The Auctioneer

by D. J. Williams

  “Sarina said you were the one who delivered those weapons,” I interrupted. “She took you to a village to recover them before you helped her escape.” I’d caught her off guard. “Why should we believe you’re not the one who smuggled Fatima out of the country?”

  “I thought we were doing a clean sweep to hide the operation.” McIntyre’s shoulders slumped. “Putting the pieces together about the DOD contract came later.”

  “What happened to the weapons?”

  “I wish I knew the answer. Chase, your father reached out to me.”

  “And now he’s dead,” I argued. “You could’ve stopped it from happening.”

  Laney remained focused on more intel. “Tell us about Tama Fatima.”

  “She slipped out of Baghdad right after the raid. Never seen a photo of her, so all I know from my sources is that she might be hiding in the Philippines.” McIntyre glanced around the parking lot, growing more uneasy. “If I knew Akram Kasim and the others were on our soil, or that Michael or you were in danger, I would’ve blown the whistle on Randall sooner.”

  “Tama isn’t hiding in the Philippines,” Laney said. “She’s here in LA.”

  McIntyre’s head tilted. “The power outage?”

  “We know you recovered the electro-disruptor at the village with Sarina.” Laney was in the zone. “Who did you sell it to?”

  “I didn’t sell it,” McIntyre defended. “It was loaded on a transport with the other weapons. That’s the last time I saw it.”

  “Then how’d you become the broker?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I didn’t broker it, Chase.” McIntyre glanced at Laney, whose brows were raised. “Prince Azim approached me and I saw an opportunity. If I brought it to the meeting at the vault, then I’d get closer to proving Randall was a traitor. But Dmitry Vihkrov intervened.”

  “Because he wanted me to know how Dad died,” I said matter of fact. Laney stared at me waiting for an explanation. That would have to wait. “Is it Russian?”

  “No, it was manufactured by RC Engineering.” Uncle Randy’s company. “Which is why I’m convinced Randall is responsible for Michael’s death, even if Fatima was the one who pulled the trigger.”

  “What about the Level 10 malware?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That was… strictly business.”

  “Well, now that’s in their hands too.”

  Laney pulled me aside, our attention shifted for a few seconds. “Fatima is on the loose, Kasim surfaces, and Tama breaks her cover after two years under my nose. Why would Collinsworth put them in play now?”

  “Maybe he knew Dad and McIntyre were getting too close.”

  We turned back around. She was gone.

  SIXTY-NINE

  MID-WILSHIRE APARTMENT — 2:15 AM

  “Liberty and justice for all,” Dax mimicked.

  “I got caught up in the moment.”

  “Bro, you were channeling Jason Bourne.”

  Dax set the weapons he’d brought from the storage unit on the bed. M-4 Carbine combat assault rifles with sight mount and flashlight, as well as four Sig Sauer sidearms — my weapons of choice. I left the forty-five from Elena on the dresser and slipped the Flak Vest, a lighter Kevlar, over my shirt then covered it with my hoodie. It’d been years since I’d worn the vest. Dirt, sweat, and blood were stained into the fabric.

  My body was thrashed. Six months lounging on a beach in the Caribbean was what I needed. At least my stitches weren’t itching as bad, but the tattoo was a torturous reminder of what was at stake.

  “I got Bird Street emptied out,” Dax said. “Deposited the cash. Silicon Swindler is on his way with the anti-malware program.”

  “What about shutting down the electro-disruptor?”

  “Won’t know until we see it.”

  “I should’ve gotten the schematics from McIntyre.”

  “She’s in the wind. Can’t say I blame her.”

  “How about Uncle Randy?”

  “Well, we can’t get into the Bel-Air house. His offices are closed. He could be out of the country.” Dax meticulously finished cleaning the last Sig Sauer. “Chase…”

  “You’re going with me.” I knew it was what he wanted. “When the time comes, it’ll be up to you to handle the electro-disruptor and malware.”

  Dax grabbed his Flak Vest. “I won’t slow you down, I promise.”

