Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  “No freakin’ way…” he whispered.

  He adjusted his view back to the driver. The woman had turned around. It was Julie Fisher.

  “Ya have to be kiddin’ me…” he whispered again.

  “What is it?” asked the man beside him. “What’s the delay?”

  Collins rolled back on his haunches once more, moving away from the rifle and twisting to face his babysitter.

  “Ya won’t believe this, but I promise I ain’t pullin’ ya leg, okay?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My target… this Darius Silva bloke that Patty wants me to kill… he’s standing down there right now with my teammates from GlobaTech.”

  “What? How? Why?”

  Collins held his hands up. “Hey, ya got me, buddy.”

  The man trained his gun on Collins’ forehead. “Did you do this? Did you call them here?”

  “How could I? Only cell phone I have is the one your boss gave me. It’s preprogrammed, so it can only dial her. I’ve had no way to get in touch with my friends. If I did, do ya not think I might’ve done it a little sooner?”

  The man lowered his gun and looked through his binoculars again. “This isn’t my problem. And it isn’t Miss Velasquez’s problem either. Do what you came here to do.”

  “I do that, and ya won’t just have Silva’s men coming for ya. It’ll be GlobaTech’s finest. Do ya know how bad that’ll be for ya? Not wishing to blow my own horn or nothin’, but me and my team… we’re the best there is. Period. They’ll kill every last one of ya.”

  He re-aimed his gun at Collins. “Figure it out.”

  Collins thought for a moment or two, trying to find a way to use this to his advantage. He looked back at the three men guarding the entrance to the roof. He thought how he hadn’t heard them get into position. Then it hit him.

  He looked back at his babysitter. “Lemme speak to them.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  Collins shrugged. “Possibly. But that’s not the issue right now. If I can get my guys outta there, it will allow me to take out Silva without setting GlobaTech on ya ass.” He held out his hand, gesturing for the man’s cell phone. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”

  The man reached for his phone and held it in his hand, staring for a moment before reluctantly handing it over.

  “Anything I don’t like, you’re getting a bullet,” he said. “No second chances.”

  Collins nodded. “No problem.”

  He began dialing.

  In the port, Jericho and Julie stood on either side of Hyatt, scanning the area, hands loose and ready to draw their weapon. The wind blowing in from the North Atlantic Ocean took another few degrees off the already low temperature.

  Julie shivered on the spot as she tried to relax. Away to her left, Silva and his men were standing around the hood of their Suburban.

  “What are they waiting for?” she asked Hyatt, nodding toward the group.

  Hyatt looked over and shrugged. “I… I don’t know. Probably for the foreman to come out. Mr. Silva will want to remain discreet and keep this all as innocent as possible, to avoid any attention.”

  Before she could say anything else, her cell phone rang. She answered it quickly.

  “Fisher.”

  “Hey, Kate, it’s Ray.”

  Her eyes pinged open, and she looked over at Jericho with silent urgency. He saw the look in her eyes and nodded toward the phone. They stepped away from Hyatt and she placed it on speaker.

  “Hey… Ray,” she replied. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s great. I’m calling on behalf of Vinny. He can’t come to the phone right now, but he sends his regards, ya know?”

  “I hear you, Ray. Does he have a message for me?”

  “Aye, he says he’s in town for a party, and you’re invited. Ya can bring a mate too, if ya want.”

  “Sounds great! Whereabouts? We’ll be right there.”

  “Oh, not too far, love. I tell ya, we’ll be having that drink ya like so much. The one with port and brandy in it. Anyway, I got a great view from Vinny’s place. I can see the ocean from here. It’s his usual spot. Ya know the one, right? Can’t wait to see ya, Kate.”

  The line went dead.

  “W-what was that about?” asked Hyatt, who had been listening.

  Julie ignored him.

  “What do you think?” she asked Jericho.

  “Not sure. He said Vinny couldn’t come to the phone right now, which is weird.”

  “W-why’s that weird?” asked Hyatt, seemingly desperate to understand what was happening.

