the unspoken statement. “Well, I’ve known him more than a dozen years, and I know he was doing it his way, no discussion, no edits.”
Bergenn nodded. “Doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”
“Maybe not,” Raabe agreed as he stood up and stretched his lanky frame, “but you’ll just have to get yourself un-frustrated, buddy. It’s time to rock and roll.”
The three men stepped out into the darkness and climbed into Carlton’s jeep, which was already packed with everything they would need.
At least they hoped it would be everything.
The captain sped off toward the dock, less than a quarter mile away.
————
The seaplane waiting for them was a classic de Havilland Otter, chosen because it was fast and unobtrusive and carried no military markings. It was the sort of single-engine aircraft seen throughout the Caribbean, ready to take affluent tourists island-hopping, aerial sightseeing, or shopping. Borrowing it was another favor Doug Carlton had to call in.
“Sandor owes me big-time,” he reminded the others with a wry grin.
“I’m sure you’ve been added to his list,” Bergenn said.
Raabe laughed. “His extensive list, you mean.”
Dawn was near as they stood at the water’s edge, ready to go.
“What if he’s completely off course?” Bergenn asked no one in particular as they climbed out of the jeep and headed toward the end of the short pier. “You guys have any idea how long the western shore of Maracaibo is?”
“I know exactly how long it is,” Carlton replied, “which means Sandor better end up somewhere near your rendezvous point.”
“Exactly,” Bergenn snapped.
The other two stopped and turned to him.
“Sorry. Guess I should have caught a nap, huh?”
“Or switched to decaf a few hours ago,” the captain suggested.
Raabe reached out and placed a hand on Bergenn’s shoulder. “We’re all worried man, but we’ll find him.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
INSIDE ADINA’S COMPOUND, SOUTH OF BARRANQUITAS
S ANDOR KNEW HIS only way out was to commandeer one of the four vehicles behind the main house, but he also knew he would first have to slow down their efforts to follow him. That meant he had to find a way to start one and disable the other three. With the entire compound on high alert there was no time to get under the hoods and rip out wires. That left him with the most direct approach—as soon as he got one of the vehicles running he would simply shoot out all of the other tires, hit the gas tanks, then take off.
He nodded to himself. That was the plan. Now he had to deal with the guards Adina would have assigned to watch over their transportation.
————
Francisco stood over Carlos as he radioed the situation to the guardhouse above.
“Mierda,” was Ramon’s immediate response.
“Exactly what I said,” Francisco agreed. “Report this to the main house, I’ll wait here.”
As the bad news was being relayed, Francisco began his efforts to revive Carlos. The technician was still lying in a leaden heap amid the toppled sacks and spilled cocaine, and he did not respond to being shaken or slapped hard across the face. Francisco took a moment to have a look around the room—bags had been moved and toppled with the white powder everywhere—and the knot in his stomach tightened.
In what seemed less than a minute he was joined by Alejandro, the head of security. He was tall and muscular, with a pockmarked complexion, coarse features, and a demeanor that seemed never to wander beyond a spectrum of angry and very angry. Other than Adina, there was not a man in the compound who did not fear him.
By way of greeting, Alejandro growled, “What the hell went on here?”
“Not sure yet,” Francisco told him. “We’ll know more once he comes to.”
The two men turned to the technician, who was beginning to show signs of life, and watched as he struggled to roll onto his back. As Carlos made a move to sit up, Alejandro leaned over and roughly took hold of
Bergenn nodded. “Doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”
“Maybe not,” Raabe agreed as he stood up and stretched his lanky frame, “but you’ll just have to get yourself un-frustrated, buddy. It’s time to rock and roll.”
The three men stepped out into the darkness and climbed into Carlton’s jeep, which was already packed with everything they would need.
At least they hoped it would be everything.
The captain sped off toward the dock, less than a quarter mile away.
————
The seaplane waiting for them was a classic de Havilland Otter, chosen because it was fast and unobtrusive and carried no military markings. It was the sort of single-engine aircraft seen throughout the Caribbean, ready to take affluent tourists island-hopping, aerial sightseeing, or shopping. Borrowing it was another favor Doug Carlton had to call in.
“Sandor owes me big-time,” he reminded the others with a wry grin.
“I’m sure you’ve been added to his list,” Bergenn said.
Raabe laughed. “His extensive list, you mean.”
Dawn was near as they stood at the water’s edge, ready to go.
“What if he’s completely off course?” Bergenn asked no one in particular as they climbed out of the jeep and headed toward the end of the short pier. “You guys have any idea how long the western shore of Maracaibo is?”
“I know exactly how long it is,” Carlton replied, “which means Sandor better end up somewhere near your rendezvous point.”
“Exactly,” Bergenn snapped.
The other two stopped and turned to him.
“Sorry. Guess I should have caught a nap, huh?”
“Or switched to decaf a few hours ago,” the captain suggested.
Raabe reached out and placed a hand on Bergenn’s shoulder. “We’re all worried man, but we’ll find him.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
INSIDE ADINA’S COMPOUND, SOUTH OF BARRANQUITAS
S ANDOR KNEW HIS only way out was to commandeer one of the four vehicles behind the main house, but he also knew he would first have to slow down their efforts to follow him. That meant he had to find a way to start one and disable the other three. With the entire compound on high alert there was no time to get under the hoods and rip out wires. That left him with the most direct approach—as soon as he got one of the vehicles running he would simply shoot out all of the other tires, hit the gas tanks, then take off.
He nodded to himself. That was the plan. Now he had to deal with the guards Adina would have assigned to watch over their transportation.
————
Francisco stood over Carlos as he radioed the situation to the guardhouse above.
“Mierda,” was Ramon’s immediate response.
“Exactly what I said,” Francisco agreed. “Report this to the main house, I’ll wait here.”
As the bad news was being relayed, Francisco began his efforts to revive Carlos. The technician was still lying in a leaden heap amid the toppled sacks and spilled cocaine, and he did not respond to being shaken or slapped hard across the face. Francisco took a moment to have a look around the room—bags had been moved and toppled with the white powder everywhere—and the knot in his stomach tightened.
In what seemed less than a minute he was joined by Alejandro, the head of security. He was tall and muscular, with a pockmarked complexion, coarse features, and a demeanor that seemed never to wander beyond a spectrum of angry and very angry. Other than Adina, there was not a man in the compound who did not fear him.
By way of greeting, Alejandro growled, “What the hell went on here?”
“Not sure yet,” Francisco told him. “We’ll know more once he comes to.”
The two men turned to the technician, who was beginning to show signs of life, and watched as he struggled to roll onto his back. As Carlos made a move to sit up, Alejandro leaned over and roughly took hold of
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