Chapter 59

59

Juan and Linc kept under stealthy concealment as they made their way along a coastal trail back to the armory. They were close enough to hear the pounding surf and caught glimpses of the ocean through the trees.

They chose the most logical route offering them the best cover, but it took them a while, giving Cabrillo enough time to rethink their situation. He certainly didn’t trust the Vendor to honor the agreement he had made with his band of cutthroat mercenaries, especially now that his applecart had been upended. To that end, they turned off their radios just in case the Vendor had the means to track them. Cabrillo knew that just because he had grounded Rahul’s drone fleet and cameras didn’t mean the Vendor didn’t have other means of surveillance or attack. Vigilance and caution were their best defenses.

If he and Linc wanted to survive, the safest play would have been to hole up somewhere and wait for the Oregon to arrive just two hours from now. But Cabrillo was never one to put personal security above a mission, and his mission was to capture the Vendor and disrupt his operations. He still felt as if the plan to find a drone in the armory and use it to neutralize the minefields at flag number nine was their best shot at doing both.

And it was always possible the Oregon could be delayed for hours, perhaps days.

Bringing the contest to an official close might even draw the Vendor out. The arms dealer had exuded both arrogance and vanity. There was no telling what opportunity might present itself for his capture or demise if Juan and Linc saw this through to the end.

Juan halted. Something didn’t feel right. He glanced around their position. He also glanced up. The thick foliage that hid them from drones also obscured his view.

“I’ve got that tingling sensation,” Juan said.

“You mean, like when a pretty girl catches your eye?”

“More like squatting in a poison ivy patch without any toilet paper around.”

“It is kinda quiet,” Linc said. For the better part of their journey buzzing insects and colorful birdcalls had filled the air. Now it was dead silent again, save for the sound of crashing waves and hissing sand.

Cabrillo pulled out his spotting scope and edged forward. Sunlight fell on a hundred-yard patch of open trail. They needed to cross it quickly if they had any hope of avoiding detection. A thick copse of trees loomed on the other side in the shape of a crescent. The trail led straight into a green pocket of foliage.

“What do you see?” Linc whispered.

“Green. Lots of green.”

“All clear?”

Juan lowered his scope, processing. He wasn’t sure.

“Clear.”

Linc unslung his semi-auto Barrett. In a lesser man’s hands it would’ve been too big to handle without a tripod. But Linc could wield it like a regular rifle despite its enormous weight and kick, and lay down a hail of armor-piercing .50-cal gunfire that could stop a small fleet of light armored vehicles.

“Cover me.”

“Got you.”

Juan bolted for the clearing.

Three steps into his run, Mangin dashed out of the opposing tree line on the far side of the crescent, away from the shore. He waved his arms like a semaphore.

A warning.

Juan hit the dirt when a burst of gunfire ripped into the Frenchman’s back, tumbling him into the grass.

The crescent tree line opened up.

Juan turned a hundred-eighty degrees on his belly and scrambled for cover as Linc opened up with the Barrett. The two men took up positions behind thick trees.

“Frenchie saved us,” Juan said. He raised his carbine and fired off a short burst.

“Guess he thought he owed us.”

“He didn’t. But he paid the price anyway.”

A couple of heavy-caliber rounds thudded into the trunk of Juan’s tree as he sheltered behind it catching his breath. He felt the wood shuddering against his lower spine.

“Two tangos heading east,” Linc said as he squeezed off a shot. The Barrett thundered.

Cabrillo peered around his trunk just as Drăguș cartwheeled into the dirt like a broken doll.

Linc chuckled. “Made that one.”

The roar of outboard motors suddenly broke over the water. Cabrillo caught a sudden glimpse of two racing RHIBs full of the Vendor’s bodyguards, their wakes carving white scars across the face of the blue ocean.

“Looks like they’re trying to flank us,” Juan said.

“I count twelve in the boats.”

“And we still have four ahead of us—and on the move.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Survive.”

A master tactician, Juan had already determined the best course of action. If his next move was entirely successful, they would live.

For another fifteen minutes.

At most.

But it was the only shot they had.

They had been moving approximately south along the covered trail when the Frenchman popped out of the tree line to warn them. That put the two RHIBs and the coast on the west, and the interior of the island on the east—the direction that at least one of the mercs was now pursuing.

Cabrillo figured that if he were in charge of the two boats, he’d land one team farther north to cut off their retreat in that direction, and put the other boat on the beach ASAP so they could come in from the west. In short order, with any good radio communications, even a poorly trained unit would be able to set up an effective kill box.

Unfortunately, the mercs Cabrillo faced were anything but poorly trained. He had to assume the Vendor’s personal bodyguards were equally skilled.

Cabrillo’s plan was to avoid the kill box for as long as possible and find a better defensive position. Always observing his surroundings, he had spotted what looked like either a crater or a ravine earlier in their movement down the trail toward the armory. He was headed back there now.

Juan skidded to a stop and pointed to a mound some eighty yards distant in the clearing.

“There, see it?”

“Out in the open,” Linc said, slightly winded. “Not much of a defensive position. But better than a kick in the head.”

They heard shouts in the distance.

“Most things are. Let’s go.”

Juan bolted through the open terrain, praying they were faster than the mercs trying to turn the corner on them from the east. His legs churned up the steep little berm and he threw himself over the top.

It was deeper than he thought.

He fell four feet through the air, and landed with a sickening crunch of bone.