Weston Ochse - Age of Blood

He moved low across the roof to the Stoner, got prone, and examined them through the scope. It was immediately obvious that they were trying not to look directly at the building. Using a series of sidelong glances, they kept their eye on it, though.

Walker decided that they needed to know a little about what they were about to do before they did it. He could just put a round through one or all of them, but would probably lose good guy status if he did. So instead, he sighted and slammed a round through the bottle the lead boy was carrying. The sound of the glass breaking in the street was louder than the sound of the suppressed round leaving through the silencer screwed into the end of the SR-25’s barrel.

The bangers scattered, three running full-speed back up the street. The other two, including the one who’d held the bottle, ducked into doorways.

Walker waited a second for one to poke his head out and look. When he did, his large brown eyes went wide as a round tore into the stucco mere inches from his head. He took off after his friends.

“Walker, report,” came Holmes’s voice.

“Five potentials. Four scattered. One left. They know something’s going on here.”

Walker listened as Yank was ordered to the roof, and then they were both commanded to secure the perimeter. When Yank arrived, he reported what he’d seen. They each took an end of the roof, switching to infrared when the sun had set, all the while listening to Laws take the mafia men to school.

It was Juan Carlos who spoke next. “It’s about the girl, isn’t it?”

Laws smiled broadly as he sat in his chair, legs crossed, drink in his hand. “Isn’t it always about the girl, J.C.?”

The Gulf Cartel man didn’t smile, nor did he indicate that he thought the comment was even remotely funny. Instead he shook his head. “This is a mistake, you know.”

“A mistake to take the girl, or a mistake to know about it?” Laws leaned forward. “You see, I don’t think you took her. None of you. But what I do know is that you’re all wired so tight into the day-to-day activities of this town that nothing passes through Cabo without your knowledge.”

Juan Carlos’s eyes flicked to Ramon. “Did you ask this one?”

Laws glanced at Ramon, whose face remained placid in the creeping shadows of the night. “He’s the one who helped us find you.”

Juan Carlos sneered. “Of course he did. I wouldn’t expect the likes of him to do anything else.”

“But you know about the girl. You admitted it.” Laws uncrossed his legs and stood. He handed his glass to J.J., who took a sip and made a face, expecting to taste liquor.

“We all know about the girl,” Juan Carlos said.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Juan Carlos and Jaime closed their eyes.

Laws stepped closer. “Come on, Mike. Talk to me.”

“Dude, you know what El Diablo right here is going to do to us once we talk, right? That fucker is going to kill us as sure as I’m hanging here.”

“You mean, Ramon?” Holmes glanced at the man. “No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he will,” Jaime said with absolute conviction.

“No, he won’t, because he’s going to travel with us to wherever the girl is, which will give you time to pack up and get out.”

The others opened their eyes and seemed to exchange some unspoken agreement in their gazes. It was Juan Carlos who spoke for them. “ Leprosos .”

“What?” Laws creased his brow. “You’ll have to excuse my Spanish. It’s a bit rusty. Did you say leprosos ?”

Juan Carlos nodded.

Laws turned to Ramon. “Does he mean lepers?”

Ramon stared hard at Juan Carlos. “It’s what it means, but I don’t understand it.”

Laws made a face. “Lepers as in their skin rots and their fingers fall off? Lepers like in the Bible kind of lepers? Those kind of lepers?”

“Are there any other kind?” Holmes asked. “Find out where they took her.”

“Where’d they take her?” Laws asked, rounding on Juan Carlos.

“The mainland. They took her by boat.”

“Yeah, but where?”

It was Jaime’s turn to speak. “They came from Alamos. We tracked them as they left, but didn’t think nothing of them.”

“What do we know about Alamos?” Laws asked Ramon and J.J.

J.J. shrugged. “Old city. Colonial.”

Ramon nodded in agreement. “About six hundred klicks.”

“And the giant fucking fish?” J.J. asked. “Ask him about the giant fucking fish that doesn’t exist.”

Jaime tilted his head. “Lots of strange fish in the Sea of Cortez. Could be anything.”

They were interrupted by a strangled cry from the roof.

Holmes leaped up and ran to the front gate, where he immediately began to open fire with an HK.

J.J. tied off the hostages to keep them from drowning, then ran to help. Laws grabbed his rifle and checked the rooms to make sure no one was breaking in through the barred windows. Ramon stood staring at the three dangling cartel members.

Walker saw Yank turn a man into a pretzel, then hurl him to the street below. But he didn’t have a moment to admire Yank’s graceful martial-arts skills. Instead, Walker ducked a knife to his own face, then brought his hand up and grabbed his attacker’s throat, simultaneously pulling and squeezing, until his opponent had no choice but to drop his weapon and try and free himself. Walker kicked out, sending him twisting to the street to join his cohort. He landed with a wet sound and didn’t move again.

Walker wasn’t sure how the attackers had made it to the roof. Although it was really too much area for two men to cover, they should have noticed. Probably the combination of the activity on the streets and listening to the interrogation near the pool had conspired to create the perfect window for the attackers to pass through. They’d survived this time, but the next time they might not be so lucky.

Walker heard the sound of gunshots from below, which meant they, whoever they were, were trying to breach the front gate. The shots weren’t suppressed and sounded like nines.

“Ghost proper, this is Ghost Four, we have beegees on all sides, closing in. Recommend regrouping at point Bravo.”

“All Ghost, this is Ghost proper, bug out. I repeat, bug out to point Bravo.”

It was now officially every man for himself. That said, Walker had the sniper rifle and a duty to make sure the other men made it. He scanned the streets, counting five, ten, fifteen bodies moving from the north. Another ten were moving from the south. They’d seriously underestimated the effects of capturing these Mexican mafia facilitators. Triple Six had unintentionally disturbed a narcotrafficking anthill.

Yank dispatched one more man; then he was over the side, carrying his own battle into the streets and alleys.

A burst of nonsuppressed automatic fire blasted through the night like a volcano eruption. Triple Six had arranged to pay the police to look the other way, but this was too much to pretend not to notice. The police would be coming most ricky tick now that the sounds of the battle were carrying toward the tourist areas.

Walker ran across the roof, aiming for the front of the building. He glanced into the courtyard and saw that the ropes had gone slack. All three men were floating in the pool, dead and drowned. Not supposed to have happened.

When he reached the front, he saw a group preparing to rush the doors. He shouldered the rifle and immediately opened fire, taking most of them down in controlled three-round bursts. Those who remained scattered, as the combined weapons of Holmes, Laws, and J.J. forced them back. Seconds later, the three ran out the door and into the street.