That Time in Rio, Logan Ryles [i have read the book a hundred times txt] 📗

remembered his earlier assumption that the favelas couldn’t keep the lights on. Megan had said that many of these communities siphoned electricity illegally off of the main power grids of Rio. That meant that the blackness he saw from a distance was intentional. Residents of the favelas were blocking their windows to keep their electric supply from being too noticeable and getting cut off.

Smart people.

“Two miles ahead, we cross into Vila Cruzeiro,” Kevin said. “The GPS beacon is another half mile inside. We should ditch the car.”

Edric nodded. A mile later he pulled the Impala to the curb, and Charlie Team piled out. The streets around them were truly dark now with no streetlights and no leakage from the covered windows and doors of the surrounding houses. Wolfgang’s spine tingled as he pulled his jacket on, then tucked the UMP inside. At this altitude, with nothing between him and the open coast several miles away, the salt wind chilled him to the bone. It wasn’t anything like the savage sting of Moscow, but the Brazilian chill brought with it a strange uneasiness. Or maybe that was just in his head.

Where are the people? Why is it so quiet?

Edric circled the car and checked his watch. “We’re forty-five minutes from the deadline. Kevin and I—” He stopped as a soft buzzing erupted from his pocket, and he withdrew a compact satellite phone. The lines on his face hardened under the glow of the screen, and he hit the answer button and held the phone to his ear. “Mr. Director?”

Everybody stood perfectly still as Edric listened.

“I understand, sir. My team is in place. We’ll call you on the way out.” Edric hit the hang-up button and deposited the phone into his pocket. “SPIRE has been unable to reach the kidnappers. We are to proceed with aggression.”

Kevin started to speak, but Edric shook his head. “I’ve heard you, Kevin. We’re deploying now.”

Kevin closed his mouth, and the muzzle of his SCAR rifle twitched beneath his jacket.

“Megan, Wolfgang,” Edric said, “you’ll trail us by fifty yards. Keep us in sight where you can, but stay in the shadows. When we approach the target building, your job is to cover us from behind. Understand?”

Megan and Wolfgang nodded.

Edric chambered his weapon. “Let’s roll.”

Kevin and Edric started up the road, splitting off to opposite sides of the street and keeping close to the buildings. In mere moments, they were lost in the shadows.

Megan turned to Wolfgang. “Stay calm, and don’t overthink this. It’s just another mission, okay?”

The thought of an impending gunfight made Wolfgang’s stomach flip, but Megan was right. This was his job. He was good at his job.

And a girl’s life is on the line.

“I’ll take left, you take right,” Megan said. “Keep me in sight where you can, and, you know . . . don’t screw up.”

Megan shot him a reassuring wink, and Wolfgang felt a little of his courage return. He started up the right-hand side of the street, keeping Megan on his left shoulder and Kevin about fifty yards ahead. It was almost impossible to keep up with Kevin in the shadows of the favelas, but he hustled to close some of the gap, glancing down each alley and side street he passed.

“Com check,” Edric said.

“Charlie One, awake and alive,” Megan said.

Kevin’s voice was deep and grim over the radio. “Charlie Two, loud and clear.”

“Charlie Eye, I’ve got you on visual,” Lyle radioed in.

“Hmmm . . .” Wolfgang said, waiting for his radio to click, signaling that the mic was live. He heard nothing, and he hummed again.

“We hear you, idiot,” Kevin said. “You only have to hum when nobody’s been talking.”

Wolfgang blushed and looked to see if Megan was laughing but couldn’t tell in the shadows. “Charlie Three. I’m here.”

The radio grew quiet, and Wolfgang pressed on up the hill. It was only an hour after sunset, but the interior of the favela was strangely silent and empty. From time to time, he heard soft rattling or voices inside the shacks that he passed, but most them were both soundless and dark. In most cases, even if he leaned close to a window and peered through a crack in the curtain, he couldn’t see light.

Where is everybody? Is it always this empty?

There were no animals, either. No dogs or chickens, even though piles of animal feces littered the ditches. Wolfgang felt the uneasiness in his stomach grow, and he glanced up the hillside into the rows of shacks that still lay between them and their target. There were hundreds of them, all packed together in irregular blocks that resembled nothing like a planned city.

“You’re approaching Vila Cruzeiro,” Lyle said. “The GPS beacon is still strong.”

Why is it so quiet?

Another half mile passed under Wolfgang’s boots without event. He checked on Megan every few seconds, ensuring that she was still visible. Sometimes the street would widen or a building would appear directly in their path with narrow alleys on either side, and she would vanish from view. There seemed to be no rationale to the streets. Every once in a while, a street would simply end or turn back down the mountain, and Wolfgang and Megan would have to take directions from Lyle on where to go to keep up with Edric and Kevin.

Vila Cruzeiro differed from whatever favela they left the car in. Whereas the first favela showed signs of life from the outset, mixed with occasional flashes of light or voices, Vila Cruzeiro was desolate—no lights, no sounds, and no people. Occasional bullet holes decorated the metal sides of shacks, and a couple of rotting dog carcasses lay in ditches.

Wolfgang swallowed past the stench of death and pressed forward, checking again to make sure Megan was at his side. She stood twenty yards away on the other side of an empty goat pen.

“Charlie Lead, you’re now approaching the target,” Lyle said. “It’s the third building ahead of you. I can’t tell for sure, but I think the roof is made of red metal.”

“Copy that, Charlie Eye,”