Revolution Device by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lyons trudged through the dense jungle, occasionally swinging a machete to clear cable-like vines and other growth blocking his way. Schwarz walked a parallel path about ten yards to his right, maintaining distance so they weren’t too bunched up if someone started shooting at them. A military helicopter had dropped Lyons and Schwarz about two miles from Escobar’s stronghold. Togged in jungle fatigues, their faces striped with green, brown and black combat paint, the pair had already trudged most of that distance. A glance at his GPS unit told Lyons they were about two-tenths of a mile from Escobar’s place.

Within minutes of killing Castillo, Lyons had called Stony Man Farm and asked for intel about the stronghold. Other than some satellite photos, there’d been little data to mine. The training camp was in the middle of nowhere. Obviously whoever had built it hadn’t filed architectural plans with local city authorities. Any sewage, water and electrical infrastructure had been paid for by the owner and built privately. The only paperwork the cyber team had found was a deed from when Escobar apparently had purchased the property through a front company ten or so years ago.

In other words, Lyons and Schwarz had no idea what they were wading into. More guards, more guns, at least one hostage. After that, it was a big question mark.

Schwarz’s voice sounded in Lyons’s earpiece. “Almost there,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lyons replied. “Keep your eyes peeled. I have to think Escobar’s expecting us or someone like us to hit. He has to have sentries working outside the fence.”

“If he has the manpower.”

“Assume he does,” Lyons growled. “And stay hydrated. It’s stinking hot out here.”

“Yes, mom,” Schwarz replied.

Lyons could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck, his shirt sticking to his back and chest, sweat darted down the length of his thighs and along his calves before being absorbed into his socks. He guessed it was ninety-plus degrees with humidity levels off the chart. The canopy of trees overhead kept the sun off them, but also trapped the heat and humidity like a greenhouse.

Since they’d chartered a plane from Mexico to Paraguay, the Stony Man warriors had kept most of their weapons from the hit on Castillo’s ranch. Playing a hunch, Lyons had switched out the Masterkey on his M-4 and replaced it with a grenade launcher, which was loaded with a fragmentation round at the moment. He’d also added a .357 Desert Eagle as a backup gun.

They’d walked another two minutes when Lyons heard something up ahead; the sharp snap of someone stepping on a branch. He stopped. A glance at Schwarz showed he’d done likewise.

“Stay put,” Lyons said. “I’ll check it out.”

“Roger.”

Lyons pressed ahead. As they closed in on Escobar’s place, the brush seemed to thin out some. He started to see real signs of life: a cigarette pack crumpled and discarded, footprints pressed into the dirt, brass shell casings, probably from when a bored guard decided to fire off a couple of rounds at a bird.

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