by Dan Fairview
“You'll find this interesting,” Coles said between bites. “Sarah said Taylor was planning a triple load day after tomorrow. And she told me which pickup point.”
“Sounds too good to pass up. How did she know about it?”
Coles broke a piece of bacon and placed it in her mouth. “She is one of the pickup boats. One drop is to be put on three separate boats. All scheduled for the same spot and time...”
“I think we need to hit the drop boat before the meet point instead of chasing three boats all night,” John suggested.
“Agreed.”
Coles’s comm unit beeped, and she answered it. John wondered if the call could be traced. He had disabled the GPS on his comm months ago. He had never liked the idea of someone being able to track his movements.
Coles inhaled sharply, catching John's attention. “Are you sure? There couldn't be a mistake, could there? Okay. Thanks for calling.”
Coles slapped the unit onto the table and rose to pace the kitchen like a lioness stalking her prey.
John sat there, confused. He wanted to ask what was wrong but waited for her to calm down a little. She finally began to cry. The switch left John even more confused.
He instinctively moved to her and held her for a moment until she stepped back. “Sarah is dead,” she said.
“What? How?”
Coles wiped the tears from her eyes. “Her boat caught fire last night with her on it.”
“Taylor.” It was a simple statement, not a question.
She nodded.
“I'm so sorry. Were you two very close?” John asked.
“I have known her for a long time.” The tears were drying, but the anger still burned on her face.
“That call couldn't be traced, could it?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I'd hate for Taylor or his goons to show up here.”
Coles dashed up the stairs. She came back shortly with a large energy rifle in her grip. John had seen this type before. Military grade. Powerful enough to blast through armored plating and accurate up to five miles with the advanced telescope mounted on it. John knew instantly that this wasn't Coles’s weapon.
“Taylor better hope he doesn't send someone out here,” she said as she laid it on the table.
“What exactly does your friend do for a living?” I asked.
Coles grinned. “Mercenary. And that stays between us.”
John nodded and reached for the weapon. “Can I?”
“Sure. Let’s take it outside. Are you any good?”
He gave her a sly grin. “I like to think so, but I've never fired anything as powerful as this.”
They stepped out onto the deck, and Coles motioned toward the shore.
“See if you can hit something out there.”
John picked a rock formation at least eight hundred yards down the shoreline. He hadn't used a scope quite like this one, but after looking it over, he thought he understood it. He sank to one knee and balanced it on the railing, then flipped the safety off and sighted the rock in. He squeezed the trigger as he released a breath, and a pulse of white light obliterated the rock.
John was pleased the weapon had a kick to it—not much but noticeable. All the other energy weapons he had ever fired didn’t kick. He liked the sensation and preferred projectile weapons because of it.
“That’s pretty good,” she said.
“This thing gives me an idea,” John said. “It has night vision. We can catch the shipment long before the drop off point and sink it easily with this. I can hit it below the water line, and down she goes.”
John stood and leaned the weapon against the rail.
“What about the people on board?” Coles asked, but John didn't see concern in her eyes.
“They can swim.”
10
John lay on the foredeck of Coles’s boat, peering through the night vision scope. The sky was dark and clear, and the stars shone brightly, so he had no trouble seeing for miles.
They chose this particular spot because of its proximity to the pickup spot. They put the sandy shoreline of an island to their back, so it would hide their silhouette. John had been practicing and felt confident he could hit the boat below the water line as long as it passed within a mile of them.
“It’s not time yet,” Coles said.
John rolled over and rubbed his eye. “I know. I was just getting the feel.” John couldn't read her expression in the dim light. “How much longer?”
She read the time on her comm unit, and its light bathed her face in a sinister-looking green shadow.
“Ten or fifteen minutes at least,” she said.
John lay on his back, looking up at the stars. He may not be able to take down Taylor legally, but this way, he could dish out a little justice.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked.
It surprised him that he was. He had always gone by the book as a detective. The feelings he experienced now would have given him pause three years ago. Was this the right strategy? His old self would have called him a vigilante. What was happening to him?
Coles’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Don't fall asleep on me.”
John rolled back over and peered through the scope again.
Minutes stretched, and his thoughts drifted again. He found his answer. The government just worked differently here. Life worked differently here. The casino directors on New Monte Carlo Island basically had no system of law at all. Whatever they agreed on became law, and that seemed in a state of constant flux. The Hishu council, with all its pretensions at government, wasn't really any better.
John pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. “I've got a concern.”
“What?”
“I hadn't thought about the effects of both boats bobbing in the water. That’s bound to make this trickier.”
“Do want me to pull onto the shore?”
“That would help, but that’s no good either if they are too far out and we need to get closer.”
“Yeah. I see what you mean.”
They didn't get to think the options over. The sound of a distant boat approaching decided it for them. It took a moment to locate the source of the sound, but eventually, John spotted it.
