The Forgotten (52 page)

So what was Puller up to?

He had tried calling out to the platform, but the call had not gone through.

The storm again. The timing truly sucked.

And then, as if in answer to his prayers, his cell phone rang. He looked at the number and smiled.

He clicked on and said, “I was hoping to hear from you.”

Cheryl Landry said, “I’ve got a lot to fill you in on. Can we meet? Now?”

T
HE STORM WAS RAPIDLY DISSIPATING
but downpours were still occurring intermittently as Danielle finished expending its energy.

It was daylight now, but Danielle was keeping the skies dark. It could have been the wee hours of the morning.

Someone knocked on the front door.

Lampert answered it himself. He had taken a tender to shore. He had thrown up twice because of the rough seas. Now he was hoping for some good news.

He stared across the threshold at Landry. She was drenched and her face was bruised.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

“Can I come in first? And can I get a drink?”

He turned and she followed him in. He led her to his private study and closed the door behind them.

“You want a change of clothes?” he asked.

“I’d like that drink. That’s what I really want.”

He poured her out a scotch from the bar set against one wall.

“I was on the
Lucky Lady
contemplating whether I should make a run for it,” said Lampert.

“Trust me, I was contemplating the same thing.”

“But on the phone you said you had good news.”

She accepted the scotch from him, took a sip, and then sat down in a chair opposite his desk. He sat down too, steepled his fingers, and stared at her expectantly.

“Well?” he said.

She took one more sip from the tumbler and then pressed the glass against her bruise. “The operation was compromised.”

“That I know.”

“Murdoch is a spy.”

“That I know too.”

“Her name is Lieutenant Claudia Diaz. She’s with the Colombian National Police.”

Lampert simply stared at her for a long moment before exclaiming, “Shit!

Landry smiled at this reaction. “I take it that you didn’t know.” She held up her glass. “You might want one of these.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Landry took another sip, sat back, and exhaled a long breath. “What happened is, I saved your ass.”

“How?”

“I never trusted Winthrop or Murdoch.”

“Smart of you.”

“So I watched them. Winthrop was clean. Murdoch wasn’t. It was clear she was just letting him get into her panties so she could get close to you.”

“I can see that now.”

She smiled, cocked her head at him as the rain beat down outside and the thick dark swirling clouds kept the sun at bay. “And did she let you get into her panties?”

“Irrelevant to our discussion, but the answer is yes.”

“So you were deceived as well.”

“Women are my weakness. And I think I’ll have that drink now. But keep talking. I’m very interested in how you saved my ass.”

While he poured out a drink she said, “Your hit team against the big guy went awry. Diaz tipped him off.”

Lampert sat back down with his scotch. “And why would she do that? Is he working with her?”

“It doesn’t matter at this point. They’re both dead.”

Lampert choked a bit as the scotch went down the wrong pipe. “Dead? How was that managed?”

“Like I said, saved your ass. Puller is dead too.”

“What about the other woman? You told me she was a general. Carson, right?”

“Dead too. They’re all dead. It’s not like we could allow any of them to survive.”

Lampert stared furiously across the desk. “You just ignited a shitstorm, Cheryl. The Pentagon will be all over this.”

“And would you have preferred the alternative? They follow the trail right back here to you.”

“That would not have happened.”

“It
did
happen, Peter.”

He said nothing, just stared at her like she was the last thing he would ever see in his life.

“They found out about the warehouse.”

“I cleared it. There was nothing to find.”

“Well, they found the platform out there,” she said, pointing out the window toward the Gulf.

Lampert put down his drink and edged forward in his chair. His face was drained of color. “That is not possible.”

“The big guy? His name is Mecho, by the way. He was on that platform. Your people snatched him from Mexico. He escaped. Made it to shore. And then he made it back. Last night.”

“I thought that might be the case. I thought he was spying on me. But I didn’t know why. I just thought he was trying to steal something.”

“He was tracking you, Peter. What he wanted to steal was your whole life and everything you have. And he came really close to accomplishing that goal.”

Lampert took his glass and hurled it against the wall. “Son of a bitch!”

Landry watched the scotch drip down the once immaculate wallpaper.

“Get a grip, Peter. Like I said, they’re dead.”

“How?”

“I’m drenched and my face is smashed up. What does that suggest to you?”

“A fight in the storm.”

“To the death. Out on the platform. I won’t lie and say we didn’t take casualties. We did. They killed nearly all your guys, but in the end, we overwhelmed them with sheer numbers and a little luck.”

“How did you come to be there?” he asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Like I said, I’d been following Diaz. They got on a boat. I got on a boat. They rode out to the platform. So did I.”

“In the storm? How is that possible?”

She looked at him incredulously. “I grew up in Florida. I’ve surfed in the aftermath of hurricanes. I’ve been piloting boats since I was ten. If it had been a Cat One or Two, maybe not. But a tropical storm, if you know what you’re doing, you can manage. And it’s lucky for you that I did. I thought that’s why you hired me. For my local expertise. And my balls under pressure.”

“What happened?”

