Page 77 of Freedom Fighters
The room had been a manager’s office. A big desk stood at the far end. There was no other furniture. Dust was thick on every surface.
A small, round hole appeared in the closed door. Something tug at theleg of Duardo’s trousers. It wasn’t the wind. He looked down. There were two neat bullet holes—in and out—passing through the excess material by his ankle.
Someone was shooting through the door, using the same logic they had used to peel open a back door for themselves through the thin building material.
Duardo held up four fingers then pointed them at the door. Then he crept through and toone side, letting everyone else in. The cessation of the powerful wind was a relief. He coughed as the wind pushing through the opening stirred the dust, then tore at the quick release knot tying the rope around his waist. The rope slithered to the floor. Each man did the same as he stepped through, until the rope was coiled on the floor. Duardo left it there and strode over to the door.
“Remember,we’re here for the prisoners!” he reminded them. The prisoners were his assignment. He was to get to them before the Insurrectos did and as stealthily as possible.
He put his eye to the bullet hole in the door. It was dim on the other side, but not completely dark. He could see a passageway lined with doors. There was a much lighter, brighter area at the far end. The blue front doors with theirsteel mesh reinforced glass were there. That was where the light came from. Even though the day was dark from the heavy cloud cover, it was still brighter than the passage without the overhead fluorescent tubes working.
Six Insurrectos lined the passage. They had their weapons drawn and pointing at the door Duardo leaned against. They watched the door with tense expressions, waiting for the enemyto emerge.
Duardo sighed. There was no way out but through the door. It was their bad luck so many Insurrectos just happened to be standing in the passageway and heard them force their way into the room.
Whyhadthey been standing in the passageway?
He studied the passage again, looking at the seven doorways along the corridor walls. Three of the Insurrectos clustered around a door on the left.
The Insurrecto in the middle of the three threw up his hands, dropped his rifle and with a silent cry, fell backward through the door behind him, disappearing from Duardo’s view.
The others turned to look, startled.
A second guard was hauled back through the door.
Duardo didn’t wait for more. He wrenched at the door knob, feeling the tumblers unlock, then pushed the door wide. “Go! Go!” hehissed.
Gunfire sounded as they ran into the passage. The Insurrectos were gathered around the other open door, all trying to fit through at once.
It was a rout. Duardo picked off three of them himself, going for the knees to disable them. From experience he knew injured Insurrectos were as neutralized as dead ones, especially if the injury was a painful one. They tended to fold mentally whenshot, unable to come back fighting the way the soldiers working in Duardo’s unit would.
Jasso and Rickardo, in the front of the phalanx heading down the corridor, took out the last remaining guard. When they reached the Insurrectos, they picked up the weapons, taking them out of reach, then patted the Insurrectos down, looking for more.
Duardo stepped around them, tapped Jasso on the arm andpointed toward the reception area. Then he waved Adjuno and Emile to follow Jasso. The three of them would be enough to clear the front room.
Then Duardo moved into the room.
Valentin and Trajo stood with relaxed stances just inside the room, confronting the four people already in there.
Carmen Escobedo stood next to the tall, blond-haired man who had been with her when Ibarra put them on display,late last night. Both had their hands around the throats of the two Insurrectos they had hauled inside. The man had a rifle resting against his Insurrecto’s temple. The Insurrecto’s face was red with anger. Or shame.
The one Carmen Escobedo held was crumpled on the floor. Blood flowed from a wound over his ear. She held a Browning Hi Power pistol against his head with her injured arm. Duardowas glad the Insurrecto couldn’t see she was barely holding the gun in place.
Duardo tapped his men on the shoulder and they shifted aside, letting him through. “My name is Colonel Peña,” he told them, using English. There was a chance the Insurrectos knew English, although he spoke fast. He looked at the woman. Her face was gray with pain and fatigue. “You are Carmen Escobedo.” He looked atthe man. “You are Garrett Blackburn, the leader of the Resistance unit that Carmen has been with for the last seven weeks.”
The man’s clear gray eyes narrowed. “You know who I am. Interesting.”
“Do we know each other?” Carmen asked.
“No,” Duardo told her. “I didn’t make it back to the big house before you left. We are cousins by marriage.”
Her full lips parted in surprise. “You’re Duardo?Minnie’s guy?”
“Indeed, I am.” He gave her a small smile.
There was a soft, flat coughing sound from the passageway. That was Jesso’s silenced pistol.
“We’re taking back the mine,” Duardo said. “If General Flores is on schedule, they should be busting through the fence line about now, to mop up the rest of Ibarra’s men.”