  “We each have codenames,” explained Julie. “For the others to use on an open line in case we’re compromised. We think one of our colleagues has been sent here to kill you. That was him, but he said his codename couldn’t talk.”

  Jericho snapped his fingers. “Whoever made him come here is with him, but they know him.”

  Julie nodded. “Right. That’s why he couldn’t use the fake name. They know his real one, so it would’ve raised suspicions.”

  “He’s watching us from somewhere right now,” said Jericho. “But where? He said he had a great view…”

  They each looked around the port. When nothing obvious presented itself, they began looking farther afield—to their right, out of the gates and across the street… to their left, out across the ocean, in case he was on a boat… and then directly ahead of them.

  “There,” said Julie. “That’s got to be it.”

  Hyatt followed their gaze. He saw nothing except undeveloped land on the other side of some fencing that served as a border for the port. Beyond that was a low-level skyline of buildings, and…

  “The parking garage?” he asked.

  Jericho nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “But that’s… that’s miles away!”

  Jericho shrugged. “I’d say about a half-mile. Ray could easily make the shot from there with a long gun. He’ll be on the roof.”

  Julie nodded. “I’ve got an idea. Wait here.” She walked over to Silva, standing close to him and leaning in to speak in his ear. After a moment, he simply nodded, and she turned on her heels, heading for the Suburban. She climbed in quickly behind the wheel and gunned the engine. She spun it around, so she was facing the main gates and stopped in front of Jericho and Hyatt.

  She buzzed the window down and leaned across. “Get in. I’ll explain on the way.”

  They both did so without question, and she sped out of the port, leaving tire marks on the ground behind her and smoke in her rear view.

  17.

  Collins watched them climb into the Suburban and speed away. He looked over at his babysitter. “I reckon that did it. They just left.”

  “Good,” he replied. “Now you can get on with it, so we can all go home.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  Collins got back into position and brought the sights to rest on the center of Silva’s forehead. His finger rested gently on the trigger. His heart was beating hard against his chest.

  I really hope that worked, he thought. I’m out of time.

  He took his time, running through every pre-shot routine he could think three times over. Anything to steal another valuable second.

  He sensed more movement to his left. A moment later, he felt the barrel of the gun press against his temple. He closed his eyes, silently cursing himself as he replayed every second from the last twenty-four hours that had led him to this situation in his head.

  “What’s the delay?” asked the man impatiently.

  “Hey, will ya cut me some slack here?” replied Collins, shrugging him away. “This is a difficult shot. I’m five-hundred-plus yards away, shooting into a strong crosswind, and it’s not as if I can count on ya to give me an accurate spot, now, is it?”

  “Again… not my problem.”

  “Aye, well, it will be if I miscalculate the shot and the bullet gets blown into the fuel tank of that big-ass Chevy, won’t it?
The fireworks’ll be seen for miles and then a whole new kind of holy hell will rain down on ya. Now are ya gonna let me take my shot like a professional or not?”

  Both men held each other’s gaze for a long, tense minute before the babysitter looked away, waving at Collins dismissively.

  “Whatever. Just get on with it.”

  “Thank you,” he replied sarcastically.

  He knelt still for another couple of minutes, lining up his shot perfectly until he knew, with absolute certainty, he would hit his target. But still, he waited. He needed to buy as much time as he could for—

  He heard a noise behind him. It was faint. Muffled. But unmistakable. It was the sound of a body hitting the ground. Forgetting his situation, he looked over his right shoulder toward the entrance ramp. All three men were sprawled on the ground. Julie Fisher was standing over them, smiling. She waved casually.

  Collins smiled back. As he turned toward his babysitter, he heard a loud bang. A second later, he felt something punch into his shoulder. Something small and hot. He felt his skin blister and tear. A sensation like lightning exploded along his arm, and he fell backward, as if dragged by a wild horse.

  He clamped a hand over his shoulder where the bullet had struck him.

  “Gah! God… dammit! Ya shot me, ya bastard!”

  The man got to his feet, already swinging his gun around to take aim at Julie, a cell phone held to his ear.

