Echoes of a Distant Summer (101 page)

The covering dark of twilight was now gone. The moon, half full and bright, had risen above the dark horizon, and it cast its pale light, making visible what had previously been hidden. The precious minutes lost had given the men in the barracks time to get their weapons and make a stand of it, and allowed snipers to take their positions on the roof.

With Dan and Lincoln providing covering fire, Julio and Reuben began firing rockets at the outlying buildings. Jackson, Carlos, and Esteban left the cover of the bulldozer and headed across the open courtyard. Bullets kicked up grass and sod around them. They crossed over into a cobblestone plaza and had to take cover in the shadows behind a large, imposing fountain. Despite the fact they were in the shadows, bullets still pinged off the cobblestones near them while errant shots whizzed over their heads as San Vicente’s men fired from their barracks.

Carlos crawled over next to Jackson. “Keep your head down! They’ve got our range!”

“How the hell can they tell where we are? I can barely see the roof from here!”

“Infrared! We can’t stay here! They can move around and get a clear shot of us!” Carlos pulled some objects from a pouch and said, “I’ve got a couple of flash grenades. They should cover our run to the house! Put your goggles on!” Carlos pulled the pins and lobbed them at the other side of the fountain. As soon as they exploded all three men were up
and running. There were a few shots, but the bullets caromed harmlessly off the cobblestones. They made the sheltering cover of the eaves and stood against the exterior wall of the main house out of the way of the heavy tile and pieces of the roof, which were still falling on the cobblestones from the rocket blasts.

Jackson was removing his goggles when a man carrying two machine pistols burst through a door. Esteban hit him in the chest with a burst from his automatic rifle. The man fell down and then struggled to his feet firing his pistols, spraying bullets in all directions. Esteban, Jackson, and Carlos hugged the wall behind a jutting facade as a fusillade of whistling lead sped past them. The bullets stopped suddenly as covering fire from across the square centered on the man. Carlos pulled the pin and threw a hand grenade around the corner in the man’s direction. The explosion shattered windows and rattled the door through which the man had come. There was more fire from across the square and then silence.

Jackson poked his head around the corner and was heading for the door when he heard a piercing whistle. He looked across the square and saw Dan pointing above him to an upper balcony of the main house. Jackson started to move away from the building to get a better look.

Carlos warned, “Don’t step out there!” and he grabbed Jackson’s arm, pulling him back close to the building. “Do you want to give them a clear shot?”

Jackson questioned, “What was Dan pointing at?”

“You’ll live to see it, if you remember caution is the first step in all things. Oh, damn!” Carlos gestured across the square. “What is your friend doing? He’s making himself a target!”

Jackson followed Carlos’s hand and saw that Dan was climbing a partially destroyed spiral staircase to get on the catwalk between the ruins of the communications center and the main house. No sooner had Dan started across the catwalk than automatic-rifle fire started chipping away the stucco around him. He ducked down behind the stucco walls.

Carlos exhaled. “He’s in a death trap up there. They don’t even have to know where he is. All they have to do is continue to spray bullets up and down that catwalk and eventually a ricochet will find him.” As if signaled by Carlos’s statement, a hail of bullets raked across the catwalk, pinging off the stucco. The bullets were answered by rifle fire and
rockets from the rest of the team. There were more explosions along the roofline. Falling pieces of smoking debris and roofing tile shattered on the ungiving cobblestones.

Jackson started for the doorway again, only to be stopped once more by an exclamation from Carlos.

Jackson looked back across the square to see Rhasan climbing the stairs leading to the catwalk. Several shots splintered the wall near him as he continued up the stairs. It was useless to call to him amid the sound of automatic weapons. Jackson studied the length of the main house, searching for the source of the bullets firing on Rhasan. He saw the discharge of a gun from an upper window in a projecting wing of the house. He hefted his rifle to his shoulder and waited a few seconds then emptied his magazine into the lower part of the window. He popped the clip out and flipped it around and plugged home its unused partner. He waited for more shots from the window, but there were none. There was now only the intermittent firing from across the square.

