Trader of secrets

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Liquida began the painful shimmy like a snake through the ducting, pushing with the rubber toes of his running shoes, pulling with his hands as best he could. He tried to make as little noise as possible, though the constant roar of the air conditioner sucking air through the return would have swallowed almost any sound coming from the vents.

He was moving away from the control room and the space next to it with the banks of computers. As he approached the next register, Liquida pulled the stiletto from the sheath in his coat. He used the sharp point to part several openings in the glass fibers of the filter so he could peek through the slatted metal vents down into the room below.

There was a long counter that separated the room into two sections. The door to the main corridor outside was closed and, if Liquida had to guess, it was locked. It wasn’t a solid-core wooden door like the one to Liquida’s room. This one was steel with a sensor on the wall so it could be opened with an electronic key card.

A man was seated at a desk against the wall on the left side of the room behind the counter. Liquida could see the back of his head as the guy worked over what looked like a set of books.

Against the opposite wall behind him was a large industrial safe, double doors, thick tempered steel that looked to be at least eight inches with two large cylindrical stainless-steel bolts protruding from each of the two open doors. Inside were stacks of cash, what looked like greenbacks, U.S. currency, enough of it to fill a small van.

Liquida wondered how many people worked here. Whoever they were, they weren’t taking their salary by check or in pesos. And neither was he.

With the ramp on the belly of the Hercules C-130 partway down, the noise from the four roaring Allison turboprop engines was deafening. Sarah had to cover both ears with her hands as wind swirled through the cargo hold. Herman held on to Bugsy’s leash as the three of them huddled against the side of the plane in front of the smaller cargo container.

Every once in a while Sarah would crawl to the corner of the container and look toward the back of the plane to see what they were looking at. All she could see from where she knelt was an endless green carpet of jungle. She felt the plane gaining altitude. She crawled back to Herman, petting Bugsy with one hand on the way.

“Good luck finding a place to land,” shouted Herman.

She nodded. “What if they can’t find one?”

Herman shrugged a shoulder and gave her a face like he had no clue.

“You think they’ll try to parachute?” she asked.

Herman shook his head. “Not into that.” What he meant was the jungle canopy. Anybody jumping into an area of dense foliage like that was asking for trouble. Most, if not all, would get hung up in the trees. Those who didn’t break bones or get killed in the fall would be easy targets for anybody on the ground with a rifle.

“Sarah!”

When she looked up, Adin was at the top of the ladder looking down from the flight deck. He waved them up and motioned for her to tie off the dog.

Sarah looped Bugsy’s leash through the cargo net on the side of the plane and tied it. She settled him down into a prone position on deck and petted him, then followed Herman up the ladder.

Once they were inside the flight compartment, Adin pointed out through the small windshield in front of the pilot. Off in the distance were two looming white dishes, one of them large enough that it looked like a giant parasol someone had dropped in the jungle.

Adin looked at her. “That has to be it.” He glanced at Herman.

“When Paul said antennas, I was thinking more along the lines of a series of towers,” said Herman.

“No.” Adin shook his head. “You see the smaller dish?”

Sarah and Herman squinted out toward the windshield and then nodded.

“That’s a radio telescope,” said Adin. “It’s not real big. Not as large as the ones in Puerto Rico, but it’s enough to see out into space.”

Herman gave him a puzzled look. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“It’s what we’re looking for,” said Adin.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me, that’s it,” said Adin. “Look off to the left.” He took Herman by the arm and pointed. “You see that clearing next to the buildings?”

Herman squinted and then nodded.

“Pilot says it looks like a landing strip. Can’t tell if it’s paved from this distance, but it should be enough for us; that is, if it’s long enough.”

“You’re not gonna try and land there, are you?” said Herman.

Adin nodded. “It’s our best bet. If we get on the ground fast and off-load, they’ll never know what hit them.” He took a couple of steps forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

“If that’s the place, you’re out of your mind,” said Herman.

Immediately the plane’s wing dipped. The C-130 made a deep banking turn, dropped altitude, and veered off to the left.

Sarah lost her footing. Adin grabbed her and held on until the plane leveled off. It circled away from the two massive dishes in the jungle and took a heading south toward Coba.

“Get your guys ready!” The pilot yelled over his shoulder to Teo Ben Rabin, who was seated behind him. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. I’ll approach low in over the trees,” said the pilot. “They gotta be ready to move the second we hit that runway.”

“Got it,” said Uncle Ben. “Excuse me.” He pushed past Sarah and Adin and headed for the cargo bay.

“I want the two of you to get down behind that first cargo container in the center aisle. When we land, I want as much metal between you and whatever is around those buildings as possible. That’ll be the safest place for now,” said Adin. “If we start to take fire and they hit the fuel tank, get out of the plane fast. Don’t go out the ramp,” said Adin. “You’ll never make it. Use one of the forward cargo doors and keep the plane between you and any incoming rounds, understood?”

Sarah nodded. “Where are you going to be?”

“On the Jeep,” said Adin. “I’ll be OK. Worry about yourself,” he told her. “It was stupid of me to allow you to come.”

“Worry about that later,” she said.

“You watch her,” he told Herman.

“I can take care of myself,” said Sarah.

“Why don’t you land somewhere else and try and buy some time?” said Herman. “Now that you know where it is, what’s the rush?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any time,” said Adin. “It may be now or never. You understand what I said about getting off the plane?”

“Got it,” said Herman.

“You’re in charge of her and the dog. I want them alive when it’s over.” He looked at Sarah. “Take care of yourself. Stay down low.” She was trying to put on a brave face, but she was scared. He could tell by the look on her face.

What Herman didn’t tell Adin was that he had climbed up into the container where Ben Rabin’s men had first hidden. While Uncle Ben’s men were busy looking out the ramp at the back of the plane, Herman jobbed two nine-millimeter Berettas and four clips of ammunition from a duffel bag stashed inside the container. He would have preferred to take one of their nifty Tavor rifles, but he figured it might be missed.

To Herman’s thinking, if he and Sarah could stay alive long enough, there would be plenty of opportunity to pick up loose weapons off the ground from some of the S-13 men who didn’t make it. Herman didn’t think much of their plan to land on the field. To him it was suicide.