  Collins lifted his head to see. He wasn’t sure where Julie was, but he knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. He lashed out with his leg, catching the guy in the knee and sending him off-balance. He staggered backward, dropping the phone but holding onto his weapon. Collins used the moment of reprieve to shuffle himself away, trying to get to his feet while keeping the pressure on his bullet wound.

  The man recovered and stepped toward him, aiming his gun dead center at Collins’ chest.

  “I’m going to enjoy this, you irritating sonofabitch! Miss Velasquez sends her regards…”

  Julie lunged forward, spear-tackling him as he pulled the trigger, dragging the bullet off-course. It chipped away at the concrete above Collins’ head. He ducked anyway instinctively.

  “Jesus! Watch it, will ya!”

  Julie recovered quickly, kicked the gun out of the man’s hand, and brought her foot down hard on the side of his head. He grunted as consciousness left him.

  She dropped to one knee to catch her breath and then looked over at Collins.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she asked.

  He chuckled as he grimaced at his wound. “Did ya… miss me, love?”

  She rolled her eyes and nodded toward his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

  He looked down at it. His hand was covered in his own blood. “Only a lot.”

  “Good. Get your ass up. You can explain everything in the car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  She nudged the man on the ground with her foot. “I’m guessing your friend here was calling for back-up before I hit him, which probably means we’re about to have a very bad day.”

  She helped him to his feet, and they walked as quickly as they could back down the ramp toward the Suburban. Collins climbed into the passenger seat. Seeing the vehicle was empty, he looked at Julie questioningly as she got in and started the engine.

  “Where’s Jerry and the other fella?” he asked. “I saw all three of ya get in…”

  She nodded as she headed for the exit. “After you called, I figured you might have somebody with you watching, so we all left, but I let them out once we were clear of the port. They snuck back in over the fence a little farther along, where I figured you couldn’t see.”

  “Nice.”

  She pulled out of the parking garage and sped back toward the port, weaving expertly between the other cars.

  “We’ve got two minutes to get each other caught up,” she said. “Start talking. Who wants Hyatt dead so badly that they would send you?”

  He frowned. “Hyatt? Little Jessie’s old man? Nah, I ain’t here for him. I was sent to kill some fella named Silva. Darius Silva.”

  Julie glanced across at him, surprised. “Really? I wish I’d have known. I would’ve let you take your shot.”

  Collins laughed. “Bit of a prick, is he?”

  “Just a bit. So, who hired you?”

  “A woman named Patricia Velasquez. Nowadays, she’s a big-time crime boss operating out of Miami.”

  “Nowadays?”

  “Aye, I… kinda knew her way back when. We had a bit of a thing. Nothing serious, but… Listen, before I go on, will ya keep this between us?”

  Intrigued, she nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thanks, pet. I owed someone a bit of money. A loan shark named Ramirez. I was into him for seventeen grand, to cover some gambling debts.”

  Julie sighed. “Oh, Ray… Jesus.”

  “Aye, I know, I know. Anyway, unbeknownst to me, Patty bought out my debt. Apparently, Ramirez was after my head on a spike, so she did it for old time’s sake, as a favor, y’know? Thing is, she also hiked up the interest, meaning I ended up owing her three times what I owed the other guy. I couldn’t pay it, so she had me do a job for her to clean my slate.”

  “Kill Silva…”

  “Aye. I had no idea he had anything to do with Hyatt.”

  “I can’t believe it…” she said, shaking her head. Then a thought popped into her head, and her eyes pinged wide. “Ray, I think this Velasquez woman is the one behind Jessie’s kidnapping!”

  “Huh?”

  Julie navigated the traffic and turned right toward the entrance to the port. “I don’t know. It makes sense. We got hit last night at our hotel. A group of cartel soldiers working for someone named Cortez.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  She shook her head. “No. Cortez is head of the cartel behind the kidnapping.”

  “Jesus. How are ya? Okay? And Jerry?”

