Dead Man's Land by Jack Patterson (digital e reader .txt) 📕

CHAPTER 44

TORRES’S EYES WIDENED and his nostrils flared. He reached behind his back and felt the cold metal grip of the handgun he’d lifted off the Cuban police officer. He was outgunned at the moment—but at least he wasn’t unarmed.

“You look happy to see us again,” Hampton said as he stepped onto the boat first.

“Save it,” Torres said. “We’re not interested in your wise cracks.”

“But you will be interested in this,” Waller said. “This is a search warrant—and we have reason to believe that there is a person of interest aboard this vessel who is wanted by the Department of Homeland Security.”

“And his name?” Torres asked.

“Vicente Prado,” Waller said.

“You mean you’re not here to arrest us?” Ortega said.

“At the moment, we’re only interested in Prado,” Hampton said. “Now, where is he?”

“What makes you so sure he’s on this boat?” Torres said.

“You have a strange history with him—and we intercepted credible evidence yesterday that you would be making a smuggling run out of Cuba tonight with him aboard,” Waller said.

Torres eyes narrowed, his gaze fixated on Cal. “How could anyone have possibly known about that?”

“I kept it as anonymous as I could,” Cal stammered. “Your contact asked me his name. But I swear I didn’t tell him full names.”

“It makes no difference now,” Waller said. He put his hands on his hips. “So, where is he?”

Before anyone could answer, gunfire rang out in the distance and the sound of bullets pinging and hitting the water nearby put everyone in a mad scramble to get out of the way.

“We can protect you,” Waller said. “All you have to do, Torres, is hand him over to us.”

“You can protect us?” Torres said and then laughed. “You can’t even protect yourselves.”

“What those Cuban boats are doing right now is illegal. They’ll never get away with it,” Waller said.

“It won’t matter if we’re all dead—or rotting in a Cuban prison,” Torres said. “Will it, agent Waller?”

Torres looked at Ortega and tried to communicate just using his eyes. Ortega nodded slightly, like he understood what Torres was trying to say. Torres held his hand down and counted to three using nothing but his fingers. When he hit ‘three,’ they both leapt toward the FBI agents. Torres took out Waller and Ortega hit Hampton. Both of the agents tumbled into the water. Torres and Ortega worked quickly to rid their boat of the temporary ropes tied to the Coast Guard vessel. It took them no more than ten seconds before Torres rushed back behind the wheel and fired up the engine.

Cal looked at Ortega. “Think they’ll get hypothermia?” Cal asked, pointing at the men in the water.

Ortega shrugged. “I truly don’t care—as long as we get out of here alive.”

Cal looked back to see Waller and Hampton both bobbing in the sea, while the latter raised up his hand and made an obscene gesture.

“This ain’t over,” Hampton screamed.

For the moment, Cal didn’t care if a prolonged battle awaited him with these FBI agents when they returned stateside. For now, he just wanted to get back in one piece—a scenario that seemed far more likely now that they had eluded everyone who was chasing them.

Cal turned around to see a gun being pointed at his face by Torres.

“Now would be a good time to transfer those funds,” Torres said.

CHAPTER 45

CAL TOOK TORRES’S LAPTOP and started to bang on the keyboard. He disabled the computer’s connectivity so that it had no chance of connecting to the Internet. He went and stood next to Torres.

“You see this?” Cal said, pointing at the bottom of the screen where the laptop connectivity status was. “Nothing. I can’t get on the web. You sure you’ve been on before?”

Torres frowned and nodded. “It worked fine for me earlier.”

“Maybe we’re too far out, but it isn’t getting a connection.”

Torres snatched the laptop from Cal and shoved it back in his bag beneath his seat, all the while keeping one hand steady on the wheel. “You won’t get off the boat until the money is transferred.”

Cal threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m not looking to stiff anyone here. Got it? I just want to make sure I get what I was promised.”

“Which was what?”

“A safe return back to the United States.”

Torres chuckled. “Did you think we were going there first?”

Cal shot him a quick glance and drew back. “We’re not? Where are we going?”

“Mexico first. Don’t you know Cuban players can’t defect directly into the U.S. first? What kind of reporter are you anyway?”

“I didn’t realize we were taking another player with us.”

Torres snickered. “Convenient excuse. I’d be willing to bet this is the first time you’ve ever heard of such a rule.”

“Wanna stake our fees on that bet?” Cal shot back.

Torres looked ahead and didn’t say a word.

“When we can connect to the Internet, I’ll call up a few articles where I wrote about that, if you still want to take that bet,” Cal offered.

“Go below. I’ll let you know when we reach our destination.”

“And where would that be?”

“Mexico. I have some friends near Cancun who are going to help us.”

Cal descended the steps and walked straight toward Kelly.

“Is everything all right now?” she asked.

Cal sat down. “We’re fine. The Cubans are still chasing us, but they’re never going to catch us. It won’t be long before they turn around.”

“Are we going to make it?” Prado asked.

Cal nodded. “Unless something crazy happens.” He paused. “Speaking of crazy, Prado, now that we’re out of the country, why don’t you tell us what you really saw that night before you left the first time?”

Prado shook his head. “There’s not much more to say. It was a crazy night.”

“Surely you remember something else,” Cal pressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, fine,” Cal said. “You just seemed pretty shaken up about the whole thing.”

“I saw a man die tonight—again—right before I got on a boat and left my country—again,” Prado said. “It’s very upsetting to me and I don’t