Fallen King: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 6) (25 page)

“We’re on shore,” Tony heard Art say over his earwig. “Moving toward the rock.”

“Kid drives that boat like it’s a bloody sports car,” Hinkle chimed in.

Tony looked back at Paul and Andrew in the cockpit, then over at Linda in the left seat. They all nodded. “We’re moving, Art. Choppers are ten minutes out.”

He engaged the twin engines, bumping the throttles up to slightly more than an idle, while in the east, lightning flashed across the Everglades and a wall of water could be seen moving up from the southeast. “Looks like we’re gonna get wet,” Tony said quietly, a wry grin creasing the corners of his mouth. “Good weather for SEALs.”

They slowly idled forward, Linda scanning the southern tip of the small island with a pair of binoculars. Still, the floating pier was hard to spot. “There!” she exclaimed. “A little to the left.”

“Guide me!” Tony shouted, pushing the throttles halfway. His words were nearly drowned out by the throaty roar of the engines and the sudden downpour of rain.

The brightly colored boat looked completely out of place in the muted gray sea and dark green backdrop of the northern Everglades, now enveloped in a late winter thunderstorm. As if it were a panther, the boat leaped out of the water and pounced forward. It was a short trip, lasting only a minute.

“Straight ahead! See it?” Linda asked, looking through the binoculars.

The boat’s wipers were on full and barely cleared the windshield before it was covered by the rain again. Tony strained to look through it and finally surrendered, standing up fully and holding the top of the wheel. He saw the line of posts sticking out of the water and angled toward them, the pelting rain stinging his eyes. He pulled back on the throttles and the boat slowed as it neared the pier.

There was nobody on the narrow beach and the makeshift pier was empty of both boats and people. They approached cautiously, all but Tony with their weapons out and ready. Linda carried Jesse’s M16, while Paul carried only his side arm. The big Coast Guardsman had an MP5 submachine gun strapped around his neck and shoulder, sweeping it across the beach with his right hand. Tony carried the same weapon and both men had side arms in holsters, strapped high on their thighs.

Paul was first off the boat, tying the stern line off to one of the posts. Andrew was next, looping his line around a cleat just forward of the windshield and tying it off to another post. Tony quickly shut down the engines, then he and Linda jumped to the pier together.

With Tony and Andrew leading the way, each covering one side of the beach ahead, the four quickly moved toward shore. Reaching the end of the pier, Paul moved to the right, knelt in the sand and aimed up at the top of the ten-foot-high cliff. The others moved toward the angled path and quickly started up it, under Paul’s cover.

Reaching the top, Andrew peeled off to the left and took cover next to an old rusted barrel while Tony and Linda knelt behind a palm tree on the right. Tony motioned Paul to come up.

“Want to just take the path?” Andrew asked Tony as Paul reached the top. “Ain’t gonna be anyone outside in this weather.”

Tony nodded and Andrew moved quickly up the path toward the camp. Paul followed, with Linda and Tony bringing up the rear.

Andrew raised his fist and dropped to one knee on the edge of the path, Paul taking a position a few yards back and on the other side. The rain was coming heavy now, angling down as the wind started to kick up. All four of them were soaked to the skin underneath their tactical vests, the rain lashing sideways in the swirling gusts.

Pointing ahead, Andrew said, “First structure is on the right, just as we come into the clearing. It looks to be a storage shed, too small for anything else. Directly across are two longer buildings, probably bunkhouses for the refugees. Next to the shed is a building with tables out in front of it, probably the kitchen. There’s a small raised structure at the far end of the clearing. Probably the guard or overseer.”

Above the roar of the wind, the rain and the thunder, Tony could hear the choppers. They wouldn’t be of much use in this weather. He pulled a handheld UHF radio from his pocket, switched it on and turned it to the DEA chopper’s frequency.

“Agent Jacobs to inbound DEA helos.”

“Agent Jacobs,” a voice responded immediately. “Thought you were going to start your little party without us. This is Agent in Charge McMichael. What can the Agency do for you this morning?”

“We’re in two positions on the island. Two of my men have the high ground three hundred yards to the north of a clearing with five structures. The four of us are on the south end of the clearing. I don’t suppose you boys have FLIR, do you?”