  I left him in the bedroom to finish loading the weapons and organizing the ammo. As I entered the open living space turned makeshift command center, Laney was on her cell with Swanson. Eyeing the 100-inch ultra HD screen mounted above the glass fireplace, there was a Google map of downtown with a six-mile radius shaded in blue. Pinpointed on the map was the location of the black site. That’s when it hit me — we were going to war with an unknown enemy. We knew about Fatima, Kasim, and Tama, but there could be others from the sleeper cell.

  Drive on, Chase.

  “Ask for Elena Vihkrov at the front desk,” Laney said before she hung up, then joined me as we stared at the map. “Reggie will be here soon.”

  “So will Marcus,” I added. “Dax is going with us.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “He’s been with me since the beginning.”

  “We need to make a decision.” Laney pointed at the map. “Black site or Los Gatos?”

  “What’ll we gain with the ranch?” I’d thought the same but was still undecided. “It’s risky to go there first if we’re not sure of what we’ll find.”

  “If Collinsworth is there, that could help us in rescuing the hostages.”

  “Let’s ask Swanson when he gets here.”

  Dax emerged from the bedroom without his cane, carrying the loaded artillery. I noticed a little bounce to his limp. He set the weapons on the oversized kitchen island, then found a spot next to me. All three of us faced the map, each taking in the uncertainty of the hours ahead.

  “Chase, what is she doing here?”

  My heart skipped a beat as I spun around to see Elena standing near the private elevator. She’d slipped in without any of us knowing — not a good sign for our rag-tag team. Moving quick, I grabbed her bags, set them down, then pulled her into her bedroom and closed the door. Over the next thirty minutes, I told her everything that happened while she was gone. When I was done, she stayed silent.

  “Elena, do you trust me?”

  She wasn’t one to cry. “Of course.”

  “Help me end this nightmare.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Did you ever get your pilot license?”

  By the time we walked back into the living room, Dax was with Marcus Nicholson going over the procedure for loading and launching the anti-malware program. From the open kitchen, Laney watched us closely. I didn’t want to know what was going through her mind, seeing as I’d left Elena and her to battle over the silent treatment.

  “Marcus, thank you for doing this.” Admittedly, a quantum leap from a few weeks ago. “Our deal still stands.”

  “Just give me the inside track on the Rossino Otto.” He looked around at the computers, guns, and the map. “What…”

  “You don’t want to know.” Dax nodded at me. We were done. I nudged Nicholson toward the private elevator. “Forget what you’ve seen.”

  “Chase, you’re one crazy ass…”

  Before he finished his sentence, the elevator doors opened and out stepped a broad-shouldered man with a mop of blonde hair. In one sweep, his steely stare took in the room.

  His deep voice boomed, “Hardeman, right?”

  Before I knew it, my hand was wrapped in his bear paw. “Reggie Swanson.”

  “I’m out,” Nicholson said over his shoulder, already inside the elevator. As the doors closed he added, “Don’t call me…”

  SEVENTY

  LOS GATOS, CA

  Seated behind the controls, Elena piloted the Vihkrovs’ Eurocopter from the landing pad atop her Mid-Wilshire apartment building, then along the
coast, before setting it down like a pro at The Inn. During the flight, the reality and craziness of what we were doing set in. No wisecracks from Dax. No jabs between Laney and Elena. We took our cue from Swanson — who was stone cold.

  The plan? Hit the ranch, then head downtown.

  Before leaving we agreed, Dax and Elena would stay with the helicopter, while Laney, Swanson, and I breached the ranch. As the rotors slowed, we climbed out with our gear. Laney had told me briefly about Special Agent Johnson, so when I saw him running toward us, I recognized this was the biggest assignment of his young career.

  “Lights at the house are on,” he said, excited. “And four SUVs left the back access road less than five minutes ago. We’re tailing them.”

  “Take us to the property,” Laney ordered.

  As we headed for his SUV, I noticed he looked a bit confused. We weren’t your typical FBI or SEAL team. I guess you’d say we were a hybrid, with me being the wild card.

  “You guys with the Bureau?” Johnson asked.

  Without missing a beat, Swanson answered, “Special Ops.”

