Superhero By Night (Book 3): The Wraith [Guerrilla Warfare]

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  I grinned, letting him know that I didn’t care. “Ricardo, I didn’t get here because I’m a girl scout. In the last 24 hours alone I’ve killed tougher and deadlier people than someone who can compel the truth. If this is all you have, then I’m afraid it isn’t enough.” I pulled my pistol.

  “It isn’t. Please. Wait. I can’t tell you where he’s located, we have the same goal, Ms. Dumas. I want ISO-1 stopped as much as you do.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Or did they kill your entire family on Thanksgiving and leave you for dead?”

  He shook his head. “No, but what they do... I’m sure you’re aware of their human trafficking?”

  “I’ve stopped a fair share of it,” I said.

  “What you aren’t aware of is that two out of every five people trafficked disappear once they hit the port. They don’t turn up dead. They aren’t sold to brothels or Eastern Europe. They simply disappear.” Truth.

  Now that was interesting. “Go on?”

  “I don’t know what happens to them, but my people tell me that ships arrive weekly with between five hundred and a thousand women and girls, but only two-thirds of them are sold. Where are the rest? Unless they are burying the bodies deep in the rain forest, they have to be going somewhere?”

  “And what? Murder is okay for you but you draw the line at human trafficking?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I told you, even if you lie to him, he makes you do the things you promised to do. I was an INTERPOL agent, sent here to bring down ISO-1. When I moved up to take over this part of the black market, I didn’t realize I would be forced to do so for him. I don’t know if he knew I was INTERPOL when he made me the offer, but since then... I have to do this job to the best of my ability—I have no choice. That doesn’t mean I can’t point you in the right direction.”

  Truth. And Wow. That sucked. I really had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry,” was all that I ended up with.

  “So you see, Ms. Dumas, I’ve lost everything too,” he said, turning his eyes down. He was clearly in pain over the things he had done under the coercion of Mr. Axiom.

  “Tell me what I need to know?” I asked.

  “Rodrigo Alvarez—yes, the same Alvarez, it’s his cousin. He’s in charge of the trafficking network. All roads lead to Belize. Then the packages are sent out to the rest of the world. He may know what happens to the ones who don’t leave, or he may not. But it is the place to start.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I’ll find him and—” I felt it before I heard it. A vibration, followed by running footsteps on the deck then down the stairs and right toward our door. I cocked my head to the side. “You’ve been stalling me?”

  He nodded. “We all do what we have to do, it doesn’t mean what I said wasn’t true.” Truth.

  “Fine.”

  I drew the gun and put three rounds through the door, nailing the guy on the other side right in the chest. I ran at the door, kicking it hard, knocking it off the hinges and onto the already fallen body. The small hall was filled with black-suited thugs wielding pistols, frozen into inaction for just a second—they weren’t expecting me to come to them.

  Their malaise ended. I was ready for it. I leaped forward, sliding under the first bullet and kicking the lead guy in the crotch. He folded and I opened fire; two in him, two in the next guy.

  I kicked him off me into the crowd, knocking down several of them as they tried to get off a clean shot. I leaped up, shouldering the next one as I shot him and the two behind him.

  I slapped a hand aside as it went for my head, ducked down and put a round in the last guy as he tried to reach for me.

  Then it hit, the rush, the euphoria as strength poured into me.

  “I hope you’re happy,” I said to Spice, even though she wasn’t there. The hall was littered with bodies. I could hear more coming down the pier, but I didn’t want a prolonged firefight.

  It was time to go.

  The cell phone beeped as I pressed the send button. Two seconds later a deafening bang blew the door off its hinges and the entire boat shuddered. I heard more men holler outside as they were thrown off their feet and into the water from the sudden tilt of the boat.

  I ran for it, charging up the stairs, firing as I went, leaping from body to body. The last guy in line at the very top had grabbed the railing. I put my last two rounds in him and shouldered his twitching body aside.

  That’s when the automatic fire started; this wasn’t just a backup security team, it was a frigging army. The pier was filled with grunts in tactical gear carrying FNARs, powerful battle rifles that fired a .308 round. Big enough for the wound to hurt like hell, and healing from them would take time I didn’t have.

  As I turned for the opposite side and ran, I slammed a new mag home and fired blindly behind me. The rush of energy told me I scored at least one hit. Then I was off the boat, sailing through the black to splash into the cold water of the bay.

  I surfaced for one second, took a long breath, and dove down as far as I could go, turning sharply to the left. No need to make it easy.

  They kept peppering the water directly away from the boat as if I had swum in a straight line.

  To my surprise, I was able to hold my breath for almost five minutes while swimming. I wasn’t even that good of a swimmer.

  When I finally came up I was soaked, cold, exhausted, and gasping for breath. I was also easily half-a-mile away from the yacht.

  “Awesome,” I muttered to myself. “I’ve got to remember that one.”

  CHAPTER 9

  It only took me an hour to make my way back to the car with all the extra people around, sneak in and head out. I needed to reorient my plans and I did that best while doing something else. I headed for the low rent area and found a seedy motel. I tossed a hundred on the desk and received a key. No paperwork, no check-in, just a key.

