Chapter 6 #2
The young woman, Gabriela, was angry and hateful and menacing.
She hadn’t bothered hiding a thing. Shana could identify—she felt all those same things but couldn’t afford to show her rage—she’d showed too much as it was.
She was disgusted at herself for her outburst and the unnecessary defiance.
There was no need to fuel their fire. She could hear Dane in her head telling her, “You have a lot to learn, girlie.”
She only hoped she’d live long enough to apply today’s lesson.
After walking along a short dungeon-like corridor in the subbasement, they stopped at a heavy metal door with a small high window.
From inside, this floor hadn’t looked like it belonged in a residence—or even an office building for that matter.
It was as if they’d run out of money or the desire to finish the space.
The three men, now treating her like a chore, unlocked the door with a regular key and tossed her into a rough cement room sans windows.
Inside, the dungeon room was raw with half-finished stone walls and no furnishings.
A light bulb dangled naked from the cement ceiling.
The only difference between the door to this room and the others had been that it had a window.
After the men shoved her into the room they followed.
She noticed what looked like a surveillance camera in one corner of the ceiling.
The only other thing she noticed in the room was dead center. There were wide metal cuffs attached to heavy chains. The chains were bolted to the floor.
*****
With his fake documents and disguise in place, Dane observed the Tavares place through the unobtrusive scope built into the special eyeglasses Acer had given him.
He looked more like a dork than a spy with the thick glasses and matted black-dyed hair.
But it was better than wearing a wig in the heat.
Standing on a corner on the edge of Rio, he gazed eastward down the road toward the Tavares complex.
There were two outbuildings within the remote Tavares compound likely to be holding prisoners.
There were two entrances and exits through gates in the cement wall surrounding the place.
He’d bet on dogs inside the compound as well as other hidden electronic surveillance that he had no time or resources to find out about.
The situation was less than ideal, and Dane felt the passage of time like a band saw slicing through his chest and aiming for his heart.
Meanwhile, his heart was beating abnormally loudly and hard as if his blood had turned to cement.
Maybe that was good. He needed to get into his block-of-granite mindset to carry this off.
In his favor, Acer had provided him with some nifty gadgets and his friend would be in the jungle at an outpost twelve minutes away as the bird flies—and he would be flying his bird in within twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours to get the lay of the land and come up with an angle to get inside, find Shana and get her out.
Whether or not he got himself out was optional.
Dane would normally do extensive surveillance and scope out the place but since he had limited time, he gave himself two hours.
The town where Acer left him was to the west of the compound and not within walking distance.
It was small and muddy but he noticed a few trucks and a beat up fifteen-year-old Jeep parked at a storefront that looked like combo hardware and feed store.
He walked over and waited a few minutes, leaning against the wall in the shade from the squat building, until an old man came out of the store and walked to the driver’s side of the Jeep with a small bag. Lucky for him. Dane approached the man.
In Portuguese Dane said, “This your truck?”
The man looked wary and remained silent. He was about to reach for the door, but Dane stopped him. He pulled a fat wad of twenty U.S. dollar bills from his pocket and started peeling them away in rapid succession. This caused the man’s wary face to lighten and he finally spoke.
“You want to buy my truck? It’s not for sale.”
“Everything is for sale, but I see your point. I’ll give you a bonus for the inconvenience of having to find a new one,” Dane answered in Portuguese.
The man frowned and remained silent. Dane could hear him thinking and calculating as the wariness came back into the man’s face.
“You’re an American.” The man spoke English.
Damn.
“You’re the police? Yes?”
“No goddamn way.”
Dane spoke in English this time. He didn’t want to waste any more time. “All you need to know is that I have money.” Dane put away his wad of twenties and went into his other pocket and pulled out the hundreds.
The man looked nervous and his eyes darted right and left.
“Who are you?”
At least Dane knew the man didn’t work for the Tavares family. He’d have pulled out a gun or knife by now and taken the money—or tried to.
“I’m an independent contractor. I’m a friend of the downtrodden.”
“Downtrodden? What’s this?”
“You. The poor people. The victims.”
Dane didn’t want to specify that he was the enemy of the Tavares family, but he figured the guy would get the drift.
And Dane was right. The old man’s head wandered left and his gaze lifted in the direction of the Tavares compound in the distance.
Dane did not turn his head, but counted out five thousand clams and pressed it into the man’s hands.
“I’ll give you a lift. You can fill me in on the local environs while we drive.
” Dane pushed the man aside and opened the driver’s door, gesturing for him to get in the passenger side.
Stuffing the money into his pants pocket, the man rushed around the other side of the Jeep, looking around like an escaped convict as he did.
“I guess my disguise didn’t work too well,” Dane said. He shoved the familiar gear shifter into reverse and pulled away.
“It wasn’t your look.” The crinkled old face cracked a smile. “It was your talk. And your American money. Only two kinds have American dollars around here.”
“Which kinds are those?”
“Tavares family and Americans. Not tourist Americans. Not in this part of town.”
“I couldn’t be a lost tourist?”
The man laughed then and his tanned skin glowed. He pointed and Dane took a turn. They were headed away from the Tavares compound and out of the small town into farm country down a muddy road canopied by encroaching forest.
“You do not have the look of a lost man. You look loco. Dangerous.”
