Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  He looked on as the unit swept through a warehouse connected to the factory. It appeared deserted and empty, save for a few remaining boxes of raw materials. The lighting was poor, but the hi-res display allowed him to see with impressive clarity. Patches of damp on the floor were barely visible, having been all but absorbed by the dust.

  As the unit turned a corner, something caught his eye on the screen. He activated the comms on the earpiece he was wearing.

  “Back up a minute,” he said, moving toward the screen for a closer look. “There. On your left.”

  The unit commander’s feed moved as he turned, scanning for what Buchanan had seen. After a moment, the screen rested on a fragment of a wooden crate with markings on it.

  “That’s it,” he confirmed. “Can you get any closer?”

  “Copy that, sir,” replied the commander, who crouched and picked it up, holding it to the camera.

  “What’s that?” queried Buchanan. “Some kind of logo?”

  “Not sure, sir. It looks like a small triangle. It’s clearly a section of a larger design. Honestly, it could be anything.”

  Buchanan sighed. “Yeah, okay. Forget it. Finish your sweep, log anything you find, and get your asses back home. Beers are on me for a job well done, Commander.”

  “Copy that, sir.”

  The line went dead. He removed his earpiece and placed it on his desk beside a remote, which he then used to turn off the monitor. He sat in his chair and reached for some papers. A second later, the light on his intercom started flashing, and a buzzing sound broke the fresh silence in his office.

  “What is it, Kim?” he asked, pressing the button.

  “I have Jericho Stone for you on line one,” she replied from outside.

  “Put him through.” There was a click as the call connected. “Jericho, everything all right?”

  “So far, I guess, yeah.”

  Buchanan grinned. “Wanna try sounding a little more convincing?”

  Jericho chuckled. “Sorry, boss. Jules is having a tough time getting Hyatt’s client to do what she wants. And I’m having a tough time not ripping his damn head off. There’s a little tension here, but the client is secure, which is what matters.”

  “Why do we care what his client is doing?”

  “That’s a long story. I’ll skip to the end. I know you’re busy. We need a private jet to take us from Montreal to the Port of Halifax tomorrow afternoon, approximately thirteen-hundred hours. That a problem?”

  Buchanan rested back on the hydraulic suspension of his chair, bouncing lightly as he ran a finger over the bridge of his nose. After a moment’s silence, he said, “How important is this?”

  Jericho sighed. “In terms of protecting Hyatt while he finishes the job that got his daughter kidnapped, it’s a deal-breaker, boss. His client kindly offered to use his own jet, but there are obvious risks with that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, all right. It’s not like it’s my money paying for it or anything. I’ll get Kim to arrange it. She’ll text you the details.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Everything else okay out there?”

  “Yeah, nothing to report. We’ve studied a layout of the port, so we have a basic idea of what we’re walking into now. Hopefully, it’ll stay this quiet. Any word from Ray?”

  “No, but you know him. He’s probably locked away in some hotel room with a couple of young ladies, not giving two shakes of a sheep’s joy department about either of us.”

  They both shared a laugh.

  “I’ll check in again tomorrow morning,” said Jericho. “We should be done here within forty-eight hours.”

  “Good work. I appreciate you taking this job, Jericho. I know it was short notice, and I know the client’s a pain in the ass, but he’s a big-money contract for our private security sector, which is why I wanted to use my own personal unit for it.”

  “No explanation needed, sir. I’m a soldier. I go where I’m told.”

  “I know, but still… Pass on my thanks to Fisher too, would you?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Buchanan ended the call and pressed the buzzer to speak to his secretary. “Kim, I’m going to send you the details for a jet that Jericho and Fisher need for tomorrow. Can you arrange that ASAP, please?”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied.

  “Thanks. And no more calls today, okay? I’ve got a mountain of things I need to read and sign and try to care about.”

  “No problem, Mr. Buchanan. Will you be leaving early today?”