He heard Rhasan shout, “Elizabeth! She’s here! But she’s pinned down by a sniper on the roof!” Jackson turned immediately and ran into the main house followed by Carlos and Esteban. There was a flight of narrow stairs leading to the second floor, which he took three at a time. Under the dim light of a bulb on the landing, he took a quick look around then pushed the door onto the balcony open a few inches and peered out. He saw Elizabeth crouching down in the shadows under an eave. He searched the roofline for the sniper but could see no one in the darkness. Then he saw the outline of a man’s torso as he was preparing to make a throwing motion. As Jackson swung his rifle up, a shot rang out across the plaza and the man fell backward. An explosion blew the man’s body into the air, flinging it off the roof down to the cobblestones below.

Esteban pushed past Jackson. “Let me go first! There may be more snipers.”

Jackson grabbed his arm. “Thank you, my friend, but this is my job.” He slipped out the door, staying in the shadows under the eaves.

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth, are you all right?” When she heard his voice she sprang to her feet and ran into his arms.

Elizabeth laid her head in the crook of his neck. “God! Oh, God! I hoped and dreamed it was you! St. Clair!”

Jackson gripped her fiercely and growled, “I told you I would come!
Only divine intervention could’ve stopped me! You mean everything to me! There is nothing without you!”

Carlos tapped his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here! We don’t know how many soldiers are left. We wait too long, they could regroup and then we’ll be fighting to get out of here. Then, of course, the police will come eventually.” There were three long blasts of a whistle. Everyone looked across the square to see Julio and Reuben waving the all-clear sign as they ran toward another entry into the main house. Lincoln was climbing the sagging stairs to the catwalk.

“What about San Vicente and Deleon?”

“We’ll have to hit them again, but I’d rather do it with a force of professionals in three or four days. We were very lucky tonight. I think we have minimal injuries, unless your friend Dan took a serious hit.”

“Where are Dan and Rhasan?” Jackson asked, turning toward the doorway, moving with his arm around Elizabeth.

Esteban pointed down toward the other end of the main house. “They were on the catwalk and there’s a door across from it.”

Carlos interjected, “If you have to spend time looking for them, I’d better check out the interior and give support to Julio and Reuben.” Esteban started to follow him, but Carlos gestured for him to stay with Jackson.

Jackson saw Carlos’s gesture and asked Esteban, “Would you please see Elizabeth to one of the trucks and stay with her?” Exasperated, Carlos threw up his hands and pivoted away, entering through the same door that they had exited.

Esteban gave a quick nod of his head. “If that is what you wish.”

Elizabeth pulled out of Jackson’s arms. “That is not what
I
wish! I’m not going anywhere without you! When you leave, I leave! And give me a gun!”

“It’s dangerous! Why risk any more?”

Elizabeth spat, “Dangerous! Where do you think I’ve been the last few weeks? I wouldn’t mind killing a few of these assholes myself! I know you’re carrying two pistols; give me one!” She stuck out her hand. “Let’s find Rhasan! I’m going with you!” Jackson knew it was useless to argue. He pulled a .45 from its holster and handed it to her. As she quickly pulled out the magazine and checked the chamber, she looked at the black outfits of Jackson and Esteban and asked, “All the good guys dressed like you?”

“Pretty much,” Jackson replied. “Everybody, including the one woman, is dressed in black.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed as she clicked home the magazine. “One woman, huh? Now you’ve got two.”

Jackson shook his head and turned toward the catwalk and moved swiftly to the door. He called out, “Dan? Rhasan?”

There was a loud explosion at the other end of the mansion as San Vicente’s arsenal detonated. The building’s floors above the explosion slowly collapsed with a tremendous rending of wood and metal, and debris fell into the courtyard below. There were fires throughout the compound and bodies littered the plaza.

Jackson’s heart was in his mouth when he called out again, “Rhasan! Dan! Where are you?”

D
eleon was sharing an expensive bottle of single-malt bourbon with Angel and Jesus in the communications center when the first explosion occurred. Angel leaped up immediately to look out the window, knocking over his bourbon-filled paper cup in the process. “What was that?” he demanded. The first explosion was quickly followed by several other, more powerful ones. The communications center was rattling from the force of the detonations. Angel turned to Jesus. “The front tower’s been blow away! Get on the phone! We’re under attack!”

Jesus picked up the phone and listened for a second, clicked the receiver button a few times, then returned it to its cradle. “The line’s dead! Let me get on the radio!” As he finished speaking, the power went out and the room was plunged into darkness.

“Don’t worry,” advised Angel. “The generator will kick on in a few seconds then we’ll get the alarm out!”

