Free The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) by Patrick Astre Page B

the gates, thought Daniels. If not, well then the shooting party would begin. Right now though, timing was essential. There was twenty-two minutes left to return to the compound in the Durango. The timing had been worked out and rehearsed so Kurt Rhineman should be stepping outside with the two hostages just as they pulled up the front of the mansion. They were on schedule with no time to waste.
    Carlos got in the driver's side of the Durango. With his bushy mustache he had a superficial resemblance to the dead man he replaced. His Spanish was also clear and regional unlike Daniels'. Carlos turned the key, the engine barely growled as the headlights dimmed. The battery was dead.
    * * *
    Kurt Rhineman left Miguel's apartment. He wore Miguel's favorite red bandanna, lower to his eyes then the dead man usually wore it. He carried Miguel's nickel-plated Glock nine millimeter automatic in a leather holster at his waist. Kurt made his way down the long hall toward the rear stairs. Days of practice with the mock up at Langley had made him familiar with the layout of the sprawling mansion. The rear stairs were smaller, less luxurious then the front and led to a circular hall from which fanned out several more doors. One of them led to the basement storage rooms. He passed two guards and a housekeeper. They moved furtively away, avoiding his eyes as he seemed to stumble and lurch like a man in the throes of a drug binge.
    He went down the narrow stone steps to the basement and opened the door to the room preceding the chamber where the captives should be held. Half a dozen caged bulbs mounted on the walls illuminated in stark white the man sitting at the table. Heavy, with the look of muscular strength covered with flab, the man rose. His movements were smooth and graceful for a large man.
    "Senor Aquilino, buenos tardes. "
    "Open the door. I have new questions to ask the gringos pigs."
    The guard didn't reply, didn't move. He stared steadily as Rhineman approached. Under the glaring white lights, every detail of Rhineman/Aquilino stood in stark relief. The guard reached under the table, grasped the MAC 10 automatic pistol and swung it toward Rhineman. He managed a wild four round burst before Rhineman could bring the Glock up and put two rounds into the guard. The man fell back against the table, his chest exploding in gouts of blood, the table and chair upturning, stone walls splattered in crimson.
    Rhineman stumbled, fell, got up again. The volley from the guard's MAC-10 had missed entirely but one bullet had ricocheted, going through the fleshy part of Rhineman's tight. Mercifully, the underground location and thick masonry had absorbed the sound of gunplay.
    Rhineman limped to the dead guard and pulled the key ring from his belt. He quickly tried each key. None would fit. The guards weren't given the keys. Rhineman thought, shit, I fucked up, its probably in Miguel's apartment, should have looked Godammit. He stared at the thick oak door with steel reinforced bars. Not a chance of busting that he thought. The lock itself was a steel affair built into the door. It would take explosives to break up. There was no choice. He would have to return to Miguel's apartment and find the key.
    * * *
    Richard Daniels ran in the darkness, aware of the narrow path by instinctive feel and even more aware of the passage of time. He reached the open spot shielded by bushes where they had left their vehicle, a battered Jeep Wagoneer. Daniels jumped in, started the vehicle and drove it by the dim glow of its parking lights to the Durango at the entrance of the dump. Carlos rapidly hooked up the jumper cables while Daniels held a pencil light. The Durango's engine started immediately. They jumped in and headed down the North Road toward the compound.

 
     
     
    Chapter 14

     
    Kurt Rhineman headed up the stairs to Miguel's apartment. The trick, he thought, is to move rapidly without attracting attention or close scrutiny. He wasn't overly concerned