“Is it them?” Coles whispered.
“Sure is. Gibson is standing point.”
“Can you make the shot?”
John read the range on the scope. It was almost two miles out. “It’s a little far, but I can try.”
“Let me get behind the wheel and then go for it.”
Coles slid behind the console, and John waited for the boat to settle back down. He focused on his breathing as he sighted in. He released the safety, and the seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he tried to time a breath with the motion of the boat.
Finally, he squeezed off a shot that lit the night and struck the bow right under Gibson, throwing him overboard in a shower of splinters.
John turned to Coles frantically. “Get me closer! I missed.”
The engine roared, and she slammed the throttle forward. John looked through the scope at the other boat. It had turned to pick up Gibson. John could see only one other man on the boat, and he was circling to find his lost passenger. If luck stayed with them, John would be able to get close enough to send them both swimming.
The hull of Coles’s boat slapped the water in a relentless rhythm. She had it at top speed from the sound of the straining engine. John signaled her the course corrections as he sighted through the scope.
The driver kept glancing their way, aware of their approach, but that didn't matter. They were almost in range, where John knew he could sink them.
John signaled for Coles to stop, and she dropped to an idle. The man struggled, pulling Gibson's muscular form back into the boat. Time was running out.
A blast of brilliant light exited the barrel and penetrated just above the water line.
John wiped the sweat that had beaded on his brow
and threatened to run into his eyes, and then tried again.
This time, it struck under the water line. He breathed a sigh of relief.
He gave Coles the thumbs up to indicate success as bullets started raining into the water nearby.
Coles turned the boat and sped out of range but not before a stray bullet caught John in the leg. He cried out on its impact and almost dropped his weapon. He managed to slide onto a seat and put pressure on the wound.
It wasn't long before they were well out of range of their weapons. Coles stopped the boat. She grabbed a first aid kit and a lantern from under a seat.
The bullet had grazed the fleshy part of his left leg. Coles used John's knife to cut away the lower part of his cargo shorts and quickly dressed the wound.
“You'll live,” she said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It surprised him. She turned. “Can you see what’s happening out there?”
John propped the weapon up to get a look. It took a moment, but he found them. The boat was almost underwater already. John and Coles took turns watching. Gibson and his helper were bailing the water, but they eventually gave up and jumped in with their life jackets on.
She turned to John. “You and Katrina aren’t right for one another.”
“I, uh…” John didn’t know what to say.
“You think I’m awful.”
He wanted to tell her how he felt. John tried to say something. Anything, but nothing came out. A painful silence stretched. Coles started the boat and headed for home.
John removed his bandage and used a light to inspect the wound. “I think this will heal up as long as it doesn't get infected. I’ll get some more bandages tomorrow,” John said.
“You do that. I’m going to sleep in.”
He could hear the hurt in her voice. He was sorry for it. He desired her but it felt wrong to act on it when he was dating her friend. He didn’t blame Coles. In fact, he agreed with her that Katrina wasn’t right for him, but it was the principle. He needed to end it with Katrina.
John grunted and laid back in his seat. At least the drugs were at the bottom of the ocean.
11
The next morning, John went early, before Coles woke, to pick up more supplies. He had called ahead and asked Kian to round up what he needed. John stood in the bar, shaking Kian’s hand.
“Thanks for this,” John said.
“No problem.” Kian hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the customers. “I would help you load it, but...”
“That okay. I can get it. I appreciate you rounding it up for me. I'll see you later.”
Kian went back to work and waved farewell as John came back to get the last box. John waved and limped off the deck and down the path to the dock.
Luckily, John had kept his eyes peeled because a man had followed him down the path. John acted like he hadn't noticed the man and limped a little faster.
When John reached the dock, he could sense the man getting closer by the beat of his steps on the boards. John poured on as much speed as he could and tossed the box onto the boat. He spun around to meet his attacker just as the man reached for him.
John grabbed the arm and used the man's momentum to pull him face-first into a light post attached to the dock. His head ricocheted off the post with a snap, stunning the man. John had been fortunate in the location of the post and the timing.
John released him, and the man staggered backward a few steps. He fumbled for a weapon holstered under his left arm only to find it not there.
John grinned at the man's confused look and held up the weapon in front of him. “Looking for this?” The man lunged toward him, and John brought the barrel down over his head, sending him sprawling at his feet. John unloaded the weapon and tossed it into the water with a splash.
John was glad that the man had been alone. Taylor must have learned he spent a lot of time here and sent someone after him.
If Taylor had asked around and found this out, he wondered what else he had found out. Would any of his friends be safe? He would have to find a different way of getting the stuff he needed next time.
Nobody had seen the scuffle, so John left the man lying on the dock and climbed onto his boat and left.
