Conquistador, page 10
Mitchell pulled the journal from a pocket and placed it on the table. “Audrey, we also found this. We believe this is what our employer is looking for.”
“You can have it. It’s my gift to you two.”
“Thanks, but we’re not just going to take it. I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated for it. It may be months, or years, before you see any money from the treasure. This way, you’ll be able to live in comfort until you receive what’s coming to you.”
“You are far too kind, Mister Mitchell.”
“I’m only doing what should be done. Now, if you and Nate would put everything back in the box, I’ll make a few calls back home to the States to make sure you have a lawyer beating down your door in the next hour or two.”
Mitchell stood up and walked back onto the porch. The clouds had turned dark. A torrential downpour was only minutes away. He reached for his phone, but stopped when he spotted a group of men on bikes at the end of the road, looking at Audrey’s home. The hair on the back of his neck stood. The men started up their bikes. Mitchell spun about, and ran back into the kitchen.
He looked at Audrey and said, “Please tell me you have a gun somewhere in this house.”
“I do,” she replied with a puzzled look on her face. “It was my great-grandfather’s.”
“Why?” asked Jackson.
“Company’s coming.”
Audrey stood. “I’ll get the pistol.”
“How many of them did you see?” said Jackson, reaching over and grabbing a long knife from the kitchen counter.
“I think there are five of them,” replied Mitchell. “They’re on motorbikes, and should be here any second.”
“Will this do?” asked Audrey, as she placed a pistol down on the table.
Mitchell picked up the Webley revolver and checked that it was loaded. There were six rounds in the chamber. He asked Audrey, “Do you have any more ammunition?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. If push comes to shove, I’ll have to make every bullet count.”
The buzzing sound of cheap motorbike engines became louder by the second.
Mitchell looked at Audrey. “I want you to find a place to hide, and don’t come out until Nate or I call for you. It’s the gold they want, not you, so no matter what happens, you should be safe.”
“There’s a spot in the cellar I used to hide in when I was a child,” said Audrey.
“Good, go there and stay as quiet as a mouse until this is all over.”
Fear filled the old woman’s eyes. “What about you two? What are you going to do?”
Mitchell held the revolver tight in his hand. “Don’t worry about us. We’re going to give our newfound friends a welcoming they’ll never forget.”
“I’ll cover the front door while you cover the back,” said Mitchell to his friend.
Nate twirled the long knife around in his hand and nodded.
Mitchell edged to an open window, looking out at the grass in front of the house. The bikers had pulled up next to his rental car and were getting off their bikes. All of them were armed with MAC-10 submachine guns. Only one of the men, however, looked like he knew was doing. Mitchell grinned. He had found their leader. Unfortunately, the man was too far away for Mitchell to get a good shot off. With only six rounds, he couldn’t afford to miss. The Webley revolver in his hand felt odd. Mitchell hadn’t held or fired a weapon like this in years. The last time was in Hong Kong, when he was being pursued by an all-female hit team.
“You in the house, come out with your hands up, and no one gets hurt,” yelled the gang leader.
“What if I decline your gracious offer?” yelled back Mitchell.
“Then my boys and I will have to come in there and kill you. Don’t be a fool, man. I mean what I say.”
“So do I. Come and get us!”
The man swore and brought up his weapon. Mitchell barely had time to duck. A half-second later, the window exploded where he had been standing. Glass and wood chips rained down on Mitchell’s head. The thug fired off an entire magazine before stopping.
The silence that followed was unnerving. Mitchell crawled back on his stomach until he came to the dining room. He got up on one knee and brought up his pistol. With his heart racing, he waited for the first man to reach the front door.