Deleon stood up, pulled his twenty-two-caliber pistol out of his jacket, and moved behind Angel. Another explosion, closer this time, broke a nearby window and caused some objects to fall off the shelves. Deleon shot Angel in the base of his skull. The sound of his small-caliber
pistol didn’t even register amid the din of automatic gunfire which could now be heard. As Angel fell forward across his desk, Deleon shouted to Jesus, who was across the room twiddling knobs on the radio, “Damn! It looks like Angel has been hit!”

“What? How?” Jesus questioned as he stood up and went to help his companion. As soon as Jesus saw the blood flowing from the back of Angel’s head he turned to Deleon, but it was too late. Deleon fired point-blank into his cheek and then followed it up with another shot in the temple. Jesus collapsed without a sound.

Deleon looked at his watch. It was only nine-thirty. Obviously, Jackson didn’t want to wait until the time he had suggested. A hum emanated from the banks of equipment, and the monitors and the emergency lights came back on. Deleon stepped over Jesus’s body and went over and flipped the red switch on the radio which sent out the recorded alarm over the police band. He figured that with the holiday festivities, he had at least half an hour to forty-five minutes to finish his business before the first police arrived. He left the communications center and heard the clatter of a heavy machine gun firing from one of the dormer windows of the main house. But no sooner than Deleon had located it, it was destroyed by rocket fire and the resultant blast blew off a large section of the roof. There were more rocket explosions throughout the compound. The attackers had already destroyed much of San Vicente’s security system. Both guard towers were destroyed. None of the security beacons were lit, vast parts of the complex were in darkness. As he started on the catwalk that led across to the main house he saw pockets of defenders in firefights with the attackers; several of the guards were pinned down in their barracks. He didn’t give a moment’s thought to helping either side. He had his own agenda.

He was halfway across the catwalk when he saw a rocket’s fiery tail heading directly for the center. He threw himself down as the rush of hot air from the explosion blew bits of debris over him. He got up into a stoop and hurried for the safety of the main building. Once in the shadows, he moved to the guard wall of the balcony and took stock of the situation. Jackson’s team and their rockets were overwhelming the defenders. San Vicente’s men were giving way rapidly. Deleon’s only fear was that Jackson was winning so quickly that San Vicente would make his escape before Deleon could deal with him. He knew that if San Vicente was able to get away and gain the protection of the police
then his own life would be forfeit. Down below on the ground at an entrance midway toward the other end of the house, there was machine-gun fire followed by a small explosion. He saw the dog handler, Adolfo, staggering toward the kennel to unleash the dogs. Adolfo made it to the gate, but before he could open it he was cut down by a burst from an automatic weapon. Deleon shook his head. Things were going fast.

He went into the main house, heading directly toward San Vicente’s quarters. Earlier in the evening, he had heard San Vicente tell his men that he was bringing in a woman. He hoped that San Vicente was sufficiently distracted that he hadn’t had time to empty his safe and escape. The interior of the house was dark, only intermittently lit by emergency lights. Deleon stayed close to the walls and made as little noise as possible as he hurried through the wide halls and down the broad, swirling stairs. He expected that some sort of resistance would be set up to stop the invaders, but strangely he saw no one. In sharp contrast to the din outside, the interior of the house was as silent as a tomb. It was almost eerie. He had to be cautious. He didn’t want to rush into an ambush. San Vicente had a small arsenal in his bedroom and his most trusted men would make their way there to defend him.

As Deleon turned into the shadows of the corridor that led to San Vicente’s bedroom, he heard the sound of footsteps coming toward him. Deleon faded back into the darkness next to curtains along the wall. As the man came abreast of him, Deleon saw that it was Tercero. He was carrying a machine pistol and was moving cautiously. Deleon waited until Tercero had moved past him, then he stepped out silently behind him and sprang upon him, pulling back his head and cutting his throat before he could utter a sound. He grabbed the pistol as it slipped from Tercero’s helpless hands and eased the body to the floor. Moving quickly, he dragged the body close to the wall. He thought a moment about keeping the pistol, but it was an unfamiliar make and in the darkness, he couldn’t see much but the trigger. He decided that it was better to use weapons he knew and left the machine pistol by the corpse. He made no effort to move farther up the corridor for he heard more footsteps coming in his direction.