FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 32 | El Diablo

Hugo shifts into drive. He cranks the wheel and guns the accelerator. The engine growls as he spins the car around and charges toward the entrance of the airstrip. Turning down the narrow drive, he races through the gate and toward the burning plane.

He slams on the brakes, throws the shifter into park, and flings himself out the door. His heart pounds in his chest. He sprints toward the fiery ball of metal.

'This can't be happening...' he thinks. 'Gone.' Hugo drops to his knees. Leaning forward, he runs his hands through his hair, painfully contemplating the ways he could have stopped this. "Oh, god..." he whispers. The sense of failure overwhelms him. 

Dietrich hears tires squealing along the tarmac. He looks up. Using his hand to smear the tears from his cheeks, he unconsciously paints his face with Anatoly's blood. He looks back down at his friend. Easing the body to the ground Dietrich rises to his feet. He draws his pistol and staggers out of the Hanger.

His eyes lock onto Hugo, kneeling in front of the flames, looking distraught. He hastens his pace. Approaching Hugo, he raises his gun with one hand. "What the hell do you want with us?!" he screams.

Hugo startles. Turning to see the German approaching at a dangerous pace, he throws his hands in the air. "Whoa, whoa! I'm on your side - I think!" he yells in English. The image before him is frightening. The pale man is tall and coated in intricate tattoos. His shirtless torso is defined and muscular. A dark bruise spreads across his chest from the impact of the bullet to his vest. Dietrich's face, hands, and jeans are soaked in crimson blood. His eyes burn red and his face is twisted in anger.

He charges Hugo, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him to the ground. Dietrich shoves one knee into Hugo's chest and jams the pistol in his face.

"Who are you!?" he demands. "Who do you work for!?"

"It doesn't matter who I work for," says Hugo, trying to remain calm. He keeps his hands up. "What matters is I'm here to help you."

"Bullshit!" screams Dietrich.

"Listen! Listen..." says Hugo, fighting to calm the crazed man. "I think we have a common enemy. I'm willing to bet, the guy who hired you is the same guy who just tried to have you killed."

"How do you know about that?" asks Dietrich.

Not willing to give up his cover, Hugo tries to evade the question. "I have intel, suggesting the man you were just meeting with isn't who he says he is."

"What intel?" asks Dietrich.

"The man's real name is Brian Erikson; he's a former CIA case officer, but now he's a fugitive of the United States. He's got quite the history, but we had no idea where he was, until today."

"What the hell are you talking about?" demands Dietrich.

"I can't tell you everything, but what I can tell you, is that the CIA never hired you to kill Perez. It looks like Erikson is actually working for Rodríguez."

"Who?"

"The President of Venezuela."

Dietrich goes silent. His mind attempts to process the new information. "What the hell..." he mutters, glancing down. His eyes return to Hugo. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," Hugo replies.

"It matters to me!" screams Dietrich, jabbing the pistol's barrel into Hugos forehead. "I don't trust you and I don't give two shits if you die right here, right now! So, give me a reason to keep you alive!"

"Fucking hell," growls Hugo. He considers the demand. A case officer's cover is among the most important secrets to keep. "This whole operation has gone to shit anyway... My name is Ricardo. I work for the American government."