  “I’m with him,” I added.

  Swanson and I slipped into the backseat, while Laney climbed into the front passenger side. With Johnson behind the wheel, the SUV screeched out of the parking lot as I heard Dax’s familiar Jagger impersonation in my ear.

  One two. One two. We’re hunting for Abu.

  Swanson smirked at me and nodded. So did Laney. I cleared my throat so Dax would hear me. He was our safety net. If things went south, he’d be the first to know — and hopefully find reinforcements.

  “Did you ever reach Agent Vaughn?” Johnson asked.

  “Not yet,” Laney answered, deadpan. “Power outage in LA has us spread out.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Breach the house,” Swanson chimed in. “Contain the property.”

  “We’re ready to cut power to the electric fences,” Johnson added. He seemed eager to get in the fight. “Not sure whether it’ll cut lights at the main house though.”

  A beam from the headlights illuminated a dirt road amid the rolling hills. We pulled over to the side of the road next to another SUV hidden beneath some trees. Johnson rolled his window down and relayed the orders to the other agents. Another mile up the road we did the same. By the time we reached the turnoff to the ranch, we were three SUVs deep and a baker’s dozen in personnel.

  After we confirmed the electric fence was disarmed and the gate was opened, Johnson turned onto the property and drove along a windy road until we crested a hill. Turning off the lights, we looked down on a two-story ranch house in the middle of the valley.

  “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot,” Swanson said, already climbing out. Our group gathered behind the SUV in the darkness. Everyone was armed and ready, and following the SEAL’s lead. “As soon as you see us enter the house, turn on the lights and sirens and haul ass down this road.”

  Everyone nodded, especially me.

  With the M-4 resting in my hands, a Sig Sauer holstered on my hip, and another one tucked behind me, I headed out with Swanson leading the way and Laney by my side. God, how our relationship had changed in such a short time.

  The skies above had cleared the clouds away, revealing a bright starry night. It was peaceful as we trudged through the muddy grass. Even in the darkness, Swanson’s large frame was easy to follow. Laney made the right call. I wished there were more of him.

  “I’ll go through the front,” he said in a deep voice. “You two hit the back.”

  “Reggie, what if they’re government personnel?” Laney asked.

  “I’ve got live and non-lethal ammo.” Swanson carried two M-4’s. “Don’t shoot unless they’re shooting you.”

  It hadn’t dawned on me that whoever was inside the house might think the same as McIntyre — they were serving their country. My heart quickened knowing I might shoot someone who was by all accounts innocent.

  Fifty yards out we crouched low near an orchard. Swanson pulled out night vision and slipped it over his helmet. Neither Laney nor I had that luxury. Glancing back I couldn’t see the SUVs parked at the top of the hill. But I heard the buzzing of a drone overhead as they kept eyes on us.

  Swanson whispered, “Alright, let’s move.”

  Like a lion at night lurking, ready to pounce on its prey, Swanson was agile for his size. He moved swiftly through the grass, as I did my best to keep up. Laney was behind me as we circled the house.

  “Let me know when you’re in position.” Swanson’s voice was in my ear.

  Laney and I inched along the back of the house, nearing a single door. She positioned herself on one side, and I did the same on the other. Checking the doorknob, I was surprised to find it was unlocked.

  I whispered, “We’re ready, Reggie.”

  “Bring in the cavalry,” Swanson ordered.

  As I turned the knob, engines revved and sirens wailed, interrupting the quiet, peaceful, evening. Pushing the door open, we ducked inside as the house alarm blared. My M-4 was pointed straight ahead. Laney was right behind with her Glock. We crept across a farm-style kitchen. Heartbeat faster. Rush of adrenaline flowed. Each step with purpose. My index finger rested on the trigger. A red laser from the M-4 bounced off the wall and extended into a living room. We entered with caution. On the other side, Swanson appeared and motioned us to keep moving through the house.

  Flashing lights from outside reflected off the windows as the house alarm shut off. Swanson was on the opposite side of the dining room by the time we poked our heads in. As a unit, we headed down a hallway and cleared four bedrooms. Listening to the deafening silence, we stood in the hallway bewildered by the empty house.