“Tell me the best way to get into the Tavares compound.” Dane went for broke. He had nothing to fear from this man. He could sense it. The man was old enough and wily enough to have reached his advanced age as a farmer in this place. He must know a thing or two.
The man gave a surprised look and then glanced out his window, silent for a few beats. Then he talked and Dane listened.
Dane pulled the truck up in front of a small building that hardly looked like a house and turned to the man.
“If I’m going through the front door, I’ll need to clean up.” If the disguise hadn’t worked for this regular local guy, it wouldn’t work for anyone in the Tavares company. He had to be losing his touch.
On the other hand, he’d been in a hurry. The rush and lack of preparation led to mistakes. That didn’t bode well. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Dane had encountered deadline pressure or a ticking clock. Hopefully it wouldn’t be his last.
The man nodded and said, “This way.”
He led Dane around back to a cement pad with a hose and brought him a towel.
It was enough to wash the dye from his hair and the makeup from his face.
He’d ripped the moustache off and carefully removed the stud from the piercing in his nose.
He reached into his backpack and brought out his only other clothes.
They were for night wear. Black T-shirt and black jeans.
Dane changed. He was aware that now he’d look more like one of the Tavares thugs than an American. But that was the idea.
“What gave me away?” Dane asked the man as he handed him the backpack filled with his discarded clothing. He’d taken everything else useful he’d need from it. Mostly cash.
“Your eyes. It’s in your eyes.”
“The color?”
The man shook his head. “The danger. Your eyes have a dangerous look. But that’s not all. The way you move and act. It cannot be faked or hidden.”
Dane didn’t bother to tell the man that he’d managed to hide it in the past just fine. But this time around he was rusty. Or maybe he was too plain scared.
The plan was simple but the intel was light.
He had no idea what he was up against. He had to assume the perimeter was well guarded with men, electronics and dogs.
The only way in was to masquerade as one of them.
He needed to find a lone sentry and switch identities.
There was a spot along the west perimeter with trees overhanging the wall.
Dane climbed it and went out on a limb, figuratively and literally.
He would wait for the perimeter guard to walk by and jump him, change clothes and then resume the watch. He’d had to rely on his new friend, a two-hour window of observations and guesswork for the rest to formulate the rest of his plan. The word sketchy didn’t cover it.
Needing to travel light, he didn’t have his night vision goggles.
It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark.
He sat on the limb near the trunk and waited for the guard to walk into his sight line.
He’d need to make the leap out over the wall without making a sound.
That was only the first of many technical flaws in the plan.
But he was too aware of the ticking clock and the fear that erupted in his gut when he thought of Shana being held inside.
He didn’t want her to spend the night in fear.
He didn’t want to spend the night in fear.
Before he could see the man, he could hear him.
There was no caution, no need for stealth or quiet for the sentry and he trudged through the muddy perimeter path humming.
Perfect. When he came into view, Dane looked for it and could see that the man wore ear buds.
Taking a deep breath and then steadying his breathing, he tensed and gathered himself to his leaping position, concentrating on hitting his target more than being quiet.
Dane leapt, clearing the wall and kicking his feet out, he toppled the unaware sentry.
Not missing a single breath, he stepped on the man’s gun hand as he tried to scramble and knocked him across the head with his Glock with extra force.
The man immediately went limp and Dane dragged him into the bushes at the base of the inside wall.
He took the man’s jacket and his gun and his two-way.
Too bad he wore no hat. Damn. Another one of those crucial details that had to be sacrificed in the interest of time. Dane would use the hat in his back pocket and hoped he didn’t encounter anyone astute enough to pick up on the difference.
Hell, if he encountered anyone expecting this guy who knew him, he’d be outed.
He needed to get inside right away and behave like he belonged there.
This was the very sketchy part of the plan.
He gagged the man with the scarf from his pocket and bound his hands and feet with the two plastic ties he’d brought.
That was the extent of the equipment he’d brought with him—save for the shoes and watch that Acer had supplied him with. He’d be in big trouble if he had to resort to using those. Now his trusty Glock and the guard’s automatic rifle would have to do.
After hiding the man in the bushes as best he could, he stood on the path and forced himself to listen for a full minute. For good or bad, the only thing Dane heard was the too-fast beating of his own heart. He spotted the side door and two men in the dim light there. That was his goal.
He needed to get inside and then find the basement. Based on what he knew about the compound, it was his best guess that she would be held in the basement. Too little intel. That’s where he would start. Wherever Shana was, he would find her. He waited another beat and one of the men moved off.
Dane moved out at a low silent trot to come in behind the man standing there smoking a cigarette. He doubted the man would live to regret the nasty habit. Once he was within five feet, Dane stood and stepped up behind the man.
The man turned exactly as Dane knew he would—right into the butt of the assault rifle.
Dane caught him before he dropped to the ground, but he couldn’t catch the clatter of the man’s weapon on the cement patio.
Wincing and glancing inside the open doorway, Dane yanked him into the bushes as quickly as he could.
Then he stood flat against the wall next to the door as another man emerged speaking in rapid-fire Portuguese.
Dane understood some of it—mostly colorful obscenities.
When the man took two steps forward to look for his friend, Dane stepped up behind him.
He hoped there was enough room in the bushes for the second man.
That was his thought as he raised the automatic weapon behind the man’s head.
Then a blinding pain struck him and everything went black.