One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [58]
This information alone told me a great deal about my adversary. On the downside, the fact that this guard in Guatemala had such exorbitant kit meant that his boss had serious money, serious contacts inside the arms world, and the intelligence to buy the best. So much for the phone threats being a bluff. On the plus side, the fact that the target looked like the Michelin man with all of that kit on told me that he wasn’t a professional.
Anyone who used such kit for a living found quickly that less was more. Attempting to climb buildings or enter narrow rooms with ten tons of accessories flopping around usually ended in catastrophic failure. I had learned early to pare down my kit to the absolute essentials, leaving the rest of the Velcro for the wannabes who did more showing off than fighting. Like this loser.
I watched him as he continued walking down the wall and turned the corner out of sight. About ten seconds later, another guard rounded the corner to the south of the compound, opposite where the first guard had disappeared. Obviously, they maintained a roving foot patrol outside the residence and probably had a mounted patrol along the fence line.
I felt a split-second burst of fear as I realized I had been too hasty on my sensor analysis at the fence. Whoever was here had enough money to wire the entire jungle and could buy the expertise to monitor it. I then realized that if it had been wired, I would’ve already been caught. I decided not to test my theory and began moving as swiftly as I dared back down to the Jeep and Jennifer.
JAKE PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT of the Casa Bonita Clara with a head of steam, hammering the brakes hard enough to cause a slight skid in the gravel. He had just finished talking to one of his team leaders and had discovered that the Casa Bonita hotel had been missed during the shift to the airport. Because of incompetent idiots who couldn’t follow simple instructions. The team had reported their location at the hotel, and the team leader had assumed they had gone inside and established contact. They hadn’t, and now he had a gap in the plan that might prove fatal. He felt like he was leading a bunch of children, forcing him to check and recheck everything to get the smallest task accomplished.
Walking to the front desk, he tapped his hand on the counter, waiting on the woman behind it to finish with a balding German complaining about his bill. Once he was gone, Jake addressed the woman.
“Hi. I’m looking for some friends of mine. They were supposed to arrive today, but I haven’t heard from them. I was wondering if you could look and see if they’ve checked in?”
The woman smiled warmly. “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to reveal any information on our guests. If you’d like, you can leave me a message for them with your contact information, along with their name. I’ll ensure that they get it.”
Jake smiled back, attempting to be as friendly as the woman, but failing because his smile did nothing but bare his teeth, giving him all the warmth of a great white shark.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear. The bloke who wants to find them is El Machete. I would hate to be the person who refused his request.”
The woman’s smile faded, replaced with a look of fear. She glanced around to see if her manager was in sight, then said, “What are their names?”
“Jennifer Cahill and a man.”
The woman tapped on the keyboard and said, “They’re here. Second floor, second room on the right. Room eight.” Visibly shaking, she said, “Please leave now.”
Jake grinned, thanked her, then went back to his SUV. He dialed Miguel’s number.
Miguel answered after the fourth ring. “What’ve you found? Please tell me you have some good news.”
“I have their location. I’m pulling in the teams and heading