. 05

The two men immediately froze when Steve pointed the handgun at them. Steve risked a few quick glances around to determine if the two had any companions somewhere close. He saw no one else. By this time the girls were awake. Roxie was struggling to pull her shirt on while Sam clung to her.

Steve carefully stood as he studied the two men. They didn't look like cartel men. They were very poorly dressed and one was much older than the other. Both men were heavily armed, however, and Steve was concerned about them trying to collect the bounty placed on his head.

"Mr. Hammer," began the younger man in excellent English. "We are here to help you. My father and I have brought you some very good weapons which we have accumulated over the past twenty months. We hope you'll consider us for the reward when you safely return to the United States."

"What? The reward? What am I missing? You two have to help the cartel catch me to collect that money. I hate to disappoint you, but that isn't going to happen!" stated Steve emphatically as he raised his gun higher in a threatening manner.

"Not that reward!" explained the younger man quickly. "No one believes Juan Flores would ever pay that money. I'm talking about the million dollars American if we help you escape. That's what it says on this paper."

The young man carefully extended his hand and showed a flyer to Steve. Watching the man closely, Steve took the paper from his hand and passed it to Roxie.

"Read that to me while I keep my eyes on these guys. I want to hear every word exactly as it's written," instructed Steve to the teen.

Roxie looked at the paper for a few second before she broke into a huge smile and began reading. "Lady in Red Productions is offering the sum of one million American dollars to anyone who actively helps Steve Hammer, Samantha Thompson, and Roxanne Thompson return to the United States in good health. This payment is personally promised, and guaranteed, by Gwen Anderson, Jordan Quick, and the Lady in Red Production Company. It's signed By Gwen Anderson and Jordan Quick! It looks like the same message is written in Spanish, too."

Steve briefly considered the information Roxie had just given him. He had to admit that it sounded like something Gwen would do.

"Do you really believe that they would pay you all of this money, if you help us?" asked Steve of the two men.

"With all due respect, we totally trust Gwen Anderson and Jordan Quick. We know they're extremely wealthy and donate large sums to charity. Everyone knows about the hospital in Kiev, the new one in your home town, and the many things you all have done to help others. They'll keep their promise. It's also very well known that they're both extremely fond of you, to say the least," responded the younger man with a smile.

"So you'll help us for money? You want to be the richest guy in this part of Colombia? Is that your goal," asked Steve suspiciously. "You don't look greedy enough, or crazy enough, to risk your lives for any amount of dinero. It's no good if you're dead."

"It isn't for us," replied the son evenly. "My sister's son is very ill. He needs much better care than we can afford to give him. If we earn the reward, we'll take him to America, to the new hospital in your town. We'll have enough money for the best care possible."

"I see," responded Steve slowly as he considered the man's words. "Why isn't the boy's father here helping, too? It seems like he'd be the first one to risk his life for his son."

"The cartel men caught him hiding a girl they were searching for. She came to my brother-in-law along the road and begged for his help. He tried to hide her in his small home, but someone saw her with him and reported it to the cartel. Flores himself, along with his son, came to my sister's home with many men. They dragged the girl out and raped her repeatedly in front of my sister, her son, and her husband. Then they laughed as Flores shot the girl in the head. Then his son shot my brother-in-law, while my sister and her boy watched. Flores told them he was a merciful leader and would allow my sister and her child live. Then he and his men drove away."

"That explains a few things," conceded Steve. "You want to save your nephew, and you can make some money at the same time. And you don't trust Flores. Now I understand your motivation. So what's with all of those rifles? Do you want to fight Flores army? That would get you killed pretty fast," predicted Steve.

"No, we're not trained soldiers. The rifles are for you. They're very powerful and shoot a great distance. Tomorrow you'll need them when the cartel catches you by the river."

"Why don't I like the sound of that? Why do you think the cartel will catch us anyplace, let alone by the river?" questioned Steve.

