Hostage Zero

It had been a mistake to leave the windows up, Jonathan realized. Shooting through glass was inaccurate at best. What he lacked in accuracy would have to be made up for in volume, and just to make sure he was ready for the possibility, he caressed the M4’s selector switch with his left forefinger and verified that it was in the three-round burst mode. As long as he was alive and still had a trigger finger, there wasn’t a target on the planet that he couldn’t hit with six rounds.

Ten seconds later, they were past the sentries and closing in on the clearing that would be their base camp. Including the pickets, whom he could see in his rearview mirror following the Rover, Jonathan counted seven soldiers, all dressed in jungle camouflage, and all holding rifles. To the left of center, Boxers towered over the others, and next to Boxers stood an utterly unchanged Jose Calderon.

“Boy, you don’t really get how friggin’ huge he is till you seem him next to other people, do you?” Harvey said. “He looks like Frankenstein.”

Jonathan pointed to a random spot on the ground beyond the front bumper. “Just stop anywhere in here,” he said. “And Mr. Smith?” Jonathan was fanatical about not using real names on operations, even when outside the hearing of others.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna give you a literal life lesson right now. As in, a lesson that will lengthen your life. Big Guy doesn’t like it when people call him names like Frankenstein. He doesn’t like Lurch; he doesn’t like Paul Bunyan. Frankly, he’s not all that fond of Big Guy, but he puts up with it because it’s his code name. In general, he doesn’t tease well.”

“A bit of a sociopath, is he?”

Jonathan’s glare darkened. “That would be calling him a name, wouldn’t it? As the man whose ass he’s saved on more than one occasion, you’re beginning to piss me off.”

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, but Jonathan wasn’t interested. He pulled the door handle and stepped out into the jungle sauna. By the time he got his door closed again, Jammin’ Josie was already on his way over, his arms outstretched. Again with the abrazos. “Senor Jones, it’s been too many years.”

Jonathan held out his arm to stop the man. When he complied, the sign to halt became an offer for a handshake. “How are you, Josie?”

At first, Jose looked confused, but then he offered up a wide grin. “I forget that you don’t like to touch,” he said.

“I don’t mind touching,” Jonathan said. “I just don’t like having to check for my wallet afterward.”

Jose put a hand to his chest, feigning a wound. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Actually, it’s not at all how I greet old friends. How many people know that I’m here?”

The wound grew deeper. “I have told no one, Senor Jones.”

Sensing trouble, and no doubt welcoming the opportunity to settle it, Boxers moved closer. Behind him, Harvey stepped out of the Range Rover. Jose’s troops sensed it, too, and several unslung their rifles.

“Don’t be an idiot, Josie,” Jonathan said. “Where do you think I got the Range Rover?”

The smile dimmed, and then returned. “Oh, well, Felipe knows, of course.”

“Of course.” He scanned the faces of the men who continued to close in, ever so slowly, and reflexively calculated lanes of fire. They still had time. “Tell your men to stand down,” he commanded.

Jose said the right words in Spanish, and when the men hesitated, he repeated them more forcefully. His troops relaxed, but not entirely.

Boxers said, “You watching this, Boss?”

Jonathan opened his stance so he could keep a better eye on the crowd as he continued his chat with Josie. “Mr. Smith?” he called without looking.

Harvey said, “Sir?”

“Arm yourself, please.”

Concern fell across Josie’s face. “What are you doing, my friend?”

Jonathan dared a glance to satisfy himself that Harvey had picked up his weapon from the Rover’s seat.

Josie said, “You seem to be expecting violence from me. I am your friend.”

“Tell me how Felipe knows so much,” Jonathan said.

Jose shuffled his feet and forced a smile. “Felipe knows everything, yes?”

Boxers made himself taller still, and Josie seemed to shrink accordingly.

“Who else knows?” Jonathan pressed.

The little man held his hand as if taking an oath. “On the grave of my mother, I have told no one.”

Boxers growled, “Careful, Scorpion. Snakes aren’t born. They hatch.”

Jose turned on him, craning his neck to look Boxers in the eye. “I don’t like you,” he said. “I been nothing but nice to you all day, you been nothing but lousy in return.” Then he faced Jonathan. “And then you come and treat me like I am traitor. I never betrayed you, Mr. Jones. Never once, not even during our fight with Pablo. I could have been a rich man if I had betrayed you, but I never do.”

“You would have been a dead man if you’d betrayed us,” Boxers said.

“Back then we all think we are dead men anyway,” Jose countered. “I could have been much safer telling people about you, but I never do that.”