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THIRTY-SEVEN

HELENA

Stuck inside a cabin on the outskirts of Helena, Kane stood from the table and paced up and down. With each step, the old cabin creaked under the weight of years, its wooden beams darkened by time and the elements. He inhaled air thick with the scent of pine and the faint, lingering aroma of woodsmoke. A small fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows on the rough-hewn walls. He stared into the flames. His retentive memory for faces and names had proved useful. Since arriving he’d scanned so many files his eyes hurt. Along with Wolfe, he’d discussed different plans of action, and Wolfe had quizzed him repeatedly on faces and names he might come in contact with during the mission. Knowing the difference between a potentially brutal killer and a gofer was vital information. In a shootout, he didn’t intend to take down innocents. Souza was his main target, but he’d been given the green light on other key members of his new team. When told they’d be expecting collateral damage, it was a nice way to say “kill them all” without giving a specific order. He took only specific orders.

He’d been deployed into some of the harshest places on earth and there’d always been one or two friendlies. This time they were throwing him into a nest of mercenaries—men paid by Souza to do his bidding. Many of these men were trained military who’d placed wealth over their country. This was the problem with allowing a cartel kingpin to escape prison. They always had a supply of money hidden somewhere, or more likely, supplies of money. Enough to rebuild an empire of death and destruction. Even though the FBI and DEA had literally destroyed Souza’s organization, he had enough gullible people to start up again in seconds. Mercenaries were plentiful as the riches were great, and in this mission were an unknown quantity he’d need to deal with face-to-face. This regurgitating of an empire happened almost overnight. So many people were willing to sell their souls to distribute drugs or sell woman and children into slavery. Money had a dreadful allure. In the right hands it could do great things, and in the wrong hands it could ruin lives. The choice was a frightening one, and poor people trying to feed their families would take the risk. These were the people Souza recruited, expendable and replaceable couriers and distributors to move his product. The only way to stop Souza was to remove him permanently. However, getting to him would be another matter.

At the sound of an engine approaching and wheels on gravel, Kane pulled his weapon and pressed his back to the wall to peer out of the window. It was the height of the tourist season in Helena and their arrival hadn’t caused as much as a ripple, but caution had become his middle name. He peered through the net curtain without moving as Wolfe climbed from the truck, carrying pizza boxes, a six-pack of beer, and a bottle of red wine under one arm. Kane opened the door and stood to one side. His stomach growled as the pizza’s cheesy aroma mingled with the earthy scent of the cabin, creating a comforting, homey atmosphere. Food was a comfort he indulged in and as he grasped the bottle of red wine he grinned at Wolfe. “Pinot noir, you sure know the way to a man’s heart.”

“Well, we don’t know what kind of food we’ll be getting when we hit the next town. From the intel coming in, most of the places Souza has visited are dives.” Wolfe dropped the boxes on the table alongside the beer and went to the sink to wash his hands. “The eggs and bread we brought with us will do for breakfast. They’ll send me the meeting place coordinates first thing in the morning. I figure it’s going to be a cloak-and-dagger mission. I’m to leave my chopper here. One will be supplied for me to fly to the meeting. What happens next, we’ll find out on the day. Do you figure you’re ready?”

Kane washed his hands and then went to the table, lifted a slice of pizza, folded it, and took a bite. He hummed in delight and then fixed his gaze on Wolfe. “I’m always ready.”