Against All Enemies by Tom Clancy;Peter Telep

Author:Tom Clancy;Peter Telep
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Taliban, Action & Adventure, Mexico, Drug Traffic - Middle East, Fiction, United States, Suspense, Middle East, War & Military, Thrillers, Suspense Fiction, Terrorism, Drug Traffic - Mexico
ISBN: 9780399157301
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2011-06-13T07:00:00+00:00

24

HE THAT DIES PAYS ALL DEBTS

San Cristóbal de las Casas

Chiapas, Mexico

MOORE SWUNG AROUND, his gaze probing the throngs of tourists, sweeping from left to right, then farther down the street toward the more crowded market.

Between all the colors worn by the vendors and the shifting about of the pedestrians, Moore realized, in the mere instant he’d taken his eyes off Miguel and Sonia and looked to Corrales he’d lost the couple. That fast. A few heartbeats. They must’ve been approached by gunmen and quietly ushered away.

It wasn’t exactly panic that set in but a kind of electricity that coursed through Moore’s veins, humming in tune to the rapid beating of his heart.

A car engine fired up, the sound originating from the next corner. Moore bolted off, weaving his way through the shoppers and reaching the corner, where at the foot of a steep hill Miguel and Sonia were running across the street to the next alley. They were being pursued by two short men dressed like local farmers, who just happened to be carrying pistols. Maybe they had been led away—but they’d made their break.

The lead guy fired two shots at the couple, but the rounds were clearly warning shots that burrowed into the whitewashed walls behind them as they disappeared into the alley. The guy could have easily killed them both. So these men, whoever they were, wanted prisoners as well.

They weren’t members of the Sinaloa Cartel. The question was, how many other groups had Corrales and his cronies pissed off? Damn, they were probably lining up to take potshots at the punk from the all-powerful Juárez Cartel, and now Moore swore under his breath. The mission was difficult enough without competition.

He fell in behind them but was trying to keep a safe-enough distance to avoid detection. He jogged into the narrow alley, and the rear guy must’ve heard Moore’s footfalls, because he stole a look back, then slowed—turning to fire.

Throwing himself toward the wall and reaching for his pistol, Moore evaded the first round by perhaps a meter before he had his pistol free from its holster, and returned two suppressed rounds, the cap-gun-like pop echoing off the walls.

The guy did likewise, diving for the wall.

Moore’s first shot missed the guy’s head by mere inches, but the second caught him in the shoulder, and with a half-strangled cry he dropped hard to the dirt.

Wishing he had time to call Fitzpatrick and Torres, Moore charged past the fallen guy, kicking his weapon away, turned right at the end of the alley, then found himself on another steep cobblestone road, with cars lining both sides.

Miguel and Sonia were on the sidewalk and struggling up the hill, with the lone guy still behind them. Their pursuer fired another warning round that shattered the rear window of a small pickup truck beside them. Then he screamed in Spanish for them to stop running.

Moore bounded forward as a car engine roared behind him. He craned his neck at the dark blue sedan as

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