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“Blackstone One to Tracker One, do you copy?”
“Ten-four, Blackstone, we hear you loud and clear.”
“We are entering the building on the south entrance.”
“Copy that.”
I used my fingers to count down, then we slipped inside and were hit with what could only be described as a human landfill. We quickly broke cigarettes in half and stuck them up our noses, the filters helped with the smell of rotting flesh. We waded across the tacky floor and tried to ignore the buzz of the insects who all wanted a turn to eat. It explained why the marble hadn’t rolled. Ray used the toe of his boot to slide a severed leg out of his way as he led us over to the window I’d used earlier.
“Sick sons of bitches,” Frank muttered and moved to my right with his gun held high.
Countless dead eyes stared up at us with a silent plea to be returned home for a proper burial.
“If one of them blinks,” Zack hissed, “I’m out.”
“Focus,” I whispered and scanned the dark corners not touched by our light. I slipped into the mindset of someone being hunted. Where would I hide, and when would I shoot?
We moved slow and steady. Even our breaths were in unison, and I swore we shared one heartbeat. Voices filled my head when I took in the lifeless faces. What did they do to deserve such a ruthless, violent death? I made the mistake of focusing on them too long and spotted a woman who must have only been in her twenties. She had bruises all up and down her legs and arms. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the urge to curse loudly.
“Don’t carry it,” Zack reminded me, and I opened my eyes and pushed the thoughts aside.
Finally, we made it through the body maze and came up to the pipe that held the handcuffs.
“Dammit,” Zack cursed when he shone his light on the handcuffs. All that was left was a hand that was severed just above the wrist, the hand only had three fingers left on it, “where’s the rest of him?”
“I think right there.” Ray moved his flashlight to a mangled heap of a man without a hand.
I dropped to my knees and searched his jacket, but it was picked clean. His face was unrecognizable, but his expensive suit told me the chances were high that this was our subject.
“Frank, fingerprint the hand. I’ll do this hand to see if they belong to one another.”
“Copy that,” he pulled out his kit and did as he was told. I did the same, pressing the cold fingers into the ink and onto the paper. Just as we finished, I heard my father’s voice.
“Tracker One to Blackstone One, you have company. South entrance.”
Our flashlights went out in unison, and Frank and Ray moved quickly to get between some racks while Zack and I pressed ourselves against the wall behind a group of oil barrels. I didn’t want to think what might be inside of them.
I eased to my knees and craned my neck to see four men came into view. Each held a flashlight. One yelled in Spanish to look for the body. I clicked my radio four times indicating how many men were there.
We watched in horror as they used machetes to clear their paths through the bodies like they were just brush in a forest. The smell didn’t seem to bother them as they kicked, slashed, and tossed human remains around, cursing at the mess. They were savages.
“Él está aquí!” the ringleader shouted as he flicked his rifle butt against the handcuff that hung above the body we had just fingerprinted. The other guy picked up the hand from where it had dropped and held it up and waved it around. “Moverlo!” He ordered the others to move the body but suddenly stopped the man who held up the hand. He moved closer and shone a light on the fingers, and he saw the ink on the thumb.
Dammit.
He put a finger to his mouth and snapped his fingers for one of them to hand him his gun.
We could take them. I had no doubt about that, but where there were four cockroaches, there were a billion more waiting to disperse. The last thing we needed was to out our location. I knew my team would stay put unless I gave a signal, so as the ringleader unknowingly approached us, I slowly slid my knife from its sheath, and Zack did the same. If we were going to add to the body count, we were going to do it silently. Frank and Ray would back us up with their weapons, ready to kill quickly if I gave the sign.
“Who’s in my house?” the guy spat in broken English then laughed like he got a sick high from the situation. “We were wondering when you were going to come. We found your informant.” I closed my eyes for a second, wondering which informant they’d killed. “Do you feel that?” he asked his buddy in Spanish. “That’s warm American blood.”
“Soldier blood.” His buddy laughed.
“Our blood now.” The ringleader’s steps came closer as we pressed ourselves lower and slid deeper between the barrels. As he got close, his light caught the toe of my boot, and I steadied my breath and waited for the bullets to rain down.
Nothing.
“You think you can come onto our land and stop what we do?” He stopped right next to me, and my fingers flexed on the handle of my knife as I lifted my arm. “You have no idea how big we really are.”
