The Auctioneer

by D. J. Williams

  Elena barked orders to the Russian, who pulled Dax to his feet. He wrapped his arms under Dax’s shoulders and carried him toward the stairwell. At the sound of Elena’s voice, others darted into the office before disappearing down the stairwell too. She retrieved the gun from the table and handed it to me. Her eyes were void of fear, yet overflowed with anger.

  With the gun pointed in front of me, I headed down the hallway as more semi-automatic gunfire shook the club. Unlocking the deadbolt I braced myself, then stepped out onto the balcony. Both Sergei and Laney were gone. Keeping close to the walls, I moved alongside the corner of the balcony toward the front row of seats to get a better look. All the while, the beat of the music thundered, strobe lights flashed, before another hail of gunfire. Screaming. Shouting. Then a deafening silence struck like thunder.

  A voice yelled in a foreign tongue. My heartbeat quickened as I crouched before glancing over the edge of the balcony to the dance floor below. House lights blinked on. A Middle Easterner stood on stage holding a semi-automatic weapon while two more wrestled Sergei and Laney onto the stage. Both were forced to their knees in front of terrified witnesses huddled together. There were other bodies scattered facedown. Impossible to know who was dead or alive.

  The man shouted in English, “Show yourself or more will die!”

  I shuddered as another shot rang out. Sergei fell forward with a blank stare, his body crumpling to the floor. Laney’s face was bloodied. The one in charge pointed the semi-automatic at the back of her skull as he scanned the room.

  “Wait!” I slipped the gun behind my back and stood. “I’m coming down.”

  The Middle Easterner motioned for the other two men to head in my direction. With hands raised, I walked slowly toward them. The shorter the distance, the more I gradually lowered my hands. When they were halfway up the stairs, I dropped to my knees, retrieved the gun, and fired twice striking both between the eyes.

  In that split second, Laney flung her body like a shark in a cage, sending the man in charge stumbling backward. The semi-automatic fired several more rounds that ricocheted off the walls as they tumbled to the floor, each wrestling to gain control.

  Racing down the steps amidst the chaos, I dodged more people who darted for the exits. My eyes never left Laney. She dug her knee squarely into the attacker’s side, then swung her leg over his shoulder and wrapped it around his neck. She squeezed hard, evidenced by the veins bulging from her neck. His eyes rolled back, and he stopped fighting. Only then did I slide my index finger off the trigger. I should’ve shot him, but I was shaken to see him there.

  “Everyone stay calm!” Laney yelled as she gasped for air, winded, but with enough wits about her to handcuff the unconscious attacker. She wiped blood from her chin, then spit out another mouth full. Sirens grew louder as she looked up at me. “Did Vihkrov give you a name?”

  I stared down at the man from Mosul. “She didn’t have to.”

  THIRTEEN

  Black Suburbans were parked outside the house on Bird Street, with several more stationed down the block closer to Sunset Plaza. Neighbors didn’t have a clue their private hillside community was under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Soon they’d turn on the morning news to the horror of a terrorist attack only blocks away.

  I packed clothes into an overnight bag while replaying the events of the last day. From the Feds showing up at the hangar, Sleepy being gunned down at the garage, to Dax bleeding out while uttering a name that had vanished from existence. I’d left the demons buried where they belonged, but it seemed a haunting nightmare had clawed its way to the surface. I feared it would end in nothing less than vengeance.

  Laney appeared in the doorway. Badge on her hip. Gun holstered on her side. Gashes on her chin and cheek stitched. A bluish-purple bruise spread across the left side of her face. She’d changed into fresh clothes – another reminder of how our life was intertwined and scattered throughout my home. She’d always been radiant, but I’d never look at her beauty the same again.

  When the contingency plan was set in motion, I wanted to tell her everything. Dax was my voice of reason. He warned me about letting her get too close. I was convinced we’d be together forever. I loved her. And thought of nothing else other than spending the rest of my life with her. While I couldn’t deny she’d saved lives at the club, the dagger she plunged into my heart was unforgivable. Deception brought this upon us — upon me.

