Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (diy ebook reader TXT) 📕

“Is the vehicle clean?”

“Yes. I found these in the floor, under a false panel.”

“Check for other false panels in the walls, glove compartment, weapons hidden in the car ceiling,” Laura instructed. “We found those in cars the Anti-Drug Authority confiscated and we can’t allow for sloppy searches to disrupt our plans.”

Without saying a word, Zorro turned on her heel and went back to the vehicle.

“Do you know where the weapons are hidden in the van?” I asked the two men, as if this was a friendship test.

“Underneath the driver’s seat,” Manuel answered.

“Check under the seats,” I called out to Zorro.

In the end, Zorro found a several more weapons. We left them hidden under a pile of leaves, and then we got into the vehicle. Laura and I were with Manuel, in the backseat. Zorro sat in front with Joaquin. This way she could watch his driving and make sure we were going in the right direction. From time to time she stopped, got out of the car and checked for the signs. Only after she was happy with what she saw could we carried on driving.

“Ask him to tell us when we are four or five kilometers away from the target,” I said to Zorro.

After more than two and a half hours of driving on dirt side-roads, Joaquin stated, “This is the last ranch before El Desconocido’s estate.”

“Drive into the forest and stop the car,” Zorro ordered him. She got out of the car and checked out the area. She gave her assent into the earpiece. “We are really getting closer. Do you prefer going in by car or by foot?” she asked.

I ordered Joaquin to get out, and I followed him. Laura was left with the Cripple’s rifle on her shoulder and the gun pointed at Manuel. We were swallowed up by the surrounding silence. A slight breeze moved the outer leaves of the tree canopy and a cloud of dust billowed over the earthen path. Not enough for me to suspect an oncoming car, but enough to remind me that we are not alone in this world.

“I want to call and see if there is anything new before we go in,” Laura said.

“We’ll have to go to an open area, so do it quickly.” I gave her the satellite phone and switched places with her, guarding Manuel and Joaquin.

The call was short and, it seemed, intriguing. “The boy managed to connect to his computer and had sent his location to the New York Police Department. That narrowed down the scope of the search. But by the time they got to the correct apartment -- the supposedly correct one -- they weren’t there anymore.”

I saw by the look on her face that she had more news for me. Maybe not the kind I wanted to hear, but not the kind that could remain hidden.

“What else do you want to tell me?” I asked.

“What they did find in the apartment were two women with expired tourist visas. They were working as prostitutes for Murat Lenika…”

“And?”

“They were taken in for questioning. We found out that Jonathan has been transferred to a different keeper.”

“Do you think he has been transferred to the hands of the terrorist group?”

“It is our assumption,” Laura confirmed, reluctantly.

Guy Niava,

En route to the El Desconocido estate,

November 14, 2015, 8:30 a.m.

We left Laura behind, with a weapon and two handcuffed captives. Zorro and I marched the last kilometers quickly. The height and the air took their toll. So did my thoughts. How had I let this happen? What could I have done differently? And how did we get to the point where Jonathan, a good boy, had become currency to be used as a trade between addicts and terrorists? I didn’t let Zorro in on my thoughts. We marched along with increasing effort, side-by-side, in total silence.

We moved through the forest to reach the neighboring farm, which doubled the distance we had to travel. We passed the farm without any difficulties. As we covered the last few meters, the fence surrounding the whole area became noticeable. I lay flat on my stomach with Zorro next to me, and we hid ourselves in the bushes. It was nearly ten in the morning, but the sun had already heated the ground. We looked through our binoculars and surveyed the building.

“Look we’re in luck,” Zorro whispered and pointed south. “They haven’t finished putting up the whole electric fence.”

“And still I foresee problems.” I noted what was obvious with the glasses. “There are at least three of them on the roof and two walking in the yard.”

“How many can you shoot before they figure out our position?”

“The three on the roof,” I estimated. “But if they have five men on guard duty, just imagine how many men are inside. If we just had enough time to check out their routine, to know how many of them there are, and how many are armed. How much ammunition they have and what kinds… If we had enough time, we could infiltrate the compound at night.”

“But we don’t have enough time. Who was it that said to me just a few hours ago that this is what we have, and we have to make do with it?

I moved the binoculars to check the surroundings and focused on the metal poles mounted with cameras. “They also have electronic tracking. This is not an estate,” I noted.

“It is more like a fortress,” she finished my thoughts.

“That’s true, but…” I carried on surveying the building.

“Is the but a good ‘but’, or a bad one?”

“I hope it is a good one. I don’t think this house was built with too much planning behind it. There are a lot of blind spots.”

“Blind?”

“As far as the scouts are concerned. Large balconies that one can hide underneath. And did you notice that they stall on the west side while they’re scanning the area?”

“That’s true.”

“I am prepared to bet you