"I have been listening to their communications. Cell phones are useless here, so they use radios. I happen to have one that allows me to listen to everything they say. They have been told by someone that you are in the area. They've determined that you'll try to reach the river and possibly travel down it. They expect to intercept you with a hundred men or more."

Steve did his best to conceal his surprise. The man had just described his plan, more or less! He was under the impression that no one had seen him and the girls and their whereabouts was unknown.

"Are they at the river now, waiting for us to walk into a trap?" demanded Steve as he forced himself to remain calm and consider his situation carefully. The two girls needed him to make the right decisions.

"There are a few dozen there watching for you. Flores and his son expect to join them tomorrow. They are a couple hours north, but will be driving down to meet them."

Steve considered his predicament for a few minutes as the girls sat in the shade and waited. The two men watched Steve as he thought over the information they had given him.

"Even if we go another way, we'll still need to find transportation to get out of this part of the world. Otherwise, we'll be in this jungle for months. Maybe we can find a car, or a motorcycle, so we can travel faster. If you guys are going to wring a million bucks out of me, you'd better have some ideas. You won't get paid if we don't make it," reminded Steve. "Do you know where we can get some sort of transportation?"

"My cousin has a friend that flies a helicopter. He has flown into this area a few times. Flores thought he was transporting drugs for a rival, so he put the word out that he'd kill my cousin's friend if he came back. He'd be willing to pick you up and fly you and the girls to safety," suggested the young Colombian.

"Well great! Have him pick us up in ten minutes. We'll be out of here, and you'll be a lot richer," responded Steve sarcastically.

"There's just one problem," replied the young man, ignoring Steve's obvious disbelief. "He won't fly in until you kill Flores and his son. His fear of them exceeds his desire for money."

"I see," nodded Steve. "All I have to do is survive the ambush Flores has set up for me, kill him and his worthless son, and then give you, your father, and some friend of a cousin of yours each a million dollars, and I'll be homeward bound. Does that pretty well cover it?"

"Not quite," admitted the young Colombian sheepishly. "My father asks for no money. He only wants you to take my sister and her son with you to America, and get him into your hospital."

"That's all?" replied Steve with sarcasm. "I'm committed to getting these two girls back home. Now you want to add a sick child and her mother? I don't even know who, or where they are, or how to get them to the helicopter, if I manage to get the guy to fly here. Wait! Let me guess. You've got that figured out, too?"

"Within half an hour of the deaths of Flores and his son, the helicopter will arrive to pick you and the girls up. It will then fly to my father's house, where my sister and her son will join you for the trip to an undetermined location. From there, you will be flown back to your home town, in a somewhat covert manner, but the final result will see you reaching Sparta," promised the man. "You will owe me, the helicopter pilot, the plane pilot, and possibly one more pilot one million dollars each.

"It sounds like you've given this some thought," admitted Steve. "Do you have any ideas on how to, ... ah, terminate those two? When we reach Sparta, I'll see that everyone is paid."

"That, Mr. Hammer, is your field of expertise. These weapons should be a great help. My father will return home now and have my sister prepare to leave for the U.S. She and her son have passports and visas, although you will most definitely not be passing through customs," chuckled the man grimly. "It's better to ask forgiveness than permission."

"Let me have a look at those rifles," insisted Steve. "I need to know what I'm dealing with here."

The man placed the boxes on the ground and handed Steve the rifles. Steve checked the first rifle. Steve's eyes lit up when he realized that it was a Remington M24A3SWS chambered for the .338 Lapua Magnum with a Leupold scope. The second rifle was simply a standard Remington .300 Magnum hunting rifle. While not likely to be as accurate at greater distances, it would be very effective within four hundred yards. Steve looked in the boxes the men had placed on the ground to find magazines and ammunition for the weapons.

"You'll have to help us carry these weapons to the ridge we passed a few miles back. Then you can sit back and watch, and be ready to call in that helicopter," predicted Steve. "Come on, girls. We've got some ground to cover."

Steve recalled how the road had snaked its way through a ravine in the mountains a few miles back. He decided that it would be the best place to make his stand against the cartel forces. They would be expecting him to be by the river, thus never anticipating any trouble in the mountains.

