled Spanish and some kind of Persian language, perhaps Pashto or Dari. When Tyner had caught up with me, I began to jog toward the barn.
“You see the light?”
I did. The back windows of the hacienda were suddenly illuminated by what must have been one or more kerosene lamps.
“If Kazan’s here, the turban, that’s where he’ll be. Inside the big house, probably crapping his bloomers he’s so scared. Now’s the time to take him. Before the shock wears off.”
I replied, “I don’t give a damn about Kazan. He’s his own punishment. I’m going to find those girls and get the hell out of here.”
“You got it back-assward, Commander. We pop the bad guys, then we snatch the hostages. Standard operating procedure.”
“No way. I’m not going to risk it. My friends are more important than your damn head count.”
“I’m warning you. Now’s the time, not later. What about your orders?”
I ignored him and kept moving, even as he added, “You’re making a mistake if you don’t waste that guy now. A mistake. Trust me.”
The barn was enclosed by common chain-link fence and topped with razor wire. At the gate was a heavy section of chain, which was padlocked. How the hell were we going to get that open?
When Tyner stepped toward it, I said, “Tell me you’re not going to try to shoot it off. You’ll kill us both. We’re going to have to find a way to climb over it.”
“No, we won’t.” From one of the cargo pockets, he pulled a metal device the size of a ratchet arm, fixed it onto the lock’s shackle, and began leveraging the handle. I waited for a minute, no more, though it seemed longer, before he finally said, “Bolt cutter,” and pushed the gate open wide. “Out here, when you knock on a door, lots of times people won’t answer.”
The barn was empty, though there was no doubt that it had served as a combination dormitory and prison. At one end, set inside a series of horse stalls, were a total of seven canvas cots, two or three to a stall. At the other end, in a larger stall, were two more canvas cots.
I remembered the intelligence provided me by Harrington: Seven women and two men had been photographed in a fenced area. This was the place. Presumably, the men had lived in one part of the barn, women in the other. The numbers added up. More telling that this place had been a prison, though, was its stench. It stunk of human waste, garbage, a festering unhealthiness. At each end were plastic five-gallon buckets. One had been spilled. The contents explained much of the stench.
To Tyner, I whispered into the transmitter, “Where are they? They were here. Hostages, their prisoners, they obviously kept them here. Where could they be?”
He was shaking his head. “Gate’s locked. It doesn’t make sense. Why would they lock an empty guardhouse?”
“I’m going to take a closer look around.”
Tyner had stationed himself at the door. “Make it fast. It’s been a little over eight minutes, and we only have a fifteen-minute window. My guys are going to start moving. They’re going to spread out and close in. We don’t want to be inside this place when that goes down.”