  “Yeah, we’re all fine. They said they had been hired by someone working with their boss to steal a shipment belonging to Silva, and they had intel that said Hyatt was the key to doing that. It makes sense that it was this Patricia Velasquez, right?”

  “Ah, I dunno, Jules. Patty’s a lot of things—most of ’em bad, I admit—but hurting a little girl? I can’t see it. What’s the shipment?”

  “Sixteen million dollars in cash, belonging to another scumbag who turned to Silva for help. If Velasquez takes that money from Silva, that puts him at war with his friends, weakening him in the process.”

  Collins stared blankly ahead, processing the idea that Velasquez could be capable of orchestrating the kidnapping of an eight-year-old girl. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had to admit it made sense.

  He growled loudly with frustration and used his good arm to slam his fist repeatedly against the dashboard in front of him, startling Julie.

  “Bollocks!” he shouted. He sat back and took a deep breath, composing himself. “Okay, let’s say you’re right, and it is Patty behind all this. If taking the shipment makes the guy vulnerable, why send me to kill him as well?”

  “Insurance, maybe? Who knows?” She drove through the gates and slammed to a halt beside Silva and his men. Jericho and Hyatt were with them. “But that’s a problem for another day. Come on.”

  They climbed out of the car. Jericho moved around the hood to greet Collins.

  “Ray, are you all right?” he asked, noticing his shoulder.

  “Aye, I’m fine, Jerry. Just a flesh wound. T’rough and t’rough, ya know? All in a day’s work.” He nodded at Jericho’s clothes—yesterday’s suit with fresh blood stains. “Ya look like shite, matey.”

  “What can I say? It’s… ah… it’s been a rough couple of days.” Jericho gestured to Hyatt, who was stood beside him. “This is Mr. Hyatt, our client.”

  Collins nodded a courteous greeting. “Ya got a great little girl, Mr. Hyatt. Maybe once this is all over, ya take her on a nice vacation somewhere far a
way, yeah?”

  Hyatt nodded silently.

  Collins looked at Jericho and Julie in turn. “So… I can’t leave ya alone for two minutes…”

  They all exchanged glances before smiling and patting each other on the shoulder.

  Collins winced as Jericho’s giant hand clamped down on his bullet wound. “Ah! Watch it, big fella.”

  “Heh. Sorry about that, man.”

  Silva stepped into the group and cleared his throat. “Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”

  Collins smiled. “Sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. The name’s Ray Collins. I work with these two lovely people. I was actually just about to shoot ya in the head.”

  Silva’s eyes went wide. “You were what?”

  “Gonna shoot ya. From about a quarter-mile or so over there. Now listen. I’ve had a really bad day, and I’m not as patient and understanding as my colleagues here.”

  Silva scoffed but said nothing.

  “I have a couple of questions for ya,” Collins continued, still smiling but with an edge to his voice. “Either ya answer them honest, or I’m gonna blow your brains out right here and give this place a fresh lick of paint. We clear?”

  Silva nodded uneasily, and his bodyguards shifted restlessly behind him.

  Collins finally let go of his hand. “Good. Now do ya know Patty Velasquez?”

  Silva thought for a moment. “I do, yes. Wait… is she… is she the one behind all this? Is she after my shipment?”

  Collins patted the air in front of him with his good arm. “Slow down there, cowboy. She hired me to kill ya, yeah. Didn’t mention anything about a shipment to me, but then she wasn’t in much of a sharing mood when we last spoke. Do ya know if—”

  The sound of screeching tires filled the air. Everybody spun around to face the entrance to the port in time to see half a million dollars’ worth of BMW slide to a stop ten feet away from them. The cold sun reflected off the new paint job, briefly masking the identities of the four people who climbed out.

  The clack of heels sounded as Patricia Velasquez walked confidently toward them, holding a small .22 caliber pistol low in her right hand. She wore a brilliant white dress, which clung to her figure in the best of ways, and a white, fluffy jacket that was short enough to just about cover her breasts. Behind her, three men in suits armed with assault rifles followed, aiming generally in the direction of the group.