Page 335 of The Black Trilogy

Because tomorrow I’d start planning in earnest how to make Colombia a Ramos-free zone.

CHAPTER 14

ALEJANDRO SERVED BREAKFAST early on the terrace, and as I nibbled a slice of melon, I watched in fascination as a hummingbird buzzed around the fragrant vines that trailed over Eduardo’s pergola. A servant tried to present me with another plate of pastries, but I waved them away.

“You don’t like those?” Eduardo asked.

“They’re delicious, but I’m getting fat.”

“I don’t need to find a new chef, then?”

“No! The one you’ve got is great.” Please, don’t shoot him. I hastily changed the subject. “Do you know where Ramos lives?”

“His compound is much like mine, except it’s not so easy to get to.”

“Not so easy to get to” turned out to be an understatement. The Ramos family home was buried deep in the jungle, around a hundred and twenty miles as the crow, or rather the helicopter, flew from casa Garcia.

Eduardo described the location to the best of his knowledge, and Agent Belcourt and the DEA added their two cents worth. They knew what we were planning, and while the agency couldn’t openly condone it, Belcourt promised they’d buy us all beers if we pulled it off. Then Jed cajoled his buddies at the CIA into making a satellite pass for me, which provided Mack with a detailed set of high-resolution photographs.

They were well worth the Superbowl tickets they cost me.

For the next few days, I spent the mornings training and the afternoons planning. Training consisted of gym sessions, running around the trails on Eduardo’s estate, martial arts drills, shooting, and throwing. Throwing was a skill that shouldn’t be neglected. When I hurled a knife at my enemy or tossed a gun to a colleague, I needed to know it would reach its target.

Seb, Marco, and their core team started joining in with my training sessions. They got frustrated at first because they got outperformed by a girl, but it did make them up their game. In truth, they weren’t bad, but they’d got lax because they didn’t push themselves regularly like I did. Alex yelling via a satellite link did us all good. The following week, as we got closer to action, I picked my team for the assault on the Ramos compound.

Some choices were straightforward.

Nick and Dan were obvious. Both were in excellent physical condition, Nick had extensive combat history, and Dan had street smarts. Not to mention we’d spent so many years working together we could read each other’s thoughts. Plus I wanted Logan and Evan. I knew how Logan worked and trusted him, and Evan’s stint in the army gave him plenty of experience with jungle-based operations.

Other choices were harder. I agonised over Nate, Mack, and Carmen. We needed an electronics specialist on site, which meant Nate or Mack. Ideally, I’d have Nate, as he had far more field experience than Mack. But we also needed a sniper, and Carmen was the best. My problem was Josh, Nate and Carmen’s son. If this job went wrong, as so many things in my life had tended to do lately, I didn’t want to leave him an orphan. Which left me with Mack and Carmen.

Jed was another question mark. He’d only just got the cast off his leg, but since the attack on the house, he’d split his days between the gym and the shooting range. Alex said he’d worked hard on the weights, but his cardio had been limited. The doctor may have given him a clean bill of health, but was that enough? Would I rather have Jed at eighty-five percent or someone else fitter who might not have Jed’s training and ability?

In total, I needed twelve people from Blackwood plus a sniper. Seb and Marco were bringing another half dozen men with them, which took our numbers up to twenty-one. We’d worked on the assumption Ramos would have a similar setup to Eduardo regarding staffing, and Eduardo had at least sixty people on his estate at all times once you added in the domestic staff and guards. The servants might not be trained soldiers, but they were still capable of picking up a gun and shooting somebody if the need arose.

I’d quit drinking by that point, so Seb and I sat down with glasses of mango juice to deliberate over our final team.

“I’ve got my six,” Seb said. “Are you any closer to a decision?”

“Eight definites, including me.” I’d added Alex to my list too. “And I think I’m just about there on the extras.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Jack, Malachi, and Gage are all ex-army, and Isaiah’s a trained medic as well as being a sneaky git.”

“That leaves one.”

“Jed. It’s got to be Jed.”

From the satellite photos, we saw the Ramos estate covered an area of about twenty acres, a large clearing blasted out of the rainforest. In addition to the main house, there were numerous outbuildings, and the whole place was surrounded by the dense undergrowth typical of the region.

Access was via an unpaved road that twisted its way through the forest from the nearest settlement fifteen miles away. As well as that, a small grass airstrip ran along one side of the property, and Seb’s sources said Diego was a keen pilot.

Nate set up a video link so I could brief everyone stateside. I felt a bit under-equipped sitting in Eduardo’s chintzy lounge while they were surrounded by state-of-the-art technology, but needs must. At least Eduardo had found me some decent guns by then. We ran through the outline of my plan, the team selection, and each person’s role. In a couple of days, the guys from Blackwood would fly over to Colombia to join me, and I’d made a list of equipment for them to bring.

“Where are we landing the jet?” Nick asked.

“Eduardo’s arranged for us to borrow the private airstrip he uses.”

“Is that going to cause us a problem with our luggage?”

Eduardo spoke up from his place at my side. “The staff will turn a blind eye as long as we’ve paid the landing fee.”

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