“I called ahead. At first my phone wasn’t working, but I finally caught a signal. I told them they were coming. They were ready for them, but it was still a hell of a fight. Those four were true warriors, I have to give them that. They didn’t go down easy.”

“And the product?”

“Mostly intact. We took a few casualties there, though.”

“And the bodies?”

“In the drink. Diaz and the others will never be found. We cut out the lungs. Bodies will go down and stay down.”

“Good thinking. And your work killing the Storrows and that old woman was truly appreciated, Cheryl. They could have ruined everything. The bonus I paid you for doing that probably was inadequate.”

He seemed to realize this was not praise enough. “And you’ve just earned yourself another bonus after last night. An enormous one. And a promotion. We’re going to get you out of that uniform and into a suit. You can take over Winthrop’s position.”

“Won’t he have a problem with that?”

“He would, except I had him killed for allowing Diaz to infiltrate us. And we’re moving the operation. My logistics guys are crunching the numbers now. I’m thinking Alabama.”

“One problem?”

“What’s that?”

“Stiven Rojas.”

“What about him.”

“He’s your partner in the slave trade.”

“So what?”

“You told me he gave you an ultimatum.”

“He did.”

“And now with all this, what do you think he’s going to do? It’s not exactly a clean exit.”

“I’m thinking that I’ve become important enough that Señor Rojas will need to listen to my terms. Pipeline trumps product. I can get product on my own. I already did. Asia and Africa. Lots of poor, stupid people there. But Rojas can’t duplicate my pipeline. He doesn’t have the requisite connections.”

“Still, a dangerous game to play with the man.”

“I’m not underestimating him. But when you have an advantage you have to seize it.”

“Exactly my thinking.”

This comment did not come from Landry.

Puller had kicked open the door and stepped into the study.

Behind him charged Diaz, Carson, and Mecho.

They all had their guns drawn and pointed at Lampert.

Lampert stared first at them and then glanced at Landry in astonishment.

“You set me up?”

“Afraid so.”

“Do you realize what you’ve done, you idiot?”

“I’m not sure you’re aware of the full extent of it.”

Landry unbuttoned the two top buttons of her shirt and pulled the wire and recorder out. She handed them to Puller. She turned back to Lampert.

“I saw an opportunity and seized it,” she said and added in a hollow tone, “but don’t feel like I got anything special. Life in prison instead of the needle. Some deal.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get the same deal,” Puller said to Lampert.

Lampert said, “How did you get past my security?”

“You should tell them to check the interior of every vehicle more thoroughly. With Landry at the wheel they just passed us through.”

Lampert looked from him to Landry. “You idiot.”

“They had me dead to rights, Peter. Sorry.”

“I’ll have you killed in prison.”

“You can try,” said Puller. “But I think you’ll have more important things to think about.”

“I’ll hire the best lawyers.”

“You’re going to need them,” said Diaz. “And I’m going to push hard to have you tried in Colombia. The Americans are too soft. Justice is much swifter in my country.”

Puller cuffed both Landry and Lampert.

“Now let’s go,” said Puller. He motioned with his M11. Lampert rose and looked at Landry.

“You’re dead. You’re
all
dead.”

Then he walked out with the others behind him.

They reached the front courtyard, but then Puller stopped abruptly.

“What is it?” asked Carson.

Mecho was looking around warily too.

“Down, now!” yelled Puller.

Right as he said it the guns started firing.

P
ULLER HAD SPOTTED
the shooters’ positions a split second before he hit the dirt.

He pulled his M11 and fired in an arc, emptying its mag. It was a defensive measure, solely designed to give him a few seconds to take up a new position and plan a counterattack. He took cover behind a car, gripped his MP5, and surveyed the area in front of him.

“Puller!”

He glanced behind him. It was Carson. She’d taken up position behind a stone column outside the front entrance.

She was pointing to the left.

Puller looked in that direction and his gut tightened.

Diaz was lying facedown in a pool of blood. Even from this distance and in the darkness Puller could tell she was dead.

He looked around for Landry and Lampert.

Landry was cowering behind a tree. She yelled to Puller, “Lampert ran off!”

Puller looked up ahead, to where the shooters were.

He had one person unaccounted for.

Mecho.

Puller didn’t think the big man had run off. He was wired to fight just like Puller was.

Puller looked back at Carson after a wave of bullets was fired over his position.

With hand motions he communicated to Carson what he intended to do. She nodded and tightened her grip on her gun.

Puller turned back, his gaze flitting over all relevant points.

It was on the second pass when he saw him.

Mecho was directly on the shooters’ rear flank, his gun aimed at them.

It had been neatly done, Puller thought.

There were six shooters.

Puller looked around for the vehicles they had come in, but saw none.

Then he thought the shooters were actually Lampert’s bodyguards.

A second later he noted the lumps of flesh lying around the ground.

They
were the bodyguards.

This was a new force to be reckoned with.

And they hadn’t come by car.

Puller considered deliberately the tactical situation.

There were three of them, six on the other side.

In his mind the other side was woefully undermanned. They should have sent more guys.