  Laney stood in the doorway. “Sayid Haddad. Syrian refugee. Entered the US through Germany last year. Stopped showing up for work at a shipyard in San Pedro a few days ago. We’ve got an address on record, so we’ll send agents to see what we can find. And we’re waiting to hear back from Homeland Security about the others.”

  “I’m the one who killed them, so what happens to me?”

  “As far as the official report — I’m the one who shot them.”

  My eyebrows raised. “What about the gun?”

  “We’ll make an official statement at a press conference later today — but it’s been taken care of.”

  “There were at least a hundred witnesses?”

  “Chase, in the chaos none of them know what they really saw or didn’t see. Eyewitness testimony is only as good as the story that’s fed to the press. Right now, that story is coming from one source — the Bureau.”

  I grabbed a burner cell from a closet drawer and slipped it into my pocket. “Do you have the document?”

  Laney handed over a piece of paper on official Bureau letterhead. A get out of jail free card. I read it carefully to be sure the deal was what we agreed. Once I gave her a name, there was zero leverage.

  Laundering case closed and all charges dropped. Check.

  Dissolution of Hardeman Auctions. All assets seized by the Feds. Check.

  Four million six hundred grand from Swiss Standard seized. Check

  And one hundred million hidden in the Caymans gone.

  That last one was hard to swallow.

  I paused at a paragraph that explained in exchange for my cooperation as an informant — the Bird Street house was still mine. I should’ve felt grateful, lucky to avoid a twenty-year sentence in San Quentin, but instead this piece of paper left me gutted.

  “Chase, you have my word, if your father’s death was more than an accident those responsible will pay.”

  “Never should’ve happened,” I shot back. “Nothing you do will change that.”

  She reached out. “I still care about you.”

  “I don’t even know who you are.” I swallowed the anger swirling inside. “What happens to Dax?”

  “I can’t answer that until we talk to him.” She eyed me closely while I kept my gaze on the paper. “If you know where he is…”

  “He had nothing to do with Sleepy being killed.”

  “Then bring him in so we can clear him in the investigation.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “He’s still a person of interest. Maybe he can help identify a suspect, or he’ll recognize Haddad or one of the others as the shooter.”

  “You don’t know if Dax was even there when Sleepy was shot.”

  “We were headed to the garage because you believed he was there.” Laney nodded at the document. I sensed her patience running out. “Haddad and his men showed up at the club, shot the place up looking for you, and then you said Vihkrov didn’t have to give you a name. Now you need to tell me why.”

  “Haddad’s real name is Akram Kasim.” I’d given up a secret buried in the desert. “He was our contact on the ground in Baghdad – and the right hand to Abu Haji Fatima.”

  Laney’s brows furrowed. “Chase, why is he after you?”

  “You’ve got a name.” I slipped the document into the bag and zipped it closed. “This isn’t my fight anymore.”

  “You might still be in danger.”

  “You’ve destroyed my life, so what does it matter to you?” I jabbed and it felt good. “You know, I would’ve done anything to protect
you.”

  Her gunmetal blue eyes anchored on me. “We stopped something terrible…”

  “I’ll be gone for a few days. That should be enough time to clear out your stuff, including whatever you’ve got in this house that goes against my legal rights.” Stepping away, I avoided her glare, grabbed my bag, then stopped in the doorway before looking back. “Believe me, I’ll have the house swept by the best, and if I find anything that doesn’t belong here, I’ll be the one pressing charges against the FBI and I’ll file a civil lawsuit against you personally.”

  Laney’s eyes were glossy. “I never wanted this.”

  “It’s over — we’re over.”

