Eye of the Storm (29 page)

Unlike the stone wall, this one was meant to keep out unwanted guests. Cement blocks presented a smooth front topped with barbed wire, and up in one of the towering oaks, Simone could see a security camera as it arced back and forth, presenting a seamless view of the fence and the area just beyond where they were lying.

It was much the same up and down the wall, at least as far as they could see. Using the binoculars, Simone identified three additional security cameras. But fortunately, their intel had already indicated the presence of the cameras, and so they were prepared.

Tate produced a metal device about the size of a Band-Aid box. The cameras were digital, their continuous feed subject to interference just like cable TV or a satellite link-up. Press the button on the jammer and presto change, the feed broke into a million pixels staggered across the screen as they cleared and regenerated.

It would only buy a couple of moments, but that was more than enough time.

The same oak that held the camera also had spawned a mutant branch that curled in on itself and then sloped downward over the fence, tangling with another tree on Simone and Tate's side of the wall.

All they had to do was climb their tree, jam the signal, and take those precious seconds to climb onto the oak branch, using it to get over the fence. Then the picture would clear with no one the wiser.

All that remained was to stay above the camera until it arced away from the ground beyond the oak, and then they could simply drop to the ground and move out of range. In theory it ought to work like clockwork. Of course, reality usually had a couple of surprises in store—that's what made their job fun.

Simone shimmied up the tree, stopping when she reached a junction between two sturdy branches. Tate followed. They waited a moment to be certain that they hadn't been seen, and then Tate pushed the button. "Go," he whispered.

She shot out along the gnarled old branch, crawling across it like a spider monkey, Tate right behind her. She vaulted over the wall and teetered for a moment as she struggled for balance on a branch just above the camera. She was so close now she could hear it whirring as it changed focus, the signal restored.

The camera turned slowly, panning the area below. She waited one beat, then another and as it reached the far end of its arc, she swung out and dropped to the ground, then sprinted forward until she knew she was out of range of the camera.

Stopping behind the comparative safety of an old shed, she was relieved to find Tate just seconds behind her. They crouched low behind the building, waiting for alarms or some other sign that either they'd been seen or that the interruption of the signal had caused concern.

The compound was quiet.

"We did it." Simone breathed out a sigh.

"Did you have doubts?" Tate looked honestly surprised, and despite the gravity of the situation, Simone almost laughed, relief making her giddy.

"So what now?" she asked, risking a quick look from behind the shed. Derek's intel had included aerial shots, so she had an idea how the compound was laid out, but it all looked different from the ground.

"We wait." Tate checked his watch. "The internal patrol ought to be by in about ten minutes. Once they've passed we'll have another window. Maybe fifteen minutes to gain access into the hacienda."

Isabella's bedroom was at the far end of the building, separated from the main rooms by a private courtyard. According to the plans, there was a tiny door in the back wall of the courtyard used to transport heavy gardening supplies like dirt and fertilizer.

Assuming it was still there, they planned to use it to gain access to the courtyard and Isabella. It was still very early, and the odds were she'd be in her room. And if she wasn't, then sooner or later she was bound to come back.

And when she did, they'd be ready.

"HEY," MARTIN SAID, poking at the flames of a small fire, "I think I've finally got the hang of this."

Reece held up his hand and shook his head.

"What?" Martin whispered, dropping the stick with a frown.

"We've been had." Reece crossed the little cave to where he'd been sleeping. "Derek and Tate are up to something. I don't know what, but I overheard Derek telling Tate he was going to take care of us."

"As in..." Martin drew a finger across his neck, his eyes going wide.

"Exactly." Reece grimaced as he rummaged around in the blankets he and Simone had shared last night. "We don't have much time. Have you seen my gun?"

"Not since yesterday." Martin knelt by his own blankets and patted them down. "Shit."

"It's okay." Reece reached into his pack, digging around until his fingers closed on the butt of a gun. "I took Carlos's. I don't think anyone knew I had it."

"Good thinking," Martin said, eyeing the entrance to the cave with trepidation. "So what do we do now?"

"We get the hell out of here. I don't want to get cornered. Derek should be just behind me."

They moved quickly out the entrance to the shelter and around a fall of rock, the boulders effectively hiding them, "You said Tate, too? Does that mean that Simone..." He trailed off, looking guilty for having the thought.

"No." Reece shook his-head, his stomach knotting with dread. "Simone is in danger, too. Last thing Derek did was tell Tate to watch his back."

"But I don't understand—"

Reece waved his brother silent as Derek emerged out of the woods on the path. He stopped for a moment, pulling out his gun and checking the magazine, then after a quick look around he stepped into the cave.

It was tempting to try and take him out while he was inside, but the lighting was dim and presumably Derek was good with a gun. Reece wasn't bad, but he wasn't an expert, either. Better to wait for the man to come back out.

