The Collected

Curson was first up.

Each crack of the whip was greeted with a scream, as the wounds from the day before were reopened.

Harris glanced at Romero. The old man’s eyes were glued to Curson’s back, and there was a satisfied smile on his face. With the exception of Peter, Curson drew most of Romero’s attention. He’d been the shooter, the one who, while failing in his ultimate goal, had damaged Romero so thoroughly that it had taken over a year before the former presidential candidate could even take a step, let alone eat anything that wasn’t prepared specifically for his surgically altered digestive tract.

The life Romero had lived since the shooting had been anything but pleasant and pain-free, and there were times Harris was sure his boss secretly wished Curson had done a better job. Death had to have been preferable.

But death hadn’t been in his boss’s cards, not earlier, anyway. It was coming now, though, the wounds Curson’s bullets had inflicted finally doing what they had intended to do. A slow assassination. Mission soon to be accomplished, but not before Romero extracted his revenge.

Crack!

Curson yelled as he arced his back and then collapsed again, his weight supported only by the cuffs around his wrists.

A guard entered the courtyard through the far door. He wasn’t one of the men who had remained in the fort. They were all here with the remaining prisoners. He stopped just inside, and discreetly motioned to Harris that he needed to talk to him.

Harris checked Romero again. The man was rapt, his attention fully engaged in the proceedings, so Harris quietly stepped back and made his way around to where the guard was waiting.

“You found him?” he asked.

The soldier shook his head. “Some of our men have gone missing.”

“Missing? How could they go missing?”

“I’m not sure, sir. We can’t reach them on the radio and no one’s seen them.”

“How many?”

“Six.”

Harris had sent out nineteen men. Six was nearly a third.

It.

Is.

Unraveling.

No! he wanted to yell. No, no, no!That will not happen. They were too close to being done. He was too close to the payday he’d stayed four years to collect.

Through clenched teeth, he said. “Are you sure?”

“We were all supposed to radio in every fifteen minutes. Two men have missed the last two check-ins, while the others missed the most recent. The commander has ordered everyone back here to regroup. He wants to go back out in pairs instead of solo. He sent me up here to let you know.”

“Where is he right now?”

“Waiting for everyone in the anteroom by the wall entrance.”

Without saying another word, Harris opened the door and left the courtyard. He found the commander, a man named Santos, exactly where the soldier said he would be. It also looked like most of the other soldiers were back.

When Santos saw Harris, he straightened in surprise. “Sir.”

“I understand you are missing some men,” Harris said.

“Yes. Seven.”

“Seven? I was told six.”

“There’s another who should have been here by now. We’ve tried to reach him but no response. We’re going back out in pairs. But don’t worry. We’ll find this bastard.”

“You’ll just be chasing your tail,” Harris said. “I want you all to stay here. Post a few men along the wall. At some point Quinn will expose himself. That’s when you all will go after him. Kill him the moment you see him.” He knew Romero wouldn’t be happy with that last order, but he was past caring. Quinn was a problem that needed to be eliminated.

“Sir, our other men out there-they might need help.”

“We can’t risk losing anyone else. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Santos said hesitantly. “But I’m sure we can find him. The men are ready.”

Harris glanced around at the gathered soldiers. There was determination in most of their eyes, but he could see fear in a few. “I’m sure they are. But we will do it my way. Now, assign the watch and have the rest stay down here, ready to move.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nate rolled his latest takedown against the rotting trunk of a dead palm tree. The man was still alive, though that status was contingent on his receiving medical treatment in the next few hours. Four of the other soldiers he’d removed were already dead or almost, while the last two were tied up and unconscious at separate locations.

It was clear a retreat was in progress. The man now lying against the palm tree had been headed back to the fort in a hurry. Nate had heard others, too, moving through the brush.

He took the man’s weapons and dumped them under a bush thirty feet away, then returned to his hiding place near the wall. He was just in time to see two soldiers pass inside. After they were gone, he could hear no one else moving around, and soon guessed they were the last to return. The question now was, would the soldiers come back out again? Or were they going to remain in the fort?

Twenty minutes passed without the door opening again, then he noticed movement along the top of the wall. He crawled through the brush until he was far enough back to get a better look. Five men were spread out along the top.

It appeared as though they had decided to stay home for now. Too bad, but not the end of the world. He knew all he had to do was lure them out again.

He’d just give them a little time to settle in while he prepared.

CHAPTER 51

Duran Island

The map showed that the fort was located on the southwestern end of Duran Island, so they came at it from the northeast, taking the boat in as close to the beach as they could get before dropping anchor.

Quinn held up the computer in front of Porter’s face. The map of the island was on the screen. “This airstrip,” he said, pointing at the lines indicating a landing area. “Is the cargo plane there?”

Porter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What cargo-”

Quinn slapped him in the cheek. “Is it?”

“No. It’s at St. Renard’s in Cordoba. There’s no storage or fueling facility on the island.”

That was good news. No simple way for anyone to get off. “I assume there’s a road or something to get from the runway to the fort without having to hack through the jungle.”

Porter nodded. “A path. Starts right here.” He touched the map and moved his finger, stopping it right before he reached the fort. “And comes out here.”

On the ride over, Quinn had questioned Porter multiple times about the strength of Romero’s force on the island. Porter said there were about twenty men. Quinn automatically doubled that number just to be safe.

Forty against Quinn, Orlando, and Daeng. Not exactly the odds he would have liked, but odds, as he’d learned over the years, meant nothing. His little team would have the element of surprise, and that could easily tilt the balance in their favor.

“And how does anyone get inside?”