Green Ice: A Deadly High (45 page)

“Where’s your sense of humanity, Trey?” Mancini asked.

“I think I left it back down the damn road someplace.”

The trail leveled out and Trey hit the brakes when they saw the highway’s blacktop running horizontally in front of them.

“Which way now, man?”

Mancini looked at the map and shrugged. “I guess we should take a right turn.” He placed his finger on a spot on the map where the pen mark ended. “According to this, we should be here. The route should loop around and take us back onto the coastal road on the north side of La Paz.”

“You sure about that?”

Mancini sighed. He wasn’t sure about anything
except surviving by means of total recklessness. “Try that route but stop if you see any blockades. I doubt we’ll be able to bullshit our way through again.”

Trey
pulled out onto the highway, turning right as instructed. The road was deserted and they could just about make out the buildings that formed the outskirts of La Paz, some miles in the distance to the west.

The car gathered speed and Trey thankfully watched the temperature gauge return to normal. The rush of wind welcomingly cooled everybody in the vehicle.  

“You got any big plans for our strategy when we finally get to this place?” Trey asked.

Mancini shrugged. “We’ll have to just see what the hell is going on when we get there.”

“That doesn’t inspire me with a whole lot of confidence, man,” Trey muttered. “I want to get this shit over with.”

“Roger that,” Mancini sighed. He checked all three of his firearms once again and sorted through the spare ammunition and magazines in the glove box. “We’ve got fifteen shotgun cartridges and two spare mags for the rifle and another two each for the Heckler and Koch handguns.”

Trey turned his head.
“Seriously? Is that enough?”

“I don’t know, Trey. If these guys are still up and running, they’ll have all kinds of firepower at their disposal. We’ll just have to see how the land lies.”

Mancini knew they didn’t possess either enough ammunition or manpower to commit to an all out assault on the cartel’s stronghold. With no backup and extremely limited resources, they’d struggle to cause their opponents much of a problem.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

A left turn on a bend in the road led to the coastal route Mancini was looking for. The sun shone over the blue sea
, which was calm and crystal clear in the shallows at the edge of a sandy bay to the right. A few deserted wooden beach huts stood at the far side of the bay and rocky hills rose up against the shoreline behind the cove.

“Man, that water looks
awesome,” Trey sighed.

“I’d love to go for a dip right now,” Leticia
wailed.

“Maybe when this is all over,” Mancini said.

“I’d be happy if I had some pain killers,” Jorge groaned. “To hell with swimming in the sea.”

Mancini turned in his seat. “Do you have a house number or a name for this place, Jorge? It’s important we see this through now.”

Jorge squirmed in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Logrono said the place was named
Casa del Sol Naciente
– the
House of the Rising Sun
.”

“We should try
Luiz’s phone again before we come across the place,” Mancini said. “I want to try and get some intel on exactly what we’re dealing with right there. Logrono might want saving but I seriously doubt he’ll hand over that stash of green ice in a hurry, especially if he’s parted with a shit load of cash.”

“You want me to pull over so you can call him?” Trey asked.

Mancini nodded. “It might be worth a try.”

Trey slowed the car and drove onto the dusty shoulder
, bringing the vehicle to a gradual stop. He turned off the engine so the noise wouldn’t interrupt the impending phone conversation. Mancini fished in his pocket and handed his cell phone to Jorge.

“I don’t have much battery life left so
make it as quick as you can,” he said.

Jorge took the phone and scrolled through the contacts. He selected
Luiz’s number and hit the dial button. Jorge waited patiently while the call connected. He heard a bleeping sound and was told by a pre-recorded voice that it was not possible to connect his call. Jorge tried again with the same negative result. He looked at Mancini and shook his head.

“No reply,” he sighed. “Either the phone is dead or has its battery run down, I’m afraid.”
He handed the cell phone back to Mancini.

“Okay, let’s go over what we know,” Mancini said
, slipping the cell back in his pocket. “We haven’t spoken to Luiz, so we don’t even know if he’s alive or dead. Logrono said he was in trouble in the house and needed rescuing.” He turned to Jorge. “Do you know how many guys usually hang around at Logrono’s place?”

Jorge shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been
to his house and I’ve never met the guy before. Luiz always dealt with him.”

“So we don’t even know what this guy looks like?” Trey asked incredulously. “It seems to me like we’re going headlong into this thing, like an uninvited blind man crashing a wedding party.”

“Pretty much,” Mancini sighed.

The pickup truck driver watched the Thunderbird stop on the shoulder and he wondered what they were planning. He looked through his binoculars and saw the guy in the backseat, the one with a swollen ankle calling somebody on a phone. All four people in the car talked for a short while then set off on their journey again. The pickup truck driver fired up his vehicle and followed at a safe distance.

“Keep your eyes open for any big place with high fences overlooking the sea,” Mancini said. “Logrono’s security perimeter may have back fired on him and he can’t get out of the grounds.”

Trey slowed the vehicle as they drove by a large house on the ridge to their right.

“You think that’s it, man?” he asked.

Mancini studied the property. “Nah, that place is deserted and there’s not much in the way of security. The place is all open and there are no high walls or fences. It just
doesn’t look right.”

