Harrison rocks back on his heels, peering into the darkness. “Come on. It’s obvious. Might as well be written all over you, asshole. You have that way of walking. Talking. Breathing. If you’re not ex-military, I’m the fucking Queen of Sheba.”
I grunt. “But not you. You just wish you were. You were probably out there as part of a private security company, right? The hired help who couldn’t make it into the Marines? Running around the hot zones, wearing night vision goggles and khakis from fucking J Crew.”
He laughs a sour laugh. “The pay was good. And J Crew khakis are really good quality.”
“I’m sure they are.” I’d normally take a few more shots at him; he’s the type of dude who’ll snap and explode if you rile him up enough, but then four guys emerge from the house, carrying a white shrouded object that can only be a body wrapped up in a sheet, and I’ve suddenly lost all interest in the man standing next to me.
“Is that…?”
“The guy you shot in the chest? Yeah.” Harrison leaves, walking off toward Fernando, and I make a decision: I follow after him, wondering what the hell is about to happen. Plato hisses my name, trying to get my attention, but I ignore him, trying to appear confident and curious as we approach Fernando. The older man wipes his forehead with a fresh, pure white handkerchief, then tucks it neatly into the breast pocket of his blazer. He nods when he sees Harrison, and then holds out his hand for me to shake. His grip is probably a little tighter than it needs to be.
“I see you’ve met Harrison,” he says stiffly. I hear what he really means to say in the frigid tone of his voice: I see Harrison busted down your door and had someone violate your asshole. Harrison shifts uncomfortably, looking off into the forest. He doesn’t tell his boss that I refused to spread my butt cheeks for him. I don’t feel like offering up the information either, and Fernando continues on non-the-wiser. “Your antics earlier have left us in an unfortunate position, Mr. Garrett. I have a body to dispose of, and only one way of doing that quickly and efficiently. In truth, I love feeding my dogs. But I try not to give them human flesh too often. It makes them bold. Inquisitive. They get a taste for it, and…well. They have taken people coming in and out of the house before. Unfortunate. Very unfortunate.”
I’m betting Fernando doesn’t get postal service up here, then. No mailman in his right mind would loiter on the front doorstep if he suspected he might be set upon by a pack of savage animals.
“I thought you might like to watch up here with me when the wolves arrive. Luckily they are already in the area,” Fernando says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Normally we must call them with an alarm, but not today. Some of my men are out in the forest, herding them in this direction as we speak.”
“I wouldn’t have thought wolves are native to an environment like this,” I say.
Fernando shakes his head from side to side. “There are many areas of Ecuador that are inhabited by wolves. Admittedly, the Inter-Andean valleys are more suited to them than here, perhaps. But understand, the wolves in my forests are not wild. I brought them here. I have trained them to survive in this place, and they have thrived. Now, there are over a hundred wild wolves living in these mountains. I like to think of myself as their guardian. Their shepherd, if you will. I’d like you to witness their beauty for yourself. You will see why I love them so much. Come.” Fernando heads off in the direction of the tree line. He doesn’t have a weapon with him. None of his riflemen follow after him, though they watch with sharp eyes. Harrison elbows me in the side.
“Careful he doesn’t slit your throat out there, man. His dogs love lapping up blood from the dirt.”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I don’t have my gun now, either. I searched for it among my scattered possessions after Harrison and his men left, but it was nowhere to be found; he obviously took it with him when he left my room, and asking for it back seemed inappropriate. So I follow after Fernando with my hands in my pockets, my fingers closing around the handle of my small balisong knife. His men clearly left it for me because of its size. It’s tiny, but they have no idea what I can do with the smallest sliver of sharpened steel. It’ll definitely be enough to protect myself from a hungry wolf. I’m hoping that’s the case, anyway.