Chapter 50
"She's in the main house," the goon said.
"Where?"
"I don't know where.”
"Tell me exactly where she is,” I said, drawing my knife and putting the blade to his throat.
"I don't know where she is."
"If you don't know, you’re no good to me. I might as well just slit your throat.” I pressed the blade against his skin and drew a little blood.
That was enough for him to get the hint. "She's in an upstairs bedroom. I don't know which one. I swear!”
With the knife, I cut the fabric of his shirt, wadded it up into a ball, and stuffed it into his mouth. I took another flex cuff, put it around his head, and drew it tight in his mouth. With the wadding stuffed in his pie hole, he couldn't make much noise.
With the perp secure, I moved to a window in the warehouse and peered inside.
It was a full-on processing facility—55-gallon drums of kerosene and other chemicals, coca leaves drying on racks, and bags of lime and other bases.
There were burners, funnels, containers, filters, and everything else you’d need to turn the leaf into the addictive powder.
JD and I picked up the dirtbag and carried him deep into the jungle. With another flex cuff, I hogtied him. He wasn't going anywhere.
We moved back to the tree line and held up for a moment, making our game plan.
We needed a diversion. From my backpack, I pulled a small IED I had rigged up back at the hotel room—a stick of C4, a blasting cap, and a cell phone to trigger it.
I told JD to take an overwatch position. Someplace where he could snipe the bastards, if need be. He moved deeper into the woods, then worked his way around to get a better vantage on the compound.
I moved to the back door of the warehouse, knelt down, and picked the lock with a set of lock-picking tools.
It wouldn't take long before somebody noticed the goon was missing. We had to move fast.
Mosquitoes buzzed, and crickets chirped.
The moon glowed overhead.
In less than a minute, I had unlocked the door. I hoped there wasn’t an alarm. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and pulled the door open.
I breathed a little easier when no alarm sounded.
Like a ninja cat, I slipped into the warehouse and placed the IED on a drum of kerosene. This whole place would go up in a giant ball and preoccupy the entire squad. It was just what we needed.
Once that was in place, I slipped out through the back door and made my way along the structure. I held up at the north corner, 15 yards from the shed. Beyond that was the main house.
Worthy of the cover of “Architectural Digest,” the house was a modern masterpiece that blended with the environment.
Clean lines, large window walls, a striking pool surrounded by palm trees in the back.
Tiki torches illuminated the area. It was a small, private oasis. A resort in the jungle for bad people.
When it was clear, I darted across the alley from the warehouse to the shed, then hugged the wall and moved forward. I took cover at the north corner. From there, I had a clear view of the main house.
An armed goon out front stood guard, and another one walked the perimeter. There was no way I could make it to the house without being seen.
Directly across from the warehouse was a bunkhouse for the help. Nothing special. There was no telling how many cartel thugs were inside.
There were probably a few more guards walking the grounds that we hadn't seen.
"Overwatch, are you in position?" I said.
"Copy that. I have eyes on everything. I see two bogeys at the main house, and another in front of the warehouse, leaning against an ATV, smoking a cigarette.”
"Fire in the hole," I said, then sent a text to the burner cell phone attached to the IED.