A Touch of Malice (28 page)

As Matt approached, the guy pulled his jacket aside to expose a 9mm Glock tucked into his belt. It was a newer model, sleek handle with a rubber grip for more feel.

“This is a toll road,” the guy said with a Spanish accent. “I will need your wallet.” He smiled, exposing a gold tooth and several yellowing teeth.

The entire rescue mission was such a rush job that Matt didn’t have time to acquaint himself with the local customs of Bogota. For all he knew there could be one of these assholes on every corner hustling people for pocket change. It could be a common practice. But Matt didn’t like the coincidence.

“Are you with the Camenos?” Matt said, quickly trying to gauge the guy’s reaction.

The guy’s eyebrows furrowed a bit with a sense of confusion. Matt couldn’t tell if he was surprised by how quickly Matt had made him, or whether the guy was completely baffled by the off-base question.

“I will take your wallet, please,” the guy said, flicking his fingers expectantly.

There was a large church across the street with a bell tower and a giant cross above the entrance. An older priest was out front pretending to be sweeping the sidewalk while he kept an eye on them. Matt wondered how long it had been since he last visited a church. Probably Jennifer Steele’s funeral service. Now he remembered why he hadn’t been back. Matt reached into his back pocket and pulled out his credentials, holding the gold shield high so that everyone on the premises could see it.

Gold Tooth merely smiled which made Matt even more suspicious. Like the guy already knew who he was.

The priest looked on somewhat anxiously.

Gold Tooth pulled aside his jacket to remind Matt what he had. “Go ahead,” the guy said. “Make my day.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Great. So Dirty Harry finally made it to South America.”

The guy said nothing. Just the stupid grin.

Matt returned his credentials to his pocket. “You look just like the guy who killed my girlfriend. That’s not helping your cause.”

Gold Tooth tilted his head toward the porch where his posse stood trying to look dangerous.

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, I have some bad news.” He nodded to the porch and in a whisper said, “Those two are using the wrong gun for this type of operation. They’re holding long-barreled rifles which are slow to swing up into a good position. It’ll take them too long to get that weapon up and aimed properly. Which gives me time to shoot you first, then pop them before the butt of the rifle ever touches their shoulder.”

For the first time, a sense of concern entered the guy’s eyes as he realized he might’ve bitten off more than he could chew, but he was unable to back down in front of his posse. The priest stopped sweeping and stared at the confrontation brewing. Matt wondered if he was about to pull out a gun of his own and create a real problem.

Matt raised his eyebrows at the guy. “Are you ready to put an end to this game?”

Gold Tooth glanced over at the priest.

“Stay out of this, Padre,” Matt yelled.

The older man didn’t move.

As Matt wondered how soon Nick would be there, a touch of confidence began to grow on Gold Tooth’s face.

“Go ahead,” Matt said, slowly pulling aside his jacket to expose his Slimline Glock, with the custom handle. “You draw first.”

The smile faded. Matt was trained to watch the guy’s eyes, his peripheral vision would tell him when the guy went for the gun. The guy waited. Maybe he was waiting for help. Maybe he was scared. Matt wanted this to end quickly before he had time to think about how dangerous this game really was.

“You may be a Bogota badass,” Matt said, “but you wouldn’t survive ten minutes where I come from. You have too much bravado and not enough brains.”

The guy seemed to be in deep thought, like he was trying to remember how Dirty Harry drew his Magnum in the movies.

In the corner of his eye, Matt saw the priest move.

That’s when Gold Tooth went for his gun.

* * *

Nick heard the shots just as he entered the intersection. He pulled his pistol and ran in the exact direction he was afraid to hear gunfire. He turned the corner and sprinted down the sidewalk, the front yards were quiet and the street completely vacant. His legs pumped hard, so hard, his eyes began to tear up. He scanned the street for any sign of movement. Nothing. Gunshots were fired and not one person even glanced out the window to see what happened.

Nick’s heart thumped as he ran full speed down the middle of the street, ready to shoot the first person he saw. The left side of his ribcage began to cramp up. He jumped over to the sidewalk where Matt had been canvassing and saw a body on the ground fifty yards ahead of him. A gush of acid spiked up Nick’s throat as he slowed down to see the victim.

