Chapter 40
Chivo’s goons marched us away from the lab, through the thick underbrush. The sun had vanished, and the sky had turned midnight blue. You couldn’t see much of it through the dense canopy of leaves overhead.
With a gun at my back, I took cautious steps forward, knowing the area was lined with tripwires. At this time of night, and without a flashlight, it was next to impossible to see the monofilament.
The beam of the goon’s tactical flashlight affixed to the barrel of his AR swept across the ground from time to time.
I continued taking cautious steps, only to be shoved in the back by the barrel of the gun. "Move faster, gringo!”
I don't think this asshole knew what we were walking into. I was point man on this precarious journey. Diego was behind me. Behind him, Kara. Behind her, two other goons. Chivo remained in the lab with Vernon.
A few more paces, and Diego's flashlight raked across the ground. It caught the tripwire. For an instant, the monofilament glimmered in the light like silk.
"Kara, slow down," I shouted.
That earned me another punch in the back with the barrel of the AR. "Shut up and keep moving.”
I continued marching forward and casually stepped over the monofilament.
Kara drew out her steps. She knew what kind of threat was imminent.
KABOOM!
Diego tripped the wire, and the makeshift booby-trap spat dragon's breath and birdshot. The blast took out his knees, and Diego crumpled to the ground, screaming in agony. Blood soaked his shredded pants.
The distraction was enough for Kara to spin around, grab the barrel of the rifle held by the goon behind her, and kick him in the balls.
With a swift move, she stripped the weapon from his grasp, shouldered the rifle, and double-tapped the last thug in line.
Bullets pelted his chest, staggering him back. Crimson blossomed his shirt, and he sucked in gurgling breaths. He fell back and collapsed in the dirt.
By that time, I had snatched Diego's rifle. He drew a pistol from his waistband—my pistol.
I popped off two shots into his chest before he could take aim.
Kara finished off the goon she had kicked in the balls.
The jungle went quiet, save for the sound of crickets. Gun smoke drifted away on the breeze.
I grabbed my pistol from Diego's sweaty palm, holstered it in my waistband, then moved back down the trail to Kara. "Are you okay?”
"Never better," she snarked. It may have been a stretch, but the adrenaline of combat was exhilarating. Sometimes you never felt more alive than on the verge of death—Kara was standing on the precipice.
There was no doubt Chivo heard the commotion.
Kara and I hustled back toward the lab.
A groan of agony filtered out from within and echoed through the trees, followed by two quick shots. A third followed a moment later.
I wasn't sure what we’d find when we returned.
We hurried through the underbrush and climbed up the squeaky wooden steps to the veranda. We held up on either side of the door and exchanged a look.
Kara nodded.
I pulled it open.
With a swift move, I angled my barrel inside to see Dr. Malcolm lording over Chivo.
The thug's body lay limp on the floor, blood pooling around the remains.
Smoke wafted from his face, which sizzled with hydrofluoric acid.
The distraction of our gunfight allowed Dr. Malcolm to throw a beaker of it into Chivo's face. He’d been able to wrestle the weapon away and turn it on him.
Dr. Malcolm trembled, flush with adrenaline. I think it was the first time he had killed anybody—at least, up close and personal.
He didn't look any worse for the wear.
"Seems like you've got some explaining to do," I said.
"I don't have to explain anything to anyone, least of all you," he replied.
I moved across the room to the black duffel bags in the corner and opened one. Inside, packages of the familiar red pills that had been hitting the streets lately. My face tightened with frustration. "So you're the man behind Silk?”
Vernon said nothing.
"You've been selling to the cartel to fund this operation," I said.
"I will ask you once again, do you want my help, or don't you? You're sticking your nose into an area where it doesn't belong. Do yourself a favor, take my help, and forget everything you’ve seen here.”I scoffed. "How am I supposed to forget this?”
"That was part of our arrangement, remember?”
My jaw tightened.
"Silk, or whatever you want to call it, is not illegal,” he continued.
“It's not an analog of any currently scheduled narcotic. It has no side effects, does not create dependency, and gives the user a pleasant euphoric sensation. I designed it specifically to reduce harm. The world would be a much better place if people shifted from using other hard narcotics to Silk. As the name implies, it is smooth and has no comedown or hangover. Tell me how that is not a benefit for society? People die every day from fentanyl overdoses. This could change that. It’s revolutionary. People are never going to stop doing drugs. As long as there is demand, there will be supply. I have fixed the supply.”
"You're selling to the cartel," I said.
"I’m not selling to anyone. I'm just a chemist. I'm just the cook."
My eyes narrowed at him as I put the pieces together. "The real estate investment trust that owns this island... That's a front.”
"Now you're starting to catch on.”
"This is a Company operation. They sell Silk to the cartels, who distribute it on the streets. The Company uses the proceeds to fund black ops."
"Same old song and dance. The game stays the same. Only the players change. Now, is this really something you want to stick your nose in? Or do you want to get back to saving your friend's life?”