Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  “Hello?”

  She smiled. “Hey… Dad, it’s me. Did I wake you?”

  “Julie? It’s one in the morning—of course, you woke me. Is everything all right?”

  His voice was whiskey-rough and a little disoriented, but she grinned regardless, seeking comfort in his gravelly tone. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s two a.m. here, actually. I’m sorry. I know it’s late.”

  Her father coughed away from the phone, his breathing raspy and momentarily hindered. “Nah, I don’t give a damn about the time. You know me. I don’t sleep much anyway. Where are you, sunflower?”

  Julie’s smile faded, her lips forming a tight, crooked line as she fought back a tear. Ever since she was a child, she had always been his sunflower, and even now, with her fortieth birthday on the horizon, he still insisted on using that name.

  “I’m in Montreal,” she said, sniffing back her emotion. “I’ll be here for a few days with work.”

  There was a pause. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just a standard protection gig. Nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re still working for GlobaTech, then?”

  She nodded, despite herself. “I am.”

  “Ah, I don’t know why you went back to those people. After what they did to you and your friends after Prague…”

  “That was unavoidable. You know that as well as I do, Dad. But they’re the good guys. The world needs more people like GlobaTech, and I’m honored to be a part of it. It’s fine, I promise.”

  Her father scoffed playfully. “Who am I kidding? You won’t listen to me anyway. You’re stubborn, just like your mother was.”

  A single tear escaped, trickling down her cheek and splashing onto her top. She knew he wasn’t being awkward or vindictive. His tone always softened when he mentioned her mother, as if speaking about her triggered a fond memory.

  “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, laughing.

  “You got that right, sweetheart.”

  “So, how are you? Are the nurses treating you okay?”

  “Oh, never mind about me. You don’t wanna hear all about an old man. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “Dad, please… I called you because I was thinking about you. I couldn’t sleep, and my mind was racing, y’know? I thought of you, and… I just wanted to check in.”

  He sighed. “Well, it’s nice to know you’re thinking of me, I guess. I’m okay, sweetheart. This place is… it’s all right. I’m not too keen on the woman who gives me sponge baths though.”

  Julie chuckled. “Why?”

  “She’s too rough. Too heavy-handed. She’s a big lady, if you catch my drift. When she’s done, I feel violated, not clean.”

  She burst out laughing, catching her voice almost instantly, aware of the time. “Dad!”

  “What? I’m just saying… You pay eighteen hundred dollars a month for care, you expect a little TLC, that’s all.”

  She lay back on the bed, stretched her legs out, and sighed a relaxing sigh. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being mad that I called you so late. And for being you.”

  “Well, who else am I gonna be?”

  She rolled her eyes, sensing the moment was lost on him. “I’ll let you get some sleep. When I’m finished here, I’m gonna come see you, okay?”

  He coughed again. “That’d be lovely.”

  “Night, Dad.”

  “I love you, sunflower.”

  “I love you too.”

  She hung up, tossed the phone to the end of the bed, and shuffled up so that her head sank back into the pillow. Within minutes, she was asleep, a slight smile on her face.

  4.

  September 26, 2019

  Jericho stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly with a towel before padding naked across his room to his travel bag. He took out underwear, socks, and a shoulder holster, placing them on the bed. He moved to the mirror mounted on the wall opposite and checked his reflection. He ran a hand over his head, feeling the short, coarse hair grate on his palm. Then he stroked his chin and throat. He needed a shave, but it was still short enough to get away with calling it ‘designer’ stubble, so it could wait another day.

  He got dressed, grimacing to himself when he fastened the top button of his shirt, feeling it tight against his throat. He hated suits and ties. He found them too restricting, but they were a necessary evil when it came to security details. He fastened his tie and slid his holster on over his arms, adjusting the straps to ensure it was tight against the left side of his chest. He clipped the comms unit to the back of his belt and fed the wire up and over his shoulder, securing the earpiece in place.

  He walked back over to his bed and reached under his pillow, retrieving the GlobaTech handgun he had collected the previous day. It was nicknamed The Negotiator. Jericho had been involved in the testing of the weapon when it first came out of development a couple of years ago. Now it was standard-issue. He checked the mag and chambered a round. He placed his thumb on the scanner built into the butt, checking it turned blue and recognized his print. Happy it was in working order, he holstered it and shrugged his jacket on. He paused for a moment to check his reflection one last time and make sure he was smart and presentable. Finally, he picked up his watch from the nightstand and fastened it around his wrist, checking the time before covering it with his sleeve.

  Four-thirty-two a.m.

  He rolled his eyes and left the room, turning right and stopping at the next door along. He raised his hand to knock, but as he did, the door opened. Julie was standing there, dressed in a smart, fitted trouser suit. Her auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he could see her earpiece.

  She looked him up and down, smiling. “James Bond, eat your heart out.”

  Jericho remained deadpan. “Be quiet.”

  “Oh, lighten up. Are you still not used to early starts?”

  He stepped back, allowing her out of her room. “I just like my sleep, that’s all.”

  She shut the door before turning to look at him. “So, you need comfort, warmth, and now sleep to stop being a moody asshole? The list of things that stop you complaining is growing by the day.”