Seconds ticked by, and then Derek stepped out of the cave, his scowl indication of his displeasure. "Reece?" he called. "Martin?"

Silence filled the clearing.

Reece waited as the man walked first to the edge of the trees and then back toward the entrance, pausing about a foot from where they were hiding. Moving slowly, his weapon ready, Derek turned in a circle, his gaze raking the trees and the pathway for signs of movement.

Reece signaled Martin to get down, and then shifted so that he was crouched at the edge of the pile of rock. Exhaling slowly, he tightened his hand on Carlos's gun. More than anything he wanted to fire. To take the son of a bitch out. But he needed to talk to him. To find out what Tate had planned for Simone.

It was risky. He knew it, but if he could incapacitate the man, so much the better. He'd save the killing for later. He flipped the gun around until he was holding the barrel. Then when Derek pivoted so that his back was turned, Reece pushed away from the rocks, slamming the gun against the side of the man's head.

The bigger man fell to one knee, but was far from out. Pulling to his feet, he rushed Reece, his shoulder hitting with the accuracy of a linebacker. Reece was thrown to the ground, the gun sliding out of his hand, toward the pile of rocks.

As the two men fought, Derek worked to turn his gun toward Reece. He shot once, but missed, the bullet strafing the packed clay ground instead. Reece managed to get in a solid right, connecting with the man's jaw, his gun arm flailing as he tried to regain his balance.

Reece dove for Derek's middle, knocking the other man back toward the rocks, but just before he connected, Derek rolled right, and Reece slammed headfirst into the boulders. Fighting pain and a wave of dizziness, he tried to roll to his feet, but only managed a crouch, Derek's face swimming in and out of focus as the man leveled his gun.

Instinct said to try to move, but his body wasn't having any of it. And he blew out a breath, not even flinching when the weapon fired.

A minute passed and then another, Reece's mind clearing with his vision. Derek was down, Martin standing at the edge of the rocks holding Carlos's gun.

"You all right?" Martin asked, his gaze still on Derek.

"Thanks to you." Reece reached over to feel for a pulse.

"Is he dead?" There was a finality to the question that told Reece that Martin was already fairly sure of the answer.

"Yeah." Reece stood up, searching his brother's anguished face. "It was him or me, Martin. You didn't have a choice."

"I know. I just never thought I'd…" He held out the gun, and Reece stuck it into the waistband of his pants.

"So why the hell did he want us dead?" Martin asked, still staring down at the body.

"No idea. Only thing I can figure is that somehow Tate's been a part of this from the beginning. Maybe he's working with the Ramirezes. I honestly have no idea. I only know we've got to get to Simone before something really bad happens."

"You think he's going to kill her?"

"I don't know for certain. But I sure as hell think it's a possibility."

"So what do we do? Hike down there and try to sneak in the back door?"

"It's appealing, but we're neither of us trained for that kind of operation." Reece slid his hand in his pocket, his fingers closing around the little gold crucifix. "No, I think we're going to go for a more straightforward approach."

Martin raised his eyebrows in question.

"There's a Range Rover over there in a shed. We'll take it down the mountain to
El Ojo de la Tormenta.
"

"And then what?" Martin frowned. "We just walk up to the front door?"

Reece smiled, knowing full well the expression lacked all semblance of humor. "Exactly."

*****

GETTING TO THE BACK WALL of Isabella's courtyard was proving to be a bit more difficult than anticipated. Perhaps in light of the threat from Managua, the compound had more than the reported number of guards. And while they seemed to be totally unaware that there were intruders on the grounds, it had slowed progress considerably.

Simone crouched behind an enormous oak tree, surrounded improbably by three sago palms, their massive fanned branches providing excellent protection. Tate knelt a couple of feet away at the foot of the oak.

"Isabella's got a fucking army up here," Tate said, his gaze following three men armed with Uzis walking the back perimeter of the hacienda. Isabella's home was part retreat, part fortress, the white walls unadorned except for the bright red geraniums spilling from windows flanked by deep blue shutters.

Two stories in most places, the hacienda was roughly rectangular in shape, built around a central courtyard. At the back, a second structure was linked to the first with a walled garden. This second building housed Isabella's private quarters, her own walled courtyard located just to the east.

The oak and palm tree cluster sat about fifty yards from the back wall of the courtyard. Unlike the rest of the house, it was overgrown with ivy and some kind of flowering creeper. It gave the enclosure a lush, exotic feel, and also managed to obscure all signs of the little door.

"Maybe the damn thing doesn't exist," Simone said, frustration mounting.

"It's there," Tate said, his eyes still on the passing group of guards. "We've just got to figure out how the hell to get over there without being noticed."

"Easier said than done." Simone watched as the group disappeared, only to be replaced by another one. It seemed there were guards everywhere.