Jackson stole a quick peek outside and saw four men approaching the house. The man who had fired at Audrey’s home stayed by the motorbikes. The other men broke down into two teams of two. One pair walked hesitantly toward the front entrance, while the other two made their way toward the back. The men looked like hired guns. They wore reflective sunglasses and muscle shirts, and had their baseball caps on backward. Jackson shook his head. He wished he had something more than a knife to defend himself with, but it was better than nothing. Jackson looked over at the back entrance and tried to imagine how the killers were going to force their way inside. He hunched down, ran over to the wall next to the door, and waited.
The sound of feet on the creaking wooden front steps alerted Mitchell that he was about to be attacked. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and took aim.
Both men stopped on the porch, brought up their submachine guns, and sprayed the door with a barrage of 9mm bullets. The sound of the rounds striking the metal pots and pans, hanging on the wall over the stove, reminded Mitchell of hail hitting corrugated iron.
The firing stopped. With a loud crash, the front door was kicked open. A man with his weapon held at his waist stepped inside.
Mitchell fired, hitting the man square in his right shoulder. The force of the impact made the assassin step back. He dropped his weapon and staggered outside, holding his bloody shoulder.
A heartbeat after the first men fired on the front of the house, the other pair let loose a volley of automatic gunfire on the back door.
Jackson kept his head down, as the wooden door was shot to pieces. He clenched the hilt of his knife tight in his hand. For his plan to work, it was going to take split-second timing.
Silence fell.
The men were so close that Jackson could hear them changing the magazines on their weapons. He steeled himself. In the next second, the door flew open, and a man leaped inside. His feet landed right in front of Jackson. Like a bear trap being sprung, Jackson jammed the knife down into the killer’s right foot. He heard the man cry out in pain. Before the man could recover, Jackson stood up, grabbed hold of his opponent’s MAC-10, and pulled it from his hands. The man coming behind the wounded assassin never stood a chance. Jackson fired his weapon at point-blank range into the man’s chest. The killer was dead before he hit the ground. With a flick of his wrist, Jackson smashed his submachine gun onto the top of the injured man’s head, knocking him out cold.
Jackson dropped down and rummaged through the unconscious man’s clothes for extra ammunition clips. He took the gun and a couple of full magazines. Full of determination, Jackson spun about and ran to help his friend.
Mitchell stood. With his pistol at the ready, he walked toward the open door. He wasn’t surprised to see the wounded criminal being helped by his colleague as they ran as best they could for their bikes. Like all bullies, they were only tough when they thought no one would fight back. Mitchell picked up the dropped MAC-10 and fired off a short burst into the ground to help speed them along.
“You okay?” asked Jackson, as he walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I wounded one of them,” replied Mitchell. “How about you?”
“I had to drop one of them. The other is fast asleep by the back door. Ryan, how did they know to find us here?”
“I guess we’re getting sloppy in our old age. The people who kidnapped Ms. Cruz must be tailing us. Come on, let’s get Audrey somewhere safe, before some goons who know what they’re doing come looking for us.”
The sound of motorbike engines coming to life made both men turn their heads. The man Mitchell had pegged as the gang leader sped off, followed by another bike with two men on it.
Jackson opened the door to the basement and called out, “Audrey, it’s okay to come up. Please hurry, we’ve got to go.”
“Oh, my,” said Audrey, when she saw the state of her house.
“Once again, please don’t worry about a thing,” explained Mitchell. “This will be fixed in no time. But right now, we have to get you to safety.”
Jackson picked up the treasure box, threw it over his shoulder, and ran for the car while Mitchell helped Audrey. They had all just buckled up when a thunderous boom shook the heavens. A torrential downpour fell from the sky.
Mitchell reached for his phone and pressed Yuri’s number.
“Da, what’s up, Ryan?” said Yuri on the other end of the phone.
“Yuri, no time to explain,” said Mitchell. “Do you have any reliable contacts in Kingston, Jamaica, who could help hide and look after someone for a few days?”
“Of course, I do. Give me a couple of minutes to call around. I’ll send you a name and address when I have it.”
“Thanks, I owe you.”
“I’ll add it to the tab.” With that, Yuri hung up.