  “What? I’m just saying…”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

  They set off walking along the hall, to the elevator at the end. “Anyway, at least you got some sleep,” she continued. “I could hear you snoring.”

  He raised both eyebrows with surprise. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t switch off, and I heard you through the walls.”

  “Now that you mention it, I thought I heard you laughing last night…”

  She smiled fondly. “Yeah, I gave my dad a call.”

  “Ah, how is he?”

  She shrugged. “He seems okay.”

  “Is that care home looking after him?”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, despite the rough sponge baths, apparently.”

  Jericho smiled. “Do I wanna know?”

  “Nah, he was just complaining. You two have a lot in common, actually—you both complain all the time. Difference is, he is an old man, whereas you just sound like one!”

  Jericho laughed. “Well, at least you refrained from an easy age joke…”

  They reached the elevator, and Julie pressed the call button. “Are you kidding me? After what you did to that guy last night when he called you ‘granddaddy’? No way am I having a pop at your age again.”

  They smiled together as the doors opened in front of them with a ding. They stepped inside, and Jericho pushed the button for the next floor up. A few moments later, they were walking along the hall toward Hyatt’s suite. They paused outside his room.

  “We’re early,” said Julie. “We said five, and it’s only four-forty.”

  “It’ll be fine. No way a man in his position is sleeping much.”

  Jericho knocked on the door. They wai
ted a few moments, but there was no answer from inside. He frowned and knocked again. “Mr. Hyatt, it’s Stone and Fisher from GlobaTech.”

  Still nothing.

  The two of them exchanged a glance, noting each other’s expressions change, their jaws clenching with concern.

  “Mr. Hyatt?” tried Julie. “Can you let us in, please?”

  Silence.

  She turned to Jericho. “You don’t think he’s…?”

  He frowned. “What? Been taken?”

  “Or worse.”

  “Well, I do now.” He let out a taut breath. “That’s it.”

  Julie stepped away as he backed up to the opposite wall. He took a deep breath to compose himself and then paced forward, letting out a low, guttural roar through gritted teeth as he thrust his leg forward, slamming his foot into the door, just above the handle.

  It whipped open, hitting the inside wall with a loud bang and detaching from the hinges at the top. Julie strode in, drawing her own Negotiator and crouching low. She paused in the doorway to the bathroom on the right, holding her gun low, covering the angle. Jericho followed, drawing his own weapon and leaning high against the opposite wall, covering the room.

  It was dark inside as sunrise was still a couple of hours away. The room was far bigger than either his or Julie’s. He could barely make out the shape of the bed a short way in front of him.

  Julie moved level, nodded once, and then spun around the corner, dropping low again. As she did, the light flicked on, and the room was bathed in a bright, artificial glow, which stunned the pair of them. Squinting as they stared briefly at the floor, waiting for their eyes to adjust, they heard a voice say, “What the hell is going on?”

  They both looked over to see Ulysses Hyatt sitting upright in bed, one hand still on the light switch beside him, the other nervously clutching a small baseball bat.

  They holstered their weapons, letting out sighs of relief. Julie turned to Jericho and patted him on the shoulder. “Swing and a miss, big guy… swing and a miss.”

  She walked out of the room without a word. Jericho looked at Hyatt, absently scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about the door. Ah… when you didn’t answer, we thought… and then we…” He sighed. “I’ll be outside.”

  Forty minutes later, the three of them left the hotel, with Julie and Jericho flanking Hyatt on either side. His car was waiting for them at the back of the hotel, with the driver standing by the open rear door.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said courteously as they approached.

  Hyatt nodded a silent greeting before ducking inside the limousine. The driver looked at Julie. “How are you today, madam?”

  She smiled. “Madam? Uh-uh. If we’re going to be around for a few days, you can call me Julie, okay?”

  The driver nodded. “As you wish.”

  “And I’m fine, thank you. We’re going straight to the office.”

  He nodded again, and she climbed inside, moving to one of the seats lining the side of the vehicle. Jericho climbed in last, sitting beside Hyatt. The door closed behind him, and a moment later, the engine turned over and they set off.

  5.

  The blonde woman stepped out of the shower, dripping water on the tiled floor. Not bothering to dry herself or even cover up, she walked out of the bathroom, across the plush, cream carpet of the hotel room, and through the sliding doors that led out onto the balcony.

  Ray Collins was leaning on the railing, looking down at the swimming pool. The sun was still climbing in the pale morning sky, and the temperature was rising quickly. The pool area was already packed with gorgeous women and muscular men.

  With the exception of his Aviator sunglasses, he was also completely naked. A cigarette dangled loosely between his fingers. He felt wet arms snake around his waist, squeezing gently as the bare breasts of his fair-haired companion pressed against his back.

  “Hey, darlin’. Nice shower?”

  “Oh, Ray, this place is amazing!”

  He turned to face her and smiled. “It’s a crime ya’ve never been to Miami before.”

  The blonde nodded in agreement. “I know! And I’ve never stayed in a hotel as nice as this!”

