Michael Vey 9, page 10
“That’s for sure,” Quentin said. “We’ve got Cassy, but Tessa’s and my powers aren’t exactly lethal.”
“Okay,” Johnson said. “We’re in agreement. So once the Chasqui reach Puente Inambari, they have two options. A, they continue on 30C, which would add an hour and forty minutes to their drive, or B, they take the shorter route onto highway 34B.
“I believe that’s the road they’ll take. If we gamble on 34B, our best chance to take them out, with the mountainous terrain and the least traffic,” he said, touching his pen to the map, “is anywhere along here. It’s approximately a hundred kilometers from the fork to the end of the Andes mountain range.
“Once they’re out of the Andes, we’ll lose the steep grade Ostin’s plan requires, and we’ll have to resort to grenade launchers or explosives to stop them.”
“What if they do take the longer route?” Cassy asked. “Then what?”
“If they take 30C, our next opportunity to strike will be here,” he said, pointing farther south on the map, at the San Antonio de Chuca district. “This will be as a last resort only. It will be a direct, out-in-the-open head-on attack with massive explosives.
“Of course, our escape will be much more difficult, and if we cripple the trucks without taking out their bats, they are still close enough to reach Arequipa.”
Jax said, “Let’s hope they take 34B.”
“Agreed. Once we determine the best place to strike, we’ll divide up into two groups. Strikeforce One—consisting of Cassy, Jax, and Tessa—will be positioned ahead of us and higher up the mountainside. If all goes well, Cassy will drop the trucks off the side of the cliff without even being seen.
“Should Strikeforce One fail in its mission, Strikeforce Two—consisting of me, Cibor, Jacinta, and Quentin—will take out the trucks with conventional munitions, blowing the road if we need to. Any questions?”
“When do we leave?” Jax asked.
“We pack up. Then once we hear from Jaime, we’ll go. Strikeforce One, I recommend you get some rest. It’s going to be a long night. Strikeforce Two, come with me. We’ll load up the van with munitions, grenade launchers, and C4. Strikeforce One, you’re dismissed.”
After Strikeforce Two had completed loading the van, they retired to their individual rooms to rest and await Jaime’s call.
PART ELEVEN
22 What Happened to the Lightning God?
I was about to lie down on the boat’s long bench to sleep when Jaime slid up next to me.
“Michael. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“They told me that in the final battle of Tuvalu, you were all-powerful. Almost like a god.”
“You could say that.”
“Do you still have that power?”
“If I did, I would have already brought Tara back and destroyed the Chasqui.”
“Why is your power gone?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know for sure. The way Ostin explains it, my body is like a capacitor. It can store electricity. In the battle of Hades, I was struck by lightning. I had so much electricity inside me that I became more energy than matter. It gave me the ability to pass through matter, even fly.”
“You could fly?”
“For a while.”
“That would be nice. How long did it last?”
“After I was struck by lightning, it was a couple of weeks before I could really control my body again. Just in time to help my friends defeat the Elgen.
“Even then, I had to keep my distance, since I would have occasional seizures that would pulse out enough electricity to electrocute someone.
“But I could feel myself becoming less electric every day. It was two months before I was almost back to normal. At least what was normal to me.”
“Almost?”
“I still have more electricity than I had before.”
Jaime nodded slowly. “That is good. You were dangerous before.”
“I have to be more careful now. I can be fatal.”
“I hope you don’t need to be fatal today.” Jaime slapped me on the leg, then went back to where he had been sitting. I lay back down and fell asleep, rocked by the boat’s consistent sway.
I woke to the smell of something cooking. I sat up and yawned.
“Welcome back,” Nichelle said. “You’re just in time for lunch. Hot tamales.”
I stretched, cracking my neck. “How did we get hot tamales on a…” I looked over at McKenna. “Oh. Right.”
“Here’s one for you,” McKenna said. “Pork tamales criollos.” She put it into a napkin and handed it to me. “It’s a little hot.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“ ‘Criollo’ means ‘of pure Spanish descent,’ ” Ostin said.
“And this,” Zeus said. Even though it was hot and humid, he was sporting a rain jacket. “Your favorite Peruvian drink, Inca Kola.” He handed me a cold bottle.
“Thanks, bro.”
After we had all eaten, I sat alone near the bow of the boat just looking out at the passing jungle. There was a consistent light spray of water, which I found refreshing in the hot jungle.
Jaime was in the back of the boat talking to Kale, while Cristiano, Zeus, and Nichelle played cards, and McKenna and Ostin were lying on the packs napping. Ian, like me, just looked out from the boat. At one point he said, “Guys, you should see this.”
We all looked over the side of the boat. We couldn’t see anything. “See what?” Zeus asked.
“Sorry. It’s down fifteen feet. There was a pack of giant sea otters teasing an alligator.”
“The big otters don’t fear anything in the river,” Cristiano said. “We call them ‘los lobos.’ The wolves.”
This only reinforced my belief that Ian saw a completely different world than the rest of us.
About two hours later Cristiano crouched down next to me. “Michael.”
I turned back. “What’s up?”