Mitchell looked at Jackson. “Okay, Nate, let’s make our way to Kingston.”
Jackson started the Grand Vitara and drove toward the road leading back to May Pen.
16
Vladimir Salazar clenched his jaw so tight it began to hurt. A second later, he shook his head in disbelief, when the men he had hired to do away with the Americans drove past his parked H3. Instead of five, there were now only three, one of whom looked severely injured.
“I never should have sent a bunch of second-rate punks to do a man’s work,” muttered Salazar to himself.
A rain drop, followed right away by a couple more, then thousands, fell on the SUV’s windshield. The driver, a former Jamaican soldier, turned on the windshield wipers to full. It barely helped. It was as if they were parked under a waterfall.
Salazar picked up his Motorola and pressed the talk button. “Keep your eyes peeled, the people we’re after will probably be coming this way. Don’t destroy their vehicle. I want them captured alive.”
“Got it,” responded the drivers of two other H3s.
Salazar drew his 9mm automatic from his shoulder holster and flipped off the safety. In the pit of his stomach, he could feel a concoction of fear and nervous tension brewing. It was always the same for him. As soon as the first bullet was fired, his mind focused on the task at hand, and he forgot about everything else.
“How are you doing back there?” Mitchell asked Audrey.
“Fine,” she replied, lying down on the passenger seats.
“I’m really sorry about all of this. I didn’t think anyone knew we were here in Jamaica.”
“Don’t worry about me, Mister Mitchell. This is the most terrifying and exciting thing that has happened to me in decades. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m glad she’ll be okay,” said Jackson, struggling to see the road through the windshield. The wipers were next to useless in the downpour. “This road is barely a road at all. I’ve seen dirt roads in Africa which were better maintained than this.”
“If you keep it under fifty kilometers an hour we should be okay,” replied Mitchell.
“The problem ain’t the speed, it’s the sudden twists and turns in the road that have me worried. It was bad enough without the rain. Now we won’t know we’ve run out of road until we drive off into the jungle or go hurtling into the river.”
“Well, since the river’s on your side of the car, just yell out before we hit the water.”
“That’s not one bit funny, Ryan. I didn’t appreciate being forced into the water in the Philippines and would prefer not to get wet like that ever again.”
All of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye, Mitchell saw a dark shape race out of the jungle and out onto the road behind them. He turned his head to look out the rear window when the glass exploded inward. Shards of glass flew into the back of their Grand Vitara. Mitchell instinctively ducked down in his seat, as one of the bullets hit the windshield and flew straight through it.
Audrey let out a cry and covered her head with her hands.
The sound of glass and metal being shot to pieces filled the air as the back of their SUV was hit by dozens of poorly aimed bullets. A second later, the driver’s side rear view mirror shattered showering the side of the vehicle. Jackson swerved back and forth on the narrow road, trying to throw off their attacker’s aim.
Mitchell spun around, picked up a MAC-10 and pointed it out the back of the SUV. He waited until the pursuing H3 was right behind their vehicle, and opened fire. The noise from the submachine gun firing inside the Grand Vitara frightened an already-shaken Audrey. Empty casing flew against the glass, making it sound like hail was hitting the vehicle.
Behind them, the driver of the pursuing H3 swerved to avoid the torrent of bullets coming his way. It did him no good. In seconds, the driver’s windshield was peppered with holes.
Mitchell didn’t let up on the trigger. He kept firing until the entire magazine was empty. The acrid smell of cordite hung in the air. Mitchell was about to reach for the only spare magazine they had when the trailing H3 slid off the road and smashed headlong into a palm tree. The vehicle came to a sudden and jarring halt.
Jackson handed his MAC-10 to Mitchell. With his eyes glued on the slick road, he said, “You know there’s never just one of them.”
“Audrey, are you okay?” asked Mitchell.