  “House is secured,” Swanson said. “Looks like we’re second place.”

  We went outside to relay the news to Johnson and his team. They had surrounded the area with agents checking for anyone hiding nearby.

  Laney asked Johnson, “Where are we with the tail?”

  “We lost them at Highway 17.”

  A split second after he answered, shots rang out from inside the house. Glass shattered as semi-automatic rounds burst through the windows hitting the SUVs and ricocheting off the dirt. Everyone scrambled, except Johnson. He slumped to the ground in the center of the front yard. Laney returned fire as Swanson tapped off a dozen rounds into the house, grabbing Johnson, and pulling him behind an SUV.

  So Dax would know, I relayed, “Johnson is down.”

  Pressed up against the house under the living room window, I gripped the M-4 as if it were my lifeline, cursing under my breath. How’d we miss them? Before inching toward the side of the house, I caught a glimpse of Laney ripping Johnson’s shirt off and using it to press against a gunshot wound to the shoulder.

  “FBI,” one of Johnson’s guys shouted. “Come out with your hands up.”

  Another round of gunfire erupted. Everyone ducked for cover.

  “Chase, flank ‘em.” Swanson’s voice was steady. “I’ll cover.”

  “Copy.” With my head lowered and M-4 raised, I returned to the back door, which was cracked open. I steadied myself. “Heading inside.”

  A burst of gunfire followed as I entered through the kitchen. At the same time, two men emerged from the living room not expecting me to be standing there. I fired multiple rounds and prayed they’d find their mark. Both dropped to the floor.

  “Reggie, two down.”

  “I’m heading in,” he answered. “Watch your six.”

  I heard Laney’s voice talking to another agent. “Get paramedics here now.”

  Moving through the house again, my finger itched on the trigger. In the hallway, I noticed the floorboards were now lifted. Reaching down I pulled them up to find underneath a set of stairs leading deeper beneath the house. Waiting for Swanson was the smart move, but something was drawing me in. Taking the first step, I barely heard Dax’s voice in my ear.

  Chase, what the hell is going on?

 
SEVENTY-ONE

  A thick, metal door was left open at the bottom of the narrow stairway, newer than the rest of the farm house with a digital security panel embedded into it. I flipped the flashlight on the M-4 and pointed it into the space. At first glance, it looked like some sort of bunker. Stepping into a darkened corner, directly in front of me, the beam of light reflected off a floor to ceiling glass wall.

  Movement.

  My heart thumped as a shadow appeared on the other side of the glass. A soft glow of light faded in from above. I stepped forward until our eyes locked. Mirrored rage. Neither of us moved. My index finger itched the trigger, but I didn’t fire. On the wall next to me was a switch, which I flipped, causing the glass between us to slowly lift off the floor — releasing a caged animal.

  I killed his sons — he murdered Dad.

  Only one of us was walking out alive.

  Vengeance seeped through my veins as I lowered the M-4 and set it aside. Something inside wanted him to suffer for his sins. Dad. Sleepy. Wilkins. Countless others dead from his bullets and bombs. I didn’t have evidence or proof, but the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. As the glass raised higher, I braced myself like a linebacker ready to attack.

  Dax’s voice pierced my ear, as well as Swanson and Laney.

  “He’s here,” I mumbled before removing the earpiece.

  A split second later I lunged forward, driving my shoulder into his chest. We flew backwards, landing hard on the concrete, rolling over and over, each trying to gain an advantage. I didn’t react quickly enough as he shifted his wiry body and pinned me to the ground.

  The first strike cracked against my jaw. A second slammed against my right eye, stunning and blurring my vision. Using my forearms to flail in defense, I struggled to recover from the onslaught. Fatima reached for the holstered Sig Sauer, grabbed it, and fired inches from my face. Deafening muzzle flashes. He squeezed the trigger again and again. I dodged and wrestled as bullets whizzed past, only centimeters away, before ricocheting off the floor. My ears rang, silencing the world around me, but releasing the agony buried beneath the dirt of Dad’s grave.