Hunted – CORE Sector – First Chapter
Belize, 5:00 p.m.
Alec Brodie snapped a picture and looked down at the camera. The light already had the bruised, late-day pallor of a place too tired to be cheerful. The glare felt less like heat than accusation, a harsh, judgmental eye from above. He squinted and brought one hand up to shield the viewer from the sunlight peeking through the trees. The canopy knitted itself into a cathedral of shadow; leaves clattered like dry prayers. He hoped to complete the mission fast and go back home to England. However, he wouldn’t stay for long before he had to leave again. Such was the life of a spy.
His thumb found the button that would upload the picture through satellite and then delete it from the camera. Someone had carefully engineered safety precautions. This was the second time in recent months they had sent him to Belize. It wasn’t standard procedure to send the same man back into an area for surveillance, but he had a well-established cover. That was the only exception to the rule. He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. The bandana came away damp and smelling faintly of something older than sweat, like old paper left in a drawer. Another day in this heat with the tropical flies was one too many in his mind. He wanted to go home where the temperature was milder and the humidity didn’t suck the life out of him. He never cared much for tropical climates. It was supposed to be the rainy season, but so far he hadn’t seen any rain. Over two weeks, he’d been here, waiting on his target to show up. Two days ago, the boat arrived, ready to be loaded down with cargo. As much as he hated what they were doing, he was glad to see it pull in so he could finish up. If luck was on his side, he would finish his work by the end of the day and head back home by morning.
The mission was simple; take photographs, do not engage anyone. So far, so good. CORE was sanctioned to take care of the arms trade in this area, but no one went in without recon first. He wiped his face again and looked around, trying to find something touristy he could snap a few shots of. He’d been on the bridge taking pictures of the boats for too long. It was time to move on. The canal below him had warehouses and businesses on either side, each in some condition of decay. They were old and rotting. They leaned like tired sentries, windows like blind eyes; the whole place felt rehearsed for abandonment. Mold had mapped their faces into ghostly coronets; paint peeled in slow, ceremonial strips. The water was a stagnant stench. It lay there like a dark tongue, catching the sluggish reflections of a sick sky. He couldn’t understand why anyone wanted to use the place, but smugglers loved these types of locations. They appeared run down and desolate. It definitely wasn’t really the touristy side of town. Smugglers used this location to store and transport their goods under the cover of darkness. Most of the cargo that he monitored was going to Havana. From there, it’d make its way to Miami and on into the United States. Alec wasn’t concerned about America too much, but arms trading, that was a different story. America was a leading buyer, even though they denied it. It didn’t matter which country the weapons ended up in, but in Central America, it was a tremendous deal. He’d watched his share of drug smuggling throughout his assignments.
He’d personally like to work with Marcus more and bring some of those rings down, but his orders were to survey any extra movement in the arms trades. Word was out there was an uptick in activity.
While it was dangerous to go into territories where arms deals were hot, most of his assignments had been easy and uneventful. He blended in like a tourist and played the role of photoblogger well. He snapped a few shots of the east end of the canal before walking back to the other side of the bridge for one last glance at the cargo being loaded onto the boat. Movement in the alley close to the docks caught his attention.
Shit! Had he been spotted? For a single heartbeat the air itself felt conspiratorial, as if the town held its breath to see what would happen next. Two men were making their way up the small slope towards his location. Should he head in the opposite direction, or towards the men, being casual like he was returning to his room? Damn! The feeling in his gut told him they were coming for him. He didn’t need any altercations when he was so close to being done with this assignment. He headed towards them. With any luck, his gut feeling was wrong, and he could keep up the facade of a tourist. Problem was, his gut was rarely wrong. He snapped a few more shots of various landmarks to keep up the appearance, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach growing stronger.
As the men drew closer, he could tell by the look in their eyes they weren’t going out for coffee. Play it cool, he told himself as the distance between him and the men closed in. He took a deep breath and tried to sidestep them as they approached. Neither spoke as he passed. He felt a grip on his arm just before they spun him around to face the largest one. The smaller man stood behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The man’s foul breath accosted Alec’s nostrils. His stomach churned at the stench of liquor, garlic and poor dental hygiene. It was that or the man had just eaten dog shit. Looking at his filthy appearance, it wasn’t a farfetched thought. “I was thinking about dinner. Care to join me?”