As John got closer to the house he and Coles were staying in, black smoke snaked into the air that could be seen for miles. John's heart raced, and he slammed the throttle forward. What had happened? The possibilities clicked off in his head. He tried not to jump to any conclusions, but deep down, he knew he was fooling himself.
He pulled out his comm unit and called Victoria.
“I left Coles here earlier. I don't know if she is still here. I've not landed yet. Send medical help just in case.”
“Already on it. Be careful. Someone might still be there. I'll be there as fast as I can.”
The call ended as John reached the dock. Smoke burned his nose and eyes, causing them to water. No other boat was in sight. He tied off as quickly as possible and ran up the path. He had his weapon out and ready. The house crackled and popped as the flames stretched into the air. The heat pressed on him even from this distance. Coles's boat wasn't there, so maybe she had gone somewhere else.
He dashed up the path, keeping his eyes roaming back and forth, waiting for someone to appear. He got as close as he could to the burning structure and started working his way around it. Parts of the roof collapsed inward, sending sparks flying skyward.
When he worked his way around to the other side, his heart dropped.
A yellow-haired body lay facedown on the ground, dangerously close to a part of the blazing deck.
John rushed over to the body and dragged it a safe distance away. When he reached a reasonable distance, he rolled Coles over onto his lap to get a look at her.
She breathed. He was glad of that miracle, but she had been badly burnt on her legs. John didn't know how bad a burn needed to be before it became fatal, but it looked bad to him.
He tried to get her to respond, but she didn’t.
A pair of jumpers flew in from the distance and landed by the dock. He was still holding her in his arms when Victoria and a medical team found them.
Everything after that seemed hazy, like a bad dream that he couldn’t wake up from.
A pair of men tried to take her from him, but he resisted. After prying her from his grip, they loaded Coles onto a board and carried her away as Victoria held him back. Someone was yelling, and he realized it was him.
Victoria and a deputy held him while a medic injected him with something. Suddenly, John felt very heavy and sat down.
Victoria leaned down, grabbed his face, and pulled it up to hers. “Look at me, John. They have to take her. If they don't get her help soon, she won’t make it. The doc gave you a sedative. You need to get hold of yourself.”
John reeled in confusion. It seemed like an out of body experience. Would Coles make it?
She has to make it, he thought.
Victoria put an arm under his to stand him up. “Let’s get you to the jumper. I don't want to have to carry you.”
It still took her and the deputy to keep him on his feet to reach the jumper. They strapped him into a seat as he blacked out.
12
John returned to consciousness with the sounds of hospital equipment beeping and whirring.
He lifted his hand to rub his eyes but a tube inserted into a vein prevented him. His tugging set off an alarm. A nurse came in and removed it. “There you go. Are you hungry?”
John sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed but didn't get up when the pain of his bullet wound flared. He had almost forgotten about that. It had a nice fresh bandage on it.
“No, thanks. How long have I been here?” he asked.
“Miss Sidewell brought you in eight hours ago.”
“Kisha Coles should have been brought in about the same time to be treated for burns. What is her condition?”
The nurse looked around to make sure nobody could overhear and then leaned in to whisp
er. “I'm only supposed to tell family, but Miss Sidewell explained how you saved the poor dear, so I'll go ahead and tell you.” Her face turned grave. “She is in critical condition and might not make it. Only time will tell.”
John nodded and thanked her. “Am I good to go?”
“You inhaled a lot of smoke, but otherwise, you’re fine. You can leave anytime you like.”
“Can I see Coles?”
“I'm afraid not.”
The nurse left, and John found a note Victoria had left for him, telling him to rest and that she would call him later.
He felt a little groggy, but that was quickly fading, so John left the hospital and caught a bus to Bill's bar to pick up his roamer. Every minute of the trip, he got angrier and angrier. By the time he had reached his stop, his anger had built to such a fever pitch that the other passengers had moved away from him in fear.
Taylor could not keep ruining people’s lives. He had to be held accountable, and if Victoria and the council wouldn't do it, he would.
It’s time to start playing by their rules, he thought.
John made it to Bill's place and slid into the seat of his roamer. He pulled a weapon and extra ammo from under the seat and stuffed it into his cargo shorts. He started his roamer and pointed it toward Taylor's warehouse. One way or another, the problem would be resolved today.
The sun had gone down by the time he pulled up to Taylor's warehouse. The parking lot was mostly empty since the workday had ended, so John pulled up close to the side entrance and stepped out, leaving the door hanging open.
He cocked his weapon and strode through the warehouse door, scanning the interior. A couple of workers stood talking off to his right.
“Get out now,” John growled at them.
When they spotted the weapon in his hand, they raised their arms and dashed for the door.
Two figures came into the open from behind a stack of crates. John instantly recognized them as Taylor and Gibson.
“What the...” Taylor ducked back behind the crates along with Gibson. Gibson pulled a weapon and started firing.