  He checked his watch. He tried not to stay any later than six and never left any later than nine. It was a little after four.

  “Nah, I’ll stay here, maybe order take-out in a little while. You can finish for the day though.”

  “I finish when you do, Mr. Buchanan. You know that.”

  He smiled to himself. “Yeah. You’re a good girl, Kim. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Good enough for a pay rise, sir?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Good enough to eat some Thai food that your boss buys you.”

  She giggled. “That’ll have to do.”

  He put the receiver down and turned his attention back to his paperwork. For a moment, his mind wandered to Ray Collins and the company he imagined he was keeping.

  “Lucky sonofabitch,” he muttered to himself, smiling.

  10.

  I should never have left Alyana, thought Collins as he stared across the table at Patty Velasquez.

  They were sitting at a private table on the balcony of a restaurant overlooking Miami Beach, shaded from the afternoon sun by a large blue and yellow umbrella. Four men wearing dark suits formed a wide and impenetrable perimeter around them. Collins found himself feeling sorry for them, to an extent. Their suits were fitted and smart, their earpieces and wires were visible, their black sunglasses tight on their faces—professional security through and through. But it was in the low eighties, despite the shade, so he couldn’t imagine how hot and uncomfortable they must feel.

  Velasquez put a forkful of steak into her mouth, dabbing the corners of her lips elegantly with a napkin as she chewed. Collins didn’t have an appetite. Instead, he sipped at a glass of scotch on the rocks, trying to relax.

  He felt angry with himself for allowing the situation to spiral so dramatically out of his control. He knew he was better than that. He made one mistake, and he was paying the highest price for it.

  He owed Patricia Velasquez.

  “Are ya gonna tell me what ya want me to do?” he asked with a hint of frustration.

  Still chewing, Velasquez held up a finger, wagging it side to side. She took her time swallowing her food before taking a long sip of her red wine, which left a faint lipstick mark around the rim of the glass.

  “Patience is a virtue, Ray,” she replied.

  He felt a small smile creep across his face, triggered by a sudden fond memory of the two of them he couldn’t ignore. “Since when have ya known me to be virtuous?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment before returning the sentiment. “Fair point. That’s one of the things that attracted me to you.”

  “There were more?”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. She stretched a long, tanned leg out in front of her and began moving her foot up the inside of his leg. Her smile widened. Her eyes softened.

  “There were many, many more…”

  Collins knew better than to think he could charm his way out of the situation, but he figured there was little harm in playing along. Perhaps appealing to her sense of nostalgia might buy him some grace.

  He took a slow gulp of his drink as he felt her foot reach his knee. He rested both hands casually on the table, eager to demonstrate his restraint.

  “Well, if ya ever fancy a little trip down memory lane, I could probably force myself.”

  She laughed playfully. “Only a little trip?”

  “Aye. For now
. We can always stay for longer if ya want…”

  “Hmm, maybe. The only thing is…”

  In a sudden and precise movement, she lunged across the table, grabbed her steak knife, and stabbed it into the wooden surface between two fingers on Collins’s right hand. A millimeter either way, and it would have pinned him there.

  “Jesus!” he yelled, flinching in his seat.

  “…you are a lying, conceited piece of shit who owes me fifty thousand dollars! Not to mention three months of my life!”

  He retracted his hand as she took her seat again, instinctively checking everything was still attached.

  “For Christ’s sake, Patty!” He looked around. The bodyguards seemingly hadn’t noticed the sudden ruckus. “What d’ya mean, three months of your life?”

  “I loved you, you arrogant sonofabitch!” she hissed. “And you left me in Paris without so much as a goodbye.”

  “In Paris?” He thought a moment, struggling to recall what she was referring to. When he remembered, he said, “C’mon, Patty, that was seven years ago.”

  “Not for me.”

  He held her gaze, staring into dark eyes that smoldered with a frantic hatred. But behind all that, he saw something else. He saw vulnerability. He saw sadness.