It was a young man dressed in a brown jacket and an oversized Miami Heat jersey. Nick crouched low and swept his eyes around the landscape, his gun already out and pointed. He saw another body lying in an awkward position headfirst down a staircase to a nearby porch. An AK-47 sat on the bottom step.

Nick quickly examined the first guy. His body was crumpled on its side. Nick kicked the guy’s shoulder and the dead man rolled onto his back. He looked up at Nick with one eye wide open and the other eye socket was completely torn to shreds from an inbound 9mm bullet. A thin stream of fresh blood trickled down the side of his face. His right hand was wrapped around a Glock which was still stuck in pants.

Nick was beginning to recognize the pattern, yet Matt was missing. Nick crept up to the steps and found a single bullet wound in the same eye socket of the second victim. As he reached the top of the steps he found a third guy, face down, an AK-47 sticking out from under his stomach. Nick was certain the guy would have a similar eye issues. He noticed the front door was wide open. The strike plate was busted where the dead bolt was once secured.

There was a noise from the front of the house. Nick ran down the steps and tumbled to the ground rolling onto his stomach, gun pointed straight out. It was the garage door opening. Halfway up Nick could see a pair of legs, then a moment later Matt stood there chewing gum and gesturing to a black Mercedes sedan sitting next to him.

“They were here,” Matt said. “But they’re long gone now.”

Nick had to take a full breath. He stayed face down in the dirt while his heart rate stabilized. When he looked up, Matt had walked down the driveway and was standing over the corpse on the sidewalk. He raised his gun and shot the guy in the other eye. The man’s head bounced off the ground like bowling ball jostling in the gutter.

Nick scrambled to his feet and came over to his partner, trying to see what kind of condition he was in after the firefight.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

Matt was still staring down at the dead body, but at least he was putting his gun away. “He asked me for my wallet. I thought he wanted money, but I think he wanted to see my ID. Make sure he was killing the right guy.”

Nick looked up and down the street and found it completely vacant. “This place is like a zombie movie after they dropped the bomb. We need to get out of here.”

There was a distant expression on Matt’s face and Nick recognized it right away. It was the same expression which stared back at him in the mirror after he’d been involved in a gun fight. His partner was just exposed to an extremely stressful battle and was probably still in shock.

Nick grabbed his partner’s arm. “Hey . . .”

Matt began walking across the street.

“Where are you going?” Nick said.

“I haven’t been to church in a while.”

Nick ran to catch up with him. “Matt, c’mon. You read the intel. Moreno owns this part of town. You think this is a coincidence that we’re the only people out here? They’re all on the phone with him right now giving up our location.”

Matt kept going unabated. Nick stayed with him, trying to get him under control. Matt pulled open the massive wooden door to the church with a piercing squeak which announced their presence to half the block.

“Matt,” Nick said, then stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark. At first Nick couldn’t find his partner, then he saw a shadow walking down the aisle toward the front of the church. Nick stepped forward and squinted in the mere candlelight. On the stage, behind the altar, was an elderly priest busy wiping the chalice with a white handkerchief. Matt was walking toward the priest with a purpose, as if he expected to see him there.

“Hey, Padre,” Matt shouted up at the man. “What were you doing out there?”

The man didn’t seem to hear him as he tended to his chores.

Long rows of empty wooden pews were slanted toward the front of the room, giving the church an amphitheater effect. The perimeter was lined with statues of such Christian greats as John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary. Behind the altar was an oversized replica of Jesus hanging on the cross. In most cases, Nick would’ve been awe-inspired by the brilliance of the spirituality within the room, but now he felt nothing but complete apprehension.

Matt, however, didn’t seem to be affected by the aura. He continued to march down the aisle ready to interrogate an elderly man, who seemed completely oblivious to their presence.

Nick always found comfort in the confines of a church no matter the location, but for some reason, this one made him feel insecure. He was ready to grab his partner and physically remove him from the place when a phone began to ring. The sound echoed through the tall imposing walls and bounced down from the high ceiling. It was a sound that just didn’t belong in the surroundings. It came from an empty pew and Nick instinctively went for his gun.

