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Joel, Danny, and I ducked low and took a breather.
“Status update follows,” I continued. Danny handed me a bottle of water, and I chugged half of it hurriedly. “We estimate the property is roughly fifteen acres—the only area too hot to go near is the entrance. Too many guards, heavier surveillance.” As we’d expected. “Once you’re over the wall, you have about fifty yards of thick vegetation and trees before a network of stone paths and dirt trails takes over. Children roam freely within the walls, with the occasional sicario walking by with a rifle. No problem finding hiding spots.”
I nodded for Danny to take over because I had to drink more. Joel and I had jogged, trekked, and sprinted the entire goddamn perimeter, just following the inside of the wall, while Danny had scouted the main estate by himself.
“The goal tonight is to keep the fight near the entertainment patios and amphitheater,” Danny reported. “If we let the Blancos and their higher-ups escape to the estate, they can be in the air within five minutes. They have three helipads, two on the ground, one on the roof, with three birds at the ready. Final estimate on security, maybe thirty sicarios in civilian clothes with rifles, primarily AK-47s and some more modern ones. Around twenty uniformed guards—these fuckers have had training. They patrol the area in pairs using four-wheelers, they have modern tech and comms, and we think their command center is located next to the main estate.”
Joel cleared his throat. “They have their eyes on the sky. Their biggest threat today is Colombian special forces and military, not rival cartels. If they suspect an attack, they think it’ll come from above.”
I agreed with him. The way they had set up their security was all the evidence we needed. If they’d worried about incoming attackers from the ground, they would’ve reinforced the wall and applied more technology. At this point, we didn’t believe we needed a blackout. If anything, it would do more harm than good. Our guys on the outside could easily use what nature provided. Some mud dripping over a camera, and they were good to go.
In between swigs of water, Danny and I wrapped up our update and shared our best bet on how to get over. Cameras were positioned a hundred yards apart, so eliminating just one would clear twice that area.
“What’s the latest from Willow?” I asked.
Emerson responded. “She can’t get access to their surveillance, but she’s in their communications. If they issue an order, we’ll know about it. She does know the tech they’re using, though, and their cameras don’t have built-in IR cut filters. The resolution is also fairly poor.”
Good enough. It was going to be a slow-as-fuck approach for our guys on the outside, where they had to crawl in full camo once they were in the cameras’ angles. No sudden movements.
“Copy that,” I replied. “Elliott, what’s your twenty?”
“About two hours out,” he grunted. “We just got past the outer defense perimeter. Same number of guards, more trip wire. Roughly half a klick between guard stations.”
Two hours, got it. I turned to Danny, and he nodded.
* * *
Crew Finlay
Where the fuck was he? Shay was supposed to be in the aboveground cage by now. Next to Luca Blanco’s beloved jaguar named Giulia.
I kept looking out over the amphitheater that’d started filling up with people. I had my back to Adrien, where he was seated at a table of high-ranking cartel members, eating their body weight in all the fucking food that could be found on this earth. Or, mostly in Italy. It was Italian fine dining.
As his scrappy bodyguard, I didn’t eat.
I didn’t mind, to be honest. I wasn’t hungry, and I had too much ground to keep my eyes on. The patios let you know how important you were. Adrien and I had been invited to dinner on the middle platform, a large terrace with approximately twenty guests. We were two marble steps below Luca Blanco’s restricted area, where he was currently having dinner with his favorite daughters-in-law, a few children, Enzo, and a handful of people I’d never seen.
Luca Blanco, one of the biggest drug lords in the world, was some fifty feet away from me.
It was fucking insane. He was right there behind me. Adrien had his eyes on him.
I flexed my fingers, hands clasped behind my back. The patio below ours was reserved for cartel members’ wives and children. Plenty of guards too. They were the ones currently leaving the patio to go sit in the stands of the theater. Everyone was excited about the fight, even the children. Like, did they fucking know? Did they understand death? It felt so fucking wrong to watch kids who belonged in kindergarten running around between armed guards. Completely unfazed, too.
One boy bumped into a guard and laughed, and the older man chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair.
They had live music, a pizza buffet, and all the AK-47s from Russia.
I heard Adrien chuckle behind me, and he said something in Spanish that made Marco laugh loudly.
It twisted my stomach. Seeing so much happiness and… Kids and guns, mothers and murderers, a feast before a fight that would end in death.
Man, I hope they delayed the fight. I knew Adrien felt the same way. Maybe that was why he made a show of having such a good time. Could that be it? To prolong the dinner?
I eyed another few men and women leaving the bottom patio to take their seats in the stands. No one was in any rush. The theater would eventually seat maybe two hundred people, and if they got thirsty or snackish, they had servers delivering champagne and whatever.
I wanted to get the fuck out of here.
It pissed me off that we hadn’t been able to see Shay. Enzo had offered Adrien a tour of the “gardens,” which had included a stroll through their private zoo. But no kidnapped cage fighters from the US.