  He saw a little girl with a broken heart.

  He glanced away and sighed heavily. “Look, Patty, I—”

  “Miss Velasquez,” she said sternly, cutting him off.

  He waved a hand, dismissing it. “Whatever. Ya know damn well why I left, so don’t give me the puppy dog eyes and the sob story, all right?”

  A single eyebrow twitched above her eye. That was the only thing close to a response from Velasquez. She held his gaze silently. Defiantly.

  “And d’ya know what? I’m done being intimidated by ya,” he continued. “I know ya too well. I owe ya money, I get that. I’ve said I’ll do whatever it takes to clear the debt, and ya know I will, Patty. Ya have my word.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

  He pointed a finger. “Hey, I ain’t ever lied to ya, Patty. Think what ya want about me… say what ya want about me… that’s the truth and ya know it. Could I have handled Paris a little better all them years ago? Sure. Probably. If I broke your heart, I’m sorry. But I ain’t never lied to ya. Not once. All I have in this world are my word and my balls, and I don’t break either of them for nobody.”

  She managed another fifteen seconds before her expression broke, and she started laughing. She threw her head back and slapped the table.

  “Did you really just quote Scarface to me?” she said with a wide smile.

  Collins shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Well, we are in Miami. Besides, ya know it’s my favorite film. Pacino was dynamite!”

  Velasquez leaned forward and extended her hand, placing it softly on his forearm. “You’re right. I apologize.”

  He pulled his arm away and sat back in his chair, his eyes wide with surprise. “Say what now?”

  She matched his body language and shrugged. “I said I’m sorry. You’re right. I know exactly why we broke up, and I know why you left. We both agree that you handled it like an asshole, but I understand you felt you had no choice.”

  “Felt I had…” He shook his head with disbelief. “Patty, you were a criminal. Ya still are! Back then you were just an ambitious young thing trying to build the enterprise ya have today, and ya know what? I respected ya for it. I respected the hell out of ya for it. Ya know I haven’t always been the boy scout that sits before ya now, but I’ve never been an idiot. I was working for the British government. When I discovered my mission was to investigate you, I had to leave, Patty. I had to. I couldn’t bring myself to… I always…” He looked away and sighed. “Ah, forget it.”

  She finished her wine and cleared her throat. “I’ve been unprofessional. Seeing you again, it… it brought up some old feelings. Perhaps some issues I hadn’t dealt with. But it’s all in the past. We should focus on the present. And more importantly, whether or not you have a future.”

  Collins shifted uneasily in his seat. The moment of nostalgia, such as it was, had passed.

  “Just so we’re clear,” he began, “I do this one thing for ya, and my slate’s wiped clean?”

  She smiled playfully. “Maybe…”

  “No. There’s no maybe, Patty. Ya know who I work for, right? Ya don’t have long before someone notices I ain’t come back from my vacation. You could be as big as Capone, and it wouldn’t protect ya from GlobaTech’s reach. Not now, and especially not if ya piss them off.”

  She held up a hand. “Relax, Ray. You’ll have a heart attack. Of course, I know who you work for. I’m not stupid. This is a one-time deal… double or nothing.”

  He nodded. “Well, okay then. So, let’s not beat around the bush. Ya want me to kill someone, don’t ya?”

  “Correct. Is that a problem?”

  He shook his head. “If it’s between me and some random criminal on your shit-list, I’ll gladly choose me every time. Morals be damned. Who’s the target?”

  “He’s a business rival. A very well protected business rival. I’ll be honest with you, Ray. For a job of this magnitude and significance, I would normally hire a professional.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, please, don’t feel like ya have to butter me up or anything…”

  She shrugged. “You’re talented, Ray, but you’re not a pro. Not at tasks such as this. In an ideal world, I’d hire the best. I’m getting a real bargain by essentially paying you fifty thousand for this. Someone like… I don’t know… like Adrian Hell would have charged me four or five times that. Such a shame he retired…”

  Collins couldn’t resist a smile. “Whatever he’s doing nowadays, Patty, I can promise ya one thing—that fella won’t ever retire.”