She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
Mitchell smiled. He had to give her credit. Most people would have been begging to be left on the side of the road. Instead, Audrey seemed to be enjoying herself. Mitchell heard his phone buzz. He dug it out of his pocket and read a text message from Yuri.
“Audrey, do you know where Sherbourne Park is in Kingston?” asked Mitchell.
“Yes, it’s in a very nice part of town,” she replied.
“That’s odd,” said Jackson. “Yuri usually sends us to the less-traveled parts of the world. You know, darkened alleyways and houses that should have been condemned sometime in the 1930s.”
“That’s the norm, but not today, I guess. We have a name and an address. Now, all we have to do is make it there in one piece.”
Jackson took the next corner going too fast for the wet road conditions. The Grand Vitara hydroplaned across the road. It was only when the tires gripped the rocks on the edge of the road, did he once again gain control of the vehicle.
“Sorry,” said Jackson. “My bad.”
“Just keep us out of the river, and I’ll forgive you for nearly scaring the living daylights out of me,” said Mitchell.
“Me too,” added Audrey from the backseat.
Jackson let his foot off the accelerator. The SUV began to slow down.
Mitchell was about to try and bring up the address to Yuri’s contact on his phone, when out of a jungle path charged two more H3s. Like a pair of bulls intent on goring their prey, the SUVs rapidly closed in on the Grand Vitara.
“Get in front of them,” said Salazar to his driver. After abruptly losing contact with his first chase team, his gut told him they had failed. It was now up to him to get what he was after.
The H3’s engine roared as the driver, a former bodyguard, jammed his foot down on the gas pedal. With a flick of his wrist, the driver swerved around Mitchell’s vehicle and raced past it. With the expertise of a race car driver, he pulled over and placed the more powerful SUV in front of their target.
“Jesus, we’re boxed,” said Mitchell.
“For now,” responded Jackson, as he placed his foot on the brake and pushed down hard.
The driver of the vehicle behind them saw what was about to happen, but didn’t react fast enough. With a loud crunch, the H3 slammed into the back of Jackson’s SUV.
Audrey cried out, as she was thrown forward against the driver’s seat.
In a flash, Mitchell brought up both MAC-10s and pulled back on their triggers. The H3 was so close that he couldn’t miss. A deadly hail of bullets shattered the windshield and tore into the bodies of the men in the front seats. In the blink of an eye, it was done. Without anyone to steer the vehicle, the H3 drove straight off the road and flew out into the air. With a splash, the SUV hit the water and soon disappeared beneath the fast-flowing water of the river.
Salazar had seen enough. His blood was up. He had foolishly underestimated his opponents, and it had cost him. Salazar looked at his driver, “Slow down and pull up right beside them. I need you to try and force them off the road.”
The driver nodded and deftly moved his vehicle over, with a gentle push on his brakes, the H3 slowed down. A second later, the two vehicles were driving side by side on the narrow country road.
“Good,” said Salazar, with a glint in his eye. “Now nudge them off the road.”
The Grand Vitara shuddered and slid across the slick road the moment it was struck. Jackson fought to control the vehicle’s slide. Unseen in the rain was a deep pothole. The front passenger-side tire hit the hole, jarring the steering wheel out of Jackson’s hands. The driverless SUV spun around like a whirling top. A second later, it slipped off the asphalt. With the vehicle half on and half off the road, Jackson managed to grab hold of the steering wheel. There was only one thing he could do. Jackson slammed his foot down on the accelerator and turned into the spin. Rocks and dirt flew up into the air behind his vehicle as it clawed its way back onto the road.
“Come on…come on,” said Jackson, urging his SUV’s tires to grip the waterlogged highway. With a squeal of the tires, the Grand Vitara steadied itself.
“Can you see them?” asked Mitchell.
Jackson checked all of his mirrors and shook his head. “It’s raining so badly out there that I can’t see a thing.”
“Looks like all we have left are the bullets in Audrey’s pistol,” said Mitchell, holding up the Webley revolver in his hand.