“Look carefully. Do you see that reflection up ahead?”
About a hundred yards in the distance I could see an occasional flash of light. “What is it?”
“It is the first Chasqui sentry. The light you see is the reflection from their camera.”
I turned back. “Hey, Ian.”
“Yes, sir,” Ian said.
“There’s something up ahead, about a hundred meters.”
“I see it. There’re some cameras. And a machine gun. No one is manning it.”
“It is one of many,” Cristiano said. “There are usually soldiers at the guns.”
“There he is,” Ian said. “He’s watching a soccer game. He’s only wearing pants.”
Just then Kale said something to Cristiano in Spanish. Cristiano nodded, then turned back.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He was pointing out the guard too. He knows where all the Chasqui sentries are on the river. He is very nervous around them.”
“For good reason,” I said.
“Yes. They sank his boat. This is not a place I would like to sink. There are piranha, caimans, and electric eels.”
“Hardly the county swimming pool,” I said. I looked back at Kale. He looked anxious. “How frequent are these lookouts?” I asked.
“The next sentry is about four kilometers downriver.”
“Are there a lot of these sentries?” McKenna asked.
Cristiano nodded. “At least a dozen between Puerto and the Starxource plant. The closer we get to the plant, the closer they are to each other. They all have radios. They report to a central place at the plant.”
“What about the cave?”
“The plant communicates with the cave. The cave has its own security on land. Because the plant is close to the river, it patrols the river.”
As we neared the sentry, Cristiano looked more nervous. “No one look at him,” he said.
Our boat passed quickly in the center of the river.
“What is he doing?” I asked Ian.
“Nothing. He went back to his game.”
“You said they have cameras,” I said to Cristiano.
“Yes. They monitor every boat. But there are many boats. So they look for boats that are suspicious.”
“What makes a boat suspicious?”
“All men, mostly. People who don’t look like tourists.”
“Will they suspect us?”
“I don’t think so. They will probably think this boat is going to the lodge.”
“How far are we from the lodge?”
“We are close.”
I took the GPS navigator from my backpack. “Ostin, take this.”
“The GPS,” he said. “Remember the first one they gave us? It was disguised as an iPod.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said. “Drop a pin at the lodge so we know how to get back.”
Ostin began navigating through the device. “No problem.”
About twenty minutes later Kale pointed to the south riverbank and said, “There it is.”
We looked out. In the distance was a pontoon dock with two other boats, both bearing the makisapa logo. On the front corners of the dock were tall poles, each with a yellow flag imprinted with the lodge’s namesake, the makisapa monkey, the design copied from the Nazca Lines. A large banner read:
BIENVENIDOS, AMIGOS OF THE AMAZON RAINFOREST
“I need to call in,” Jaime said, taking out the satellite phone. “Johnson, it’s Jaime. We are just arriving at the lodge…. Nothing. We saw no cargo containers yet…. I will report as soon as I do…. Thank you…. Be careful.” He hung up the phone and slid it back into his pack. “They’re ready to scout out the area for their mission. All according to plan.”
“Of mice and men,” Ostin said. “Of mice and men.”
PART TWELVE
23 Making Nests
It was about three hours after Alpha Team had finished making their plans when Jaime called Johnson to let him know that they had reached the lodge. Alpha Team immediately got into their vehicles and set out to find the ideal location to take out the Chasqui convoy. They found it about three hours south of Puerto.
“This is the place,” Johnson said, pulling the heavily fortified van off to the side of the road. “More than twenty miles to the nearest town, a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn with a two-hundred-foot drop-off on one side, and a long enough stretch for three trucks to be together. It’s like it was custom-made for us.”
Strikeforce One’s Hummer pulled up behind the van. Everyone got out of the vehicles.
“What do you think?” Jax asked, walking up to Johnson.
“I think it’s perfect. Let’s grab some radios and scope it out. Strikeforce One, you’ll want to be stationed where you can guarantee full paralysis up to the end of the kill zone. How far can your power reach, Cassy?”
“With Tessa’s help I could easily reach both sides of the kill zone.”
“Perfect. So as soon as truck three is in the queue, you freeze them all.”
She saluted and barked out, “Freeze the kill zone. Roger that, sir.”
Jax nudged her.
Cassy grinned. “Too much?”
Johnson continued. “Jax, you set up a nest high enough that you have a visual on the whole road. We’ll set up a nest around the corner. If any of them make it around the bend, Strikeforce Two takes them out, no matter what. Even if it means bringing the whole mountain down on them.”
“Jacinta will be waiting in Puente Inambari, near the bridge. That’s the fork between the two highways. If we guessed wrong and the Chasqui choose 30C instead of our road, we’ll know immediately and we’ll reroute.
“If they follow our route, Jacinta will tail them at a distance and keep us updated on their movement. If, for some reason, the last truck stops before the kill zone, she will shoot the trailer from behind with a rocket-propelled grenade.”
“What vehicle will she be taking?” Jax asked.
“She’ll take our van,” Johnson said. He looked up at the sun. “We’ve got maybe five hours of sunlight. We need to stake out our positions.
