"There it is," Blancanales concluded. "Then they make it on the floor. These people are totally off the edge, no doubt about it."
"People's Republic of Mexico?" Gadgets marveled. "A commie takeover of Mexico triggered by Americans assassinating... Oh, man. Lyons, where are you?"
"What time does Grimaldi come down?"
Gadgets glanced at his watch. That afternoon, when he spoke long-distance to Grimaldi at Stony Man, he had arranged for the ace flier to HALO (high altitude low opening) in a parachute drop on the east side of the foothills overlooking the mercenary base. He would then hike over the hills to a position near the base and wait for a signal. He would bring rations and water for three days.
"He'll be dropping any minute now," Gadgets told Blancanales. "Might even be down already. Where's Lyons? Hey, there he is."
Slipping out the door, Gadgets whistled. Lyons jogged across the street. He followed Gadgets into the office.
"Why you over here?" he asked.
"I took this office for all my receivers," said Gadgets. "Can't have Furst walking in on this — or anybody else. Rosario, tell him what we got."
"Incest and international communism. Total mind blow." Blancanales went on to describe the taped conversation and sexual encounter.
Lyons laughed. "These people are unbelievable. But I believe it! If you ask me, I say it's time to shut this crazy camp down. We got El Rojo and his generals up there, Monroe's up there, Furst too. Any word from Grimaldi?"
"Soon," Gadgets answered. "But what about Pardee? Furst said he's the one who does the 'interrogation.' Pardee must've been the one who killed the two federals. We can't let him get away."
"Stopping the war's more important," Blancanales countered.
"The demonstration is tomorrow," Gadgets continued. "We could hijack that super-shooter Huey rocket ship, get them all at once."
They heard the throb of helicopters. The sound blasted over the base. Lyons grinned: "The gang's all here."
* * *
Leaning against the safety strap, Pardee saw the executive jet below him on the airstrip. He shouted into the intercom: "Pilot, don't land! Proceed to the Monroe estate. Buzz the field's radioman, connect me."
The Huey banked and left the airstrip behind. Through the intercom's headphones, Pardee heard the hiss of radio static.
"This is the airfield. Is there a problem, Captain Pardee?"
"That the Mexicans' jet I saw? On the strip?"
"Yes, sir. Came in an hour ago."
"Where's Furst?"
"Commander Furst met them. They all drove to Mr. Monroe's..."
"Pilot! Pilot..."
The radio clicked off. The pilot's voice returned. "Yes, sir."
"Put us down in front of the house. Direct the other pilot to land downhill, between this copter and the security gate. And connect me to Ralston, the platoon leader in the other copter, now!"
"Yes, sir." The channel switched. "Ralston here, captain."
"We got a security problem at the Monroe estate. Listen to me. Soon as we touch down, put your men out in a half circle downhill of the Hueys. No one fires unless we're fired on. But if anyone shoots at us, waste them. Sentries, strangers, our soldiers, anyone — waste them. You heard me?"
"What's going on?"
"You don't need to know. Do as I told you. Over and out."
The helicopter approached the lights crowning the mountaintop. Pardee shouted instructions to soldiers around him. They nodded their understanding as they checked their rifles.
Leaves and torn flowers flew as the skids scraped the asphalt. "Shut off the engines," Pardee commanded into the intercom. He took a last glance to confirm the deployment of the soldiers from the other helicopter, then snapped himself free of his safety strap and dropped to the paving.
Furst strode from the entry with a cocktail glass in his hand. Several other men crowded from the door, Lopez in his Savile Row men's fashions and three Mexicans in dress uniforms resplendent with rows of medals and satin sashes. The tallest of the three generals, El Rojo, stood with his arm around his beautiful sister, Availa Monroe.
"What do you think you are doing, Pardee?" Furst demanded.
Driving a karate front-kick into the handsome man's gut, Pardee sent Furst flying back. He went to one knee on the choking, gagging man's chest, took the .45 from Furst's holster, slipped it into the thigh pocket of his fatigues, then pulled his bayonet. He saw the Mexicans hurrying to Furst's aid. Pardee put the bayonet to Furst's throat.
"Back up! This man betrayed us. Tell them, playboy. Tell them about the deal with the Feds."
"I didn't..."
"You're lying! I saw the photos. All three of them, they're an elite anti-gang squad. Tell us about the deal with the Feds."
Furst gasped for breath, then screamed into Pardee's face. "I'll have you shot!"
Bending down and grabbing Furst by his styled hair, Pardee cut off his left ear. Furst screamed and wailed, thrashing under the huge man's knee. Pardee jerked Furst by the hair and slammed the back of his head into the asphalt, stunning him. He put the point of the razor-sharp bayonet to the bloody man's eye.
"You want to live, pretty boy? Tell us about the Feds! Tell us why you betrayed your soldiers!"
Sobbing like a beaten child, Furst confessed. "This is all insane, we're working for an insane old man. The Feds have already got us. For murder. For conspiracy. For..."
Grinning at the man's suffering, Pardee grabbed Furst again, this time by the throat, and lifted him from the ground. He held him at arm's length as he turned to the soldiers.
"You heard!" Pardee roared. "He's working with the FBI. He betrayed Mt. Monroe and all of you soldiers. This is a court-martial and I condemn this informer to death!"
Pardee jammed the bayonet into the struggling Furst's groin, ripped up, simultaneously emasculating him and gutting him in one long slash like he was a fish.
He dropped the dying man and watched him thrash and contort in his blood, in his spilled intestines.
Pardee wiped the bayonet on Furst's uniform and slipped it back into its sheath. Then he pulled out his .45 automatic.
"One last thing, playboy. You ain't gonna be a pretty boy in hell."
Pardee fired three times into the dying man's face.
* * *
In the dark office, they heard Pardee issue his first commands as Commander of the Texas Irregulars. "Secure the gates! No one comes or goes. Watch for Luther Schwarz, Pete Marchardo, Carl Morgan. They're federal agents. Take them alive! Pilots, start those engines. We'll be returning to the base in two minutes..."
Other voices continued, but Pardee's faded as he left the immediate area near the transmitters concealed on Furst's corpse.
Gadgets spoke into his modified hand-radio. "Can you see the camp, G-Force?"
Jack Grimaldi's voice came from the tiny speaker. "Yeah, I'm about a mile away. Hey, what's going on? About a hundred lights just came on. It's bright as day down there."
"No waiting tonight. You got here just in time."
"So what gives?"
Lyons activated his hand-radio. "Make it to the road, sir. Don't show yourself until we signal you. Move fast, situation red."
"That's what I came for. Over."
Lyons looked to Gadgets and Blancanales. "Anyone got a plan? "
"Time to get out of here," Gadgets said solemnly.
"Second the motion," Blancanales added.