Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [248]
The driver, who had a good appreciation of ambush tactics, stood on the brakes and took the next turn. It was a right, leading to a small network of side roads serving local coffee farms.
"Find a quiet place to stop," Cortez ordered next.
"But -"
"They will expect us to run, not to think. They will expect us to do what all the antiterrorist manuals say to do. Only a fool is predictable," Cortez said as he brushed polycarbonate fragments from his hair. His pistol was out now, and he ostentatiously replaced it in his shoulder holster. "José, your driving was magnificent!"
"Both cars are gone," the driver reported.
"I'm not surprised," Cortez replied. Quite honestly. "Jesús María - that was close."
Whatever Escobedo might have been, coward was not among them. He too saw the damage to the window that had been inches from his head. Two bullets had come through the car - they were half-buried in the glass. El jefe pried one loose and rattled it around in his hand. It was still warm.
"We must speak to the people who make the windows," Escobedo observed coolly. Cortez had saved his life, he realized.
The odd part was that he was right. But Cortez was more impressed with the fact that his reflexes - even forewarned, he had reacted with commendable speed - had saved his own life. It had been a long time since he'd had to pass the physical fitness test required by the DGI. It was moments like this that can make the most circumspect of men feel invincible.
"Who knew that we were going to see Fuentes?" he asked.
"I must -" Escobedo lifted the phone receiver and started to punch in a number. Cortez gently took it away from him and replaced it in the holder.
"Perhaps that would be a serious mistake, jefe." he said quietly. "With all respect, señor, please let me handle this. This is a professional matter."
Escobedo had never been so impressed with Cortez than at that moment.
"You will be rewarded," he told his faithful vassal. Escobedo reproached himself for having occasionally mistreated him, and worse, for having occasionally disregarded Cortez's wise counsel. "What should we do?"
"José," Cortez told the driver, "find a high spot from which we can see the Fuentes house."
Within a minute, the driver found a switchback overlooking the valley. He pulled the car off the road and all three got out. José inspected the damage to the car. Fortunately neither the tires nor the engine had been damaged. Though the car's body would have to be totally reworked, its ability to move and maneuver was unimpaired. José truly loved this car, and though he mourned for its defacement, he nearly burst with pride that it and his own skill had saved all their lives.
In the trunk were several rifles - German G3s like those the Army carried, but legally purchased - and a pair of binoculars. Cortez let the others have the rifles. He took the field glasses and trained them in on the well-lit home of Luis Fuentes, about six miles away.
"What are you looking for?" Escobedo asked.
"Jefe, if he had part in the ambush, he will know by now that it might have failed, and there will be activity. If he had no such knowledge, we will see no activity at all."
"What of those who fired on us?"
"You think they know that we escaped?" Cortez shook his head. "No, they will not be sure, and first they will try to prove that they succeeded, that our car struggled on for a short while - so they will first of all try to find us. José, how many turns did you take to get us here?"
"Six, señor, and there are many roads," the driver answered. He looked quite formidable with his rifle.
"Do you see the problem, jefe? Unless they have a great number of men, there are too many roads to check. We are not dealing with a police or military force. If we were, we'd still be moving. Ambushes like this one - no, jefe, once they fail, they fail completely. Here." He handed the glasses over. It was time for a little machismo. He opened the car door and pulled out a few bottles of Perrier - Escobedo liked the stuff. He opened them by