  The room was rundown like I expected, but the shower worked and that was all I needed. A nice, long, hot shower to think.

  I hated the human trafficking that ISO-1 seemed to make their bread and butter on. After all, why waste time with drugs when kidnapping and sex trafficking could make so much more?

  Bastards.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Anger would get me killed. I needed to be cold, dispassionate, focused.

  I turned off the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and dialed Krisan.

  “Hello?” she asked in a semi-sleepy voice.

  “It’s me. I need everything you can find on Rodrigo Alvarez. He’s the head of the trafficking ring for ISO-1 and my new target.”

  “Give me an hour and I’ll have it.”

  She hung up the phone. I didn’t have anything to do while I waited. I contemplated cleaning my pistol, but Joseph always said never take your gun apart in the middle of an operation. Since I didn’t have a backup piece at the moment, I settled for reloading the spent magazine.

  Sure enough, an hour of watching Spanish language TV later, the phone beeped.

  “Go for Madi,” I said.

  “Aren’t we all tactical,” Krisan said mockingly.

  “You have something for me, Kris?” I asked, a little annoyed. I didn’t like being made fun of. I took this stuff seriously. I know she didn’t, but I did.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to rile you up. I know how much this stuff means to you. I’ll do better,” she said.

  I shrugged it off. It really was a dumb thing to get upset about. “Don’t sweat it, I’m just tired. What did you find?”

  She let out a giggle. “So much. He’s a real playboy. If you imagine the lifestyle of a gangster who is also a social butterfly, you would get Rodrigo Alvarez. He goes to parties, clubs, concerts, you name it. His cover is an international modeling agency, ‘Once Upon a Dream,’ and he plays it to the hilt as the head of the agency.”

  Once Upon... I wanted to throw up. I’d almost taken a job with them a few years back. “One sec.” I put the phone down to my side and held my head up as I took a few deep breath
s.

  It could have been me. My mind reeled at the thought. How many girls I knew signed with them and vanished? How many had come into his organization thinking their ship had sailed only to have it turn into a nightmare?

  Once I could speak again, think again, I picked the phone up.

  “Go ahead,” I said. My voice was thick and my breath came in gasps.

  “You okay, hon?” she asked.

  “No. I won’t ever be okay. Just, tell me what you have.”

  “Right. So party boy lives on his own private island in what’s called ‘The Drowned Cays.’ He has a mansion, private dock, airstrip, the whole bit. It looks like the shipments come in on Fridays and depart on Monday. Weekends are just one big party for him. I don’t see anything on anyone’s phone about alternate shipments, though. You’ll have to get me his phone for that.”

  Krisan has the most useful power in the world for gathering intelligence. Read peoples email, text messages, contact list? All just by calling them or touching their phone? Awesome.

  “I think I can manage that. Okay, I have to get ready.”

  “For what?”

  “It’s Friday. I’ve got a party to crash.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Eight years ago...

  “M

  adisun, you coming out with us?” Neve asked her roommate.

  “Not tonight. You have fun though. Wait, where are you going?”

  Her friend, a knockout with flowing red hair and brilliant blue eyes, was destined for stardom. Madi knew it, the agency knew it, everyone knew it.

  Neve smiled. “You know I signed with Once Upon a Dream. They’re taking all the girls who signed out on the town before we leave for Belize.”

  Madi sighed. She’d almost signed with them, but she hated flying. Hated it. And their contract was exclusively non-US, which meant a lot of flying. Even the short flight back home to New Orleans was almost too much.

  “No, go ahead, have fun. I’m going to see if I can’t drum up some work for the rest of the month.”

  Neve gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll get there Madi. You’ve got skillz, babe,” she said with a laugh. Madi waved goodbye as Neve left the room.

  Skills indeed.

  In the last month she had managed to find two editorial gigs, which was good, but it wasn’t going to keep her employed. She’d assumed that when an agency hired her they would take care of finding the jobs. They did, sometimes; most of the time she had to hustle and find them herself.

  Lucky for her the guy who ran the job board liked her and allowed her to access it on weekends. She had to go out on dates with him here and there, but he really was a nice guy and didn’t try anything untoward.

  I think he just likes telling his friends he’s dating a model.

  Madi had made it clear that after the disaster of her short-lived marriage she wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship. Nothing that would distract her from the goal at hand; success.

  She shut the laptop in frustration. There wasn’t anything. Maybe in the morning she could look again. It was late, and unless she wanted to have bags under her eyes it was time to hit the sack.

  When she woke up the next morning she took a minute to stretch nice and long, but something was off. Her room was empty. Or, empty of Neve’s things. She picked up the phone and called down to security.

  “My roommate’s things are all gone. Is she coming back?”

  “No, ma’am. She and a few other girls left for Belize early this morning.”

  “Oh, okay.” She hung up the phone and stared at the wall. Her disappointment at not getting to say goodbye to her friend was overshadowed by the feeling she’d made a huge mistake not signing with Once Upon a Dream. What if that was her shot and she blew it?

