Veronica’s entire demeanor changed as her posture hardened. “You
“But you’re asking the impossible.”
“Everything is possible. These men who are coming will protect you. I’m told that they are very good at what they do. They will get you safely to the other side.”
“The murderers, you mean?” Maria laughed bitterly. “If my testimony is so important, then you drive me out of the country with dignity.”
Veronica leaned in close. “Understand this, Maria,” she said. “As much as I have come to like you over the years, and as important as your testimony is to our case against Felix Hernandez, these people you’ll be helping across the border are far more important to my boss. I don’t even know why, but that really doesn’t matter.”
Maria laughed again. This woman was bluffing. Ever since the beginning, the story had always been the same: Felix Hernandez was one of the most sought-after criminals in the United States. He’d killed federal agents, after all. There was no way-
“Lose that grin, Maria,” Veronica ordered. “I would prefer that you do this out of the love of the family members you’ve lost at Felix’s hand. I would prefer that you do it because it is the right thing to do. But if those motivations are not enough, understand that if you don’t do this, I will personally deliver your name to Felix Hernandez. You need to decide if it’s better to risk death by helping others, or face the certainty of death in one of Felix’s torture chambers.”
Maria felt suddenly nauseous. This woman next to her had always been so gentle, so accommodating. Could this monster with the blazing eyes be the same person? “You couldn’t do that to me,” she said.
“I could, and I will,” Veronica replied. “I’ve read reports that Felix can keep his enemies alive and in agony for weeks. They pray for death in the first moments, and the screaming never stops. Imagine how he would treat a woman who he thought was in love with him.”
Maria’s eyes burned as her heart pounded. “I hate you,” she choked.
“That’s fine,” Veronica said. “I need that address.”
The speed and power of the punch were unlike anything Tristan had ever seen. His burst of profanity had erupted out of nowhere. It was just so… startling.
Tristan marveled yet again at the dichotomy that was Scorpion. After that savage punch to the head, Scorpion moved quickly to catch the unconscious mechanic before he could hit the ground.
“He’ll be all right,” Scorpion said. “His jaw will be sore, and it’ll swell, but that’s what he wanted.”
“How do you know you didn’t break it?” Tristan asked.
“Because I didn’t feel it break. You can tell.”
After Scorpion laid Oscar on the ground, the Big Guy rolled the kid over onto his stomach, pulled his hands behind his back, and bound his wrists together with one of those ratcheting plastic ties you see cops using to arrest protesters.
Tristan just stood and watched as his rescuers moved on to the rest of their jobs. The Big Guy messed with the control surfaces of the airplane while Scorpion loaded stuff into the back of the plane. Their bulky backpacks went in first, followed by the other two rifles they’d taken from the dead Mexican soldiers.
The two of them moved with a precision that seemed to be practiced, though it wasn’t possible that they’d stolen a lot of airplanes together. Or maybe they had. Given the way the last few days had gone, absolutely nothing was out of the question anymore.
It was almost as if the two men thought each other’s thoughts. Tristan envied that kind of friendship.
Oscar stirred. Then he moaned miserably. Tristan went to him and kneeled by his side. “You okay?” He spoke at a whisper, but he had no idea why.
Oscar groaned, “Ungh. What did he hit me with?”
“His hand,” Tristan said. He tried to keep the admiration out of his voice. “Really, his hand. Not even his fist. You’ll be okay, though. Scorpion said your jaw didn’t break.”
Oscar moaned again, and his shoulders twitched as he tried to move his hands. “Handcuffs are a nice touch,” he said. “They’ll help sell the story.”
“What about your backpack with the money?” Tristan asked. “Do you want me to hide that somewhere for you?”
Oscar shook his head and winced. “Shit, it’s like my brain is bruised,” he said. “No, leave the backpack where it is. I always have it with me. If it was missing, they’d be suspicious.”
A shadow fell over them, and Tristan knew without looking that it was Scorpion. “Hey, kid,” he said. “Howya feeling?”
“Like you tried to kill me and missed,” Oscar said.
“Yeah, well, your face looks like hell,” Scorpion said. “In a half hour, I doubt that you’ll be able to see out of your left eye. Don’t worry about it when it happens. It’s just the swelling. I don’t think I broke anything, so if you can handle the headache, you shouldn’t need any medical time at all.”
It seemed like the appropriate time for Oscar to say thank you, but Tristan understood that that would have been weird.
“You ready to go?” Scorpion asked Tristan.
“Sure,” he said. As if any other answer was possible.
“All right, then,” Scorpion said. “Mount up.”
Tristan rose from his haunches and waited for a few seconds for Scorpion to come with him.
“You go ahead,” Scorpion said. “Give me a minute with Oscar.”
Tristan felt himself blush. He didn’t like being dismissed like that. What did Oscar do to deserve alone time? He realized that it was foolish to think such things. He should be champing at the bit just to get the hell out of here. It shouldn’t matter to him who Scorpion talked to or what he said when he did. Still, what made Oscar special?
He approached the airplane from the front, but stopped when he saw the Big Guy’s arm waving at him through the open cockpit window, motioning for him to go around the back side to get to the door that was on the opposite side-the right-hand side-of the airplane.
Readjusting the body armor for the thousandth time, Tristan followed directions. He’d only gone a few steps when the engine started to turn, and the propeller caught, launching a hurricane of dust and grass back at Tristan.
The inside of the airplane looked like the backseat of an old car that had been packed for a long vacation. Tristan’s seat was too small with all the shit they made him wear. He had difficulty getting his seat belt fastened. Up front, the Big Guy made the pilot seat and the controls look like they’d been designed for a child.
“Put your seat belt on,” the Big Guy instructed.
“Already done,” Tristan said. “How long a trip is this going to be?”
“A little over five hours. Call it five and a half. More, if the winds don’t cooperate.”
Tristan scowled as he remembered a previous conversation. “And how much fuel do we have?”
“Barely enough.”
Tristan considered letting it go, but in the end, he couldn’t. “Doesn’t that mean we’re going to run out?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“It’s a
The Big Guy caught Tristan’s eyes in the mirror. “The boss says we only tell the truth, so are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I give us a forty percent chance,” Big Guy said.
“Of landing or crashing?”
He responded with just a look.
“Oh,” Tristan said. “Shit.”
“Cheer up,” Big Guy said. “It ain’t worth doing if it ain’t exciting. And relax. It’s not like we have a better option.” He reached onto his lap and lifted his night vision goggles onto his head, with the eyepieces tilted up out of the way.
Off to the right, Scorpion arrived at the door and climbed in, closing it behind him. With only one door for everyone to climb in and out of, it took some maneuvering for him to make his way to the right front seat. All the
