Despair gnawed at her, doubt and hopelessness sliding over her like a shadow.
What if she tried to rescue Dylan and got the two of them killed? What if she made the decision to act now and failed when a better chance would have come along later? What if it was already too late, and there was nothing she could do?
Stop! Just stop it!
She had years of HUMINT and intel training. Dylan was a special operations veteran. They were among the best-trained operatives in the US. Washington was counting on them to get out of the country without leaving proof that they’d been here. She needed to act, not waste time worrying.
She sent up a prayer to God, the Blessed Virgin, and St. Anthony and finished her meal, carefully tucking the knife into her pocket. “Thank you, Imelda. The arepas were delicious. They remind me of my grandmother’s.”
“Gracias, Hermana.”
Gabriela carried her plate to the sink, intending to wash it, but Imelda took it.
“You are a guest of Don Sergio. That is my job.”
“May God bless you.” Gabriela gave the cook a saintly smile. “Can you tell me where the bathroom is? I need to wash.”
What she needed was an excuse to meander around the hacienda.
Imelda stepped out of the kitchen and pointed to a long hallway with marble floors. “It’s the first door on your right. There are towels, too.”
Gabriela walked to the bathroom, where she washed the worst of the mud away. She dried her face, her gaze meeting its twin in the mirror.
You can do this, Gabriela. Youmustdo this.
Shouts. Men’s voices.
She peeked out the bathroom window, sawsicariosrunning from the veranda to parked vehicles. She counted ten men. They climbed inside and drove away.
Where were they going?
The whir of a helicopter overhead answered that question. Sánchez’ helicopter was going to land nearby, and they were going to meet him.
This is your chance.
She set her fear aside, wrapped the blanket around herself, and drew the Glock from her waistband, keeping it hidden. Then she stepped out of the bathroom and walked without hesitation toward Ruiz’s office.
The door was open, onesicarioon guard outside, another sitting across from Ruiz, rifle between his knees.
She put on a meek expression. “May I speak with Señor Ruiz? I do not wish to disturb him, but I remembered something he will wish to know.”
Thesicarioturned. “The nun wishes—”
“I heard her, idiot. Show her in.”
“Thank you.” Gabriela went to stand behind the seatedsicarioand across from Ruiz, pretending that she wasn’t terrified. “Señor, pardon me, but I just remembered…”
She let the blanket fall away, pointed the weapon at Ruiz. “I’m not a nun.”
She fired.
Pop! Pop!
Thesicarioat the door raised his rifle, but Gabriela was faster, taking him out first, and then shooting the man who had jumped to his feet in front of her.
Pop! Pop!
Shouts from the veranda.