SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops VI - Guantanamo (3 page)

"Que pasa?"

What is going on?

"And I looked, and behold, a pale horse." Ryder intoned, "And its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him." The guards both gazed at him with incredulity, worried by the crazy-sounding Anglo priest. Ryder went on, oblivious to their stares, "And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth."

As he ended the verse from Revelations, John-Wesley walked further into the room. If was as if was a cobra, mesmerizing his prey with the haunting words.

"Está mal," one of the guards said, his voice tinged with superstitious fear.

Ryder's lips parted in a thin smile. "It's very 'mal', buddy. You just beheld the good 'ole rider on that pale horse. You recall his name? It was 'Death'. And he's standing right in front of you."

As he talked, the blackened blade emerged, almost invisible in the gloom. Then he struck. Ryder moved like a wraith, twisting, moving, and striking. The blade's edge slashed first across the neck of the man who'd opened the door. The last words the Colombian heard were also from the bible, although it's doubtful they gave him any comfort.

"Death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

The room was already a bloodbath as he moved in on the second man, and the blade buried itself in his groin. He must have hit an artery, for a spurt of blood sprayed on the ceiling. The man screamed before Ryder silenced his death agonies. Yet still, the butchery continued.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."

"Please, Señor, don't hurt me!"

He spun around, and the moonlight reflected from his eyes. They were distant, staring, seeking his next victim. Filled with a mad mixture of both threat and an almost gentle softness. He saw the girl and stiffened, recognizing her for what she was.

"And there came two angels to Sodom at evening; and Lot sat in the gate of Sodom: and Lot rose up to meet them; and he bowed himself with his face toward the ground."

Ryder went toward her, his greedy blade outstretched, and even in the dark, the wet blood was an awesome threat.

"No, please!" she whimpered, huddling on the floor, trying to make herself less of a target.

He ignored her desperate pleas and kept moving toward her. "Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived, neither fornicators, nor idolaters..."

He was almost on her; the knife moved forward as he searched for a vital point to stab. She was moaning, her cries unearthly as she saw her death approach.

"Ryder, no!" The voice rang out, clear, commanding.

The Seal stopped dead. He turned to look at Nolan. "Chief, she's..."

"I said no! She's a civilian. Leave her, and get this cell door open."

He seemed to shiver, then shrugged. He left the girl on the floor, and searched for the keys. He found them on a hook, ambled over to the cell door, and the key rattled in the lock. The door opened. They were free. Nolan nodded his thanks.

"I still don't know how you managed it, but thanks, John-Wesley. Did you see any other guards when you came in?"

"Next to the main gate they have a guard post. I'd guess about four men inside. There're sure to be others in the main prison block. This place is a kind of separate annex."

"It's the condemned cells."

"Roger that. I got in through the governor's house. I'd guess we can go out the same way, and take his vehicle. It's a shiny Mercedes SUV. The governor won't mind. Not anymore he won't."

Nolan shuddered. It was the way Ryder spoke of his victims that worried him. The absence of any emotion over the people he killed. Maybe that was an advantage for a soldier, but he knew from his own experience there was always some shred of empathy for the men you killed. It was part of being human, but not for Ryder. For him, killing was a tool. A tool of the Lord.

John-Wesley was a newcomer to the Navy Seals, and there'd been some initial doubts about his sociopathic personality. In the end, the consensus was unanimous. His lack of remorse over the people he killed, combined with his unequaled combat skills, was something of which they could make good use. Provided he never lost control. Like he almost did with the prostitute.

Would I
have shot him if he’d attempted to murder her? But how can you shoot a man who's just rescued you from a firing squad?

There was no real answer to that question. He held out a hand to assist Will to his feet.

"Can you make it?"

The big man chuckled as he brushed off the offer of help. "Ask the next person I kill if I can make it. I only wish Ryder had left those two men to me. All the same, I'm grateful."

They ignored the bloody bodies as they explored the guardroom for weapons. Will picked up the scattergun, and Brad took the big revolver, a heavy .45 caliber Colt Single Action Army. Ryder ignored them, content with his knife. The whore was still crouched on the floor, staring up at Nolan. He looked back at her.

"Stay there for ten minutes. If you move before then, I'll tell this man to kill you." He nodded at Ryder, and she shivered. "Entiendes?"

"Si, I understand."

"Let's go."

They exited the cellblock and walked across a concrete yard. Around the prison walls there were a number of armored floodlights mounted on posts. Most of them were switched off, or more likely broken. Except the one that lit up the area close to the governor's house, separated from the main prison by a wall about three meters high. There was a gate set in the wall, which was open. Nolan eyed the illuminated yard with suspicion. It looked like a kill zone.

"It's okay," Ryder told them, "If we hug the wall, we can stay in the shadows until we reach the gate. Then we sprint through the garden in the back of the house, and out the front door. His car is parked outside."

"There's no one inside?"

"Not anymore."

They darted across the concrete yard and flattened against the wall. The spill of light made it impossible to go through the gate without showing themselves for a few seconds.

"We'll go through together. Keep it casual, try and look as if we own the place," Nolan told them.

He led the way into the lit area and strolled casually through the gate, with his men walking behind. They went through into the garden, and Nolan told the last man, Brad Rose, to close the gate behind them. As he pushed it shut, the security lights suddenly blazed, and the siren began its eerie wail.

"Shit, they found the dead guards," Brad exclaimed.

"Or that whore dropped the dime on us," Ryder muttered, "I should have killed her."

Nolan snapped at both of them. "Forget it, it's happened. Just concentrate on getting out of here."

