by Tripp Ellis
It took an instant to gain control and take aim. I squeezed two shots into him, spotting his shirt with blood.
He tumbled to the ground, and before the body had settled, I'd taken aim at one of the goons struggling with Jack.
Another two shots put that thug down.
Jack and the other thug struggled for the goon’s pistol.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Elias aim his gun at me.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Outside, the shot fired from the goon in the pool snapped past Sophia's head and embedded in the stucco, spraying bits of debris. She popped off a few rounds into the goon, exploding his head, making it look like a watermelon that had been dropped from a 40-story building.
The goon’s body fell back into the pool, giving a pinkish hue to the water as blood mixed.
The sun was cresting the horizon, and the once black sky was now more of a mauve color.
Fire spewed from the barrel of Fink’s pistol as he blasted two shots at me.
I dove for cover and tumbled to the ground, then rolled on one knee and took aim.
Before I could get my shot off. Fink’s chest exploded with two bullets exiting at the level of his heart. Glass had shattered as Sophia fired through the window, hitting the terrorist in the back. He fell forward, smacking the saltillo tile, and his weapon clattered away.
She'd saved my ass once again.
I whipped the barrel of my pistol toward the last remaining goon that struggled with Jack. I had a clear shot and took it.
My pistol hammered against my palm, and the sharp smell of gunpowder hung in the air. My bullet hit the thug in his left arm and spun him around. He twisted to the ground just as JD stripped the weapon from his grasp.
The goon fell to the ground and groaned, still alive. He clutched at the wound, blood seeping between his fingers.
"I almost had the situation under control," JD assured me.
He aimed his weapon at the thug writhing on the ground.
I checked the bodies of the nearby thugs for vitals, then advanced to Elias Fink. With my fingertips on his neck, I quickly determined that his reign of terror was over. But I had no doubt that his most recent plot was still in effect. And I still didn't know the target.
52
"Tell me what the target is?" I said, hovering over the last living goon, my weapon aimed at his head.
Sweat misted his skin, and pain grimaced his face. He clutched at his wounded shoulder, trying to stop the tide of blood from seeping onto the tile. "I don't know nothing."
"Bullshit! Tell me where the dirty bomb is going to go off."
"I don't know. I just work security here. I swear,” he said through clenched teeth.
"I'm going to put a bullet in both of your kneecaps if you don't start talking," I said. "If you think your shoulder hurts, just wait."
Fear rounded his eyes.
"I swear, I don't know anything."
"Stop lying to me."
"I'm not lying. Fink never told us the details."
"Shoot him in the dick," Sophia said casually. "He'll start talking."
The goon’s eyes widened. He looked at her, then back to me. "Keep her away from me, man. She’s psycho."
"You’d better start talking,” I said.
Sophia stepped to him and aimed her pistol at his crotch.
She meant business.
Panic bathed the goon’s face. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you everything I know."
We lorded over the scumbag as he grimaced and moaned.
"Start talking,” I demanded.
"I don't know the exact target, but I know he's planning to detonate the bomb in Coconut Key."
"Why Coconut Key?"
"I don't know.”
“I’m getting trigger-happy," Sophia said, tightening her grasp.
“Elias wanted to detonate the bomb right under your nose,” the thug said.
“When?”
“Sometime today.”
"Give me the exact target.”
"I don't know."
I gave him a swift kick in the bloody shoulder. He screamed with agony, and his eyes filled with tears. "I swear, I don't know!"
I found the earbuds and sat-phones that Fink had confiscated and attempted to contact Isabella. "Guardian Angel, do you copy?"
"I thought I'd lost an operator for a moment,” she replied.
"I'm still here."
"How's the situation?"
"Objective accomplished. We need immediate exfiltration. JD is wounded.”
“I’ve got a helicopter inbound now, flying in under the radar. I can have you all to a landing strip and on a plane and back to Coconut Key within six hours."
"Coconut Key is the target," I said.
"Where?"
I pondered it for a moment. “The Energy Trade Conference. That has to be the target."
"The conference is at the Seven Seas."
"Notify DHS and the FBI. I’ll contact the sheriff.”
“Do you know when?"
"Sometime today."
"Is there anyone else listening on this channel?" Isabella asked.
"No."
"Have you taken care of your little friend?"
I glanced across the room at Sophia. I knew better than to lie to Isabella. She’d find out the truth anyway. Once trust is broken, it's almost impossible to earn back. “We'll discuss that later."
