Cut and Run (32 page)

It wasn’t in me to say no. I swallowed noisily. The bottle contained distilled water, glucose, electrolytes. I needed them all.

No one followed us from the valley.

We were pretty sure, but Charles fell back to keep rear guard while Nunez went ahead. As we moved along the trail, I brought Rink and Harvey up to speed with all that had gone down and what I’d overheard.

‘The woman was behind all this? She ordered the hits on Bryce’s team?’ Rink shook his head. ‘Goddamn . . .’

‘I couldn’t save her.’

‘Why would you want to?’ Harvey had the same hatred for men who hurt women as I did, but he wasn’t thinking of Jimena Grajales in the same way as me. ‘She’s responsible for more murders than Hannibal freakin’ Lecter.’

‘She was hurting . . .’

‘She was insane.’

‘Yeah,’ I nodded. ‘But maybe we would’ve been the same if we’d seen our child murdered.’

The silence that followed my words was interrupted only by the flap of a bird’s wings as it broke cover. We had already paused in our march, but the bird’s frantic flight now made us crouch and scan the forest for whatever had disturbed it. In the end I decided that it was most likely only the weight of our words and I gave the all-clear sign. We moved on.

‘So what do you make of Rickard turning up here?’

Glancing at Rink, I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. ‘Revenge? From what I heard, he blamed Jimena for sending a team to kill him. He was talking about Del Chisholm and his men.’

‘He didn’t know that they were only there to take Alisha to safety?’

‘Jimena told him she’d nothing to do with that, but it made no difference. Rickard came here to kill her, and nothing she said was going to change his mind.’

‘The guys that were with Rickard,’ Harvey said. ‘Who were they?’

Harvey, I recalled, hadn’t been party to the conversation I’d had earlier with Nunez when he’d recognised those attacking Cesar Calle’s stronghold. I kept it simple.

‘A rival outfit. Jimena mentioned someone called Silva. It looks like Rickard changed sides but my guess is he was only using Silva’s resources so he could get at Jimena.’

‘Looks that way,’ Rink said. ‘You think Rickard has run back to this Silva dude now?’

‘No. I think he’s done what he came here for. If he was going to stick around, he’d just have waited at Calle’s place for Silva to arrive.’

‘So what’s your best guess?’

‘He’s on his way back to Miami.’

‘You sound pretty sure about that.’

‘I am. Jimena told him that Alisha survived.’ Scrubbing a palm through my dusty hair, I could feel gobbets of blood sticking to my scalp. ‘And knowing what he is now, I think he’ll want to put that right.’

‘First chance we get, we should warn Walter.’

‘We’ll do that once we’re back at the staging post. The Junglas have satcom: I want Walter to pull a few strings and organise us a fast pick-up and get back there before Rickard does.’

‘You’re planning on using Alisha as bait?’ Harvey rolled his head.

‘Rickard’s going after her. It’s best that it’s under controlled circumstances when he makes his play.’

‘She’s in a hospital, Hunter,’ Harvey said. Not that I required reminding. I just nodded. The logistics were troubling, but there was one good thing going for a showdown at the hospital. Rickard wouldn’t have far to travel if we met again: the hospital also had a morgue.

Chapter 39

Walter met the news that Rickard had given us the slip with less hostility than I expected. He was sticking his neck over the headsman’s block on our behalf and he’d have preferred it if we’d buried the son of a bitch in a nameless grave out in the Colombian jungle. His decades of experience in black ops had somewhat tempered his reaction to the possibility of failure, though, and he simply asked the question, what did I need?

First on the list was establishing a pick-up point and a rapid evacuation. Next I needed him to influence the turn out of events here in Colombia. I then told him what I wanted to do with Alisha. Everything else could wait for our return to Florida.

Nunez and Charles delivered us to a hilltop designated only by coordinates punched into a GPS system. Undulating foothills spread out beneath us. The sky was pale blue with a bank of grey thunderheads building on the Andes to the west. The sun was hidden by the clouds but made a last-gasp attempt at holding back the night, making a fiery display of gold and lapis lazuli over the tallest peaks. It was a pretty way to end this trip to Colombia.

From the north a black speck grew steadily larger and more defined. We’d come in at high altitude but we’d be leaving below radar. As we waited for the arrival of the helicopter, I shook the hands of the Jungla troopers.

‘It was a pleasure working with you both.’ My words sounded standard, but I meant every one of them.

As usual it was Nunez who did most of the talking. ‘The pleasure was all ours. Thank you for what you did here, Hunter. You have been of great service to this country.’

I nodded at his words. Anything I’d done for his country was a mere consequence of my attempt at finding Rickard, but both Nunez and Charles seemed pleased by the result. We’d already discussed what had befallen Cesar Calle, and how Alvaro Silva had now doubled the size of his empire. But the Junglas seemed unconcerned by that. The way they saw it was that one enemy of the country would be easier to bring down than two, and they had enough evidence to destroy him through what they’d witnessed. We wouldn’t enter the equation: Nunez and Charles were to receive backdated orders to conduct CTR – close target reconnaissance – of Calle’s activities. The order was arranged between Walter and a local contact with DET, Colombia’s own intelligence-gathering community, and the Junglas would report their findings. The fact that they witnessed the massacre of Cesar Calle and all his people was enough that a strike force was already being assembled to take down
Organizacion Halcón de Roja
.

Charles placed his fists on his hips as he turned to watch the approaching chopper. He had a distant look in his eye, as though perhaps he wanted to jump on board and leave the troubles of Colombia behind him to go back to the home of his father. Even with Calle and Silva out of the picture, there were still many problems plaguing this country, but there was nothing to say that anywhere else was any less troubled. The USA and Florida in particular, I thought, could be witnessing terrible happenings before long.