From behind the altar, the priest said, “Es para usted,” in a raspy, weary tone.

Matt froze. It was as if the sound had broken the spell he was under and he turned to Nick with a look of regret. Matt seemed to have the same anxious impulse. He already had his gun out before the second ring. A form of transmission occurred between the longtime partners. Matt nodded for Nick to get the phone while Matt covered the room searching for a trap.

Nick crept down the aisle and located the phone sitting in the middle of a pew. It rang a third time as Nick had to turn sideways and slowly shuffle past the kneelers to get to the sound. He reached down and picked up the device. He tried to lick his lips but his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth.

Nick glanced up at the altar and found it empty.

Nothing.

He looked at Matt who was crouched and ready.

Nick had the urge to run. Just drop the phone and run hard and far.

Instead, he pushed a button on the phone and put it to his ear.

“The cowboy will not be able to shoot his way out of this one,” a man’s voice said.

Nick was about to respond when the voice added, “Look up.”

There, in the rafters of the building, the shadows of twenty gunmen peered down on them with rifles already aimed at the two FBI agents.

Chapter 35

President John Merrick was wedged between two Cameno guerillas in the compact backseat of the beige Nissan hatchback. Every few minutes a helicopter could be seen passing overhead or a police siren could be heard, but he knew they were driving through Bogota without any chance of discovery. The authorities were searching for a black Mercedes sedan, not a Nissan.

Now, however, they were headed out of Bogota on a narrow side road, away from the population. Away from witnesses. Ever since his phone conversation with Moreno, Merrick regretted his decision to stay immobile. Even though he was sandwiched in between the two Camenos, he felt he had a better chance to survive had he tried to escape in the city. Maybe he’d be seen or heard and have a slim chance to live another day. But out here, there were nothing but trees.

Merrick knew now that his brother was certainly dead. If Trent were alive, Moreno would’ve had him on the phone with Merrick, even if for a few seconds, just to show he was breathing. Then Merrick would’ve gladly wired the millions into Moreno’s overseas account. Even if he were ambushed after the fact, at least he would’ve tried to do something to help. It was apparent now that Nick Bracco’s rescue effort had not succeeded and Merrick began to reconsider the strategy. Maybe he’d put too much faith into Nick’s ability to save Trent. Especially in a place like the rainforest where Nick’s contacts with the underworld would have dubious benefit. Merrick’s blind fury to rescue Trent had gone too far and the one person he distressed about was Sam Fisk. His longtime friend would live out the rest of his days with the guilt of losing the president of the United States.

They had been driving down this country road for ten minutes without ever seeing another vehicle. The car slowed now and turned off the untraveled road down a dirt path just wide enough for the Nissan to traverse without getting stuck between trees. Tree limbs and branches scraped the side of the vehicle as it hobbled down the uneven trail.

The car stopped next to a large hole in the ground surrounded with two mounds of dirt. There were two shovels sticking out of the freshly dug up dirt. Merrick’s grave was awaiting him.

The driver jumped out and opened the back door with a pistol out and ready. Merrick was pulled violently from the car by the two Cameno guerillas and shoved down to his knees next to the opening in the ground. He thought about his daughter and his eyes became glossy. The idea she wouldn’t have her dad any longer had him choking on his own mortality. Ann would be okay after a while. Time could heal some of the pain for an adult. He knew that himself. But Emily would grow up with the media constantly reminding her of her missing father.

As he hunched down on his knees waiting to be shot, he said one tiny prayer for Emily. Please let her be safe and have a happy life.

Footsteps came up behind him. It was time. He heard the sound of metal on metal. The rack of a gun into a chamber.

Then the gunshot. He jumped at the noise and waited to give up his life. Then there was a second gunshot. Merrick’s body lurched at the sound but there was no pain. He wondered if he was in shock and his body was protecting him from the inevitable torment, like someone who’d lost a limb. But even though he trembled with fear, his breathing erratic, his eyes completely swollen with tears, he was still alive. He wondered if this was some game the Camenos were playing with him just to see what it looks like to be on death’s door, the mortality about to leave the earth.