“Never leave home without it,” came the reply. With their forward-looking infrared camera, Tony knew the DEA chopper could at least save them time and point out where all the players were.

Within minutes, as one of the helicopters held position several miles offshore, the second one climbed high overhead, circling and looking down through the pouring rain.

“Agent Jacobs, the two buildings on the west side are packed, at least ten people in each. The small structure on the east side appears empty, but the larger one is hard to tell. There’s a very large heat signature inside, like a fire or heater. Someone could be near it and we can’t see them. There are eight figures near the front. They appear to be sitting at tables. The building at the end has three people inside. Two look like they’re wrestling and one is just sitting there watching. I see the four of you and your two men on the rock outcropping and that’s it. No other heat signatures on the island. And from here, you don’t look like you’re putting off a lot of heat.”

“Roger that, AIC McMichael,” Tony said with a grin. “It’s a little wet down here. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you have your other bird announce our arrival?”

“Stir up the anthill and see who comes out? When do you want him?”

“Two of my men will take positions outside the two bunkhouses on the west side. I feel pretty certain they’re all unarmed refugees inside. The other two will move up to opposite sides of the kitchen. Our shooter has a visual on the side and back of the end building and the front of kitchen. My guess is, everyone with a gun is eating breakfast in there. When we four are in position, have him fly over low and fast.”

“Roger that, Agent Jacobs.”

The four split up then, Bourke and Hinkle moving quickly around the west side of the perimeter, taking advantage of what cover they could find. At the same time, Tony and Linda moved around the east side of the small shed. When they got to the back of it, Tony pointed to the ground while watching the back of the kitchen. “They had Jesse in there for a while. Here’s where he dug his way out. When we get to the next building, you stay on this side and move to the front corner and I’ll go around to the other side.”

Reaching the kitchen shack, Linda and Tony took up their positions and waited. Tony could see Bourke moving like a giant cat behind the first building. Paul knelt on the ground at the front corner. Tony would have preferred he had a machine gun or rifle, but having seen the man shoot, he knew he could cover both the door to the bunkhouse and the front door of the kitchen across the clearing more than adequately.

As soon as he saw Andrew kneel at the corner of the other bunkhouse, Tony heard the heavy beating of the chopper’s blades as it approached the island from the south, getting louder and louder as the four waited.

Suddenly, the chopper soared over in a climbing turn, its blades beating hard against the air as it roared past, gaining altitude. When it disappeared into the pouring rain and the sound dissipated, Tony shouted, “This is Homeland Security! Leave your weapons inside and come out with your hands up!”

The door to the kitchen flew open and two men armed with AK-47 assault rifles ran out. One of them spotted Paul and aimed his rifle from the hip, letting loose a short burst. The bullets kicked up dirt and splintered the wood wall of the bunkhouse. Paul’s 9mm Beretta jumped twice in his hand and the man went down, sprawling face-first in the wet limestone sand.

The second man spun and took aim at Paul. Before he could pull the trigger, Bourke’s MP5 stitched a line from his belly to his face. He spun around like a puppet whose strings had been cut, dead before his knees touched the ground. Three more came charging out, shooting wildly. None made it more than three steps, as all four members of the team fired on them and the large boom of Hinkle’s rifle mixed with the crash of thunder.

As quickly as the firefight started, it ended. Tony shouted once more, “You in the kitchen! Come out with your hands up! You are under arrest!”

One by one, the remaining gangbangers came out of the kitchen, arms raised high. Bourke’s voice overwhelmed the sounds of nature as he directed them out into the middle of the clearing, hands behind their heads. When they were assembled in the middle, he ordered them to drop to their knees and lie face down on the ground.

With five of them dead and the three surviving gangsters under control, Tony moved quickly to the door and glanced inside. There was no sound or movement in the kitchen. He dashed through the door and rolled onto the floor, coming up in a kneeling stance against the side wall, his MP5 up and ready. The room was empty except two tables with chairs, a work table, a refrigerator and a stove.

At the door, Tony could hear another chopper approaching, one with a different yet familiar sound. He signaled Paul and Andrew to bring the refugees out.

