The Collected

He smiled in genuine surprise. “You figured it out?”

“Pullman got us started, then we had a nice chat with your friend Burke.”

“That bastard,” Nate said, his eyes narrowing. “He set me up.”

“That, he did.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Thought that was a choice you should make. He’ll be easy to find, though.”

Nate nodded, but said nothing.

“I’m serious, Nate,” Orlando said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Not until we get the rest of them. They’re going to be killed, probably sooner now that I’ve escaped.”

“And exactly how did you do that?” Daeng asked.

“I’ll tell you over a beer later.” He looked at each of them. “With your help, I think we can do it.”

“What’s your plan?” Quinn asked.

“I’ve been picking them off one at a time. Have seven of them out of the picture already.”

Quinn was impressed. “The tree branch and the groan was your attempt to get the rest to come out.”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be much longer. If we get into position, we can start getting rid of them a lot faster.”

“Now that there are four of us,” Quinn said, “maybe we don’t need to worry about them at all.”

Quinn, Orlando, Nate, and Daeng watched from the brush as eight soldiers exited the door in the fort wall, and moved as a group into the jungle toward where the noise had occurred.

As soon as they disappeared, Quinn and the others jogged over to the door.

“Everyone ready?” Quinn whispered.

The three others pressed themselves against the wall, off to the side, holding their guns in front of them.

“All set,” Nate said.

Quinn raised his fist and knocked. In Spanish, he said, “Open up. I found one of the missing men. He needs help!” He knocked again. “Hurry, hurry! He needs medical attention!”

Something that sounded like a bar moved on the other side. The latch turned.

A soldier opened the door and looked out. “Where is he?” he asked. He then seemed to realize Quinn wasn’t who he expected. “Who are you?”

“We’ve come to pick up our friends.”

“What?”

The other three stepped out to where they could be seen, their guns pointed at the soldier. The man’s eyes widened. He reached for the rifle on his shoulder, but before he could pull it off, Quinn stepped inside and twisted it free.

The man seemed to suddenly find his voice, and started to yell as he ran toward the interior door. Quinn jabbed with the rifle, knocking the man down and cutting off the warning. He rolled the guy over with his foot.

“You open your mouth again, it’ll be the last time. Sit up against the wall. Hands on your knees.”

While Quinn dealt with the soldier, the others stepped inside. Daeng immediately closed the door and dropped the locking bar in place.

“You down here all by yourself?” Quinn asked the soldier.

“Go to hell,” the man said. He spat at Quinn.

Nate came up next to Quinn. “I know you. You were one of the guys who helped escort me to your boss’s office yesterday. Bet you also helped take some of my friends out of their cells.”

The man’s look of defiance slipped. “I…I was just doing what I was told.”

“Did you watch as they whipped us?” Nate asked.

The man blinked and looked away.

“Maybe you were the one who hooked my hands up.”

“No. That wasn’t me.”

“But you were there.”

A slight nod.

“And you did nothing.”

“What could I do?”

Nate placed the end of his suppressor against the man’s forehead. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“No! No! Please!”

There was a pop, only it wasn’t from Nate’s pistol. It was from the vaccine gun Orlando shoved against the man’s arm.

“So which way from here?” she asked Nate.

“Up.”

CHAPTER 57

Harris returned to the courtyard just as Janus finished whipping Peter. Leaving the prisoners dangling from their hoists, he escorted Romero back to the old man’s suite.

“When Quinn is found, I want him whipped fifty times,” Romero said once they reached the room.

“Whatever you want,” Harris said, though in his mind, Quinn would be dead the next time either man saw him.

Romero turned his wheelchair toward the bed. “I’m going to take a nap. Don’t bother me until it’s time for the prisoners to have their electroshock.”

“Yes, sir.” Harris walked out of the room.

Unraveling, the voice said in his head. It repeated the word over and over.

“It’s not unraveling,” he whispered.

But what if it does unravel?

The question made him pause. If it did, what about the money Romero promised him? The money he’d been waiting for?

You can’t spend money if you’re dead.

That wasn’t going to happen. If things truly spun out of control, it would be time to think about his own skin.

The boat.

Yes. Right. Romero’s boat. It was tied off to a small covered dock behind the fort. He’d take that.

When he got back to his room, he’d gather the cash he’d been stashing away and put it in a bag by the door, easy to grab. It was nothing compared to the amount he was due, but it would hold him over for a while.

I won’t need it, though. It’s just in case. Everything is going to be fine.

He headed toward his room, his pace quicker than normal. As he neared his door, he saw two soldiers farther down the hall, walking away.

“You, there,” he called out.

The soldiers kept going.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

They finally stopped and one of them turned.

“Tell your commander that I’ll be in my room and am to be notified the moment the fugitive is brought in.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said.

Once inside his suite, Harris poured himself another whiskey, this time savoring it as it went down.

To surviving, he thought. One way or another.

CHAPTER 58