50
Juan awoke with a start. He still couldn’t see anything, but a noise had woken him. He was frantically trying to recall what it might have been, when he heard it again. Something in the other room. Something loud. An argument, maybe. The next sound was even louder, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
No! They were getting ready. They were coming for him. They were going to do to him what they did to Luke Greenwood.
Juan desperately pulled at his bindings again. He strained, trying to break what was holding him. It felt like tape, but it didn’t budge. He tried again, feeling the veins in his temples bulge. Nothing.
He kicked his feet and tried to pull one up away from the other, but the tape held. Jesus! What kind of tape was it?!
Wait! He paused when he heard something else. Was that the other door opening? He continued kicking, now in a panic, trying desperately to break the tape. It wouldn’t give. He scooted himself backwards on the concrete floor, searching for anything behind him. His fingers touched something. It was metal, a tool maybe.
But it was too late. Juan froze when the door to his room was violently kicked open. The light was turned on, blinding him and causing him to clamp his eyes shut. When he felt hands grab him, he shrieked and bucked wildly on the floor. He used the moment to roll onto his back, kicking at the bastards as hard as he could. “No! No!” he screamed. “Get away from me!”
With a victorious thud, Juan’s right heel made contact with something. He tried again kicking in the same area but couldn’t find the target again. It had moved away. He couldn’t find anything. He opened his eyes into the bright glare and spotted the silhouette. He lunged with both legs together, using everything he had, and struck the shadow dead center, sending it reeling back against the wall. Juan blinked hard, looking around for anyone else. What he heard next caused his heart to sink. It was the sound of laughter.
They were actually chuckling. The shadow stepped forward, this time grabbing Juan’s legs when he kicked hard toward his captor again. When the man spoke, his words were clear and unmistakable.
“Well, you’re definitely alive.”
The words were in English. Juan felt his legs drop to the floor with a thud. His vision finished adjusting until finally a familiar face materialized before him.
The man standing over him smiled and dabbed his own lip with one of his fingers. He pulled it back to reveal a small streak of blood. It was Steve Caesare.
“Mr. Caesare!” Juan croaked. His eyes wide with shock, Juan’s brow furrowed and the sudden elation triggered an emotional release. Juan stared up at a grinning Caesare as his survival instinct gave way and he began sobbing.
Caesare knelt down next to him and put a thick paw on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Juan. I got ya, buddy.”
Juan pursed his lips, barely able to see Caesare through his blurry eyes. He tried to speak but couldn’t.
“Don’t try to talk.” Caesare gently patted him. “Just relax a minute.” In a smooth motion, Caesare drew a giant knife from somewhere behind him. As he reached down to cut the tape away, Juan could have sworn the blade had blood on it.
It took a few minutes for him to recover. All the while, Caesare stayed next to him, talking in a calm voice. Finally, Juan blinked the remaining tears out of his eyes and took a deep breath. He eased himself up onto his rear and wrapped his arms around his knees.
“You okay?”
He sniffed and nodded. “I… I’m sorry.”
Caesare smiled. “Don’t ever be sorry. Not about this. I’ve had my share of moments just being thrilled to be alive.”
Juan forced a smile of his own. “I guess you really are a Navy SEAL, huh?”
Caesare laughed and stood up. “Unfortunately for them.” He lowered his hand and waited for Juan to take it. When he did, Caesare pulled him up onto his feet. “So where are DeeAnn and Dulce?”
“Alves took them. In a helicopter.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know. What time is it now?”
Caesare peered at his watch. “A little after midnight.”
“It was early this morning. Six or so, I guess. At least I think it was this morning.”
“Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know,” Juan shook his head. “We came here to help them find a monkey. To try to find out what happened to DeeAnn’s friend. But it was Alves. He killed her friend and lied to get us to come. And it was all to find that monkey.”
“Why would he go to all that trouble over a monkey?”
“I don’t know exactly. There’s something about him that Alves is after. He’s trying to find out where Dexter came from, but I don’t know where that is, or which direction they went.”
Caesare nodded, thinking. “How many were here guarding you?”
“I only saw two.”
“Well, at least that’s good news. Let’s get out of here.” He motioned toward the door and stepped out into the hallway, checking both directions. Juan noticed the gun in Caesare’s hand. He hadn’t even seen him pull it out.
They headed up the hallway and stopped at the door. Juan gave a start when he realized it was the room from which they were monitoring him. And also because Blanco’s man, who was watching him, was now lying face down on the floor.
He looked back at Caesare, who was already heading further up the hall. “You did that?”
There was no answer.
When they reached the door to the outside, Caesare opened it slowly and quietly, listening. Hearing nothing, he opened it wider and slipped out, holding it for Juan. He laid a finger over his lips and made a motion to be quiet.
They passed beyond the glow of the building’s overhead lights and into a section of dense trees. After a hundred feet or so, Caesare abruptly stopped, causing Juan to almost run into him.
On the ground was another of Blanco’s men. This one was lying on his back, clutching his side where his clothing was covered by a large dark stain. The man was gasping for breath and held a knife in his right hand.
“I see we found a knife.” Without the slightest hint of sympathy, Caesare stepped forward, placing his heavy boot on the man’s upper arm and pinning his right side.
“Speak English?’
Blanco’s henchman stared at him defiantly but reluctantly nodded.
“Then listen carefully. You tell me what I want to know and I’ll leave you here, with a chance to live.” Caesare raised the gun and pointed it at the man’s forehead. “If not, I won’t. Understand?”
The man nodded and relaxed his hand, letting his knife tumble to the moist dirt next to his head.
“Where did they go?”
Blanco’s man coughed. “The mountains.”
“Where in the mountains?”
“Northwest.”
Caesare’s jaw flexed. “How far?”
“South to Sipaliwini. Is a poacher’s camp.”
He motioned toward Juan. “How long were you keeping him here?”
The reply was broken. “Until Blanco call.”
“And then what?”
The mercenary hesitated and looked nervously at Juan.
Caesare pressed hard on his arm. “I said, then what?!”
“To kill him,” he blurted out.
Caesare’s eyes grew dark. “How? How was he going to call you?”
The man grimaced. “The phone. In the office.”
Caesare peered around through the trees. “Anyone else here?” There were two Humvees parked near the building on the south side.
The mercenary shook his head. His breathing was growing steadily worse.
“Keys.”
The man tried to move the arm that Caesare was standing on but couldn’t. Instead, he twisted his wrist and tried to point downward.