John Gilstrap - Damage Control

Terrified of a life on the street, Maria turned to the convent, but her anger burned too deeply. Even as she prepared to take her vows to God, she found herself vowing to seek revenge on Felix Hernandez, who had killed not only her brother, but by extension her mother and father, as well. He’d murdered her entire family, and she was going to hurt him.

Maria had heard her entire life how beautiful she was, and sometimes she could even see the beauty herself in the mirror. With no money and no education, and with a future as a nun shut down by her heart, she turned her beauty into a weapon.

Everyone knew that Felix Hernandez liked his mistresses young and beautiful. Though well into his forties himself, he was never seen in the company of a woman older than twenty-five, and occasionally his tastes ran to those in their early teens.

Getting close to him had been surprisingly simple. With short enough skirts and enough cleavage showing, it was just a matter of being seen.

Felix liked coffee, and he liked to take it in the same cafe every morning. To launch their relationship, Maria made sure to be there at the same time he was. She made eye contact and looked away, and that was all it took. Felix sent a henchman to her table.

“That man over there is Felix Hernandez,” the henchman said. “He would like you to join him at his table.”

Maria made a show of looking over there and then said with as much disinterest as she could muster, “I know who he is. Tell him that only a coward sends a surrogate to ask such a thing. If he wants me to join him, he may ask me himself.”

The henchman looked horrified.

“Are you afraid to repeat my words?” Maria pressed. “If so, send Mr. Hernandez over, and I will be happy to tell him myself.” It was risky to say such a thing, but her mother had told her that to be of value, something-some one — must be difficult to obtain. Maria wasn’t interested in a one-night stand. She wasn’t interested in being one of many mistresses. Her plan from the beginning was to win her way into Felix’s inner circle where she could do as much damage as she possibly could. In order for the plan to work, he needed to feel that it was his idea.

The henchman didn’t appreciate the affront to his masculinity. “I will tell him,” he said. “It is your life to lose.” He returned to Felix’s table, and Maria forced herself to return her eyes to the newspaper from which she hadn’t read a word.

She heard laughter from Felix’s table, and then about a minute later, a shadow fell across her paper. Its owner said, “Excuse me.”

Maria looked up to see Felix Hernandez looking down at her, his arms folded across his chest. “May I sit down?” he asked.

Maria folded her paper to make room and gestured to the chair opposite hers. “Please,” she said.

Felix pulled the chair out and sat, his forearms resting on the table. He leaned in close. “My friend tells me that you know who I am,” he said, “yet you are unimpressed.”

“If that is what he told you, then your friend is a coward.” She had never been in such close proximity to a murderer before. She’d expected the eyes of a beast, of a predator, but instead saw amused softness.

Felix smiled. “So, coward is your word of the day, is it? First you use it in reference to me, and now you use it in reference to my friend.”

Maria gave a coy smile. “So he told you,” she said. “And you are here. You have proven me wrong twice.”

He laughed and sat back in his chair. He crossed his legs and folded his arms again. Maria would later come to recognize this as his most thoughtful pose. “You are a beautiful woman,” he said. “And though I might not impress you, I assure you that you impress me. What is your name?”

“Maria Elizondo,” she said. The name was pure fiction, adopted in case Felix actually remembered any of the names of the children he’d murdered.

“A beautiful name,” he said. Then he stood. He bowed slightly from the waist and said, “Maria Elizondo, would you please do me the distinct honor of joining me at my table for coffee?” There was no hint of threat in his tone. In fact, he seemed genuinely charmed.

Maria stood and She jumped as the phone in her hand rang. Snapped back to the reality of the present, she wondered if she’d perhaps fallen asleep. It rang again. The incoming number was blocked from her caller ID. Maria slid the phone open and brought it to her ear. “ Hola. ”

A woman’s angst-filled voice said, “Oh, dear God, please tell me that you speak English.”

“Who is this?” Maria asked in English.

“Are you Maria Elizondo?”

“Who are you?”

“Let’s please not play this game,” the voice said. “I need you to go first.”

Maria hesitated, assessing the degree of threat this call might pose. Finally, she said, “Yes, this is Maria Elizondo.”

“Good. You can call me Mother Hen.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a stupid name, but it is what it is. I got this number from your FBI contact.”

“And that is supposed to make me trust you?” Maria scoffed.

“Actually, I don’t care. All I know is that your time in Mexico is about to come to an end, and that you’re going to escort my boss and a couple of others out of there.” She paused as if awaiting a response, but when Maria didn’t offer one, Mother Hen went on, “There’s been a complication.”

Maria’s heart fell. This was when they would tell her that she was on her own.

“You’re surrounded by a lot of soldiers, and that’s going to make it very difficult to get you out of there.”

“How many people are with your friend?” Maria asked.

“They’re three in all, but one of them is just a boy.”

“Two people, then?” Maria pressed her hand to her forehead. “So, we are finished,” she said.

“Heavens no, you’re not finished,” Mother Hen said.

“But with only two-”

“They’re a very special two,” Mother Hen said. “We have a plan. But for it to work, you have to listen very carefully.”

Normally, it was Boxers’ job to set explosives. In fact, blowing stuff up ranked among his favorite things to do. Tonight, though, the task fell to Jonathan because he was smaller and he could move faster and more quietly. In fact, he’d been able to run the first two blocks out in the open, albeit in the shadows, but now that he was so close to his prey, he had to slow down and be extra careful.

At an intersection three blocks west of the target house, he stopped completely, dropped to a knee, and flipped down his night vision goggles. Given the high levels of ambient light from the streetlamps, the NVGs were only moderately useful, but he’d take whatever advantage he could get. The nearest Mexican soldier should be only twenty or twenty-five yards away now. Jonathan pressed against the side of a pickup truck, and took time to survey his surroundings. For a long time-probably a minute-he saw no sign of the soldier he expected, and that concerned him. People who weren’t where they were supposed to be were by definition someplace where he wasn’t expecting them. He hated surprises.

Then he saw the guy. He was crouched behind another vehicle, and from the way he stretched, Jonathan figured that his leg had cramped up on him. Relax, kid, Jonathan thought. You’ll be moving soon.

Having left his ruck back with Boxers and Tristan, it was easy for Jonathan to lie on the ground next to the truck and prepare his charges. He’d stuffed his pockets with six GPCs-general purpose charges-which were wads of C-4 explosives with tails of detonating cord. Each packed a hell of a wallop, and in all the years he’d been using them, he’d never once experienced a failure. He pulled two from the thigh pocket of his trousers and pressed them into the wheel well of the pickup. He’d previously attached the electronic detonator and set the timer for seven minutes, a random number that he thought was sure to give him enough time to get back to the others before the show started.