Redeemer by Dawson Mark

Author:Dawson, Mark [Dawson, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Crime, Mystery
Amazon: B07BNQ2X49
Goodreads: 39355228
Publisher: Unputdownable
Published: 2018-04-19T07:00:00+00:00

47

G roup Fifteen maintained arms caches all around the world. Most countries were covered, with the larger or more politically interesting ones being accorded multiple sites. Standard operating procedure was for the agents to infiltrate the country under the cover of the legends that had been prepared for them—businessmen or women, tourists, diplomats—and then to equip themselves with whatever the operation demanded once they were in country. Milton had used many of them during his time in the Group and had taken advantage of them after he had left, too. Some of them were unattended, like the crate that had been buried in the bayou outside New Orleans. Others were maintained by local quartermasters, just as Harry administered this dump in Rio.

They were in Parada de Lucas, to the north of the city. Avenida Brasil was a large eight-lane highway that passed through a district that was given over to industrial and office use. Everywhere looked rough and down-at-heel. They passed a series of empty municipal buses that had been left at the edge of the road, and then went by the depot where the buses were maintained. Trash was dumped outside buildings, and the walls had been marked with graffiti. The road itself was in dreadful condition, and the BMW bumped up and down as they drove along it, the antiquated suspension groaning and whining with every new pothole.

Marks approached a high concrete wall that was surmounted by billboards advertising local businesses. He indicated, slowed down and turned off. The new road was typical for the area: ancient warehouses, some barely standing, lined both sides of the street. Lines of cars had been parked outside the warehouses, and a tangle of telephone wires stretched between the poles overhead. The wall, painted white and blue, bent around and ended with a pair of heavy corrugated iron gates. A hand-painted sign that had been fixed to one of the gates advertised a mechanic, and a sign on its twin offered praise to God.

“Nice area,” Milton said.

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”

Marks sounded the horn and waited for two men to open the gates. He leaned out of the window and spoke with one of the men in fluent Portuguese, reaching into his pocket and taking out a banknote that he pressed into the man’s hand. The man nodded his thanks, raised a hand to acknowledge Milton, and then opened the gates the rest of the way so that Marks could drive through. There was a yard, with a series of brick garages built against the flanks of the larger warehouses that formed its northern perimeter. The garages had not been expertly constructed, and some looked as if they were ready to collapse.

Marks parked the BMW in an empty space and stepped outside. Milton followed. It was already almost unbearably hot, and Milton’s head throbbed as he followed Marks to the garage at the end of the row. Marks knelt down and undid the padlock with a key that he carried on a loop in his pocket.

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