  He took a long drag on the cigarette, turning his head to the side as he blew a thin plume of blue-gray smoke into the air, trying his best to remember the girl’s name.

  Yes, she was half his age, and no, he didn’t care.

  He put the cigarette out on the balcony railing and flicked the stub over the side, turning to face the young blonde. He eyed her up and down approvingly. Stunning didn’t even come close. She was a lingerie model, and they had met the night before, shortly after his arrival in Miami. He rented a car at the airport when he landed and drove to the hotel. He checked in, grabbed a quick shower, and headed straight back out to the nearest bar. Within an hour, he had found himself talking to…

  “Alyana,” he said, smiling as her name came back to him, “why don’t ya get yourself a drink from the minibar? I’ll be right in.”

  He knew his accent drove her wild. She giggled and threw her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him before disappearing inside. He watched her go and then resumed leaning on the balcony, looking down at the crowded pool area. He was content taking his time. He knew what was waiting for him inside, and he knew it wouldn’t last forever. He appreciated the break, but he always missed the job. He took a deep breath, savoring the warmth before walking back inside the apartment.

  Alyana was pouring them both a drink. He noticed the row of empty spirit bottles lined on the tabletop in front of her.

  That’s gonna cost me, he thought.

  She turned as he entered and came running over to him, still wet, still naked. She placed her arms around his neck and kissed him before he could say a word. He placed his hands on her waist, lifting her up with ease. She wrapped her shapely legs around him, and he carried her over to the bed. They fell playfully onto the mattress, locked in their embrace and oblivious to the world.

  He felt her hands on the back of his head, pulling him toward her. He leaned down to kiss her soft, full lips. Collins was truly lost in the moment, but a familiar noise dragged him back to a far less exciting reality.

  His lips still pressing against hers, he tilted his head slightly and glanced at his cell phone on the bedside table, moving closer to the edge as it vibrated.

  He went to move for it, but Alyana stopped him. “Just leave it, baby. Stay with me…”

  She tried to kiss him again, but his curiosity needed satisfying before anything else. He grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID. It was a withheld number.

  “Ah, screw it,” he muttered.

  He declined the call and placed the phone back on the table. He shuffled back and resumed his position beside the young woman.

  “I’m sorry, love. I thought it might be work. Now where were we?”

  An hour passed by in a heartbeat. Alyana had fallen asleep, resting on his chest. The thin, silk bedsheet was draped over her waist, shaping itself to her legs and curves. Collins lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last twenty-four hours over and over in his head. Every kiss, every touch, every drink…

  He felt restless—guilty, almost, for leaving his teammates to take on another job while he went on vacation. They all had it rough in Mexico. What made him so special?

  He let out a relaxed sigh, trying to work out if he really needed any downtime at all.

  Alyana stirred beside him, turning her body and rolling off him, which he took as a sign and gently climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb her. He quickly threw his clothes on, which consisted of knee-length denim shorts, white sneakers, and a thin Hawaiian shirt that he wore with the top two buttons unfastened. He grabbed his cell phone, cigarettes, and sunglasses and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” asked Alyana drowsily.

  Collins looked back over his shoulder. “I think I’m done with Miami, baby. But listen—the room�
�s paid up for the week, so why don’t ya relax and enjoy yaself? I’ll call ya, okay?”

  She didn’t look happy, but she smiled. “Okay. I… I love you…”

  Collins didn’t skip a beat. “Heh… and who can blame ya, honey?”

  He winked at her before putting his shades on and walking out into the hall. As he closed the door, he heard her shout, “Wait… you don’t have my number!”

  He smiled to himself as he walked along the hall to the elevator. He rode it down to the lobby and made his way outside, pausing briefly to wink at the attractive brunette behind the front desk, who was staring at him with a playful smile on her face.

  He strolled over to his rental car—a white convertible with the top down. Luckily, he had parked in what little shade there was. As he put one hand on the door, he froze. He felt an unmistakable cold pressure against the back of his skull. Immediately, his mind was engaged, thinking about all the possible things that could have happened that led to him having a gun to his head and all the things that could conceivably happen from that moment onward.

  “Nice and easy,” said a deep, Hispanic voice behind him.

  Collins half-turned but didn’t need to look to see who it was. He recognized the voice, and his shoulders slumped forward slightly with resignation and dread. He let out a loud and exaggerated breath. “Victor, ya podgy bastard… how’ve ya been?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, you stupid… Leprechaun… prick!”

  He slowly moved to face the man, making sure he allowed the gun barrel to stay touching his head. The man he knew as Victor was wearing a dark gray suit, jacket open, and a white shirt. He was overweight, and his clothes fought to stay fastened over his frame. Sweat patches marked his chest and collar.

  Collins chuckled at the inadequacy of the man’s retort. “What d’ya want, Victor?”

  “The same thing I wanted the last couple of times I paid you a visit,” replied Victor, wheezing slightly in the heat. “Our money.”

  “And like I told ya last time, ya’ll get it.”

  He held his hands out to the side as Victor moved his gun close to his body, concealing it from passers-by. Collins looked him up and down. “Seriously, man, how the hell are ya dressed like that in Miami?”