the dry conditions. Her face was mostly skeletonized, with missing cheeks exposing the roots of her teeth and empty eye sockets staring out through strips of leathery skin. In truth, it was only her clothing and long blond hair that identified her.
“No!” Bertrand finally got out.
Halabi’s men forced him onto the table next to the corpse and secured him there with straps. His screams quickly turned to convulsing sobs and he began begging pathetically in French.
Halabi approached and leaned over him as one of his men ignited a blowtorch. Bertrand’s face and the rotted one next to it turned bluish in the light of the flame.
“Now let’s discuss the fine points of my plan.”
CHAPTER 35
SOUTHERN MEXICO
CARLOS Esparza glanced back at the terrified family behind him and slapped a hand on the table. “Otra cerveza!”
They were huddled near the kerosene lamp throwing shadows across what passed for a kitchen. This was the building that was Mitch Rapp’s goal, an improvised restaurant that was little more than a clapboard shithole with enough solar panels sufficient to keep a refrigerator running. Outside was a broad porch where local farmers gathered on weekends, but now the plastic furniture on it was in danger of being washed away by the pounding rain.
The husband retrieved a beer, but Esparza shook his head and pointed to the man’s fifteen-year-old daughter. She took the bottle and approached hesitantly, holding it out in front of her.
She was a sexy little thing, with thick hair, coffee-colored skin, and a body that was still a bit awkward. He gave her a hard swat on the ass when she put the beer on the table and then watched her scurry off. Normally, he’d be laying plans to have her brought to his compound for a few interesting evenings, but tonight she was nothing more than an afterthought. Something to briefly distract him from the matter at hand.
They’d begun Rapp’s test at 9 a.m. and it was now 3 a.m. the next day. One of the dogs had been recovered but the others were still on the loose, running off thousands of dollars’ worth of his product. The heavy rains and loss of their tracking ability was allowing the CIA man to move through the darkness with impunity—an opportunity he was taking full advantage of.
At least seven of Esparza’s men were dead. Some from bullets, others from knife wounds, and one who had been found with a tree branch wedged in his eye socket. So much equipment had been stripped from the bodies that it seemed certain Rapp was creating caches in the jungle. Preparing to survive and fight for as long as was necessary to reach his objective.
A burst of automatic fire erupted outside and Esparza swore loudly before edging toward the open doorway. He had four vehicles at the crossroad out front, two of which were idling with their headlights on. The rain had slowed and there was enough illumination to see the five men who had taken refuge behind them. All efforts to bring in further reinforcements had gotten bogged down in the mud miles from there.
The shooting stopped and, predictably, the shouting started. Fucking idiots. If they saw or heard something, it was a guarantee that Rapp wasn’t there. Terrified for their own lives and enraged at the loss of their comrades, they’d begun shooting at ghosts and fighting among themselves. Exactly what the CIA man wanted.
Esparza stayed hidden behind the doorjamb as he scanned past the vehicles into the darkness. Was he kilometers away, planning his next move? Had he decided to run and take his chances as a fugitive? Or was he out there just beyond the circle of light?
The sound of a struggling vehicle became audible to the east and Esparza reluctantly crossed the wood deck, descending into the mud. Headlights began playing off the trees as his men dug in further. As though Rapp would just get in a car and drive up the road to them.
Idiots.
He took a position in the middle of the crossroad, shielding his eyes as the pickup drew near. One of his enforcers was driving and there were no passengers. At least no living ones. The vehicle stopped and Esparza looked at the man in the bed. He was stretched out in a bloody pool of rainwater, with his throat slashed from ear to ear.
“Find this motherfucker and bring me his head!” Esparza screamed as the rain gained force again. “Do you understand? Bring it to me now!”