Breaking Loose

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Creed awoke to the sound of a ringing phone. He was lying flat on his back in the dark… in a cave, that was right. And he’d gotten hit by a pile driver… yeah, that was right.

He rolled onto his side, curled up, and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Geezus. He put one hand on his forehead before he got to his feet. Geezus.

He flipped on his flashlight, arranged his carbine so the sling wasn’t all cattywampus, and then he found the phone, lying on the dock, about twenty feet away.

“Hello,” he said when he answered it.

“What are you doing answering Suzi’s phone?” Dylan asked. He’d recognize the boss’s voice in his sleep.

“I found it in the cave under the house. The one behind the gate we could see on the river.”

“You have Suzi with you?”

“No.” He turned his head one way, very gently, then the other way, just as gently.

“Farrel?”

“No.” He had a few kinks from rumbling with the guy, but he did not have the guy.

“So we lost him.” Dylan didn’t sound too glad about that bit of news.

“Maybe Zach got him.” But Creed doubted it. One guy was not going to take down Conroy Farrel.

“Zach just checked in, empty-handed,” Dylan said. “The house is clear, and he’s headed down to you. Superman and I are coming in.”

“Good.” That was all good. Zach had cleared the house, while he, Creed, had gotten his clock cleaned.

Damn. He knew what he’d seen. It was all coming back in Technicolor.

“What about Killian?” Dylan asked. “We saw him take a go-fast boat out of that cave and head up-river after the gunboat. Have you-forget it. Here he comes now.”

Creed heard it, too.

“Or at least that’s the boat,” Dylan said. “Can you see who’s in it from where you are?”

“I’m in a cave, boss.”

“Oh…right.”

He heard Dylan saying something to Hawkins.

“Okay,” the boss came back on the phone. “Cristo here brought along his night vision goggles, so he’s up one-”

“Two,” Creed heard Superman say.

“Bull, two… oh, he’s taking a point for his superlative body count on the Paraguayans, and all I can say is I hope we don’t read about this in the damn papers. You see a CNN reporter up there anywhere?”

“No.” His head was clearing a little now.

“And we have positive identification on Suzi Toussi and Dax Killian coming out of the Tambo River, lounging comfortably in the front seats, with no one else on board, and I’m guessing heading back to Ciudad del Este,” Dylan gave the report. “We’re going to need to talk to him.”

“Debrief him.”

“Find out what he’s been up to since he left the Army.”

“Maybe get him on board,” Creed said. It’s what they’d all been thinking since Dax Killian had shown up in Denver six months ago, working a job that had ended up involving one of their own. The guy was a legend, very skilled, and they all knew for a fact that he could steal a car blindfolded with one arm tied behind his back. He had chop-shop chops.

“Yeah. I’ve been talking to Grant.”

“Good.” SDF was always running just a little shorthanded it seemed lately, at least to Creed. The world needed saving eighteen times a day some weeks.

“So what can you tell me about Farrel?”

“I saw him.” Up close and personal.

“And?”

“And we need to bring him in. No assassination. And if the CIA sends anybody else after him, we need to take them out.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

“Okay then…got it.”

Yeah, Creed knew how the boss was suddenly feeling, gut-punched, and sick, and maybe elated, except he’d be too confused to get very far with that one, and edging up behind all that, moving in fast, like a frickin’ freight train, would be the anger.

Yeah, Creed knew all about it. What he didn’t know was what to do with all of it-except put each overwhelming emotion in a box, and put each box someplace where none of them would get mixed in together, because man, that was one toxic brew. Compartmentalization-it was the only way.

“We’ve got his girl,” Dylan said. “If we can’t find him, he’ll come to us.”

And they’d sure as hell better be damn good and ready for when that happened.

“Stay where you are,” Dylan continued. “We’re at the boat. The package is still in good shape, and we’ll be there in about five minutes. We’ll check the compound, rifle through Farrel’s house, steal everything we find, and then go see what happened to that gunboat.”

Hell.

“Sounds like a long night, boss.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll have you home before dawn.”