Chapter 51
The IED detonated in a brilliant amber ball, taking the barrels of kerosene with it. The giant rolling fireball glowed the jungle, sending shards of metal and debris in all directions. Black smoke billowed into the sky, and the smell of kerosene and solvents filled the air.
The two goons that guarded the main house looked on in shock and awe. A few more thugs exited the main house with machine guns.
Another man joined him. An American. Roughly the same age with light brown hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, he wore a polo shirt and cargo shorts.
He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.
They stared at the glowing flames, watching their empire go up in smoke.
A few minor explosions erupted as more barrels were consumed in the flames.
It drew the attention of everyone in the compound and pulled them away from the main house. It would keep them occupied for a while.
With a clear shot, I darted from behind the shed and sprinted to the backyard. Out of sight, I rounded the house and moved to the door that opened to the patio and pool area.
It was unlocked.
I stepped inside and scanned the space.
The house was empty for the moment.
I crept through the house and cleared the area. In the foyer, I took the floating staircase up to the second floor. With my rifle shouldered, I moved from bedroom to bedroom, including the master, looking for Paisley.
She wasn't here.
That sense of dread twisted my stomach. What if she was already dead?
I moved back downstairs and searched every nook and cranny of the house. There was another guest bedroom, but it was empty as well.
The fire would keep the goons occupied for a while, but I had to act fast. The distraction wouldn’t last forever.
I noticed something odd about the construction of the house. The dimensions of the hallways and the rooms didn't quite match up. There was a false compartment on the second floor. There had to be a panic room behind a panel in the closet in the master bedroom.
I ran back upstairs, darted into the closet, and surveyed the walls. I pushed on a wood panel at the far end of the closet, and it clicked open, revealing a steel door with a keypad and biometric scanner.
I knocked on the door and shouted, "Paisley! Are you in there?"
I put my ear to the cold steel and listened.
Her muffled moans barely filtered through.
With the blade of my tactical knife, I unscrewed the face plate just enough to wedge the blade underneath.
Most of these keypads have a spring-loaded anti-tamper device.
But if you leave the faceplate on, you can bridge the connection with a knife or a piece of metal. It was a handy trick, and it worked.
The door unlocked, and I pulled it open.
Paisley lay on a bunk in the small panic room, her wrists and ankles bound behind her back, her mouth gagged.
She looked terrible.
There was a toilet in the corner with a faucet for water.
It resembled a prison cell. Another large closet presumably held supplies.
A display screen probably showed all the camera feeds in the house, but it was disconnected.
The room was meant for survival in case of an attack on the house, but it had been turned into a prison.
I cut Paisley free and removed the gag from her mouth. She flung her arms around me and hugged me tight. "Thank God you’re here! I never thought I’d get out of this room.”
"Can you stand?”
She nodded, and I helped her climb to her feet. She was weak and unsteady, but found her footing.
We hurried downstairs, the barrel of my rifle leading the way.
I moved down the foyer to the glass front door.
The goons gathered around the warehouse, which had mostly flamed out by this point.
There wasn't much left inside the metal structure.
Soot and ash filled the air, and black smoke covered the sky.
I guided Paisley out the back door to the patio.
The acrid stench still filled the air.
I said to JD over comms, "I have the asset. We’ll meet you at the exfiltration point. Copy?"
"Roger that.”
We darted into the jungle and made our way around toward the east beach.
I grabbed the case from where I stashed it, and we hustled through the underbrush as fast as we could.
Paisley had a tough time, but adrenaline kept her going.
She hadn't had much to eat over the last week and was rail-thin.
She didn't have much weight to lose to begin with.
With the machete, I hacked through branches and leaves, trying to be quiet about it. With the chaos back at the compound, they wouldn't hear us.
Branches and leaves clawed and sliced as we scraped through.
We made it to the ridge and started our descent down the slope. I told Paisley to be careful. It would be easy to turn an ankle, especially in a hurry. The last thing I needed was for her to fall and break a leg.
"Give me a status update," I said to JD.
"I'm almost at the rendezvous point.”
A few moments later, we both emerged on the east beach. Inky waves crashed against the shore, and the moonlight glowed overhead.
Antonio was nowhere to be found.