  She narrowed her eyes with curiosity. “You say that like you know him.”

  “I wouldn’t say I know him. We worked together once, briefly.”

  She leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her, beaming with excitement. “Really? Do tell!”

  “No, I couldn’t. It was…”

  “Oh, Ray,” she began, pouting with her full, red lips. “Did you make the mistake of thinking I was asking?”

  He sighed again. “It was nothing. A couple of years ago, back when my boss was his best mate, I helped him cross the Belarusian border into Pripyat.”

  “What for?”

  “As I recall, he was rescuing his girlfriend from a bunch of terrorists.”

  “Wow. So, you two fought side by side?”

  “Not really. I got him across the border, gave him a shotgun, and left him to it.”

  “Oh.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, we worked together briefly. Twelve hours or so, that was it. Nice bloke though. My kinda fella, y’know?”

  “So, did he get his girlfriend back?”

  Collins chuckled. “Aye, ya could say that. The bad guys were holed up beneath an abandoned hospital. Way I heard it, he acquired himself a tank and blew the whole place to pieces while playing ‘Black Betty’ through the PA system. Then he breached the underground facility, killed about twenty of the bastards, and walked back out the front door hand-in-hand with his lady—barely a scratch on either of them.”

  Velasquez laughed. “Jesus… I really wish I could hire him for this instead of you.”

  “Again, don’t feel ya have to spare my feelings or nothin’…”

  “Well, come on, Ray, seriously—how does anyone compare to that?”

  She held his gaze, smiling mischievously. He smiled back as he realized she was simply trying to get a reaction from him.

  “Yeah, yeah, all right,” he said. “I ain’t the jealous type, love. And I certainly ain’t jealous of him.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why not? He’s so much… better than you.”

  “Well, that’s a matter of perspective, darlin’. He’s better than me at being a hitman, yeah. Obviously, he is—he’s better th
an everyone at that. But I ain’t trying to be a hitman, so that’s an irrelevant comparison. I’m probably better at golf than he is, but I doubt he’s ever tried to improve his backswing, so who the hell cares? I’m just sayin’… that guy has some issues.”

  “Ooh, gossip! Spill!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I just mean he has his demons. He’s a fella capable of extreme focus and violence, yet he has this kinda… I dunno… Zen-like acceptance of his abilities. It’s a little unnerving, truth be told. I respect the hell outta him, don’t get me wrong, but if ya ask me, that bloke needs some serious therapy.”

  “Well, you learn something new every day…”

  “Look, can we quit with the sleepover talk and get to the point, so I can be done with this?”

  She nodded and sat back in her chair, as if someone flicked a switch and she was suddenly a ruthless criminal again.

  “Before I can send you on your way, there’s something I need from you.”

  Collins gulped what remained of his scotch, savoring the mild burn as it traveled down his esophagus. “Uh-uh. What did we just agree on? This is a one-time thing, Patty. I ain’t jumpin’ through any hoops for ya.”

  “You misunderstand me,” she replied, holding up a hand and smiling apologetically. “I know the job is a one-time deal. If you’re successful, your slate is wiped clean, we’re square, and there’s no need for us to ever cross paths again.”

  “Right…”

  “But for me to agree to give you the job… to give you the chance to pay your debt… you need to do one small thing for me first.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, sensing the futility in any further arguing. “Name it.”

  “I need you to apologize.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “For leaving me in Paris.”

  “I thought we were past that?”

  “Yeah… see, I thought we were, but then you told me that story about Adrian Hell, how he went to war for the one he loved. It reminded me of how I felt about you and how much you hurt me. And I want you to say sorry.”

  Collins shifted in his seat. “Well, not wishing to split hairs or anything, but I kinda did that already. Literally about two minutes ago.”