When they were gone, Guarapo closed the door. He leaned against the door frame, watching Rickard with the same undisguised hatred as earlier. The big German took his post at the other side, but he merely looked aloofly at the proceedings. Rickard ignored them both.

He twisted in his seat so that he could stare directly into the eyes of Silva. “I can give you Cesar Calle, but my terms remain the same as we discussed.”

Silva waved a hand at the circle of men. “They are all in agreement with me. Lead them to Calle and when he is dead you are welcome to take your prize.”

“Calle is well protected, but I see you have massed your troops. I think they will be enough to keep his army busy while I see to him.”

“I want him to die in pain, Señor Rickard. I want Calle to know what it is to think he can take what belongs to me.”

“You will hear the screaming all the way from here.”

Rickard stood up and lifted his bag to his shoulder. To the assembled group of soldiers, he said, “Are you ready, gentlemen?”

Rickard didn’t care about Cesar Calle. Like Jorge Gutierrez, he was simply a go-between for the one who had hired him to slay Joe Hunter and his team. He would kill Calle, but it wasn’t his priority. He wanted his prize: time with the one who thought that Rickard could be discarded like a soiled rag.

Chapter 32

32

“Is there anything else you need?”

I shook my head at Hector Nunez, and touched the SIG where I’d stowed it in a quick-draw holster on my hip. “Got everything I need right here.”

He smiled, tight lipped, then nodded me over to the Cherokee. Rink and Harvey were already in the back and Charles in the driver’s post. The engine grumbled and a wisp of smoke rose slowly from the exhaust pipe. I climbed in, giving my friends a wink. We were about to get moving again after hours of inactivity I could have done without.