Chapter 42
Two of the three presidential guards down by the tree line doubled over, their chests and bellies crimsoned by the short bursts of automatic gunfire. The third guard raised his weapon and sprayed wildly into the trees before he, too, was cut in half.
“Down!” Juan’s command cut through the sudden chaos of gunfire and screams as he flipped the heavy teak table sideways, crashing plates and glasses across the terrace.
MacD hit the deck as Linda pulled Olmedo and his daughters behind the flipped table.
The three terrace guards pulled their rifles and began shouting orders to evacuate the president, but the nearest guard was flung backward by a heavy round to the chest. The farthest guard managed half a turn before a second shot caught him in the throat, and the last guard dove for cover behind a stone planter.
He raised his carbine to fire, but a bullet in his brainpan put him down in a spray of pinkish mist.
MacD dashed toward the corpse of the nearest guard and wrestled the SIG carbine from his hands, then yanked the Glock 19 from the man’s holster. He shot a glance at the grounds.
“Five tangos advancing,” MacD called out as bullets shattered the big glass behind him. He tossed the Glock to Cabrillo.
“We move, now!” Juan shouted, leading the way.
MacD stood and ripped a couple of short bursts. Two of the tangos spun and dropped. The remaining three continued advancing with practiced precision.
Juan and the others dashed in a low crouch toward the open French doors leading back into the dining room, the twin girls shielded by Linda and Olmedo. Bullets whizzed past them, smashing stucco, tiles, and glass.
Inside, another presidential guard raced into the dining room from the kitchen door, his carbine at high ready, breathing hard, his face red with anger. Gunshots rang out in the rest of the house.
“Qué está pasando?”
Juan shouted at him in Spanish. “We’re under attack. Get the president and his children out of here.”
As if on cue, three armed men burst through the doorway Olmedo had first appeared in. The guard fired without hesitation, putting rounds into the lead attacker. Juan fired his Glock and dropped the other two, then darted to the fallen killers and snatched up two suppressed rifles—AK-74s.
Sporadic gunfire echoed around the grounds. Some of the guards were still putting up a fight—and losing.
Cabrillo shoved one of the rifles into Linda’s waiting hands, then asked the guard, “Is there a secure route out of here?”
“The service corridor. It leads to the rear of the property and a safe house. Follow me.”
“Let’s move.”
Cabrillo led the way behind the guard with Olmedo hustling his girls along, his arms sheltering them.
Linda followed just behind, gun up, with MacD covering the rear. He ripped off a couple of short bursts before retreating after them.
The desperate parade raced through the big gourmet kitchen and into a butler’s pantry, where a steel door with a keypad stood. The guard keyed in the passcode and flung the door open.
A spray of bullets stitched up his torso and into his face, killing him instantly.
Cabrillo reached his gun around one-handed and emptied the mag outside the door, then pulled his Glock. He glanced around the corner. The guard’s killer clutched his throat, drowning in his own blood.
Juan dropped the empty AK, reached down, and grabbed the fallen guard’s loaded SIG, took another look outside, then turned around.
“How far to the safe house?”
“A kilometer, slightly less,” Olmedo said.
“Wait for my signal.”
“Aye,” Linda said as Cabrillo made his way out into the yard.
“Where are the rest of my guards?” Olmedo asked. “They should be here.” More shots echoed around the estate.
“Dead or dying.”
A second later, a sharp whistle rang out.
Linda took point—and dashed out the door. She saw Juan in a line of trees some twenty yards away, on a small dirt path no wider than a footstep leading up to it. The others followed behind her.
They all crossed into the trees, their faces scratched by the low branches crowding the narrow trail. No one cared. The dense foliage was providing them cover. Juan stayed behind, protecting the rear, and ordered MacD to push on through.
Cabrillo trained his weapon on the open door and the dead guard still blocking it open. No one came.
Satisfied, he turned and raced away.
They all ran as fast as they could along the crooked trail. Seven minutes later, they arrived at a small stone building.
“Door code?” Linda asked, her fingers hovering above the digital door lock.
“Eleven, twenty-eight, thirteen,” Olmedo said. “My daughters’ birthday.”
The twin girls managed a smile.
“Mac?”
“With ya.” The two of them bunched up at the door, then raced inside.
Cabrillo covered the path behind them as the two operators swept the building.
“Clear!” Linda called out.
“Clear!” MacD repeated.
“Let’s go,” Juan said, motioning the president and his daughters inside.
Juan caught another glimpse of the volcano looming in the distance just before he slammed the steel door shut and locked it.
“The sofa,” Cabrillo said. He and MacD shoved the heavy overstuffed leather behemoth against the door. It wouldn’t stop an RPG, but it was better than nothing.
“Guns? Ammo? Anything?” Juan asked his team.
“No weapons or ammo. Just two bedrooms, a bath, a small kitchen, and this living room. Only one door—that one,” Linda said, pointing at the locked steel. “And you’re standing near the only window.”
“Not sure if it’s a safe house or a lobster trap,” MacD said.
Juan took up position in front of the living room window as Linda disappeared into the small kitchen.
“Any chance this is bulletproof glass?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Olmedo said as he steered his daughters into two overstuffed chairs far from the window.
“We need to figure out who these guys are and how they breached your security,” Juan said. “Assuming we get the chance. You have your phone?”
Olmedo’s face fell. “I left it on the table.”
“There’s a landline in back,” MacD said.
“Claro! Of course!” Olmedo said. “I’ll call for reinforcements.” He turned to the girls. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
The girls nodded dutifully as he dashed for one of the back bedrooms.
“You are both so brave,” MacD said.
“I’m not brave,” Yesenia said. “I was scared.”
“Me too,” Sofía said.
“You can’t be brave if you’re not scared, now can you?” MacD said. “It’s what you do while you’re scared that counts. And by my reckoning, you two were champs.”
The twins exchanged a glance—and almost smiled. “We never thought of that,” Sofía said.
Linda appeared with two frosty cold bottles of water.
“Drink up, ladies. You must be thirsty.”
“Thank you so much,” they said in unison as they guzzled their waters.
Linda approached Juan by the window. “Those men were coordinated, well-armed, and knew exactly when to strike.”
MacD crossed his arms. “They never tried to kill the president.”
“Or his daughters,” Juan said. “They were all sitting ducks.”
“Kidnap?” Linda asked.
“Feels like it.”
“Are they going to come after us again?” Yesenia asked.
Linda turned to the girls. “We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Olmedo reappeared and checked his watch. “I’ve alerted San Salvador. Two platoons of our rapid-reaction force have been dispatched. They’ll be here within twenty minutes.”
Juan and MacD exchanged a look. Twenty minutes was a lifetime. The president’s security team had been wiped out in just under ten.
“We’ll sit tight until then, and stay vigilant,” Juan said. “Best if you and your girls went to one of the bedrooms.” He nodded at Linda. She reached out her hands to the twins and guided them to the back of the house.
“Once again, I owe all of you a great debt,” Olmedo said before he turned to leave. “You saved my family.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Juan said. “Whoever orchestrated this attack is still out there.”
“Not all of ’em,” MacD said. “We dropped six.”
Juan pulled a magazine from the SIG carbine and checked the bullet count. Seven shots left, one still in the chamber. He slammed the magazine back home.
“Whoever shows up, we’ll be ready.”