Desperate Rendition - Chapter 4

The buzzing phone jerked Taylor awake. The phone said he’d been asleep for only five hours, which wasn’t enough, since he had a strong feeling that this day was going to be even longer. It also said that, had he been a gambling man, he would have lost a fair amount of money.

Before he’d gone to bed the night before, Taylor had sent a message giving, in extreme detail, what would happen if the gang leader took the upfront payment and ran. Even with that threat, he’d been all but certain the gang would do exactly that.

Instead, his phone read, “The woman will meet you at Mercado Municipal de Chacao. Ten AM.”

Could it be a trap? Sure, although it seemed unlikely to be one set by Bonnie, since she wanted the US government to get her out, which meant she had to take a risk at some point that his being here was on the up and up. There were lots of reasons a street gang would set up a US agent though. Maybe sell him out to a larger gang? That was just a guess, but one he had to take seriously.

Taylor did some research on the market, which was a two-story affair mostly for selling foodstuffs, based on his cursory search. The time didn’t look to be just a coincidence or for convenience. From what he could see, it was the busiest time for the market, with lots of people from restaurants and families shopping for their food for the day.

It didn’t surprise him. Bonnie was smart. She wanted the crowd for cover.

Taylor was also cautious, leaving well ahead of time to stake out a good position to see her come in. When he arrived at the market, he parked the borrowed jeep away from the building a bit and approached it on foot, taking a circuitous route through side streets.

Probably overkill, but considering the situation and who he was meeting, overkill was called for.

The market was already packed with vendors set up with food on display, shouting at the throngs of people already buying or milling around. It wasn’t completely packed, but it would be hard to find her in the crowd.

Taylor kept to the periphery, not stopping, since one person standing still would be very noticeable, playing the tourist, which wasn’t much better since Caracas didn’t get many tourists these days, but it wasn’t like he could blend in completely. Besides, Bonnie would have the same problem.

He bought a mango from a stall, taking small bites as he watched the people, searching for a white face in the crowd, even though he was almost an hour ahead of the meet time. Better to see her coming in than the reverse.

She must have had the same idea, though. He was just taking a big bite of the mango when he saw a tuft of curly black hair moving through the crowd. He couldn’t see her face, and it had been a year since the warehouse where she’d supposedly blown herself up, but he recognized it.

Tossing the rest of the mango in the trash and wiping his hands on his pants, Taylor circled, his eyes locked on her hair, catching the occasional glance of her face. The mercenaries made the situation believable, but Taylor still couldn’t trust this was on the up and up and not some kind of trick, so he didn’t plan on having her see him first.

He’d hoped to get up close to her, put a gun on her, and quietly march her out of the market to keep better control of the situation.

That idea went out of the window as soon as he saw the man a few steps away from her, coming out of the crowd behind her. He looked believably Latin and wore jeans and a baggy shirt, dressed like half the men he’d seen in the city.

It was the boots that gave him away. Nearly everyone here was wearing sandals or ratty tennis shoes. He wore fairly new and very well-cleaned black Russian-style military boots. The kind popular across private military across the Soviet bloc. More than that was the man’s expression. His eyes were locked on Bonnie, and he was smiling as if he was about to win the big game.

It only took a second to realize the gang had played him. They’d sold the information to him and the mercenaries, choosing profit over loyalty to their dead comrades.

Taylor’s hand flew to the small of his back, pulling the borrowed weapon and bringing it up in one motion as the man reached under the hem of his own shirt, almost certainly for a weapon.

Someone screamed as Taylor extended his weapon, drawing Bonnie’s attention. She looked at him as Taylor was looking at the merc, her own hand going for a weapon. Panic flashed across her face as she saw the weapon already pointing her way, almost certainly doing the math and realizing she couldn’t dodge out of the way or shoot him before he got her.

Which he wasn’t. His gun cracked, the sound cutting through the noise of the market. The mercenary behind Bonnie jerked, a spray of red covering the people around him as the back of his head exploded. Taylor hoped the punch through didn’t hurt anyone behind the man, but his weapon had already been halfway up, and Taylor couldn’t risk just wounding him.

Chaos erupted. People screamed, scattering in all directions, not bothering to try and figure out where the gunshot had come from. Their panic exposed the guys’ buddies, who were dressed the same, maybe hoping they could blend in and get the drop on Bonnie, since their previous attempts of going in guns blazing hadn’t worked.

They’d been well hidden, since half of them were near him, opposite Bonnie. The chaos, however, seemed to throw them, with their focus trying to hold on Bonnie, confused about their man going down, giving Taylor several seconds as they tracked the shot back to him and realized they’d suddenly become targets for a new player.

Taylor didn’t wait to act. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest merc and wrenching him into a human shield as his friends brought up their weapons. Seeing their buddy, they didn’t hesitate, sending rounds slamming into him and several bystanders, not caring where their shots went.

Taylor held the man up, returning fire over his body while trying to keep an eye on Bonnie amidst the pandemonium. She had her own gun out now, apparently realizing that Taylor hadn’t been after her at all, and putting the mercs into a crossfire.

They were pushing the men back, but with people and bullets everywhere, there was no way to get to Bonnie, at least not without significant risk. In the distance, he could hear sirens, growing louder by the second. The local authorities were on their way, and being caught in the middle of this bloodbath wouldn’t do him any favors.