Over their earwigs, the team heard their boss’s voice. “Tony, this is Deuce. We’ll be at the pier in two minutes. What’s going on there?”

“Five tangos down, Deuce. Three more in custody.” As the refugees filed out of the bunkhouses, hands raised high, he added, “About twenty refugees rescued. No sign of Jesse, but there’s three people in the shack on the north end.”

“Roger that. Good work, Tony. A Coast Guard cutter is en route and should be offshore in less than an hour. They’ll shuttle the refugees and prisoners out to the cutter.”

Tony looked toward the shack with the raised floor at the end of the clearing. There had been no gunfire or movement from there. “Donnie, you and Art come down to the main shack. I will breach and you come in behind me.”

While Bourke covered the three men on the ground, Paul searched the refugees one at a time. It didn’t take long. Most wore only tattered shorts.

Tony motioned Linda to follow him and they moved along the edge of the palmetto-and-scrub-oak perimeter toward where they hoped Jesse was being held. When they arrived at the corner, Tony led the way across the small covered porch, thankful for the heavy rain and thunder. He ducked under a high window and continued to the door. Art stuck his head around the corner and nodded.

Hearing voices inside, but unable to make out what they were saying over the rain and wind, Tony stepped away from the wall and lunged forward, planting his boot just above the doorknob. The door jamb splintered as the door flew open. The lower hinge was pulled loose by the impact and the door hung crookedly against the wall.

The rain was now coming in sheets, the full fury of the storm on top of the little island. So loud that it nearly drowned out the other sounds I could hear. Sounds that the two on the bed were oblivious to, completely wrapped up in an animal-like frenzy of lust. A part of my mind wouldn’t let me look away, but deep down, I seemed to know and recognize the other sounds. They were coming from outside in the storm. A shrieking sound accompanied by a rhythmic beating, like African drums, it grew louder and louder until it roared overhead.

Lavolier was on his back on the bed with Horvac straddling him, riding with wild abandon. Her long dark hair was tied back and the length of it bounced with every thrust. Leaning forward and putting both hands on the wrought iron frame of the bed, she bucked even harder. She looked straight at me then, her eyes wide and wild, as dark as obsidian and full of raw animal desire. The smile on her face wasn’t one of happiness. It had a rapturous and evil component.

I strained against the bindings on my wrists, ignoring the shouts and gunfire outside. All I wanted was to get to this woman. She, too, was completely oblivious to the battle that raged outside, concerned only with the battle inside her own mind and body.

Lavolier’s head was back, eyes closed, the muscles and tendons of his neck straining and bulging. His hands were on Horvac’s waist, guiding and pushing her back with each thrust. With his eyes closed tightly, he didn’t see Horvac arch her back and straighten her body. She drew a long curved knife of some kind out of a scabbard on the bedpost, holding it with the blade down and forward.

Lifting Horvac with his hips and throwing his head back further, he missed the flash of the knife in the naked woman’s hand as it cleaved the air. He was too wrapped up in his own orgasmic explosion. At first, he didn’t even notice the curved blade as it cleanly severed his throat.

The wound was deep, from ear to ear and all the way to the bone. Blood shot out all over Horvac’s breasts and belly as she slowly rode him down to the bed. His hands went suddenly to his throat in a feeble attempt to staunch the blood flow. He made a last gurgling sound, pink bubbles squeezing between his fingers.

Without looking down at him, her eyes focused like lasers on mine, she climbed off of the body. Lavolier was dead. The battle outside had died as well.

Horvac casually lay the knife on the table and, picking up her wet shirt from the floor, she stepped in front of me. Naked, she wiped most of the blood off her torso with the shirt. Dropping it again, she reached for Lavolier’s shirt and put it on, buttoning a single button at the bottom. The rolled-up sleeves reached her forearms, and the tail of the much larger man’s shirt fell almost to her knees.

Her breathing was still heavy as she knelt in front of me, placing one hand on each of my knees. Her touch was like fire, tracing a line directly from my knees to my groin.

“That was just a warm-up,” she said in a sensual, almost loving voice. The sound of her words caressed my ears. “You will tell me what I want to know first. And then I will let you have me, Jesse. All of me. Do you have access to the money from the treasure?”