  “Well,” she said to herself, “time will tell.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Mimic passed through the airport like any other young woman on vacation. She left as an elderly woman with silver-blue hair, and got out of the taxi as a teenage girl. All with similar height and weight so she wouldn’t have to stop and change clothes.

  It was... uncomfortable for her to maintain the same visage for too long. She liked the feeling of her body reforming around her as she shifted. Sometimes she would just walk through crowds brushing people’s hands and changing every few seconds. The change itself didn’t take long—usually a few seconds, but longer if she was significantly changing height.

  The cab dropped her off at a fancy high-rise that stretched up high into the bright sun. She wasn’t a fan of the heat; she’d just left Mexico and while it was cooler here, it wasn’t much.

  In the building, she entered the downstairs restroom. She opened the handicap stall and locked the door behind her. The handbag she carried with her had two things; a change of clothes and vial of preserved DNA. She pressed her finger into the vial and transformed into a tall redhead with bright green eyes. After she put on the skinny jeans and tank top from her handbag, she found the elevator that went to the penthouse. There was a guard, of course. He smiled as she walked up to him.

  “Private elevator, señorita, move along,” he said with a serious tone.

  Mimic smiled back as she walked up. “I’m expected,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow but reached in his coat and triggered his radio. She couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation but she could guess how it went.

  “He wants proof,” the guard said.

  Mimic, maintaining her smile, reached out and touched the man's chin. Two seconds later he was staring into a mirror image of himself, albeit with the body of a slender model wearing skinny jeans and a too small tank top. She slipped her hand into the bag she carried and touched the redhead’s DNA to morph back. After ten years of doing what she did, she’d lost her Irish accent and forgotten what she had looked like when her powers manifested. But this was a nod to her heritage.

  “Good enough?” she said slyly.

  He nodded. “Good enough.” The elevator dinged open and he stepped aside, waving her in. “Have a nice day, señorita.”

  She nodded, entered the elevator, and waited. The door shut and the box lifted up. There were no buttons on the inside—not even the standard fire button. Anyone in this lift was at the absolute mercy of the man upstairs.

  She would be lying if she said that didn’t make her nervous. She’d seen a movie once where the elevator opened up into a pool of sharks, and she moved to the back and placed her feet as close to the edge as she could. She didn’t feel like having that happen to her.

  The doors opened without incident into a massive suite. Sunlight flashed through bay windows overlooking the ocean. A large sunken living room held a white leather couch. Off to the side, there was a big mahogany table. At the far end of the room was a plush bed and comforter, not too far away from a hot tub. Clearly whoever lived here loved an open floor plan.

  All that open space sent a shiver up her spine. There was nowhere to hide. No cover. No place to duck behind. If anyone came into this room by force, they’d be cut to ribbons if security was waiting for them.

  “Nice room,” she said, walking toward the only visible man there.

  “Thank you,” Hector Alvarez said. “Drink?”

  She nodded. Poison and drugs weren’t an issue for her. For whatever reason, her body could assimilate almost any substance in a few seconds. She took the drink and sipped the expensive champagne while she waited.

  “You can look like anyone?” he asked out of the blue.

  Since they were paying her a hundred thousand just to have this meeting, she humored him by reaching out and touching his arm; she looked like him, again in skinny jeans and a tank top. It made him chuckle and she switched back.

  “How long can you maintain a form?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at the question. Normally she didn’t like divulging her secrets to anyone; especially someone who could use it against her. So she lied.

  “Twelve hours,” she said
with a straight face. It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She could do it forever if she wanted, it just didn’t feel good after twelve hours. Plus she didn’t want clients thinking they could blackmail her or buy her to permanently replace someone they lost.

  “Interesting,” he replied. “I have a job for you.”

  “Is it like the last one you hired me for? Because standing around in a room ranting about killing people is easy money.”

  He smiled. “No. Sadly this one is dangerous. Though it does involve that woman. Are you interested?”

  Mimic thought about it for a moment, letting her gaze wander out onto the ocean. She hadn’t known at the time who she was mimicking, but now everyone knew who Madisun Dumas was. Perhaps the most dangerous woman on the planet to criminals like ISO-1.

  “Double my usual fee,” she said.

  “Done.”

  Dammit. I should have said triple.

  “Who am I mimicking?” she asked with a sigh.

  CHAPTER 12

  Like most small islands, it had no name. Why bother when they can be bought and sold? This one had a beautiful, tastefully subdued mansion on it. Only two stories—more like a resort than a place to live. Considering some of the storms that rolled through here, I wasn’t surprised. Far easier to rebuild a place like this than an actual mansion.

  My little Zodiac putted slowly through the wind-roughened waters as I made my way to the lee side of the island, letting the breeze blow over me as I ran the rubber raft up on the sandy shore. I had a completely black outfit on; cargo pants, combat boots, a tough long sleeve shirt. My hair was in dreads and tied back into a tight ponytail that blew in the strong wind.