Taylor looked away for a second to deal with a merc who was getting just a little too close and when he looked again, Bonnie had disappeared. That made his decision for him. It was time to get out of here, regroup, and try to find her again.

Taylor pushed the dead merc at his friends and broke away, weaving through the terrified crowd, using the chaos as cover. He didn’t look back as he slipped out of the market.

He cursed himself as he got back to the jeep. He’d been so close.

Taylor drove away from the market, keeping his speed down and trying not to seem noticeable in any way as police cars and a few army trucks came tearing past, headed for the market.

Caracas was one of the strongholds of the government, and the army was a presence across the city, but so far he’d mostly seen local police showing up. The army being here was a big step up, although whether it was permanent or just because somewhere important finally got involved, it was hard to say. Until it did, he needed to be more careful about where he got into open shootouts.

Not that the mercs had given him much choice.

They’d also taken away his one solid lead. Bonnie was in the wind again, and there was a chance these guys were hot on her trail. Taylor considered his options for a moment. There were a few options, and none of them good.

The closest thing he had to a plan was to try and pick up the mercs again. They’d managed to find her three times now, and they’d been all over the market. There was a chance one of them had followed her.

Or he hoped they had because otherwise, he was back to the starting point.

Taylor made his way back to the Hotel El Ávila, hoping to set up back where he’d been before. Turning the corner onto the street where the hotel was located, it was evident it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The street in front of the hotel was a circus of flashing lights and uniformed bodies. Local cops and soldiers swarmed the area. Clearly, someone had told them where the mercs were staying. Whoever had been protecting them from the police had clearly had to pull some of that protection. There had to be a limit, and clearly the mercs had found it.

“Well, shit,” Taylor muttered, pulling over to the curb.

The cops didn’t have anyone in cuffs, at least that he could see, which meant the mercs had managed to pull out before the cops got there or knew it was going to be bad and didn’t come back there. The army was pulling out crates of equipment and probably weapons, which was going to diminish the mercs some.

Taylor sat in his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He needed a plan, and fast. The mercs and Bonnie were in the wind, and now the local authorities were swarming the hotel. If he had been here in an official capacity, he would have some more options. But he wasn’t.

He sat and considered. There was always something. No one just vanished. Taylor slapped the steering wheel with a curse and started the engine. There was only one play left... go back to the source. Taylor pulled up outside El Nido for the second time in two days.

Considering they had sold him out already, this was a risk. There was only one way he could see to play it to get the gang to tell him what he wanted to know, and it wasn’t great. If Whitaker was here, she would veto the idea immediately.

Luckily, she wasn’t here.

As soon as he walked into the bar, three gang members were up and in his face.

A beefy gang member stepped in front of him and said, “Where do you think you’re going, gringo?”

Taylor didn’t break stride, his fist slamming into the man’s face in a swift, brutal motion. There was a sickening crunch as cartilage gave way. The man crashed to the floor, blood streaming from his nose.

In an instant, the bar erupted. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone jumped to their feet, guns drawn.

“Enough!” A voice called out, freezing everyone in place. “I said you wouldn’t be walking out of here if you came back, American.”

The gang leader emerged from a back room, a pistol in his hand.

Taylor raised his hands slowly, tapping his ear. “There’s a Predator drone circling this building, and my people can hear everything happening in here.”

“Bullshit.”

“You know I’m serious already,” Taylor said. “So try me. If I go down, this entire block becomes a smoking crater.”

“You’ll die too.”

“Does it look like I give a shit?” Taylor said, glaring back.

For a long moment, they just glared at each other. The other man blinked first, and then smiled.

“You’re either loco or you’ve got the biggest cojones on the planet.”

“Both can be true,” Taylor said.

The leader’s laughter grew louder. He gestured towards the back room. “Come on then, big man. Let’s talk.”

“So why have you come back, gringo?”

“To see how good of a payday you got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting paid by me and the mercenaries for selling the same information.”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“It was implied, by taking my money, that you were delivering her to me. Selling it to both of us meant that she wasn’t delivered to me. But I’m not one to hold a grudge. If you want to make it up to me, just tell me where she is, or at least where the mercenaries are. We’ll call it even. No hard feelings.”

“Pay us again, and you have a deal.”

The odds of Solomon handing over more money were next to none. Besides, he wasn’t going to pay this asshole anymore after he screwed him over.

“You got paid once. You’re lucky I’m back here asking nicely. You don’t want to see how this goes if you make me change my mind.”

Taylor didn’t blink as the guy stared him down. It was a bluff, but only partially. Taylor was willing to screw this guy’s world if he had to, but that would be slow and inefficient. Better to get him to hand over the information willingly.

Thankfully, the guy again backed down. “Normally, I wouldn’t without getting paid again. But what the hell, these people are assholes and the sooner you’re out of my shit, the better.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. Where are they?”

“My people followed some of their guys to an old inn or compound thing about thirty minutes outside of town. I don’t even know if it’s active or they’re squatting, but they’ve had people going back and forth from the hotel to the inn for more than a week, so if they’re not at their hotel, then they’re at the other place.”

“I hope so,” Taylor said, turning to walk back out.

“Don’t come back here, Gringo,” the gang leader called after him.

That was the plan, Taylor thought.