who patrolled the area.
They penetrated his elaborate security systems and entered the complex without difficulty. By a stroke of terrible luck, Benitez had invited a squad to his luxury mansion, men from the Agrupación de Fuerzas Especiales Antiterroristas Urbanas, AFEUR. The occasion was a reward for their services in protecting his drug operation. The four Seals, unaware of the proximity of fifty armed Colombian Special Forces operatives, located Benitez and put two neat holes in the center of his forehead.
They almost made it out. They were about to exfil the complex, when the Colombian paramilitaries came across the body and went after the killers of their wealthy sponsor. The four men were good, very good. Navy Seals counted themselves the best in the business. But faced with fifty troops, highly trained and heavily armed, the odds had proved too much. There was a short gun battle, and three of them were taken prisoner, Nolan, Bryce, and Rose. John-Wesley Ryder had vanished during the shooting, presumed dead.
They still hoped their government would find a way to free them. However, the Colombians had other ideas. They bundled the Seals to a remote jail and sentenced them to death by firing squad the following day. At dawn. No trial, no due process. This was Colombia.
"We obeyed orders," Bryce replied with a shrug, "We were just unlucky. At least we got to live a day longer than Ryder."
Nolan went to check his watch, and then remembered they'd taken it from him. He looked out through the barred window at the stars and estimated it was two hours past midnight. The execution was scheduled for 0800 hours. Less than six hours left.
"I've been looking for a way out of here," Brad Rose offered, "There must be something. "
Nolan peered through the gloom at Rose, normally the Team dandy. He was slightly below medium height and powerfully built. Even in prison garb, he managed to look good, like a playboy or a California beach boy with his shaggy blonde hair, although his perpetual smile had disappeared. Like the rest of them, he wasn't happy to go to his death without putting up one hell of a fight.
"I agree, there has to be something. Keep looking."
Until that door opens, and they drag us out to stand in front of a dozen men with rifles.
"I'm beginning to think Ryder had the easy way out," Bryce growled, "A quick death, at least he doesn't have to wait for the end."
"Yeah." Nolan had a sudden thought, "Did anyone see him go down?"
They shook their heads. He was about to say more when he heard a faint sound at the barred window. He held up a hand for quiet. "Any of you guys hear that?"
They both shook their heads.
"I'm sure I heard something outside."
"Just a rat or a scorpion," Brad murmured with a dismissive tone.
"No, I'm sure I heard something. Will, give me a lift up. I need to take a look."
The window was ten feet above the floor. PO Bryce stood next to the wall below the window, and Nolan climbed up to stand on his shoulders and looked out. At first, he saw nothing. Brad was right; it had to be an insect or maybe a rat. There were plenty of them in Taraza prison, and not all of them with four legs. He was about to climb down when a whispered voice stopped him.
"Chief! Is that you?"
His hopes soared. The dead had come to life. At least, the man they'd assumed dead. A weasel face appeared at the tiny barred window, unshaven, sallow, sunken cheeks, and the burning eyes of a religious fanatic. It could only be one man.
"Ryder, how did you manage to escape?"
"When those soldiers surrounded us and we hit the dirt, I found myself over a manhole cover. I dropped down into the sewer. After it was over, I climbed out and hung underneath the chassis of the truck they sent to bring you to the prison. I dropped off just before they came inside. Never mind the details, I have to get you out of there. Apart from the two men at the end of the corridor, what am I looking at here?"
They could see the two guards from