AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER ONE
Grady Steele squatted down in the thick jungle and looked toward the two shacks, both slick with green mildew, a light rain pattering on their roofs. The one on the right was the most likely holding place for the prisoner. Next to Grady was his partner, Stan Ravenowitz, a man everyone called Craven-Raven—a man Grady had gone through Special Forces training with at Ft. Bragg.
They were both dressed in full gear. BDUs—battle dress uniform. Camo to the rest of the world, though their uniforms belonged to no sanctioned army. They worked in the private field now for a company called Tri Star Securities, a Texas-based firm that specialized in hostage rescue and protection services. They came to the rescue when no one else could help. When clients were down to their last hope, they were the ones called.
“ELN. Looks like five of them.” Grady peered around the compound. His tactical vest was loaded with ammo clips, his pistol strapped to his thigh, an M-4 weapon slung around his neck, and his face covered in camo paint. “The two we saw enter the shack on the left. The two out here, and gotta be at least one in the shack on the right.”
“Could be more,” Stan whispered.
“Could be.” Grady looked at the starlit sky. They had about two hours of darkness before dawn would lighten the dense jungle. A fast boat waited up river to take them to a Navy boat offshore in international waters. They just had to make it there with the man they’d come to rescue, a sixty-year-old oil executive named Enrico Lopez, taken for ransom eighteen months ago by the ELN, a Colombian terrorist group called the National Liberation Army. They worked along the border of Venezuela, taking hostages for ransom to support their operations. All efforts at paying this ransom had only resulted in more demands. Now they wanted some big shot Colombian drug traffickers held in New York to be released.
Lopez’s family didn’t think there was much likelihood that would happen, so they’d finally contacted Tri Star.
“This guy could be in bad shape,” Stan murmured.
“We’ve only got a half click to go. I can carry him that far if necessary.” Grady watched the guards. One leaned against a tree and lit a cigarette. Its golden flare illuminated his face for a brief moment. Grady raised his weapon and sighted down the scope. “You ready?”
“Let’s do this,” Stan replied, aiming his own weapon at the second guard by the door.
Pop. Pop.Grady took out the one by the tree, and the man fell silently to the ground.
Pop. Pop.Stan did the same with the one by the entrance as he walked around the corner. His body slumped in the shadows.
“Move,” Grady hissed, and they jogged across the open area, Grady to the shack on the left and Stan to the one on the right. They pressed their backs to the wall and waited.
“Jose? Tienes un encendedor?” A voice called from the doorway.You got a lighter?“Jose? Dónde estás?”Where are you?
Stan lifted his chin to the door. Grady inched to the corner. One of the terrorists, dressed in dirty green fatigues, stepped around the edge to peer into the darkness. Quick as lightning, Grady put the man in a headlock and snapped his neck with a sickening crack. The filthy terrorist slid to the ground at his feet.
“Alejandro, es tu turno.”It’s your turn.The sound of cards shuffling carried to Grady, then some swearing. “Dios bueno. Pablo, ir a buscarlo.”Good God. Pablo, go get him.
“Ve a buscarlo.”You go get him.
Someone come get the motherfucker, so I can shoot you in the head.Grady’s hand tightened on his weapon, tired of waiting while they argued. Every minute counted.
Finally, Grady heard shuffling footsteps inside and glanced at Stan, knowing one or more would come out to investigate. His partner nodded, his weapon at the ready.
Two men stepped out onto the wooden pallet they used as a porch step.
Stan took them both out in quick succession.
Another man came out of the other shack, and Grady put a bullet through his forehead.
Stan checked that hut and gave a negative motion. Their target was not in there. He jogged to Grady, and they both entered the remaining shack, weapons up, a green pinpoint line of light from their weapons flashing around the room. With night-vision, it wasn’t hard to see. There was a padlocked door.
Grady pulled his C4 explosive clay, and in quick work, blew it open.
They found Enrico Lopez huddled in the corner, dressed in a dirty button-down shirt that had probably been white at one time, and a ragged pair of camo pants, his dress pants no doubt having long ago fallen in tatters. He looked up at them with terror.
Grady knelt at his bare feet. “Are you Enrico Lopez?”
The man nodded.
“We’re Americans. Your wife Luisa hired us to rescue you. I just have to verify your identity with a question. Can you tell me what street you lived on in seventh grade?”
“Berry Rose Road. Is it true? I am free?”
Stan clicked a picture of Enrico’s face. “We still have to get out of here.”
