“We might have to deal with them.” Pacheco didn’t share Fuentes’s reticence. “Sooner or later, we will have to deal with them. If any of the Green Shirts make it out of San Tabal alive, it will be a bad idea to leave sympathizers behind. And if they’re willingly cooperating with these pendejos, then they need to pay the price, anyway.”
Pacheco had a ruthless streak. Given his history, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
“We don’t have the time to go after the small fry first.” Brannigan was firm. “We can mop them up after we’ve torn down the Green Shirts and gotten the National Army to move in and keep the Venezuelans from crossing the border.” Of course, the Blackhearts would need to be long gone by then. Regardless of the nobility of the mission, the National Army would not react well to American mercenaries on the ground in their country.
He looked at Fuentes. “Part of why we came to clear them out here first was because Pacheco said you’re a bit of a pillar of the community among the farmers here. Which means you know who else we should go after first.”
“That is easy. Clemente, Ballesteros, and that wolf, Galvez. Kill them, and the rest will crumble.” There was a note of both trepidation and bloodthirst in Fuentes’s voice. Brannigan studied him closely for a moment.
The farmer wasn’t looking at him, but was still staring at the map. He was still pale, and his hands were shaking a little, but increasingly not because of fear. He was dealing with the reaction of a sane man turned into a prisoner in his own home, his own country. He wanted to lash out and see the people who killed his neighbors and turned him into a slave humbled, hurt, killed.
But at the same time, even if he had seen combat back in the day, time tended to make those memories and reactions fade. He might have been hardened once, but it had been a long time since he’d had to face the sort of real, intense violence that had been unleashed on San Tabal since Clemente’s coming. A small voice in the back of his head had to be reminding him of that. And it was making him a little shaky.
Brannigan leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “I’m afraid a target list isn’t going to be enough. We don’t have the numbers to secure the whole city and its environs, and we can’t just leave the aftermath to chance. If we’re reading the situation right, the Venezuelans might just roll right in if things turn to crap around here, and then you’re just as bad off, if not worse.” He shook his head. “We need to organize, and we need to do it fast. They have a small army. Since I don’t imagine we’ll have time for a lot of in-depth training, we’re going to need a bigger one. That means mobilizing a good chunk of the local population, and that means starting with people they’ll follow.” He gestured to himself and the rest of the Blackhearts, including Pacheco. “They don’t know us from Adam. But they know you. And I think you know who else might be able to help.”
Fuentes’s brow furrowed. “I had not thought of that.” His frown deepened. “You really think the Venezuelans will move against us?”
“We had reporting before we came down here that they had army units on the border, just waiting. In fact, we have some information suggesting that they’re the reason Bogota hasn’t intervened here.”
“That, and the fear of making it look like the peace deal with the FARC is a sham.” Pacheco had his arms folded, a scowl on his face.
Fuentes looked even more spooked at that, and Brannigan briefly wondered if telling him had been the best idea. If he decided that the devil they knew was better than the devil they didn’t…
But he swallowed, and bent his head, thinking. “I think I might know a few names. I don’t know for sure how any of them will react, but you are right. We need to try.”
***
“I’m not sure about this one.” Jenkins had generally kept his head down and his mouth shut lately. Brannigan hadn’t gotten the full story about what had happened before the Azerbaijan mission, but something Santelli had said to him had definitely deflated some of his ego. This was probably the first time he’d ventured an opinion on anything since they’d left the States.
“Why is that?” Brannigan was in the front seat of the truck with Pacheco, while Jenkins was crammed into the back.
“Fuentes didn’t seem to have too high an opinion of this guy. I mean, he survived the coup because he played along, and it doesn’t sound like he was all that great a guy before Clemente took over.”
“He kept his head down, that’s correct.” Pacheco kept his eyes on the road as he spoke over his shoulder. “But I’ve heard a few things that back Fuentes up. I think he’ll join us.”
“If you say so.” Then there wasn’t time for further discussion.
Pacheco pulled over onto the side of the road and then drove a little bit farther off into the trees. They couldn’t see the enemy yet, but if Fuentes had been right, there should be a Green Shirt checkpoint on the way into San Tabal just around the bend. It was a minor miracle that they
