screwing it into the muzzle of the handgun.
Chang, on his back, looked up from his MRE.
“What are you doing?”
“Following orders,” answered Hu-Shao, checking the magazine. “Eat your dog food and shut the fuck up.”
He gripped the weapon and stuck it into the pocket of his Windbreaker, clutching the grip, prepared to fire.
“What did he do?” whispered Chang.
Hu-Shao sat down on the ground, against a rock, behind the sniper rifle. He was directly behind where Raul would be after he shot the American.
“That’s the wrong question,” said Hu-Shao.
“What’s the right question?”
“The right question is, am I going to kill you too?” Hu-Shao whispered, smiling viciously.
Chang laughed nervously.
“When will you do it?” whispered Chang.
“After he shoots the American.”
* * *
Raul walked behind the hill for several hundred feet, whistling. The sky was black and blue and dotted with stars. He unzipped his pants and peed on the ground, then began a slow walk back toward Hu-Shao and Chang. He walked nonchalantly over the hill, to the right of where he’d left. The dark outline of the ranch house was visible in the far distance, the lights from windows casting dull yellow into the evening.
He saw Chang first, lying on the ground, next to the Dragunov. He was staring through his night optics at the ranch house.
Hu-Shao was behind Chang and the rifle, reclined against a rock. His hand was stuffed inside the pocket of his Windbreaker. He was looking in the opposite direction, waiting for Raul to return.
Raul removed the Colt from his jeans. He moved the safety off. He walked in silence down the slope of the hill. He aimed the gun at the back of Hu-Shao’s head. He paused for a moment, then two. Finally, as if by instinct, Hu-Shao turned.
Hu-Shao’s eyes met Raul’s. Hu-Shao’s mouth went agape. He tried to say something but couldn’t. Then he ripped his hand—clutching the weapon—from the Windbreaker and swung it up at Raul.
Raul pumped the trigger. There was a low mechanical thud as a slug tore a hole just above Hu-Shao’s lip, at the center of his mustache. The back of his skull exploded across the rock. Raul fired again, this time ripping a hole into Hu-Shao’s right eye, destroying the front of his face.
Chang turned at the sound. He stared in silence and horror at the destroyed skull of Hu-Shao.
Raul knelt and picked up the spent cartridges from his gun. He moved to Hu-Shao, picked up his weapon, then began to search for the slugs that had ripped through him.
“It goes without saying,” said Raul, patting the grass in the twilight, not even looking up from the ground, “don’t do anything stupid or you’ll end up the same way.”
Raul stood up and stuck the gun between his belt and back.
“What do we do with him?”
“Carry him out,” said Raul. “Tell them Andreas shot back.”
Chang nodded in stunned agreement.
“How did you know?” Chang asked.
“I knew it the moment he stepped on the plane. In fact, I knew it before you stepped on the plane. Now let’s kill the gringo and get the fuck out of Argentina.”
19
ESTANCIA EL COLIBRI
CÓRDOBA
On the terrace outside the main house, Dewey and Jessica ate a dinner of trout, fresh tomatoes, and rice with toasted pine nuts. They shared a bottle of wine. Candles, and the stars above the Argentine sky, provided the only light.
After dinner was done, Nico and Maria sat down and had a glass of wine with them. At some point, Maria brought out homemade strawberry shortcake.
The couples sat talking for a long time, laughing, finishing off the bottle of wine. Finally, Nico and Maria stood to clear off plates.
Dewey felt his eyelids getting heavy.
“You tired?” Jessica asked.
“I’m getting too old for this,” he said.
Jessica shook her head, giggling.
“Too old for what?” she asked. “Luxury ranches half a world away from anyone or anything? Sex on demand with a smoking-hot Irish girl?
Chang, on his back, looked up from his MRE.
“What are you doing?”
“Following orders,” answered Hu-Shao, checking the magazine. “Eat your dog food and shut the fuck up.”
He gripped the weapon and stuck it into the pocket of his Windbreaker, clutching the grip, prepared to fire.
“What did he do?” whispered Chang.
Hu-Shao sat down on the ground, against a rock, behind the sniper rifle. He was directly behind where Raul would be after he shot the American.
“That’s the wrong question,” said Hu-Shao.
“What’s the right question?”
“The right question is, am I going to kill you too?” Hu-Shao whispered, smiling viciously.
Chang laughed nervously.
“When will you do it?” whispered Chang.
“After he shoots the American.”
* * *
Raul walked behind the hill for several hundred feet, whistling. The sky was black and blue and dotted with stars. He unzipped his pants and peed on the ground, then began a slow walk back toward Hu-Shao and Chang. He walked nonchalantly over the hill, to the right of where he’d left. The dark outline of the ranch house was visible in the far distance, the lights from windows casting dull yellow into the evening.
He saw Chang first, lying on the ground, next to the Dragunov. He was staring through his night optics at the ranch house.
Hu-Shao was behind Chang and the rifle, reclined against a rock. His hand was stuffed inside the pocket of his Windbreaker. He was looking in the opposite direction, waiting for Raul to return.
Raul removed the Colt from his jeans. He moved the safety off. He walked in silence down the slope of the hill. He aimed the gun at the back of Hu-Shao’s head. He paused for a moment, then two. Finally, as if by instinct, Hu-Shao turned.
Hu-Shao’s eyes met Raul’s. Hu-Shao’s mouth went agape. He tried to say something but couldn’t. Then he ripped his hand—clutching the weapon—from the Windbreaker and swung it up at Raul.
Raul pumped the trigger. There was a low mechanical thud as a slug tore a hole just above Hu-Shao’s lip, at the center of his mustache. The back of his skull exploded across the rock. Raul fired again, this time ripping a hole into Hu-Shao’s right eye, destroying the front of his face.
Chang turned at the sound. He stared in silence and horror at the destroyed skull of Hu-Shao.
Raul knelt and picked up the spent cartridges from his gun. He moved to Hu-Shao, picked up his weapon, then began to search for the slugs that had ripped through him.
“It goes without saying,” said Raul, patting the grass in the twilight, not even looking up from the ground, “don’t do anything stupid or you’ll end up the same way.”
Raul stood up and stuck the gun between his belt and back.
“What do we do with him?”
“Carry him out,” said Raul. “Tell them Andreas shot back.”
Chang nodded in stunned agreement.
“How did you know?” Chang asked.
“I knew it the moment he stepped on the plane. In fact, I knew it before you stepped on the plane. Now let’s kill the gringo and get the fuck out of Argentina.”
19
ESTANCIA EL COLIBRI
CÓRDOBA
On the terrace outside the main house, Dewey and Jessica ate a dinner of trout, fresh tomatoes, and rice with toasted pine nuts. They shared a bottle of wine. Candles, and the stars above the Argentine sky, provided the only light.
After dinner was done, Nico and Maria sat down and had a glass of wine with them. At some point, Maria brought out homemade strawberry shortcake.
The couples sat talking for a long time, laughing, finishing off the bottle of wine. Finally, Nico and Maria stood to clear off plates.
Dewey felt his eyelids getting heavy.
“You tired?” Jessica asked.
“I’m getting too old for this,” he said.
Jessica shook her head, giggling.
“Too old for what?” she asked. “Luxury ranches half a world away from anyone or anything? Sex on demand with a smoking-hot Irish girl?
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