Page 45 of Vaquero
“Julio, huh? He’s only gonna break your heart, kiddo. Black ops guys don’t stick around long enough to make families. They don’t play fair with their relationships, because deep down, all they are is ghosts and shadows. You ever think that maybe all this Juarez dude wants is his job? His solitude? That he’s happier being left alone?”
Then why did he kiss me like he was starving?
Meg pushed out of Charlie’s arms, so she could look him in the eye. If her stroke had taught her anything, it was not to give up hope. True, she’d lost her way for a while a year ago. She’d been despondent and even a touch depressed when she’d left home. But once she’d come to Brazil, she’d been reborn again, and she knew it. As backward as it sounded, she’d found herself the moment she’d given herself away to her work. After she’d fallen in love with her kids.
Meg made a fist and clocked Charlie’s shoulder. Of course, he didn’t flinch. “Thinking’s over-rated, CB. Get that chopper ready. Let’s roll.”
*****
They came like jackals and snakes. Like devious coyotes. Quietly. Stealthily. But loaded for war and prepared to attack the alpha predator of the region. At least, to take advantage of the tragedy that had befallen Orlando Zapata.
Julio watched from his sniper hide in the dense trees around the gravel pit. He’d studied the local demographics on his long flight to South America. Because Minas Gerais was one of the more populated states in southern Brazil, it had more than its share of lowlifes, troublemakers, and illegal militias. Those local bands of thugs would surely come looking for Oz.
After Rafael and his villagers had left with their share of Zapata’s weapons, Julio had hurriedly camouflaged the remaining stockpile beneath thick layers of leathery banana leaves. To make sure none of the remaining cache in the pit survived, he’d set simple explosives to ignite at his command. Then he’d laced the trail into the pit with the same remote-controlled charges. He couldn’t chance that a lone child wandering these hills might set off a carelessly set booby trap. Or that a troop of monkeys wouldn’t grow curious at the disturbed topography and investigate.
No. The only way to ensure there was no collateral damage was for Julio to stay alert, awake, and ready to detonate those charges.
Which was difficult after the last forty-eight plus hours without sleep. But he’d managed to grab a few combat naps. Now, he drew a bead on the tall, slender Brazilian standing with his hands on his hips, staring into the fire. Smoke still billowed from the cavernous hole. That Zapata had stockpiled enough diesel fuel to stoke this fire so that it had lasted all night and most of this morning, was a unique feat unto itself. But then again, maybe not.
Julio’d witnessed enough despots the world over to know they all thought themselves above man’s and God’s laws. Yet they were all paranoid, too. Always looking over their shoulders for that knife in the back. Hence, they overcompensated, like Hitler, who’d built so many secret bunkers that myths he still lived abounded yet today.
All hoaxes and conspiracy theories. Julio knew bastards like Hitler. He couldn’t have stayed hidden all this time if he’d tried. His ego wouldn’t have let him.
Without glancing behind him, the man below waved his arm, and several more men appeared out of the forest and came forward. All were dressed in the same military fashion as Zapata’s men, only their neckerchiefs were green instead of red. All were armed, either with rifles, machine guns, or machetes.
In the end, thirteen men lined the edge of the pit above the tunnels. Three more stood across the pit from them. They waved at each other, signaling all clear when it was anything but. These guys hadn’t discovered what was left of Zapata’s stockpile yet. They were too preoccupied by the three Russian missiles. Too excited.
Julio steadied his rifle stock into his cheek and bided his time. Patience ruled all decent snipers. He waited until he was absolutely sure he could end as many of these men as possible before he was spotted. It’d be a fight for survival after that, yet he’d been in tighter situations. He wasn’t worried.
Drawing in a slow, steady breath, he let it ease just as slowly out of his lungs. Tired or not, he would end anyone who tried to control those missiles. It might take the rest of this morning, but those missiles weren’t going anywhere.
At last, the leader waved his men forward, and they took the trail at a trot. He led the way, and, sure enough, he skirted the massive crater and marched straight for the twisted missile carriers and their payload.
Sweat dripped into Julio’s eyes, stinging, but not enough that he wiped it away. The injury to his bicep throbbed, but he dealt with it. Nothing must come between him and his task. Not now. No sniper moved once his targets had lined up as easily as these guys did. Even the three from the opposite edge of the pit had now joined their fearless leader. Interestingly, no guards stood watch at their backs. That made this ambush easier. The trail was the nearest way out of the pit, and right now, those tough guys were all out in the open.
But greed tended to make even the smartest men stupid.
Julio waited until they’d all surrounded the nearest missile. He watched them stroke it like the prize it was. Then it got interesting. The last three to join the group opened fire on the others, shooting them in the back and killing everyone. Once the assassination ended, they laughed. They yelled. They high-fived each other.
Julio had just witnessed a bloody coup. A massacre. If he had any doubts before, he didn’t now. He fired three deadly rounds, ending the assassins’ brief powerplay once and for all. Within seconds, the reverberation from his rifle reports grew silent. The jungle stilled.
Good enough. Good plan. Good riddance.
The earth heaved then as another underground explosion belched and obliterated the sixteen bodies. Satisfied, Julio reloaded, then leaned back into the sturdy trunk behind him. He’d chosen well. This tree’s wide branches made for a decent place to sit, and its dense growth kept him hidden. A man could easily drift off to sleep here. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Except for Meg to share this branch with him. That’d be nice.