The sisters never complained as they backtracked. They circled around away from the road and steadily climbed up the rocky terrain above the small highway. Steve finally signaled for the group to stop. He surveyed the road below and nodded.

The road from the north entered the cut in the mountains to Steve's left and made a sharp turn, almost directly north. It ran that way for a few hundred yards then looped back south again, passing almost directly below Steve's vantage point.

"I'll need your name, or you'll never get your money," stated Steve to the Colombian as he was preparing to leave.

"My sister will give you all the information you need," assured the man. "You have to stay alive; that and kill the father and son Flores. If you make it to the states, I'll be watching my bank account."

"Do you think we'll ever make it out of here?" asked a worried Roxie. "I was starting to think that if we walked long and far enough, we'd make it. Now it looks like we're in for a fight. I'm just glad that you're on our side."

"I'm sorry you girls have to be involved in this. I want you both to stay down in this little ravine and keep these magazines loaded with shells. Think you can do that?" asked Steve somewhat gently. "I'm going to be busy doing my best to keep those men from catching us and I'll need your help."

"Sure, we can do that! I watched you put the bullets in two of them and it looked pretty simple. Maybe we should practice some before things start getting hot," suggested Roxie. "We don't want to let you down."

Steve emptied two magazines and had the girls practice filling them. It was a relatively simple task and the girls had no trouble performing it.

"We have two different calibers, so you each will have your own box of shells to fill your own magazines. These black ones will be the ones you fill, Sam. You use shells from that box. Roxie, you have the gray ones and will use this box. That's all you have to remember, along with keeping your heads down. We'll be home in a couple days or so and this'll just be a memory," promised Steve with considerably more confidence than he felt.

He was extremely worried about getting the girls home. He saw it as his duty and he hated the idea of failing, and of harm coming to the girls. He knew the risks he could face when he joined the military, but the two girls never signed up for any of this. He'd do his best and hope it was be good enough.

It was a couple hours before dusk when he saw the procession headed toward him. There were six trucks with about ten men in each. A large Mercedes limo followed a half mile behind them. The windows were darkly tinted, but Steve felt it was likely that the two Flores were riding in the luxury car.

"Aren't you going to shoot them?" asked Roxie as she peered over the rock ledge next to Steve. "There's getting really close."

"We have to wait until we can inflict the most casualties," replied Steve as he watched the procession start through the mountain cut.

The trucks were spaced rather far apart, so the lead truck was almost out of the ravine as the last truck was headed into it. "You girls get down now, and stay down."

Steve had already lined up the dozen old grenades he had appropriated the day he found the girls. They were sitting on a rock bench a foot below the top of the ledge. As he picked one up, he considered what he was about to do. It was apparent to him now that the cartel was able to keep up with his general location. They were determined to catch him and the girls.

Their hiding and traveling mostly at night had not gotten them very far in the rough terrain. The girls were losing weight and showing signs of anxiety. It had become obvious to Steve that what he had been doing wasn't working very well. They were still alive, but in constant danger.

Steve had attended classes on war and strategy. He knew he had to shake his enemy to the core, destroy its morale, and kill the leadership, if possible. If he didn't, it was unlikely that he and the girls would survive the ordeal. Knowing that he would have a way out of the country if he was successful had been the deciding factor.

Once he decided on a course of action, Steve made his preparations. He forced himself to consider how he would inflict maximum pain and suffering on his enemy. He had to think of them as the enemy and be ruthless in his plans. His safety and the safety of the two sisters required it.

Steve watched the trucks as they moved along the road through the narrow ravine . The road was winding and rough, thus limiting the speed the vehicles could travel. He took a quick breath and stood. He began throwing the grenades at the moving vehicles below him. He threw three as quickly as he could at the first three trucks.

