Hunters by Matt Rogers (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

He clearly thrived on tension. There was no chance he’d be in this line of work if he didn’t.

He went slack-jawed. ‘This is incredible. Are you trying to blackmail us? Blackmail me?’

Slater played it just as cocky, because making the man angry was the only way to make him see the light. ‘You speak as if you’re actually someone important.’

The leader shot side-eyes at his henchmen, and scoffed. ‘He’s new, huh?’

They nodded and smiled back like the obedient dogs they were.

‘You done?’ Slater said. ‘You ready to ask me what I want?’

‘I don’t care what you want. I couldn’t give any less of a shit about you, my ignorant friend. You will turn around and go back where you came from.’

‘But I won’t,’ Slater said, standing his ground. ‘That’s the truly unfortunate thing. I’m going to stand right here, and you can either shoot me, take me prisoner, or help me. Those are your only three options. If you do anything other than the third option, it’s goodbye to your smooth supply chain. You’ll be fighting with your competition for every airfield you have in this country. That’s bad for business. No one likes delays. You might even lose that war. Then you’re in a real tight spot.’

‘You know nothing,’ the leader said, but his eyes betrayed the slightest shift in the stone-cold mask.

Slater didn’t take his eyes off the man when he said, ‘You move the largest quantities of product out of a private airfield along the Río Lempa, south of Azacualpa. Think of the damage if your competition is personally notified of that location. And that’s just one. I have them all. Trust me.’

A long period of quiet.

The henchman’s HK stayed locked on Slater’s face, but the barrel started to waver.

Slater could have darted forward, wrenched it out of the man’s hands, and beaten him to death with it.

But he didn’t.

He just stayed put, and he didn’t blink.

The leader’s voice wavered slightly as he said, ‘How many other airfields do I have?’

‘Twelve.’

No pause, no hesitation.

The leader said, ‘Where did you get this infor—?’

Slater let fury into his eyes. ‘When did I say you could ask the questions? Now I need a concrete “yes” or “no.” Will you help me? Or will you turn me away and destroy yourself?’

‘I’ll help you.’

‘Good. If you think shooting me in the back of the head might be a good idea, you’ll seal your fate. If at any point you restrain me and try to get me to send the correct code, I’ll simply send the wrong one, and you’ll seal your fate. Any other questions?’

‘No.’

‘Excellent.’

‘What do you want?’

Slater gestured to the Cessna 525. ‘This plane must be going to the States. A man of your political influence wouldn’t have to smuggle your product through the border checkpoints. I know the deals you made.’

A slow nod.

Slater said, ‘Reroute it to your closest airfield to New York, and put me on it.’

77

Six hours later…

The leader of the cartel had changed into a wool suit as soon as he boarded the Cessna.

He’d chosen to accompany Slater stateside.

Before they boarded he offered the name Garcia, but didn’t include a given name. Slater doubted the surname was real.

Now, as the jet swooped down toward New Jersey, Garcia stared daggers at Slater from the opposite seat. All that rested between them was a fold-out walnut tabletop. They’d spent the entire flight in tense silence, which to Slater was the furthest thing from a problem. He was grateful to have a reprieve from the migraine that had plagued him ever since he’d been concussed at the Vegas estate. He didn’t close his eyes once, refusing to drop his guard in case the sicarios on board got brave and decided to do something about the imposing stranger holding them verbally hostage. Instead he focused on his breathing, deepening each inhalation until his heart rate was at its lowest.

He’d maintained the near-meditative state for hours, and renewed life began to return to his exhausted muscles.

The Cessna descended toward a small public-use airport near Eagleswood consisting of a single long runway surrounded by thick forest. Garcia’s backroom political deals enabled him to use the airport anonymously as an emergency backup, and by the look on Garcia’s face, Slater knew this little detour would cost Cártel de Texis some serious bribe money.

Now Garcia interrupted the monastic quiet in the cabin, knowing his time with this mysterious stranger was coming to an end.

He said, ‘Who are you?’

Slater lifted his gaze to Garcia for the first time, even though they’d sat five feet apart for hours. ‘You must know whatever I say isn’t going to be true.’

‘You’re an American. You’re clearly trained. And you look like you’re half-asleep.’

‘I assure you I’m not.’

‘I know. What I’m saying is that this is nothing to you. There are hundreds of men that check the corners of their room each night before they go to bed, terrified I might be there waiting. So you are either delusional and have no idea who I am, or you understand and simply don’t care.’

‘The latter.’

‘So you have done things like this many times. You’re a seasoned operator. I’ve never met a man who kept as cool as you do who wasn’t insane.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘You are not insane. What are you here to do?’

Slater didn’t answer. Just tilted the corners of his lips into a slight smirk.

Garcia said, ‘Whatever you’re making with your private business, I can double it. I have plenty of use for a man like you.’

Slater said, ‘I wouldn’t work with scum like you for all the money in the world.’

Now it was Garcia’s turn to smirk. He wagged a finger. ‘That’s what I’m talking about. No one has insulted me to my face in years. I’m sure you are aware of that. And yet you do it without hesitation.’

‘I’ll keep doing it if it makes you shut your mouth.’

Garcia became ice. His demeanour shifted, and there was total assuredness about it, like he knew it would