Holmes roared through the trees on his ATV while two truckloads of guards followed closely behind. Out of all the men on the Plantation, Holmes was the best equipped to handle military situations, since he was a professional soldier. He had worked for nearly two decades as a mercenary, renting out his services to a variety of causes, but this was the first time his skills would be used to protect something of his own.
The Plantation was a part of him. He would not let it be destroyed. Not if he could help it.
Holmes stopped his vehicle near the burning cabin and watched his men attack the blaze. There was little hope of saving the structure since fire equipment was very scarce on the island, but they needed to prevent the flames from spreading. The other cabins were nearby and susceptible to damage.
As Holmes watched their effort, he sensed a presence sneaking up behind him. He turned quickly, raising his gun as he did, but his effort was unnecessary. It was Jackson and Webster, checking out the damage.
“Any ideas?” Holmes asked calmly.
Webster nodded, slightly nervous. “It was the new guys. I was in my office and saw one enter the door with a key. Moments later it blew up.”
Holmes frowned. “Which of you lost your keys?”
Both men showed Holmes their personal sets, proving they weren’t to blame.
“Fine. Where’s Hakeem? He’s the other possibility.”
Webster shrugged. “I tried paging him on the radio, but he didn’t answer the call. I tried all of you the moment I saw the guy enter the cabin, but there was nothing else I could do from my office. I swear, I did my best.”
“Theo, don’t worry about it.” Holmes’s voice possessed a scary type of calm. His presence was almost stoic. “You aren’t here to do the dirty work. You’re here to handle our finances. We’ll handle the rest.”
Holmes moved closer to the blaze, still examining it. There was something about the flames that interested him. The way they moved. The way they danced. He had seen it before. “Theo? You saw the explosion, right? Tell me, what did it look like?”
“It was a big, mushroom-type blast. A big flash of light burst from inside. Flames spread quickly across the door and roof. An unbelievable amount of thick, black smoke.”
Holmes grinned at the description. Things finally made sense. “Well, if my guess is correct, we don’t have to worry about escapees. The blast you described sounds like one of the anklets was detonated.”
Webster disagreed. “Actually, I saw both of them survive. One of them went in, but two of them came out.”
Holmes’s grin grew wider. That meant the prisoners had discovered a way to remove the anklet without getting killed. The thought of two worthy adversaries piqued his interest. He’d take great pleasure in hunting them down. “What do you know about these men?”
Jackson answered. “Levon said they were ex-soldiers. They called themselves the Crazy Men or something weird like that. If you talk to him, I’m sure he can tell you more. He babysat the bastards for two days.”
“Crazy Men?” Holmes had never heard of a group that went by that name, and he considered himself an expert on the military. “Could it have been something else? Perhaps the MANIACs?”
“Yeah, that was it. Have you heard of them?”
“Yeah,” Holmes muttered as the smile on his face disappeared. “I’ve seen their work. They’re clean. Real clean. Some of the guys I worked with called them the Hyenas.”
“Hyenas? Why’s that?”
“They liked to ravage their victims. I mean, rip ’em to fucking shreds from very close range. Then they’d leave the scene in packs, laughing, like their job was the easiest thing in the world.” Holmes shivered at the thought, an equal mixture of fear and excitement surging through him. After all these years, he would finally get to see how good he was. “They’re the best-prepared soldiers in the world.”
“Come on, how tough can they be?” Jackson asked naively. “We’ve got dozens of armed men, and we’re fighting against these guys in a confined space, right?”
Holmes nodded gravely. The stories he had heard about the MANIACs bordered on legend. “True, but if these guys are who you claim, we might be outnumbered.”
AFTER stealing gear from the armory, Payne and Jones hustled into the nearby trees to establish their attack strategy. Unfortunately, their planning would be difficult since they still lacked one major piece of information: Ariane’s current location.
Payne updated his friend on everything he’d learned about the guards and the landscape. Then he filled him in on what he didn’t know. “I searched a few of the cabins before I reached you. All of them were empty.”
“Empty? Then where is everybody? Bennie said there were twenty to twenty-five captives.”
“I didn’t check all the cabins, but none of them are being guarded. Therefore, either the prisoners are being kept elsewhere, or they’ve been moved off the island.”
“Or,” Jones added, “there are several people in one cabin. In the old days, slaves used to sleep ten to a room, and I have a feeling the Posse isn’t trying to make their guests comfortable.”
Payne nodded in agreement. “So tell me, what should we do?”
Jones smiled at the question. “I thought you’d never ask.”
For as long as they’d known each other, this was how their partnership worked. Payne would name a place, and Jones would lead him there. It didn’t matter if it was a top-secret mission into Cuba or a beer-filled trip to a Steelers game, Jones was the navigator. He was the planner. A strategy prodigy. It was his specialty. He was the best there was.
Payne, on the other hand, was the finisher. The closer. The military’s equivalent of a baseball relief pitcher. He would come in when everything was on the line and finish the job. In truth, it was rarely pretty. Most of the time his work was bloody, even borderline savage. But things always worked out in the end. Always.
Give him a quest, and he’d make it a conquest. Guaranteed.
Together, they were an unstoppable duo.
Let the games begin.
CHAPTER 46
THERE
was no reason for the duo to wage battle in the open fields where a lucky shot could take them out. No, it was better to do their dirty work in the dark underbrush of the island, where they could control the game. The woods would be their playground. Search and kill, jungle style.
Without speaking, Payne and Jones communicated their ideas through hand signals. It wasn’t traditional sign language, but for them it was just as effective. They knew exactly what the other meant without saying a word, and that was critical. During night runs, sound was the biggest enemy.
On the other hand, sound could also be quite useful, the ultimate ally. By making a noise on purpose, a soldier could divert his enemy’s attention. The crash of a thrown rock could confuse a tracker. A snapping twig or a well-placed scream could quickly draw attention away from an endangered colleague. And occasionally, it could be used as a lure, a way to bring several people into an area at one time. It was a difficult thing to accomplish, but when done right, it was very effective.
Cows to the slaughterhouse, as Payne liked to say.
Eventually, this was the technique that Jones settled on. In order to make it work, they placed some charges near a small clearing that they found in the middle of a thick grove. A boulder, partially buried on a nearby plateau, would be used as the duo’s nest. The goal was to draw as many men as possible into the open area below the large stone before Payne and Jones used their elevated position to commence target practice.
After climbing the bluff, Jones settled into position next to Payne. Normally, they would’ve spread far apart, attempting to surround their victims in hopes of cutting off their escape routes, but in this case it was completely unnecessary. This assault would be child’s play, a complete blood-bath. Two experienced soldiers facing a team of untrained men was as lopsided as a battle could get. Besides, the landscape didn’t allow them to fan out over a wide range. The terrain dictated that both of them sit in the crow’s nest from the get-go.
When Payne was ready, he glanced at Jones and nodded. It was time to begin.
BOOM!!! An explosion shook the earth, and a flash of light brightened the nearby sky. Everyone near the burning cabin flinched and turned their heads toward the trees. The prisoners were apparently in the woods.
