Brett Battles - The Collected

“Okay! Okay! Romero. Yes, yes. Romero.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Quinn shoved the barrel forward again. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know! Our boss just sent us here. Tell us to bring people in room back to him. I swear.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Back to where?”

Ryan Porter was growing concerned. He should have heard from his security team by now. They’d had more than enough time to get into the room at the Marguerite Hotel and snatch whoever was in there.

The last he’d heard from them was that they were on site and getting ready to move in. That was nearly twenty minutes ago. They must have had some kind of problem.

He’d been monitoring the police bands, and all was quiet. So whatever was going on, at least the authorities weren’t involved yet.

He drummed his fingers on his desk. Ten more minutes, and I’ll go check myself.

He got up to fill his coffee mug, not that he wanted another cup. He needed to do something more than just sit there staring at his phone. He was halfway to the coffee maker when the intercom buzzed. He raced back to his desk and pushed the button.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Porter. It’s Felipe. We’re back.”

There was a small monitor next to the speaker. Porter turned it on, and a view of the entrance to the building appeared on-screen. The light over the door was enough for him to see Felipe’s face, and the dark forms of the two men in hoodies behind him-Raul and Marcos, most likely. Between the two men was someone smaller. It looked like a woman. They were gripping her arms, and her head was bowed.

Porter pushed the button again. “Is that her?”

Felipe turned his face so he was looking directly at the camera. “Yes. She was the only one there.”

“All right. Bring her in. I’ll meet you in the storage room.”

He pushed the button that unlocked the door. Feeling more relaxed, he filled his coffee and left his office. A little conversation, and then they’d get rid of her.

Problem solved.

“Good so far,” Quinn whispered once they were inside the building. “You keep it up, you’ll stay alive.”

The room immediately beyond the entrance was filled with large, old machinery. From the looks of things, it had been years since any of them had been turned on.”

“Where is this storage room he wants us to go to?” Quinn asked.

“In the back,” Felipe said.

“How do we get there?”

“Through there and all the way back.” Felipe pointed between two of the machines.

“And then?”

“Um, we go left until we reach the white door. That’ll be it.”

“And you’re sure he’s alone?”

“Yes,” Felipe said. “He sent all of us to the hotel.”

Quinn gave Orlando a subtle nod. In a swift, silent motion, she raised the vaccination gun to Felipe’s shoulder and shot an eight-hour dose of tranquilizer into his arm. Felipe turned in surprise, but before he could say anything, his eyelids began to droop, and they eased him to the floor.

Following Felipe’s instructions, they headed to the back of the building, vigilant in case Porter wasn’t the only one around. When they came in sight of the white door, Orlando moved into the point position so she would be the first one seen.

Porter’s office was just down the hall from the storage room, so it wasn’t a surprise he was the first one there. There was an old wooden storage box next to the wall. He dragged it into the middle of the room, right below the only light.

He took a step back, and smiled. Very intimidating. Whoever this woman was, she wouldn’t last long. He was willing to bet he’d know everything she did before his coffee cooled.

He took a sip, and nodded. Perfect.

Behind him he heard the door open. He turned, a smile still on his face.

The woman came through the door first. She couldn’t have been much more than one hundred and fifty centimeters tall. She was also Asian, which was a bit of a surprise.

“Well, hello,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”

Two of his men came in behind her, but Porter’s eyes remained focused on the woman, making sure she understood who was boss. When she got to within ten feet, she stopped, the look of despair on her face replaced by an eerily playful smile. Porter tried to maintain his own detached facade, but he couldn’t stop his brow from creasing in confusion.

“Actually, Mr. Porter,” one of the men behind her said. “You’re the one who should take a seat.”

So far Nate had counted eighteen soldiers leaving the fort and moving into the jungle.

They wouldn’t send everyone out, he knew, but he felt confident, based on the yelling he heard coming from beyond the wall, that they would send the majority.

Under the cover of darkness, he had snuck all the way back to the wall, where he had momentarily considered climbing up and finding someplace within the complex to hide. But he felt he could control things better out here.

Surveying the wall, he spotted a heavy wooden door that, as far as he could tell, was the only ground-level exit to the complex. Choosing the location carefully, he dug a ditch between a couple of trees, just deep enough for him to lie in, and covered himself with dead palm fronds and other vegetation. The position gave him a perfect view of the door, with very little chance he’d be discovered.

That’s where he was when the men had begun coming out.

Eighteen fighters.

He figured half that many were still inside. That would make twenty-seven total. Round that up to thirty, just to be safe. Add in Janus, Harris, and the old man. Thirty-three. Staff? Cooks? Medical personnel for the old man? That seemed likely. Figure forty people total, not counting the prisoners.

Looking at the whole number was a bit daunting, but one by one, not so bad. Especially if Nate could get his hands on a weapon.

The door opened again, and a nineteenth soldier came out. Nate recognized this one. He was the jerk who’d come in with Janus and slammed the butt of his gun into Nate’s back the first day. Nate could see the offending rifle slung over the guy’s shoulder, and suddenly knew which weapon he’d like to start with.

As soon as the soldier passed by, Nate slipped out of his hidey-hole.

Someone knocked on Harris’s door. He opened it to find one of Romero’s nurses.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to disturb you,” the nurse said. “But Senor Romero wants to see you.”

Harris wanted nothing more than to tell the nurse he’d come when he could, but he knew that would only enrage his employer, and the nurse would be sent back again.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, and shut his door.

Despite the early hour, he poured himself a whiskey and slammed it down. The alcohol helped mute the voices that were telling him everything was beginning to unravel. Of course, it wasn’t. He still had control of the situation.

So what if one of the prisoners got away? So what if it was Quinn? He was just one person. And they would find him. He could only hide for so long. This was an island, for God’s sake. A small island. If need be, they’d search it inch by inch.

What about whoever had been searching Romero’s and Quinn’s names at the hospital?

Porter will handle it.

No, everything was going to be fine. Things were too close to the end for them not to be.

He fought the urge to have another drink, and forced himself to head over to Romero’s office.

“Have they found the cleaner?” Romero demanded as soon as Harris entered.

“It hasn’t been that long. They need a little time.”

“Unacceptable! They should have him by now.” The old man fumed for a moment. “I want to continue as planned.”