Free Targets of Revenge by Jeffrey Stephens

spun violently into a sideways position across the road, becoming a deadly obstacle for the two riders. They were coming at him too fast to brake in time and the road was too narrow and the jungle too dense for them to turn off. All they could do was ditch the bikes, but Sandor was not about to allow them that opportunity. Without hesitation he leveled the MAC 10 at the oncoming men and fired a spray of shots. The explosion of gunfire was followed by the crashing of the two motorcycles into the large trees as the riders were flung forward into the air. They slammed to the ground in front of him.
    Sandor jumped out of the jeep and fired two more shots at each of the fallen men—he had to be certain they were dead. Then, after the explosive sounds of gunfire and the motorcycle collisions, everything was suddenly quiet but for the Jeep’s engine. Sandor took a moment to listen, but he heard nothing else. No other motorcycles coming at him. No other vehicles.
    Not yet.
    He climbed back into the Jeep, straightened it out, and sped off again toward the coast.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
INSIDE ADINA’S COMPOUND, SOUTH OF BARRANQUITAS
    A DINA WAS HOLDING an impromptu council in the main salon of the house. This compound was designed to be his safe space, he reminded them. This was his retreat, his secure respite from the outside world. Now the sanctity of this haven had been violated and Adina wanted answers. The obvious starting place was his trusted lab technician, Carlos.
    “So,” he said calmly as he sat in a large, comfortable chair backed with a decorative arc of woven cane, “you had no conversation with this man.”
    Carlos nodded. “Almost nothing.”
    “Well which is it?” Adina asked with forced patience. “Nothing or almost nothing? As a scientist, I am sure you would agree that almost nothing is something. Am I right?”
    “Yes, yes, of course.”
    “So then,” Adina prodded him with an impatient sigh, “which is it?”
    “Before he hit me, he said something about the cocaine. About taking the cocaine.”
    “What exactly did he say?”
    Carlos was struggling. He wanted to look at Adina but could not. “I . . . I don’t recall exactly. He struck me, so it’s a bit unclear. But it was something like ‘I’m going to take these sacks of cocaine and you’re not going to stop me.’ Something like that.”
    Carlos and the other men in the room were standing. Only Adina was seated. A large ceiling fan slapped gently at the cool morning air above them. Otherwise the room had become silent.
    Now Adina rose and stepped forward. He reached out and took the technician by the chin, lifting his downturned face as one might do to a reluctant child. “Carlos,” he said, “you have been loyal, you have worked hard, and you have never disappointed.” He paused. “Until now. Because now I know you are lying to me.”
    Carlos began to speak, but Adina reacted by smacking him hard across the face.
    “Allow me to finish.” He grabbed the man’s jaw, holding it tight so that Carlos could not avert his gaze. “I do not know what you are not telling me, or why you are not telling me. That is what makes this so difficult.” Adina’s tone made it sound as if the man’s betrayal had wounded him. “I truly need you to explain this to me.”
    When Carlos began to protest Adina lashed out again, this time with the back of his hand.
    “Please, do not insult me further and do not waste any more of my time.”
    Carlos was trembling now, tears flowing freely down the cheeks that had been reddened by Adina’s slaps. “He asked me questions,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
    “What sort of questions did he ask?”
    “About the operation,” Carlos said, speaking haltingly as he added, “Refinement of the narcotics. The security we have in place.”
    “I see. What else did he ask you?”
    When Carlos did not immediately respond, Adina dug his fingernails into the man’s face. “I suggest you tell me everything.