"What we need is a distraction." Tate shrugged off his pack and began rummaging through it, pulling out a hand grenade.

Simone shook her head. "Overkill." Literally. If something exploded—it might buy them precious minutes, but ultimately it would send the entire compound crashing down on their heads.

"I wasn't going to blow anything up." He nodded toward another group of palm trees, the tree in the center brown and withered. The palms sat next to a small pond full of ducks. "I was thinking more along the lines of a fire."

Simone looked at the dead palm fronds littering the ground at her feet. They were match dry. Perfect tinder. Tate already had the grenade open, pouring the powder into his hand. "It won't take much," she said.

Tate nodded, handed her his pack, and before she could comment further, dashed across to the edge of the pond. He disappeared into the foliage, and Simone held her breath, waiting.

Four minutes passed, then seven, then ten. Two sets of guards made their way along the outside of the hacienda, separated by exactly five minutes. Isabella obviously believed in punctuality.

Before the next group appeared, Tate dashed back across, sliding to a stop next to the oak. "Done."

"I don't see anything," Simone said, peering out at the ground by the palms.

"Give it a little time," Tate said, using his binoculars for a better look. "I can see the flames. It's just going to take it a minute to catch."

They waited, Simone holding her breath. At first she thought he'd failed. That the ground cover wasn't dry enough to ignite. But then suddenly the ducks flew off the pond, squawking noisily, and a plume of smoke broke free of the palms. Ten seconds later, the dead palm burst into flames and all hell broke loose.

The guards rounding the building broke into a run, and the three men at the corner of the hacienda also sprinted toward the fire.

Without waiting to see what would happen next, Tate dashed out of cover and across the now-empty yard to the wall, Simone following on his heels. Tearing at the shrubbery, he pushed the ivy aside and motioned for Simone to crawl behind it. She slipped between the wall and a huge vine of wisteria, the smell of damp earth surrounding her in-the quiet shadows. Tate crawled in behind her, dropping the heavy ivy back into place just as another group of guards rounded the corner, heading for the burning palm.

"Nice move," Simone smiled, already turning to look for the little door into the courtyard.

"Spent a lot of time as a kid hiding in the shrubbery," Tate said with a shrug. "Some things never change."

Simone crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling along the moss-slick wall of the garden. She'd gone about a hundred feet, and was just about to turn to complain to Tate that they were on a wild-goose chase, when her hand hit metal.

"I think I've got it," she whispered back to him, her hands exploring what she couldn't see.

"The door?" Tate pushed through the ivy, stopping next to her.

"It's more of a hole really. Maybe three feet square." She pulled a couple of strands of ivy off the wall, revealing one side of the so-called door. The metal was rusted. Clearly whatever it was, it hadn't been used in a long time.

"Can you open it?" He was feeling with his hands, too, ripping ivy from both sides of it now.

"No." She tugged at the handle she'd uncovered to demonstrate. "It's either locked or rusted shut. Either way, it's not budging."

Together they worked to clear away more of the vines that clung to the metal, finally clearing the entire structure. Just above the handle was a jagged, rusty hole, probably the remains of a lock or keyhole. Now, however, even without the original mechanism, it still served its purpose well, sporting a chain and padlock.

"Shit." Simone's whispered expletive seemed really loud in the enclosed space between wall and vegetation. Outside, beyond the ivy and wisteria, she could still hear muffled yelling from the palm trees.

Tate pulled off his pack, rummaging around in it again, this time producing a pair of bolt cutters.

"Well, aren't you the little Boy Scout," Simone said with a frown. "What the hell else do you have in there?"

"Just a few odds and ends I thought might be handy. I saw these at the shelter and figured they might be of some use."

"Pretty damn handy." She shifted so that he could reach the chain, and watched as he worked to cut through one of the links. She couldn't really put her finger on it, but something about this whole operation felt too easy. Almost as if it had all been choreographed somehow.

The idea was ridiculous, and yet, she couldn't shake it once it had sprouted. Even as Tate broke the link and yanked the chain free, she tried to replay everything that had happened, working to put a name to the niggling worry that was teasing her brain.

"We're in." Tate dropped the cutters and pried open the door, the metal screeching in protest. The sound seemed abnormally loud to Simone, but in actuality she doubted anyone would have noticed it unless they were standing right beside the door.

Simone reached out to stop Tate, to try to put a voice to her concern, but her hand met empty air; he'd already crawled through the doorway into the garden. With a sigh, she followed him, the bushes on the inside of the garden just as concealing as the vines had been on the outside.

Tate pushed back the fronds of a waist-high fern and peered out into the courtyard. "It's empty."

Simone moved closer, her eyes confirming his pronouncement. Drawing her gun, she stepped into the empty enclosure. Water splashed out of a lily-clad fountain surrounded by myriad orchids, their delicate blossoms gently scenting the air.