The Jaguar

13

“That is not Veracruz,” said Bradley, poking his finger against the window glass of the Chinook. The air was spotted with turbulence and the ride was rough. “It’s Guadalajara.”

“There has been a change,” said Fidel. He had piloted the craft for nearly seven hours. They had gotten a late start from El Dorado, which had greatly angered Bradley. “We will stop near Guadalajara.”

“But Carlos has a safe strip for us in Veracruz.”

“We need to see some people.”

“We need to get Erin off the Yucatan. We’re eleven hundred miles from the Yucatan, Fidel. You start late. You make changes. You’re making me angrier.”

“I am so sorry for that. But we have new information. The man I told you about. The one we were questioning.”

“We’ve been in the air all day.”

“It came yesterday.”

“This is bullshit and I don’t like it. Carlos won’t, either. He recruited you to help me, not to risk Erin’s life.”

Fidel gave him a dark look that encompassed Erin within his own history. Bradley saw that his quest to save Erin was only a part of Fidel’s quest, a subordinate fragment of the dream that was to avenge his wife and family, and he felt the nearly blind fury stirring inside again. It was always right there, up near the surface, invisible and powerful.

“Would you like to fly us to Veracruz, Bradley?”

“I can’t fly this thing.”

“No, of course not. Then you be a good soldier and do what I tell you to do.”

Someone pushed into the flight deck. Bradley heard the roar of the motor and rotors when the bulkhead door opened and he turned to see Caroline Vega glaring down at him.

“You only missed Veracruz by six hundred miles.”

“I was just explaining that to Fidel,” said Bradley.

“And I was just explaining to Jones that we have a change of plans,” said Fidel.

“Like what kind of change?” asked Vega.

“We need fuel.”

“What are all those drums of fuel in the back for? I kicked one of them. It wasn’t empty.”

“You can never have too much fuel,” said Fidel. He turned and smiled up at her. “So now we stop for fuel.”

“Who’s in charge here, Bradley? Is it you or him?”

“I will let you two decide who is in charge,” said Fidel.

With this he clicked off his shoulder restraint, stood and left the cockpit.

“Can you fly this, Brad?”

“No. You?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Vega worked her way into the pilot seat and surveyed the instruments before her and reached out her hands but wasn’t sure where to put them. She looked helplessly at Bradley.

He felt the big machine groaning along but it felt different to him, as if a great weight was climbing onto its back. There was a hesitation and a dreamy yaw that brought his stomach up into his throat.

“Do something, Brad.”

He climbed from the copilot seat and clambered out of the flight deck with his hands on the bulkhead for balance and support. He looked back into the huge cargo and passenger bay, where the four black Yukons waited and most of the twenty men napped on litters. Most of the men wore the tan camo fatigues and shirts and desert boots of their leader, but two had changed into navy pants and light blue shirts with white oval patches over the left breast. Fidel was about to open a bottle of Bohemia and sit down with them.

Bradley approached. “You made your point.”

The men looked at him with boredom or contempt.

“Good,” said Fidel. “In another twenty seconds you would have been too late and we would all soon die.”

“And I have a point to make also, Fidel.” He swung the barrel of his AirLite flush up against Fidel’s forehead, cocking back the hammer mid-swing. “If you’re not on your way to the cockpit in five seconds I’ll pull. I’m sure one of these guys can fly this thing. I will not wait six seconds, Fidel. I simply will not wait. And we are not stopping until we get to Veracruz. So now, five, four, three…”

Bradley counted fast and on “one,” Fidel shrugged away from the pistol and started for the cockpit. Bradley fell in behind him, gun still up and ready, scanning the hostile eyes of the men as he walked. “Remain clear on who’s running this show, shitbird. And everything will be cool.”