He paused at the plank bridge and strained his ears to listen. He could hear the men cursing and splashing as they fought their way to his domicile. If they had been smart, they would have hired a guide. Of course, if they had been smart, they would have listened to the guide when he told them that trying to find DJ White was a suicide mission.
He pushed open the door of the shack and slung his go-pack over his shoulder. He snatched a small wooden box and slipped it into his cargo pants pocket then looked around the tiny cabin once more.
He sighed as he pulled the door shut and attached a metal ring to the rusty nail along the edge. He stepped back carefully and held his hands out, willing the door to remain shut. He quickly turned and darted through the underbrush just as the voices increased in volume.
He slid down the bank and snatched the rope from the broken branch he had tied it to. He stepped onto the flat bottomed boat just as the men discovered the cabin. DJ floated in the water, listening to the men as they took up positions around his home. He held his breath, listening to them as they all chambered a round in their weapons.
“Meester Whi-i-ite!” a heavily accented voice called. “El Fantasma sends his regards!”
DJ cringed at the staccato of weapons fire and held his breath for what he knew was about to come.
An ear shattering blast shook the trees, sending splinters of ancient woods missiling through the dense vegetation as the explosives removed the invaders from his land.
DJ floated in the muddy waters, debating with himself if he should investigate. Eventually, curiosity won out and he paddled back to shore.
He approached the site slowly, his rifle leveled on the scene of destruction as he stepped from the overgrown greenery. Bodies lay strewn across the damp ground, limbs and weaponry scattered.
DJ walked gingerly through the devastation until he heard a soft groan near the edge of his camp. He stepped over entrails and pieces of cheap linen cloth until he found the man, still breathing but in obvious shock. His lower extremities were missing.
“Who sent you?”
The man’s eyes scanned the area until they settled on him. The man shook his head slowly, his words barely a whisper. “Murillo…” The man coughed the word out. “Hermana…” He sucked in air again then the light left his eyes.
DJ stood upright and cursed under his breath. He glanced at the smoking remains of his home then turned for the boat. If the Murillo Cartel were going to these extremes to find him, there was no telling what else they’d been up to since he decided to go off the grid.
3
Southeastern Oklahoma
“If I were smart, I’d call Baba Yaga and have ME look this shit up. I’d have had it hours ago.” He motioned around the spartan cabin. “Here? With this ‘Pine Cellular’ shit running on your phone?” He handed Bridger the police report. “It’s taken me this long to download and print two pages.”
Bridger snatched it from his hand and skimmed through it. “This is next to nothing.”
“You’re welcome,” Slippy snapped. “Next time, bring a satellite uplink.”
Bridger rolled his eyes. “Look in the back of the Tahoe. I grabbed some of the tech gear.” He glanced at Slippy as the man came up from his chair.
“Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?”
Bridger shrugged. “Part of me liked the idea of fucking with you.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “The other part hoped we wouldn’t need it.”
“You’re an ass.”
Slippy carefully exited the cabin and Bridger turned his attention back to Mauk. “What about DJ?”
Mauk shook his head. “He’s dropped off the planet, just like he always threatened to. Last I tracked him back to Florida and then he just melted into the muck. Probably changed his identity and faded into the swamps. You remember how paranoid he was back then.”
Bridger stiffened and cleared his throat. “I uh…yeah. I remember.”
Mauk gave him a puzzled look. “As I recall, you were pretty ‘out there,’ too.”
Bridger shrugged. “That’s all of us.” He glanced at Mauk again. “Are you sure this is tied to White Rock? We were all part of the team before then.”
Mauk shrugged. “I asked Lisa and she’s pretty certain that it’s White Rock.” Mauk took another long pull from the coffee and reclined in the chair. “Panama was after that and Lisa and Rob had already left.”
“What about Bolivia?”
Mauk shrugged and sank further down into the chair. “It has to be White Rock.”
Bridger watched as Slippy threw the door open, two plastic cases in his hands. “Finally. A chance at connecting to the real world.” He tossed the cases onto the small table and flipped the lids open. “Come to poppa my sweet babies.”
Bridger watched as he lifted the devices from the cases and set them on the table. “Give me the plugs.”
Slippy handed him the cords then raised a brow. “They have honest to god electricity out here? Whodathunkit?”
“Don’t be a smart ass.” Bridger plugged the cords into the wall then turned to Mauk. The man had passed out in the chair, his coffee cup dangling from his finger. Bridger slipped over and unhooked the cup before it dropped and woke him from his much needed rest.
He set the cup on the counter then lowered his voice. “Check everything Lisa told him then look for DJ. He’s out there somewhere.”
“Say the word and I’ll hack Langley. I can backtrack through the old files and get his service photo. If we’re lucky, facial recognition might pick him up somewhere.”
“Do it.” Bridger slipped into the chair opposite him and sighed. “Can you track him with a photo that old?”
Slippy nodded. “Even with time and gaining or losing weight, we can track him.” He looked up and raised a brow. “IF he’s