“This ain’t the tourist section.”
“No shit!” The smart-ass in Alec reared its head. He waited for the backlash. When it didn’t come, he spoke again. “I don’t like the overcrowded spots. I enjoy being around the locals. Get more feel for the area that way.”
“See, that, my friend, can get you hurt. People might think yer lookin’ for trouble wandering ‘round in places you don’t got no business bein’ in. A man like that could find himself in the wrong place and then he’d get all messed up an’ ruin his little vacation.”
Alec looked down at the man’s hand as he tightened the grip on his arm. He glanced over his shoulder at the other man and then looked back at Dog Breath. Alec wasn’t sure if the man behind him was armed or not, but he had to act soon. “Man, I’m just checking the place out, taking some pictures to show the family back home.” Alec wanted to tell him he was the one looking for trouble, but he held his tongue. No sense starting a fight if he didn’t have to.
The guy behind him grabbed the camera. The rough nylon strap grazed down his bare arm. He suppressed the urge to take the guy out for touching his stuff. He watched as the man stepped up beside Dog Breath and shuffled through the pics on the camera.
Dog Breath looked up. “I see you like pretty women.”
“What man doesn’t?” Alec asked with a half smile.
“Maybe yer down here thinking yer gonna get lucky with a few of them?”
Before Alec could answer, the smaller guy looked up. “He takes boring pictures. Pretty women, yeah, but more buildings and landmarks. There’s only a few of some birds, the ocean and the usual tourist spots.”
Dog Breath looked at Alec. “I think it’s time for you to leave. Don’t let me see your face around here again.”
“What about my camera?” Alec asked, glancing towards the small guy.
“That’s the price you pay for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe you won’t make that mistake again.”
“Fair enough,” Alec replied as he glanced down at the man’s hand still holding onto his arm. “You gonna let me go?”
Dog Breath released his grip, pulled his arm back and showed with a nod of his head that he should start walking.
Alec didn’t waste any time taking the opening. He didn’t get in a hurry, but he headed off toward his bungalow. Once he got closer to the area where the tourist shops began, he glanced over his shoulder. The men were still standing there, watching him. Dog Breath smashed the camera, and both men headed in Alec’s direction. He instinctively took off running to stay ahead of them. He was sure it made him look guilty of something, but he’d pushed his luck once. No point in pushing it again.
He ducked down a dark alley towards the beach where a row of shabby bungalows was tucked up in a line of trees and shrub bushes. After two weeks with time on his hands, he’d gotten to know the area well. He hoped his pursuers weren’t familiar with the place. Judging by their accents, they were Cuban. Likely, the only area they knew around here were the docks at the canal. He slid into some bushes next to one bungalow and listened. The bushes whispered against his cheek , not the rustle of insects but the hush of something keeping vigil. When he couldn’t hear any footfalls from the men chasing him, he breathed a sigh of relief but stayed low to the ground. His buddy Marcus had taught him to never stick his head out too soon. The enemy was always willing to wait you out, just like a lion waiting for its prey to come out into the open again. The minutes ticked on.
* * *
He closed his eyes and listened. A chair skidded across the room in the bungalow he was leaning against. A woman’s voice started pleading with someone. He opened his eyes and looked over his left shoulder, spotting a small window, and eased himself up to peer in. Dammit! He didn’t need to get mixed up in what was going on inside. This wasn’t the time to play the hero. He looked through the window again and shook his head. “Why this and why now,” he whispered to himself. Of all the days to find this, it had to be today. No Alec, it couldn’t have been yesterday or the day before. It had to be right now, didn’t it? He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. If you go in there, Bryce is going to have your skin. You’d be so ousted for letting this interfere with your mission. You can’t get involved. It’s against the rules.
He moved as if called by an older instinct, the absurd, dangerous goodness that had no business surviving in places like this. Within thirty seconds, he was in the house, tackling the man holding the gun.
