“If El Muerto does win this lunatic assault, what do you have planned for the lab then?”
“Nothing. I’ll bring you down with the equipment bags, and we’ll have some fun. We dress in costume, rag the crap out of Isis, and then we get the hell out of there. I’ll call Paul with all the particulars. He’ll put our liaison to work. I’ll let him handle the cleanup. I imagine the video of the cartoon brothers will drive everyone nuts while they find out what’s been going on right under their noses. Robyn seems competent enough to simply proceed with her duties. Once Clyde finds out I took care of business without him, I’ll let Paul deal with his minion outrage. If he gets in my face again, I may have to make an adjustment.”
“He’s an asshole. Go on, and get ready, Muerto. I’ll check on John’s signal.”
Fifteen minutes later, Gus drove toward their original coordinates. He glanced over at Nick sitting sideways in his seat. “You look like one of those guys in the G.I. Joe movies. Is there anything you don’t have on? In Jamaica, all you had on were shorts and a pack. How many did you kill that day, a hundred?”
“No, I didn’t kill a hundred people. We’re high tech now Payaso. They make lightweight full body armor. The spot I picked to start my approach is only a couple miles away from the complex.”
“Yeah, through the densest woods I’ve ever seen.”
“If anyone could do this we’d be sitting in the Lodge bar throwing down shots and beers.”
“If we live through this, I don’t care if it’s 5 am, I’m throwing them down until I’m blind.”
“Seriously, these guys will be asleep. If my EMP gun doesn’t disable their alarm system, they’ll be jumping out of their racks not knowing what the hell’s happening. I’m hoping to get John with me before I have to really get serious. Even with you letting me know where I am in relation to him, I’ll feel better when I have him in sight. Although I won’t be broadcasting every moment, I want you to keep talking every few minutes, so I know our com is good.”
“Here we are, brother.” Gus stopped at the spot Nick picked out. “I won’t say good luck or any of that crap. At least you’re not wearing your Muerto mask going in. Another thing – don’t start talking to me in third person either.”
“El Muerto never does that, Payaso. El Muerto away!” Nick disappeared into the woods.
“Asshole.” Gus turned off the GMC. He had no other task than to watch both of his friends’ tracker signals. “I wish I could see into that stupid complex so I could tell you what to do when you’re in there.”
“Coming through loud and clear. We’ll have to settle for I’m getting warmer or colder. He may be a straight shot from where I go down at. His tracker at the entrance is on my GPS screen. The terrain’s solid, so they must not have had their usual flood of rain lately. I figured I’d be sloggin’ in the mud by now. My short wave infrared prototype night vision goggles are the best. I’d be movin’ like a snail without them.”
“What all are you packing?”
“El Muerto has his trusty silenced MP5 this time on mission, my Colt .45 with silencer, razor sharp stiletto, and a backup MP10 for Kabong. I brought along enough grenades to level the complex too, along with gas masks in my pack for Kabong and I.”
“You should have told me what the hell you had planned before, Muerto. I could have went in with you. Dan could have driven the getaway vehicle.”
“Dan’s a Luddite. He’s about as computer savvy as Deke. Also, this assault is not a job for my trusty sidekick and enabler, Payaso. You are the deadly Payaso, facilitator of the psychotic Muerto. El Muerto must this time combat the forces of darkness alone. El Muerto must-”
“I have your favorite Giants baseball cap with gold lettering in my hands right now. One more third person El Muerto outburst, and I puke in it. Then I’ll seal it in a plastic bag.”
Silence.
“Heh… heh.”
“I’m telling Kabong about this,” Nick muttered.
“Heh… heh.”
Nick picked his way through the dense woods as a lifetime stalking prey dictated. The wetness of spring in the Pacific Northwest muffled his footsteps while he listened to Gus insulting him in humorous ways at three minute intervals. Nick acknowledged each voice check with a whispered ‘Yo mamma’. Although telling Gus the men he hunted would never set traps to blow up unsuspecting hikers, Nick paid close attention to his every step once he passed within a three hundred yard range of the compound. His cautionary approach added an hour to his reaching the compound entrance, but greatly reduced the noise level to nothing more than a slight rustling breeze. Nick found a razor wire perimeter trap at ankle height when he reached the fifty yard mark, and another at twenty-five yards. A familiar smell then drifted to his nose: tobacco smoke.