Gathering Storm

“What the fuck is going on here?” Regan yelled.

McCarter rounded on him. He barged straight in, stiff-arming Regan in the chest and bouncing him off the warehouse wall. Regan made a token gesture with the gun he still held in his hand. McCarter ignored it, pushing the muzzle of his Browning into the soft flesh under Regan’s chin. The gunrunner made a soft sound. He let his own weapon fall from his fingers.

“Think before you answer, Bubba, because if it isn’t the one I need…”

“What?”

“Where did chummy over there want those guns delivered?”

Regan was many things. He wasn’t a fool. He’d seen the way these men operated. His death wouldn’t mean a thing to them, so he raised both hands in surrender.

“Same place as the other shipments. Mexico. Nuevo Laredo. Local guy named Luiz Santos. Then over the border into the U.S. But I don’t know where. You can blow my balls off and I still wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

McCarter kept up the pressure, pushing until the steel muzzle really hurt.

“Let me make one thing clear. If we go to Mexico and find Santos has got the word, you will expect us back here. And balls could well be at the top of our list. Understand, Bubba?”

Regan nodded.

“No second chance, Regan. We get burned, we always come back.”

“Christ, looks like I got enough problems with those local suppliers we just tangled with. Last thing I need is you on my fuckin’ back. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t need to.”

“We’re just a collection service,” McCarter said. “We’ve got what we came for.”

Regan eyed Rasheed. “Him? He’s worth all this trouble?”

“He’s worth it,” the Phoenix Force leader said.

Behind them the boat’s fuel tank ruptured and sent a fiery cascade across the water. Some of the burning fuel spilled across the edge of the dock.

“Tell me something,” Regan said. “The guns on that boat. They real, or was that part of the scam?”

McCarter smiled.

“Real. But they were all spiked. Except the ones I showed you. Hell, Regan, don’t you know it’s against the law to sell stolen weapons?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Aren’t I just.”

The Jeep 4x4, Encizo at the wheel, swung into view from behind one of the warehouses. The moment he braked, Manning opened one of the rear doors and pushed a resisting Kamal Rasheed into the vehicle. James and Hawkins appeared. James climbed into the Jeep, so that Rasheed was between him and Manning. Hawkins took the center position in the front, leaving the final space for McCarter. He climbed in and slammed the door, feeling the Jeep surge as Encizo pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

Leaving Port Cristobal, Encizo picked up the road that would connect them with the airstrip. Once they left the town behind, the tarmac surface petered out so that they were driving on a dusty, uneven strip that had more ruts than they had ever seen in one stretch of road.

“Any chance you can get more speed out of this thing?” McCarter asked.

“Right now we’re close to takeoff speed,” Encizo told him. “If we come off this road we’ll probably launch into orbit.”

McCarter laughed. “I wish.”

“Hey,” Manning said, “I think someone has called in backup.”

McCarter looked in the rearview mirror, recalling one of the attackers on the dock sending a message via his transceiver. A dark SUV was trailing in their dusty wake, clinging to the rough road as if it were on rails. The big and powerful vehicle was brand-new. It looked as if it had the power to overtake and run the ancient Jeep off the road.

“Look at him move,” Hawkins said.

“Confirms one thing,” James said. “There are two maniac drivers in Santa Lorca and I’m a passenger with one of them.”

“You want to live forever?” Encizo asked.

“Maybe not, but the next ten minutes would be nice.” James grinned.

Following on his remark came the crackle of autofire. Winks of light showed from the pursuing vehicle. A couple of slugs clanged against the Jeep’s bodywork. The rear window cracking as a stray slug bounced off the toughened glass.

“Those bastards are bound to get lucky before we hit the airstrip,” Hawkins said.

The Jeep began to climb a long incline. Manning checked the position of the SUV, then leaned forward to watch the crest of the slope coming up.

“Foot down, Rafe,” he said. “If there’s a downslope on the other side, keep the speed up until I tell you, then hit the brake.”

Encizo nodded. He trod on the gas pedal and put the Jeep along the road at dizzying speed. He saw the crest coming fast, then the Jeep cleared the hump and left the road for long seconds. It came down with a thump that jolted the passengers violently. The Jeep bottomed out, scraping up earth and creating a thick swirl of dust that misted the air behind them. Encizo felt the wheel wrench in his hands and had to use all of his strength to keep the vehicle on the road.

“Hey, Rafe,” Hawkins said, turning to check behind them again. “You know how they do that in movies and the cars come out in one piece?”

“So?”

“I think we left some bodywork behind us.”

Manning’s guess had been correct. There was a slope on the far side of the hump. The Jeep bowled along it, bouncing once again as it hit the level road.

“Now,” Manning demanded.

Encizo hit the brake and hung on to the wheel as the Jeep slowed, sliding to one side.

The moment the speed had dropped to a safe level, Gary Manning eased open his door and cleared the vehicle. He turned immediately and faced the slope they had just come down, bringing his M-16 to his shoulder.

As Manning raised the rifle, the roar of the pursuing SUV’s powerful engine increased as it burst into view over the hump in the road and sped in their direction.

Manning watched the SUV as it sped toward him. Once it was in range, he stepped forward and tracked in the M-16. He knew the American rifle well. He was also the team’s lead sniper, deadly accurate with a rifle. He was entirely comfortable with the M-16 and now he sighted in on the oncoming SUV. The driver had to have seen the Phoenix Force commando’s armed figure. He jammed on the brakes, putting the big vehicle into a dust-kicking skid.

Manning wasn’t about to allow the opposition time to take cover. He opened fire, placing his shots in the visible front tire, the 5.56 mm slugs tearing and shredding the rubber. The tire flattened and the SUV’s steering went leaden in the driver’s hands. The vehicle lurched and rocked, threatening to overturn, but remained upright as it came to a juddering halt.

One of the rear doors swung open and an armed man sprang out, swinging his own weapon into play. Manning hit him in the chest with a pair of rounds. The man bounced off the side of the SUV, pitching facedown in the dust. Manning immediately switched his aim and began to jack off shot after shot into the windshield and the side windows. Glass imploded and they could see shapes inside the SUV struggling to get clear. The driver’s door opened and an already bloody figure tumbled out, hauling his SMG into play. He fired a burst in Manning’s general direction. Manning hit him with a single shot that entered just above his right eye and cored through and out the back of his head, blowing brain scraps onto the SUV’s door.

The big Canadian took another couple of steps forward, the M-16 already following its next target as another gunrunner emerged from the far side of the SUV. He had stayed low until the moment he raised his head above the hood of the vehicle, searching for the shooter who was eliminating his partners. He never even had time to see his killer. Manning’s M-16 cracked once and the bullet blew off the back of his skull. The man did a complete turnaround before he slammed facedown on the ground.

It became very still after that.