and told them of the situation.
They’d be headed to a private jungle airstrip. Somebody like El Gorrion would have a few of them, and every drug-running guerrilla airstrip worth its salt had an armed contingent sitting around. They probably didn’t even have to call in extra guys.
Except that she didn’t intend to let them land there. They’d have a change of travel plans toward the end. Yeah, she might die today, but she’d go out fighting.
She assessed the five men and pointed at the man with the bushiest beard. “Tell the man with the big beard to tie everyone up. Hands behind the back.” Aguilo repeated her instructions, and the man with the beard complied after urging from Guz.
She watched, waiting.
“Tell the man with the big beard to bring the guns to me. One by one. And he should hold them by their noses.” She pointed to the barrel.
The mistake a novice would make would be to have the teen play gofer, but the teen was the one with the least to lose here, and the most likely to be impulsive.
The guard translated, including her calling the barrel the nose. They all exchanged glances. That had been on purpose. Best that they think her a novice—it was one of her few advantages.
Yeah, what she’d done, it wasn’t a novice move, but they could tell themselves she got lucky. A man with his pants down, a sidearm. It could happen. And the lingerie, fucking with their minds like an optical illusion, preventing them from taking her seriously as a warrior.
The bearded man set the guns near her. Three Smith & Wessons. She beckoned him to push them nearer, and he did, gently, not wanting to upset her. Good. He’d been a good choice.
An extra jacket hung on a hook near the front. She longed to have the bearded man bring that to her, too, so that she could wrap up in it. She couldn’t.
The shoes were a problem, though, the way the heels had caught in the walkway. But she couldn’t let them see her scars or missing toes. The puncture behind her anklebone was visible enough, but that looked like an accident unless you saw the rest. They’d figure out what she was, and she’d lose the advantage of the outfit.
She requested warm, dry socks and a Tuff-Tie, waving the gun, finger on the trigger.
Aguilo translated, and the bearded man brought her the stuff. Quickly and discreetly she pulled off the heels and shoved on the socks. Then she pointed at Guz. “Tie him!” The bearded man regarded her wildly; he didn’t want to tie Guz.
“Tie him!” she barked.
The leader angled his wrists as the bearded man fit the tie around—loosely. Like a flash she was up; she smashed Guz’s wrists together with her stocking foot and yanked the cord tight, and then she was down. It had been a risky move—it gave away some of her expertise, and exposed her to gunfire, but she couldn’t have Guz getting free.
“Tighten the rest like that.” She gave him a wild look, and he did as she said. Their bonds might not hold, but it was a start.
Now the wait. The landing would be a bitch. She didn’t know how to fly this sort of plane, so she’d need at least one pilot. She couldn’t recognize one airstrip from the next. All she could do was to wait until they were in descent and force them to any airstrip but the one they wanted.
She sat back against the wall just far enough away from the leader that he couldn’t get to her easily. If it came to that, she’d have to shoot him somewhere non-vital and hope she wouldn’t hit something critical on the plane. She worked out a few angles in her mind.
He was looking away again. Fine. She took the opportunity to check which of the guns were loaded.
She might not be fit to be an agent anymore, but she remembered what to do. She just needed a lot of luck now. And to not think about what she’d done to Randall.
“ Ojos ,” she said.
Guz looked back at her, full of oily hate.
She put one of the guns in her garter belt. Another in the center of her bra. “Now I have
They’d be headed to a private jungle airstrip. Somebody like El Gorrion would have a few of them, and every drug-running guerrilla airstrip worth its salt had an armed contingent sitting around. They probably didn’t even have to call in extra guys.
Except that she didn’t intend to let them land there. They’d have a change of travel plans toward the end. Yeah, she might die today, but she’d go out fighting.
She assessed the five men and pointed at the man with the bushiest beard. “Tell the man with the big beard to tie everyone up. Hands behind the back.” Aguilo repeated her instructions, and the man with the beard complied after urging from Guz.
She watched, waiting.
“Tell the man with the big beard to bring the guns to me. One by one. And he should hold them by their noses.” She pointed to the barrel.
The mistake a novice would make would be to have the teen play gofer, but the teen was the one with the least to lose here, and the most likely to be impulsive.
The guard translated, including her calling the barrel the nose. They all exchanged glances. That had been on purpose. Best that they think her a novice—it was one of her few advantages.
Yeah, what she’d done, it wasn’t a novice move, but they could tell themselves she got lucky. A man with his pants down, a sidearm. It could happen. And the lingerie, fucking with their minds like an optical illusion, preventing them from taking her seriously as a warrior.
The bearded man set the guns near her. Three Smith & Wessons. She beckoned him to push them nearer, and he did, gently, not wanting to upset her. Good. He’d been a good choice.
An extra jacket hung on a hook near the front. She longed to have the bearded man bring that to her, too, so that she could wrap up in it. She couldn’t.
The shoes were a problem, though, the way the heels had caught in the walkway. But she couldn’t let them see her scars or missing toes. The puncture behind her anklebone was visible enough, but that looked like an accident unless you saw the rest. They’d figure out what she was, and she’d lose the advantage of the outfit.
She requested warm, dry socks and a Tuff-Tie, waving the gun, finger on the trigger.
Aguilo translated, and the bearded man brought her the stuff. Quickly and discreetly she pulled off the heels and shoved on the socks. Then she pointed at Guz. “Tie him!” The bearded man regarded her wildly; he didn’t want to tie Guz.
“Tie him!” she barked.
The leader angled his wrists as the bearded man fit the tie around—loosely. Like a flash she was up; she smashed Guz’s wrists together with her stocking foot and yanked the cord tight, and then she was down. It had been a risky move—it gave away some of her expertise, and exposed her to gunfire, but she couldn’t have Guz getting free.
“Tighten the rest like that.” She gave him a wild look, and he did as she said. Their bonds might not hold, but it was a start.
Now the wait. The landing would be a bitch. She didn’t know how to fly this sort of plane, so she’d need at least one pilot. She couldn’t recognize one airstrip from the next. All she could do was to wait until they were in descent and force them to any airstrip but the one they wanted.
She sat back against the wall just far enough away from the leader that he couldn’t get to her easily. If it came to that, she’d have to shoot him somewhere non-vital and hope she wouldn’t hit something critical on the plane. She worked out a few angles in her mind.
He was looking away again. Fine. She took the opportunity to check which of the guns were loaded.
She might not be fit to be an agent anymore, but she remembered what to do. She just needed a lot of luck now. And to not think about what she’d done to Randall.
“ Ojos ,” she said.
Guz looked back at her, full of oily hate.
She put one of the guns in her garter belt. Another in the center of her bra. “Now I have
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