“Yes,” I groaned hoarsely. “That and more.”

Suddenly, the door flew inward with a crash, twisting on just the top hinge and wedging itself between the floor and one of the rafters. A black man rolled through after it, coming up in the corner with a machine gun pointed at Horvac.

Way back in some suppressed part of my brain I recognized him. A woman came through the demolished door frame after him, an assault rifle raised and pointed at Horvac also. She was tall, nearly as tall as me, with the broad shoulders of a professional swimmer. Her wet, dark auburn hair was plastered to her scalp and pulled back in a ponytail, and her dark eyes flashed with anger. Her jeans and denim shirt were soaked. Over that she wore body armor, with the letters FDLE over the left breast. A wide, black belt held a handgun in a holster on her hip. Her name came bubbling up through the fog in my brain. Linda.

Suddenly, my desire for Horvac shifted to this warrior woman now standing before me. Brief flashes from the past surged past the blockage in my brain. A glimpse of her standing on a beach in the moonlight, holding Neptune’s trident, quickly appeared and disappeared, replaced with another image of her upturned face, the moon shining fully on it.

“Don’t move!” Linda shouted at Horvac.

The nearly naked woman froze in place, splotches of Lavolier’s blood smeared on her belly. I felt someone behind me, tugging at the bindings on my wrists until they parted. As I was reaching down to untie my feet, Linda looked at me and asked, “Are you alright, Jesse?”

Horvac moved as quickly as a jungle cat, lashing out with a sideways kick, knocking the rifle out of Linda’s hands. She followed through with an overhand left, meant to break the taller woman’s jaw, but the strike met nothing but air.

Linda rolled forward, following the lost rifle and easily dodging the blow. When she came up, she grabbed Horvac’s long black hair from behind, allowing her momentum to pull the woman backward, flinging her across the room and through the broken doorway.

Horvac stumbled off the small porch, rolling out onto the wet ground. To her credit, she came up in a kneeling position with one leg straight out to the side. She looked up quickly, her hair falling down over one shoulder to the ground. The rain immediately soaked Lavolier’s shirt, which clung tightly to her body.

Linda followed her through the door, back out into the rain. She slowly unbuckled her holster and dropped it as she crossed the porch. Then she stepped lightly to the ground in the pouring rain. Her head held low, she watched Horvac carefully under hooded brows.

Suddenly, the two women charged at one another, Horvac’s bare feet slipping slightly on the wet ground. Linda went in low, planting her shoulder just under the other woman’s ribcage. Lifting the smaller woman off her feet, Linda drove her backward into the ground.

Horvac’s breath escaped her lungs with a gasp. She writhed in Linda’s grasp like a wildcat, twisting and turning, trying to gain some leverage.

The two tumbled across the ground, rolling in the mud and water. I watched from the doorway, excited. Tony slipped past me and joined Art and Donnie on the porch. The sight of the two women fighting reached way deep into my brain and I liked it.

Suddenly, there was an audible crack, like lightning splintering a nearby tree, and the fight was over. The two women lay there in a heap in the pouring rain, neither moving. Horvac was on top, Linda’s legs wrapped high around her narrow waist. Lavolier’s shirt was twisted around Horvac’s middle, exposing her body from the angel wings to her feet, the heavy rain splashing off her skin.

Horvac moved slightly, Linda’s arm still wrapped behind her head, where her fingers clutched the arm opening of her body armor.

Releasing the hold, Linda grabbed Lavolier’s shirt and rolled the woman’s body off her. Horvac’s head lolled to the side in an unnatural way. She lay face up in the mud, completely exposed, her blank, dead eyes staring at nothing.

The rain suddenly stopped as Tony stepped off the porch and extended a hand to Linda. She took it and stood up, straightening her body armor where Horvac’s chin had been caught by Linda’s hold, stretching and snapping her spine.

Linda glanced up at me on the porch as the sun broke out from behind the clouds. She had three bloody scratches across her cheek, the blood mixing with the rainwater and streaking her jaw and neck.

I felt something warm and sticky running down the inside of my thigh.