  I left the house as Dad’s Maserati was being loaded onto a flatbed truck, then slumped into the backseat of an Uber. Love was a four-letter word that captured the heart, yet cursed the soul. My eyes grew heavy as I dozed off somewhere over the Pass between the 101 Freeway and Cahuenga. By the time the car pulled up to a storage facility in the San Fernando Valley, vengeance had turned to hardened stone.

  An empty corridor lined with orange metal doors, all marked with white numbers. It’d been over a year since I stepped foot in this place, which felt like a lifetime ago. Number 237. Unlocking the padlock, I slid the door open, stepped inside, and flipped a switch. Lights blinked on as I double checked the corridor before closing the door.

  Standing in an eight-by-ten storage unit, the memories weighed heavily. Dad had his secrets, and I had mine — a fireproof safe, cabinet, and a military locker.

  First, I opened the safe which guarded the sum of my reserves — nearly a hundred thousand in cash. I counted out twenty grand, then locked the safe. Next, I opened the cabinet and retrieved two Sig Sauer pistols, along with boxes of ammo. I stuffed them into my backpack along with the cash. Last, I unlatched the military locker and searched through a stack of rugged hard drives, until I found one labeled: PRODIGAL.

  FOURTEEN

  CITY HALL, DOWNTOWN — 1:00 PM

  “Russell, you should be the one to do it.”

  “You’re the agent in charge,” Vaughn retorted. “Besides, your cover’s blown anyway. It’s time you learn to conquer your fears and face the cameras.”

  Laney glared at Vaughn as she gripped the papers in her hand. She knew once she stepped out in front of the cameras, the legend she’d played over the last six months would be no more. A piece of her died when her eyes locked on Chase in the garage.

  “Stick to the talking points,” Vaughn suggested.

  Laney waved the papers. “I’ll keep it short.”

  A group of law enforcement and government officials lined up near a side door. Laney checked herself and pulled the hair away from her eyes, self-conscious about the stitches and bruises on her face. She followed the line into the press room where cameras and reporters waited to launch a barrage of questions. Mayor Osoria was first to step up to the podium.

  “First of all, let me start by saying that we are all praying for the families who have lost loved ones, and for those who have been injured and are now beginning the road to recovery. In a world where terrorists infuse fear, we as Angelenos and as Americans must choose to be resilient and vigilant during this time in our communities. This was not an attack on our city, but on our way of life. What happened at Tanets in Hollywood is unexplainable, and unacceptable. It must be addressed at the highest levels of government. However, the bravery of those who prevented this attack from escalating further is exemplary.”

  Laney blocked out the speech as she scanned her notes. Wiping sweat from her palms, she tried to steady her shaking hands. She waited until Mayor Osoria’s introduction before stepping behind the podium.

  “Thank you, Mayor.” Laney looked out on the press and took a breath. “I would like to begin by also saying that all of us at the Bureau send our prayers to the families of those who were lost and all who are recovering. While this is an active investigation, at this time we are able to share certain details publicly. But know that we will not be able to answer all your questions until we fully process the crime scene, including gathering cell phones from those who were there, weapons recovered on scene, as well as interview witnesses and investigate possible connections to those responsible for the attack.”

  She gripped the side of the podium and steadied herself as a rush of fatigue washed over her body.

  “This morning, at 2:07AM, four armed men entered Tanets on Sunset Boulevard. In a matter of minutes, twelve victims were fatally shot, and others injured. An additional three suspects are deceased, with one remaining suspect taken into custody. Around 2:15 AM, the scene was secured. While we are early in the investigation, we have determined with confidence this was a terrorist attack. The name of the suspect in custody is Akram Kasim. Intelligence through the FBI, Homeland Security, and the CIA have confirmed his connection to a known terrorist group in the Middle East.”

  A reporter’s hand shot up. “Did the Bureau have knowledge of a potential attack?”

  Laney’s eyes shot to the back of the room where Vaughn stood in a corner. They debated how to answer this question, but it wasn’t until it was asked that the fatigue turned to adrenaline.