The speck had grown into a UH-72A Lakota helicopter. The chopper swept in, bending the tops of trees below us and sending up a vortex of dust and loose foliage. Shielding our eyes, we moved forwards, leaving the Junglas standing next to their jeep. I wondered if I’d see either of them again, but decided not in this lifetime. The helicopter was a light utility transporter with room for two crew and six passengers. It didn’t feel very spacious when I followed Rink and Harvey inside, but that’s what comes of travelling with two large friends.

The crewmen were locals with no capacity for the English language. They didn’t try to communicate anyway, they had their instructions and that was all. They flew us almost due north to a strip of land in a valley of the Santa Marta Mountains, where we found a transport plane of the 920th Rescue Wing waiting for us. A few hours after that and we descended towards Patrick Air Force Base, Cocoa Beach a luminescent silver strip against the dark of the Atlantic Ocean on our right. A limousine – a government battlewagon – waited for us in the tepid evening warmth. Walter, Bryce Lang and SAC Ron Hubbard stood next to the limo, and I noted at least four armed guards covering their asses: Luke Rickard was the type for direct attack and not even an air force base overflowing with security and crawling with Homeland Security personnel would put him off.

On the flight there I’d cleaned myself up as best I could, but I still looked like a herd of wild bulls had stampeded over me. I felt a little like that too. As I walked across the tarmac it was with the robotic steps of an alien from a 1950s B-movie. Shaking loose the kinks in my muscles was on the agenda if I ever hoped to be ready for when I caught up with Rickard.

Walter gave me a fatherly clap on the shoulder. ‘Things were pretty rough down there, huh?’

‘It got a little out of hand, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Looks like it.’ He wrinkled his nose. I probably smelled like a herd of bulls had run over me.

‘I know. I need a shower.’

‘And food, drink and rest,’ Walter said. He scrutinised Rink and Harvey. ‘All of you.’

‘Jeez, we didn’t get this type of treatment in the old days,’ Rink said. He eyed the limousine with unabashed admiration. Rink likes expensive vehicles, but his are usually sportier. He was possibly wondering if his Porsche had been delivered back to his place yet.

Bryce exchanged greetings with us. Then, eyes downcast, he said, ‘Jimena Grajales. I can’t believe it.’

‘Like you told me, Bryce, I should’ve taken the shot. None of this would’ve happened if I’d done Abadia when I had the chance.’

Now it was he who laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘A man like Luke Rickard would commit murder whoever was behind him. It doesn’t matter now.’ When he stepped away from me to shake hands with Rink and then Harvey I could see tears in his eyes. I couldn’t decide if it was with relief or with regret that he had led our old team-mates to a horrible ending.

SAC Hubbard was an unexpected guest at this reunion. When I looked at him he returned my gaze and it was as if he read my mind.

‘I’ve done everything I could in Maine, so I pulled a few strings and have come here to help coordinate the capture of Luke Rickard.’

Recalling his sour, raisin eyes from the first time we met, I noticed that he was less pinched now. In fact he looked genuinely pleased to see me back safe and sound. But there was still something about him I didn’t like. I shook his hand and kept hold.

‘How’s Imogen?’

‘She’s under guard at a safe house. You needn’t worry about her.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘She’s fine. A little shook up by her ordeal, but physically she’s OK.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘For looking after her while I was gone.’

Finally I let his hand go and he put it in his trouser pocket like he didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe I’d been squeezing a little too tightly and he was discreetly checking for broken fingers.

Walter waved us into the limousine. Creaking horribly in my knees, I climbed inside. The leather upholstery was plush. It was a shame that my clothing was going to make a mess of it. I had to bunch over to allow Rink and Harvey in alongside me, but the car was big enough to accommodate even them – it was roomier than the Lakota helicopter, or maybe it just felt more comfortable. Walter, Bryce and Hubbard all sat in the seats in front. Walter hung an arm over the back of his chair so that he could look at us.

Walter’s famous for obfuscating – his word not mine – but this time everything was in his favour to come clean and say it as it was. For a certain pair of ears at any rate.

‘I want to thank you all for what you did down there, but I’m going to have to ask you to stand down.’ His eyes flicked once to Hubbard. ‘The FBI is taking over the hunt for Rickard now.’

Hubbard must have felt our eyes boring into the back of his skull because he stirred, twisting round so he could stare back at us. ‘People are still dying here, and that’s my first concern.’

People? I didn’t know who he was referring to.

‘The man you captured during the gunfight at the diner was stabbed to death last night,’ he explained. ‘I’ve no doubt that his death was to cover the trail back to Jimena Grajales.

I sniffed. No great loss.

‘Maybe you don’t care about that,’ Hubbard went on, ‘but this thing is not finished yet. Not until Rickard is captured. A threat to
any
citizens of our country is too important for the Bureau to ignore. Primarily, we have to protect Alisha Rickard and the other patients and medical staff from any harm. I’ve activated HRT and they will be in place to take out Rickard when he shows up.’

It looked like Hubbard was ready for an argument because the raisin eyes had returned. Lying back in my seat, I closed my eyes. I let out a weary sigh and there was nothing faked about it. Then looking at him again I said calmly, ‘The HRT are good. Just make sure that they’re ready for anything. Rickard’s good as well.’

His mouth dropped open, as though he’d prepared his next speech, but nothing came. Instead he licked his lips and tapped the window separating the driver from us. Walter shot me a wink, then shared a glance with Bryce over the back of Hubbard’s head.