“Once the containers hit Puerto Maldonado, they could be here as soon as four hours. Puerto Maldonado is about halfway between the Chasqui’s headquarters and where we are, so once Jaime reports seeing the containers from the lodge, we’ll have about eight hours.”
“How do you want to spend tonight?” Cibor asked.
Johnson looked at his watch. “It’s about four now. Even if Jaime called right now, they wouldn’t be here until midnight at the earliest. Still, it could be another twenty-four hours. So let’s find our positions and set up. Then we’ll head back to the hacienda and wait for the call. There’s no sense spending the night out in the open.”
“With bugs,” Tessa said. “Sleeping on dirt.”
“Keep your radio on,” Johnson said. “We’ll meet up as soon as we’re done.”
Jax turned to Cassy and Tessa. “Let’s go, ladies. Strikeforce One is on the move.”
They went back to the Hummer for their backpacks. They needed minimal supplies—food and water, binoculars, and a radio. Jax carried two pistols and a sniper rifle.
He pointed to a place on the mountain that jutted out from the surrounding terrain. “I think that little outcrop there might give us the best protection. Let’s check it out.”
They strapped on their backpacks and hiked up the side of the mountain. The mountain was thick with bushes and trees, and it took them thirty minutes to reach the outcrop.
“What do you think, Cassy?”
“If I can see them, I can freeze them.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Cassy leaned over and kissed him.
“Come on, Cass,” Tessa said. “We’re on official business.”
“Don’t be so uptight,” Cassy said.
“We’ve got work to do.”
“I think I know that. Just chill a little.”
They laid a thick tarp on the ground and some camouflage netting around the back side of their nest. After they were done, Jax radioed Johnson. “Come in, Johnson. This is the death technician. We are secured and ready.”
“Roger, DT. We are still thirty out.”
“Roger. We’ll just lounge until you call. Over.”
“Over.”
“Lounge?” Cassy said.
“Come here,” Jax said. They began to kiss again.
Tessa groaned. “Really, guys. This is so unprofessional. I mean, get a room.”
“Sorry, Tess,” Jax said. “It’s just been a long time.”
“You don’t have to stay here,” Cassy said.
“I’m not. I’m going down to the Hummer.”
Jax drew back from Cassy. “Here, you’d better take the keys.” He tossed them to her.
Tessa picked the keys up from the ground, then worked her way back down the hill.
Johnson and his crew had set up about a hundred yards down the road after the road doglegged. They chose an assault position ninety feet above the road, close enough to engage but out of the blast radius of their explosives.
They had carried out all their weapons, C4, and detonation switches from the van. Then Jacinta and Johnson had run wire from their position under the foliage to the road, where they installed three different charges: one designed to take out the trucks, one set to create an avalanche, and a third that would take out the road completely, stopping all possible advancement.
Quentin and Cibor prepared the nest they would operate from, as well as laying out the weapons. Quentin was laying down the artillery when he asked, “Hey, Cibor. What’s this thing? Its official name.”
“It’s a German-built Panzerfaust 3 shoulder-launched, antitank rocket-propelled grenade launcher. We just call it an RPG for short. It can penetrate more than nine hundred millimeters of tank armor, which means it can stop anything.”
“Even these trucks.”
Cibor nodded. “Like shooting pumpkins with a shotgun.”
Quentin smiled. “And I’m carrying C4 explosives strapped to my back.”
“Just don’t bump them on anything.”
Quentin stared at him. “What? You said they were…”
Cibor laughed. “I’m kidding. C4 is stable. You can shoot it with a five-hundred-fifty-six round, and it won’t go off. It needs a trigger mechanism. That’s what’s in that other bag.”
“How many will it take to blow up a truck?”
“Three to be safe. We need to make sure the bats are killed along with the trucks. It’s got a blast radius of about twenty-five meters. That’s why we’re this far back.”
“We’ve got serious redundancy,” Quentin said.
“That we do. If Cassy fails, we’ve got you to stop the trucks and the RPGs to take them out. If that fails, we blow the trucks with C4. If that fails, we just take out the whole road.”
“Cassy won’t fail,” Quentin said. “Neither will I.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
Johnson and Jacinta climbed back up to their nest. “We’re wired,” Johnson said. “You guys done?”
“We are done, sir,” Cibor said.
“All right, then.” Johnson lifted his radio to his mouth. “Strikeforce One, this is Strikeforce Two, over.”
“Strikeforce Two, what are our orders?”
“Let’s go home and get some dinner.”
“Still no word from Jaime?”
“Not yet.”
“We’ll meet you back at the hacienda, over.”
PART THIRTEEN
24 Something’s on the Trail
We had made better time than we had planned and were nearly a half hour ahead of schedule as the boat pulled up to the Makisapa Lodge’s dock. The edge of the lodge’s property was lined with palms and broad-leafed banana trees. Past them we could see about a dozen thatch-roofed dwellings, all close together, encircling the main lodge.
Between us and the buildings was a cleared yard with manicured grass. There was Peruvian folk music playing over a PA system, and there were guests happily milling about. On one side of the yard four people were playing badminton.
