Free The Geronimo Breach by Russell Blake

worried look. What was this guy on? Was he a nutcase? Dangerous? Carmen threw them both a 100,000 kilowatt smile and acted like everything was normal. Maybe Ernesto had the jitters now that it was time to actually go? She’d seen that before – the client got cold feet once he’d had enough time to imagine all the ways things could go horribly wrong in his escape. It was her job to calm nerves and break things down in a comprehensible, organized manner, so the cook not only understood they’d done this many times before, but that he was in safe and competent hands.
    “Boys, here’s how this’ll work. Al will drive down to southern Panama tonight. That will take around six hours, assuming numerous police checkpoints and occasional washouts from rain damage. Once you’re at your destination, he’ll escort you to the meeting spot on the outskirts of the jungle, where my guide will be waiting. Ernesto, you’ll go with the guide, who’ll take you across the mountains to the other side of the border. From there, he’ll explain how to get to Medellin, from which point you’re on your own.” Carmen paused. “You’re not to give the guide any money – that’s already taken care of. And you must do everything he says, exactly as he instructs. Your safety and survival depend on it. He’s the only thing between you and death, so pay attention, and don’t question.”
    Al had heard all this a dozen times before, with some minor variations. Sometimes it was a trip to a deserted port town for a boat trip down the coast, sometimes to an airstrip near the border for a treetop flight into Colombia, and sometimes a hike, like tonight. It depended on the budget. Al intuited this was the bargain-basement tour, not the high-rollers’ trip.
    Ernesto nodded.
    Carmen fleshed out the details and answered his questions before handing Al the cash-stuffed envelope, which he pocketed instantly. Glancing at Ernesto, Al opened his bag and withdrew the paperwork he’d created earlier. It was time to fill in the blanks. Carmen excused herself, moving to her other room and leaving the two of them to complete the papers in peace while she used the facilities.
     

Chapter 10
     
     
     
    A black Chevy Suburban pulled to the curb thirty feet from Esperanza, and four men exited the vehicle. All were Gringos with telltale military haircuts and athletic postures. They looked as though they were in uniform, in spite of their dark, nondescript civilian clothing. The lead man checked the screen of his iPhone and motioned in the direction of the brothel to the others – that was the place. The last man out of the truck took a bottle from his windbreaker and swigged from it, spitting out the fluid and placing the bottle in the gutter, well behind the vehicle.
    The group moved silently up the dark, empty sidewalk, compact submachine-guns at the ready. Nobody spoke. The street was empty but for them, and the surrounding buildings were starkly uninhabited. Parts of the neighborhood had been undergoing renovation by entrepreneurial investors intent on retransforming the old colonial buildings into their bygone glory or converting them into stylish condos. But this far out on the fringe the homes remained deserted, other than occasional construction crews during the day. That would inevitably change, but tonight, Carmen’s place projected the only sign of life on the street – now slick from a late-Spring cloudburst a few minutes earlier.
    Checking the illuminated screen one last time, the leader made an abrupt gesture with his hand and two of the men positioned themselves out of sight on either side of Esperanza’s entrance. One of the men lifted the battered iron ring attached to the center of the ancient wooden door and rapped. After a few moments a small wooden hatch opened at eye level and a man’s face filled the space. Music drifted from behind him, along with occasional laughter and celebratory shouts.
    “ Que Ondas?” asked the