  “Agents were following a suspect we believed might lead us to a potential terrorist cell, which in turn led our agents to the club. It was not until after the gunfire began that they realized there was an active shooter situation. Brave acts by our agents prevented greater casualties.”

  “Witnesses say there were two people who shot and killed the suspects,” the reporter pressed. “One male. One female. Were those the federal agents?”

  “I will only confirm that agents from our Bureau were on the premises. However, we will not be releasing any names at this time until our investigation is complete. We understand that everyone wants answers. However, as a matter of national security, sharing more details with the public will take time. So, we ask for your patience while we do our jobs.”

  Another reporter fired off a question. “What else can you tell us about the suspects?”

  “We are still determining how these individuals entered our country, when they gained entry, and whether they were in communication with other sleeper cells. As far as the deceased suspects, we are not ready to issue any additional details until we are certain we have neutralized any further threats connected to the attack last night. As far as Akram Kasim, as I said he is in our custody. We will find the answers we need to determine motive, scope of the threat, and in the coming days will share with the public the factors of our investigation. Until we are convinced there are no other threats, all government agencies are on high alert.”

  Laney stepped back from the podium as a barrage of questions hurled at her. Mayor Osoria took her place, held up his hand, and volleyed questions while never fully answering any of them. Politicians were natural-born spin doctors. Osoria was one of the best.

  While the press conference seemed to drag on, Laney slipped out through the side door and met Vaughn in a hallway. She held her ground. But it was only a matter of time before cell footage surfaced that put her in the club. The next time she faced the press, it wouldn’t be so easy.

  FIFTEEN

  MONTECITO, CA

  The compound was a heavily guarded, five-acre cliffside property surrounded by twelve-foot concrete walls exposed on the Pacific-facing side. I was frisked and my bag searched, all standard procedure before entering the Vihkrov sanctuary. I’d been here countless times, so I was used to the routine. But as I neared the house, it was clear that security was heightened since the attack at Tanets and Sergei’s death.

  Elena stood at the front entryway to a two-story, thirty-thousand-square-foot Mediterranean villa, and greeted me with a warm embrace. “You are lucky to be alive.”

  “Luckier than the other guys.” A bit of dark humor. “I’m sorry about Sergei.”

  “He was one of my father’s best men, so his family will be taken care of.” Elena motioned for me to follow her through a vestibule int
o a long corridor lined with rare European oil paintings dating back to the eighteenth century, bronze sculptures, nude marble statues, two-inch-thick bulletproof windows, motion-sensored floors, and security cameras that tracked every inch of the interior. It was more than a sanctuary, it was a fortress. “We nearly lost your friend on the way here. He is sedated now.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” I said.

  “You would have done the same, I am sure.”

  “The FBI is still looking for Dax.”

  “Finally, my patient has a name.”

  I chuckled. “I forgot you two have never met.”

  “Chase, when we found him, he was in bad condition. Luckily, he said the words that gave me a reason to trust him — Rossino Otto.”

  “It was our code word in case the plan went sideways.”

  “His recovery will take time.” Elena’s gaze hardened. “My family will protect him for as long as you need.”

  We entered through double doors into a large bedroom fully equipped with state-of-the-art medical equipment. The same Russian I’d seen upstairs at the club stood near a bed where Dax was covered beneath a blanket. Only his right arm was exposed, an IV pumping fluids into his body.

  Beside the bed, a flat-screen monitored his vitals. A sign he was no longer clawing at death’s door. I had refused to walk away from the love of my life, and nearly lost my best friend because of it. A heart monitor beeped as a steady reminder. Elena was the one who saved his life, not me or Laney. For that I’d be forever grateful.

  I asked, “Have you seen the news?”

  “Agent Kelley is a national hero.”

  “Surprised the press doesn’t know that already.” I paused, embarrassed I never knew her real name – Laney Kelley. “When they release the official report she’ll be the one who killed those men, and your words will ring true.”

  “My father insists I return to Saint Petersburg,” Elena said.