Without taking the time to see where his throws landed, he turned and threw two more grenades at the last two trucks as they entered the ravine to his left. As he let go of those grenades, he heard the first concussion. He turned back to look at the lead vehicle. It was smashed against the side of the ravine with fire and smoke billowing from it. Several bodies were littered along the road behind it. The second vehicle was jammed against the rock with smoke pouring out from under the hood. Armed men were awkwardly climbing off the back of the truck. The third vehicle was stopped, but appeared to have avoided any direct damage. Men were looking over the back of the vehicle, pointing their weapons in various directions. That had not yet located Steve's position.

Steve quickly glanced at the last two trucks he had targeted. The last truck in the convoy had apparently taken a direct hit. It sat in the road engulfed in flames with no movement from within. The truck directly in front of it was on its side. Men were scurrying from it like rats from a sinking ship.

"Okay, girls, keep your heads down and be ready to reload. Steve hefted the .300 Magnum and took aim. He looked for men that carried weapons and seemed intent on locating him. Knowing the shocking power of the big caliber, Steve aimed for shoulders and knees when possible. No man would have any desire to carry on the battle after being struck by the lead projectile Steve was sending their way.

He steeled himself against feeling empathy for the men he shot. They were trying to capture and/or kill him. The atrocities they had committed over the past few years were well known. Still, Steve felt conflicted as he quickly went from target to target, maiming most and killing some. He put the empty rifle down near Roxie and picked up the .338.

This time he concentrated on the men that were further away. They were seeking shelter in the large rocks along the road. They had determined Steve's position and were firing their assault rifles at him. The distance where most of the men had taken refuge was over three hundred yards.

Steve doubted many of the men had been properly trained with their weapons. With open sights, the fear of being shot, and the limitations of their weapons, Steve felt that he was relatively safe as long as he presented a very small target. He methodically began picking off the men shooting at him. He simply waited for one to look around or over a rock and quickly squeezed off a shot. He found two brave souls attempting to climb up a rock wall off to his left. Two quick shots brought them down.

By this time bullets were spraying around his hiding place. He put the .338 next to Sam and picked the loaded .300 up again. He worked a round into the chamber and resumed firing. Targets were harder to find, but Steve was patient. He shot only at men indicating they wanted to continue the fight. He ignored the wounded men, as well as those helping them as they crawled or staggered to hiding spots.

The sun was beginning to set when Steve saw the opportunity he had hoped for. There were only a hand full of fighting men left, and they had pretty much lost their appetite for the battle. They seemed content to sit behind large boulders and wait for dark.

Up the road, less than a mile away, Steve saw two figures standing by the Mercedes. One was obviously Flores. He was said to weigh almost four hundred pounds. A man fitting that description stood next to a tall, much thinner man. There were several other men moving back and forth, apparently following various orders from their boss.

Steve picked up the .338 and carefully adjusted the scope. He judged the distance to be about 1000 meters, well within the killing range of the rifle in his hands. He carefully cradled the weapon and took slow measured breaths. Steve decided to go for the son first as he would likely be quicker to react to a bullet hitting his father. Roxie had seen Steve change from the direction he had been aiming and peeked over the rocks to see what he was doing. She barely sighted the two men by the car, when the rifle in Steve's arms barked.

Steve quickly worked the bolt, sliding a fresh cartridge into the chamber and took aim. He saw the tall men slump to the ground and the obese one turn to look at what Steve assumed was his son. Once again, the rifle in Steve's arms erupted. Roxie watched spellbound as the larger man staggered and slowly collapsed.

Something struck the rock next to Steve's head and sent shards into the side of his face. Steve pulled his hand gun from his waist as he turned to face his attackers. Two men were taking aim at him with their handguns as Steve felt the gun in his hand buck against his palm. Both men fell over backwards, but not before getting off several more shots.

"Damn it!" cursed Steve as he brought his hand to his left shoulder. Blood was already running down his arm. He walked over to the two dead men and roughly ripped a handful of one man's shirt from his dead body. Steve folded the strip into a square bandage. Then he reached down and yanked most of the remaining shirt from the dead man's torso. He wrapped it over his shoulder and around his arm. Then he turned to look at Roxie.