Trey accelerated away and slowed again when they spotted another larger house, set further back from the road.
Mancini saw black, wrought iron railed fences stood on top of six foot high stone walls, making the total height around ten feet. The fences surrounded the sides and front of the property and a pair of tall wrought iron gates stood in the center of the front boundary. A narrow access road snaked up the ridge, leading to the tall gates.

“This looks like the place,” Mancini said.
He pointed to some white lettering fixed onto the wall to the left side of the gate. “
Casa del Sol Naciente
,” he read aloud. “This is definitely it, guys. Time to start the party.”  

“So what do you want me to do?” Trey asked. “Drive right on up to the front gates and ring the doorbell?”

“No, stop the car someplace nearby and I’ll go and scout the area out and try and see what we’re up against.”

“All right,” Trey agreed and rolled the Thunderbird forward.

They drove around thirty yards and Trey pulled the vehicle over in a lay-by overlooking the sea. The landscape sloped downward from the road to a deserted sandy bay, with white parasols flapping in the sea breeze above chunky wooden tables. A café and bar stood to the left of the beach, with closed shutters covering the doors and windows.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Leticia said, taking in the tranquil scenery. “Why would anybody want to destroy what they have here by pedaling drugs?”

Mancini shook his head. “Search me,” he sighed. “Let’s go find out what’s going down over at the
House of the Rising Sun
.”

Chapter Seventy

Mancini checked the shotgun and the semi automatic rifle again. He handed the shotgun to Trey as it would be ineffective for the task ahead.
Trey took the weapon with an expression of apprehension.

“I’ve never fired one of these bad boys before, man,” he said.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to,” Mancini sighed. “I’ll take a look over Logrono’s place and if it’s all clear, I’ll go fetch the stash.”

“That’s if
the product is still inside the house,” Jorge chipped in.

“That’s a chance we’re going to have to take,” Mancini snapped. He hadn’t considered the possibility Logrono,
Luiz and the whole batch of green ice might not even be at the house. Their mission would be thrown into total chaos if that particular scenario proved to be the case.

Mancini climbed out of the car and slung the semi automatic rifle over his shoulder.
It was time to go. He pointed to the shotgun in Trey’s hands.

“Just point and pump if you have to fire but watch out for the recoil and for fuck’s sake
don’t fire if anybody you don’t want to hit is real close. I’ll be right back if I hear any shooting, okay? If you get surrounded by hostiles, take off in the car and call me. I’ll meet up with you someplace safe later on.”

Trey nodded. “Point and pump, got it.”

“It’s loaded so don’t mess with it and spare cartridges are in the glove box but conserve the ammo. We don’t have a great deal to waste.”

“All right, I hear you
, man.” The irritation was evident in Trey’s tone. He respected Mancini but felt he was talking down to him a little. After all, he’d seen guys use pump action shotgun’s in the movies. How hard could firing one be?

Mancini nodded and slapped the top of the passenger door. “See you in five.” He turned and headed for the foot of the ridge
, on the opposite side of the road.

Mancini gazed upwards at the house on top of the ridge and skirted around the access road. He jumped up the steep incline and crawled on his hands and knees over the rocky terrain. Thickly sprouting bushy plants allowed Mancini to grab at the foliage and pull himself up the slope. The sun beat down on his back and he felt sweat run between his shoulder blades.
Some of the low growing shrubs uprooted from the ground in Mancini’s hands, causing him to slide a couple of feet back down the ridge. His feet grazed across the rocky surface underneath the foliage, as he desperately tried to gain a foot hold. Progress was painfully slow going.

A welcomingly cooling breeze wafted from the sea as Mancini reached
level ground beside the stone wall surrounding Logrono’s palatial property. His shirt was drenched with sweat and he wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve. He raised his arms and jumped, gripping hold of the iron railings above the stone wall. With his feet scrabbling up the stone surface, Mancini hauled himself upwards onto the narrow, six inch wide ledge on top of the wall in front of the railings. The overhanging branches of a tree near the wall provided some welcome shade and acted as some form of slight cover.  

Mancini crouched and pulled the semi automatic rifle around from his back and leaned the barrel on top of the horizontal railing support. He glanced down the scope and took in the scene inside the property grounds. The exterior of the large, two storey
house was whitewashed and built in a rectangular, block shape, standing around thirty yards from the perimeter wall. Several expensive luxury cars stood in the driveway outside the house and the shiny paintwork of the vehicles glinted in the sun, causing a glare in Mancini’s rifle scope. Three of the cars were trashed, with shattered windshields and side windows. Bloody smears covered the wrecked vehicle interiors and ran down the outside of the front doors. He changed the rifle angle and looked over the spacious grounds surrounding the mansion.     

At least two dozen infected
, dressed in the torn remains of business suits, bikinis or pool wear roamed around the garden, the patios and the swimming pool area. Some of the frenzied creatures chewed on mangled body parts, while others roamed around in circles with grimaces on their bloody faces, obviously searching for fresh meat. The water in the swimming pool was a light red color and Mancini saw the remains of several bodies bobbing around in the drink. Overturned sun loungers, broken bottles and a shattered cocktail trolley lay scattered around the pool area.

“Wow, this place used to be some kind of ongoing party,” he muttered.