They crossed the garden at a run and entered the house through the rear door. This time Ryder led the way, along the hallway and into the front lobby. A body lay on the floor covered in blood, and it looked as if his death had been a hard one. There was a staircase nearby, and on the bottom steps lay another body, a woman. She wore a white nightdress, most of it colored red from the blood she'd spilled when Ryder knifed her.

Nolan ignored John-Wesley's handiwork and tore open the front door. He could see the Mercedes SUV, parked only twenty meters away. A 'G' Class, one hundred thousand dollars if it was a dime. He’d obviously done good business, taking bribes from prisoners and their families. But another vehicle was skidding to a stop, only ten meters beyond the Mercedes, a jeep loaded with four soldiers. Almost certainly standard operating procedure to protect the governor and his family when the alarm sounded.

He had to make some fast decisions. Two handguns, a combat knife, and the scattergun were not ideal when you were squaring up to four modern assault rifles. It would have to do.

"Brad, go to the right, stay in the shadows. John-Wesley, take the left and work your way around to their flank. Make sure they don't see you. Will, I want you to stay here. When I shoot, let them have both barrels from that scattergun. You two men try to finish the survivors. Let's move."

Brad and John-Wesley sneaked out and began working their way around to the flanks. Will Bryce stayed out of sight, and Nolan snaked across to the SUV. He crouched behind the front fender and covered the four men with the Sig Sauer. At first, the soldiers made no move to approach the house. They stood talking, and from time to time glanced at the house, waiting.

After a few moments, they got suspicious. During an emergency, the lights in the house would have been switched on, and almost certainly the governor would come out to meet them and give them orders. Instead, there was only silence and darkness. Nolan heard one of them, a sergeant, bark an order at two of the men, and they started to stroll toward the house. They were heading right for where he waited in the shadows. As they walked past him, he fired twice. One of the men went down, the other had stopped to shout a question at his sergeant, and the two shots spat past, missing him by inches. But even though the Sig was fitted with a suppressor, there was enough noise to alert the hostiles.

He stood up, held his weapon in his outstretched arm, aimed and fired again. He made sure his second shot went home; the soldier had been trying to bring his rifle to bear. He didn't make it. He'd racked a round into the breech, and as the 9mm bullet took him in the chest, his finger tightened on the trigger, and the shot was loud as it whistled away into the night.

One of the remaining two soldiers started forward, until Will stepped into view and hit them with both barrels. The leading man went down, riddled with buckshot, but the other, the sergeant, was more careful and swerved aside after the first barrel fired. The scattergun volley slightly wounded him, and he rolled away into the darkness. The man disappeared behind a low, ornamental garden wall before they could get in another shot.

Nolan started edging toward where he'd gone to ground, but the Colombian NCO spotted him and emptied a long burst that forced him to duck away from the torrent of hot lead. He wasn't sure where Ryder and Rose were positioned, so he made another attempt to take him. He crawled around the other side of the SUV and once more began to snake through the shadows.

Suddenly, the Colombian popped out from behind the wall and fired a short burst to his left, aiming where Brad was hiding. Two loud reports split the night as Rose returned fire with the big old Colt Single Action. The sergeant fired again, and once again Brad popped off a couple of loud shots with the handgun. They were going nowhere, and soon the area would be swamped with soldiers. Nolan decided to do it the hard way.

He jumped to his feet and charged. The hostile saw him coming and triggered a short burst. One round almost parted Nolan's hair, and he was forced to take cover. It was another standoff, but then he saw a dark shadow moving through the night.

Ryder!

John-Wesley moved fast, smooth as a snake, silent, almost as if he were a creature of the night. He had a stone in his hand. Nolan saw his arm move as he threw it, and there was a loud clatter as it hit the concrete several meters away. The Colombian turned and fired two shots. They were the last shots he would ever fire.

Ryder fell on him like a savage wraith, moving swiftly out of the shadows. The knife fell repeatedly, and the man went down, his lifeblood pooling around him. They heard John-Wesley quoting a bible passage, spoken in a deadly monotone. "For he beareth not the sword in vain. He is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil." As he rambled, he kept stabbing down, butchering his victim.

"Enough!" Nolan's voice slashed out the order, "He's dead. Let's go."

The Texan turned to glance back at him with his dreamy expression, his killing face. Then he nodded and left the body.

They climbed into the SUV and found the keys in the ignition. Nolan took the driver's seat. He started the engine and drove away, out of the gate and onto the road. They were on the highway, speeding away from Taraza prison, and the four men relaxed as he pointed the wheels north and picked up speed, heading for the border with Panama.

"I've always wanted to see Panama City," Brad mused, sitting back in the soft comfort of the leather upholstery.

"You may have to wait longer than you thought," Will Bryce told him, "You've heard of the Darien Gap?" Rose shook his head. "I thought not. We're lucky we're traveling in a vehicle as tough as this one. When we reach the Gap, the roads are almost non-existent, so we'll be driving along tracks barely wide enough for a donkey to pass. We'll scratch most of the paintwork off the bodywork before we cross the border."

"We'll have more than the paintwork to worry about," Nolan brought them up with a jerk, "Colombia is supposed to be an ally of the US. We already had a murder charge hanging over our heads, and now we've killed those soldiers, they'll want us back. We're not out of the woods yet."

His dire warning drained their exhilaration after the narrow escape. They drove in silence, and soon the road petered out and became a track that started to narrow even further. They fought their way through the steaming jungle, finding the canopy so dense, they didn't realize that dawn had broken. They plowed on, and by midday, they bumped over a narrow ford that crossed a fast flowing stream. It was the border with Panama.