Stephen Leather - Breakout

‘What do you think happened?’

She shrugged. ‘He always seemed a little careless to me. He’d talk about things he shouldn’t have in places where you needed to watch your words. I don’t know if he let something slip and was overheard or if he didn’t follow the right procedures and strayed into an area he shouldn’t have been in, or was betrayed, or was just unlucky and caught the wrong taxi - if he even got that far. I know Risk Reduction bribes the customs and police officers to look the other way when their couriers are passing through the airport, but they certainly aren’t the only organisations doing that. In Bolivia, you can buy everyone from the lowliest policeman to the President - the only thing that varies is the price you have to pay.’

Harper had been keeping half an eye on the door of the coffee shop, and when it opened he saw the now familiar condor feather in the new arrival’s hat. Lupa’s brother looked around for a moment before spotting them. He walked over to them, winked at Lupa and nodded to Harper. ‘Nice hat,’ Harper said. ‘I was admiring it when we were out in the street.’

Ricardo gave an uncertain smile.

‘My brother doesn’t really do irony,’ Lupa said. ‘Ricardo, Lex means he spotted you following him.’

Harper smiled. ‘If you’re going to do surveillance on someone, you need to be a grey man, Ricardo, melting into the crowds, not standing out from them.’ He saw Ricardo’s crestfallen expression and sugared the pill a little. ‘But that aside, you were pretty good at it. I do this kind of stuff for a living, so it’s second nature to watch my back, but most people wouldn’t have noticed you.’

‘So, what’s the situation, brother?’ Lupa said.

‘We seem to be surrounded,’ he said. ‘But meanwhile, if you’re buying, señor Lex, mine’s a latte.’ He sat down opposite Harper.

‘Surrounded by who and how many of them are there?’

‘Cartel guys and not ones I’m friendly with. There are about sixty gangs in Santa Cruz, but only two that matter. The Santa Cruz cartel is run by a mixture of Colombians and Bolivians. They are my guys. The ones outside are our enemies - Brazilians from the Comando Vermelho - the Red Command. They were originally just one of the big prison gangs in Brazil, but they now control the cocaine trade in Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro and have spread into Bolivia as well. I reckon there are eight of them outside altogether: two at the back, four in a car at the front, and another couple in shop doorways on the other side of the street.’

‘Are they after me or you?’ asked Harper.

Ricardo laughed. ‘It was you they were looking at. But they’re no friends of mine.’ He looked around. ‘You’re buying me a coffee, right?’

‘Right,’ said Harper. He waved the elderly waitress over and ordered a latte.

‘Okay, once we’ve got our present situation sorted, I’d like the two of you to come to La Paz with me and see if we can find Scouse.’ He nodded at the bag. ‘I’m assuming we can’t take them in our hand luggage, but can we check them in a suitcase?’

Lupa shook her head. ‘They X-ray bags for drugs and guns will show up. But I have a way to get us and the guns to La Paz, don’t worry.’

Harper sat back in his chair. ‘So I know a bit about Lupa now, Ricardo, but what about you? Tell me about how you came to get involved in a life of crime?’ He winked to show he wasn’t bothered by it.

Ricardo shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, to be honest, it’s all I’ve ever known. It was certainly easier money than farming or working in the bar with my parents, but I was never interested in that anyway. I wanted to be one of the guys I used to see who could walk into the bar, buy drinks para todos - for everyone - and pay for them by pulling out a fat roll of bills from their pocket and peeling off a couple. So I hung around those guys, got to know a few of them and, as well as a few crimes of my own - mostly robberies - I started getting involved with some of theirs. There was sometimes a price to pay of course; I did my first jail time when I was fourteen. I’m thirty now and I’ve been inside five times altogether, once in Trinidad, once in Cochabamba, twice here in Santa Cruz and once in La Paz. It’s not such a big problem, if you have money or friends with money, life inside can be quite comfortable and you’re not there for long.’

The waitress returned with Ricardo’s coffee. He added four sugars and stirred it. ‘The men outside, they are tough hombres , Lex,’ he said.

‘I’m no softy myself, and your sister has brought us firepower,’ he said. ‘Have you ever been in a gunfight? Ever shot anyone?’

Ricardo smirked. ‘Probably more than you.’

Harper laughed. ‘Now that I don’t believe.’

‘You can count on him, Lex,’ Lupa said. ‘You don’t work for a cartel without knowing how to shoot.’

Harper finished his coffee. Lupa and Ricardo sipped theirs. ‘Right, let’s get this done,’ said Harper. ‘Lupa, you go out the back way, take care of any guys there and then work your way round to the front. Ricardo and I will take care of business there. But remember, we’re in a city street, not the desert, so it’s got to be aimed shots, not close your eyes, pull the trigger and hope. I don’t want half a dozen passers-by wiped out as well.’

He took out one of the guns and kept it below the table. He slipped a spare magazine into his pocket.

Ricardo took the second gun and slipped it inside his jacket.

‘Do you think they’ll start shooting, or do they have something else planned?’ asked Harper.

‘It’s a hit team,’ said Ricardo. ‘They’re assassins.’

‘Terrific,’ said Harper. ‘Okay, Lupa, head out back. When you hear shots, you move out. The two men there will probably move too so with any luck they’ll have their backs to you.’ He forced a smile. ‘Not that we’re going to be relying on luck. Be careful.’

He stood up and shouldered his backpack. As Lupa moved towards the rear of the coffee shop, Harper nodded at Ricardo. ‘Translate for me, okay?’ He whistled and as the waitress and the other coffee shop customers turned to look at him, he held up the Colt and then said ‘There is going to be some shooting, ladies and gentlemen. Please get on the floor under the tables and stay there.’

He waited until Ricardo had translated and then, as the customers dived for cover, he and Ricardo walked towards the front of the coffee shop, and paused there just inside the door, scanning the street and noting the position of the car with four gunmen inside and the two others lurking in doorways.

They waited until the pavement in both directions was empty of pedestrians. Harper didn’t at all mind killing cartel members but he didn’t want innocent people who just happened to have been in the wrong place on the wrong day on his conscience as well.

He nodded at Ricardo and mouthed ‘Go’ and burst through the door, diving, rolling and already firing as he bounced back to his feet. Ricardo followed him.

In any gunfight, the most dangerous targets were always the first to be eliminated and, reasoning that the men in the car would be slower to draw their weapons than the two standing in the shop doorways, Harper targeted them first, aiming for the sternum at the centre of the body mass. He took out the one closest to him first, firing a double tap that punched holes through the man’s chest and blew him back through the shop door in a shower of flying glass. Harper was already dropping and rolling a few feet, targeting the other gunman as he struggled to bring his weapon to bear. Harper wasn’t even aware of thinking about whether to fire single shots or double-taps. Instead he drew largely on his instincts to decide whether one shot was enough or a double-tap was needed. The Colt barked again and the second man slumped against the stone doorframe, sliding slowly downwards as arterial blood pulsed from the wound the Colt had opened in his chest, blowing away his sternum and rupturing everything around it. His death spasm triggered a shot from his weapon but it ricocheted off the pavement and flew well over Harper’s head with a shrill whine.