"For Christ’s sake, Tyson. Don't tell me you went soft on her?"
"Not everything is as it seems," I said.
I used the sat-phone to call the sheriff and update him, then we rounded up the weapons and policed our brass. I snapped photos of Elias Fink’s bloody body and swabbed a blood sample. I put it in a plastic collection vial that I had carried along and stuffed it into my pocket.
Sophia and I helped JD hobble toward the patio door.
“What about me?” the thug asked, still writhing in agony. “You can’t just leave me like this.”
“Would you prefer a bullet?” Sophia asked.
He shook his head.
“Call an ambulance,” she said to him.
He scoffed. “You can’t get an ambulance around here. And hospitals barely have any supplies.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started doing terrorist shit,” Sophia said.
“I’m just security, man.”
“Guardian Angel, Bravo 1… can you send a medic?”
“For whom?” Isabella replied.
“We have a survivor.”
“You want to give care to the enemy?”
“See what you can do?”
“I lined up some freelancers in case you got into trouble. Maybe I can arrange something.”
“How thoughtful.”
“What’s the guy’s condition?”
“He’s stable-ish.” I gave the details of the injury.
“I’ll send someone to the house. Might be a while.”
I told the thug help was on the way and to keep pressure on the wound.
With an arm around each of our shoulders, JD hopped along as we rushed onto the patio and down the path to the beach.
Morning rays of sun cast long shadows, and the amber ball hung just over the horizon, glimmering the water.
The unmistakable patter of rotor blades thumped in the distance, drawing ever closer.
Some early birds on the beach prepared for a day in the sun, setting out towels and lotioning up their skin.
The black helicopter came into view, the rotors a blur. It was flying nap of the earth, hovering only a few feet over the surface of the water—far below radar capabilities. The bird touched down in the soft sand, and we hopped in through the passenger door. The bird lifted into the air, banked around, and headed back in the direction it came.
The commercial pilot was a local from Trinidad and Tobago that Isabella had hired, no doubt paying him a handsome sum to pick us up and keep his mouth shut.
We dumped
the weapons over the ocean.
It was a short flight to the neighboring island, and the helicopter pilot dropped us off at the South Terminal of the Piarco International Airport.
The South Terminal handled cargo, general aviation, military, and helicopter operations. There were plenty of helicopter flights to offshore oil rigs, so our arrival in a Bell 407 wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The newer North Terminal was the main passenger terminal that handled commercial flights.
Isabella must have greased a few palms because no one gave us any grief. The matte gray SkyMax King waited for us on the tarmac, refueled and ready to go. We hopped on board, and it wasn’t long before we were cleared for takeoff. The engines rumbled, and the craft nosed into the air. We were on our way back to Coconut Key to stop a detonation if we could find the bomb.
Hopefully, the island wouldn’t be glowing when we landed.
53
It was late afternoon when we arrived in Coconut Key. The SkyMax touched down, and the wheels shrieked with a puff of smoke. We taxied to the terminal, and the engines wound down.
JD had gone through several instant cold packs from the med kit to reduce the swelling. I taped up JD’s ankle and wrapped it in an ace bandage before landing.
We left our gear and thanked the flight crew. I helped JD off the plane. He was walking a little better now, and with his arm over my shoulder, we ambled to the terminal.
We exited at the drop-off area, and I helped him off the curb. It only took an instant for me to notice Sophia had stopped. I looked over my shoulder at her standing on the curb.
She bit her bottom lip with a tormented look on her face.
"What's up?" I asked.
"I think this is where we go our separate ways.”
JD balanced on his own as I took a step back to her.
"What's the matter? You tired of my company already?" I joked.
She chuckled. "No. I don't think I could tire of you that easily. But I'm not a fool. You've been good about reminding me that I'm a fugitive from the law. I know Isabella wants me dead, and she probably asked you to do it. I'm not stupid. But here I am. For some reason, you decided not to follow through."
I shrugged. "Everybody has a lapse in judgment at times.”
She smirked and pulled the Russian passport from her pocket. "Thanks to Isabella, I have a new life awaiting. I’ve got a little money stashed in several offshore accounts. I can disappear and stay off the radar."
"You’re going to retire?"
"I've been thinking about it for a while. I want to try normal for a bit. Settle down somewhere. Put down roots. Who knows?”
“Old assassins don’t really put down roots.”
“I’m not old.” She paused and lifted a hopeful eyebrow. "You could always join me."
"This is where I belong."
“Look at who’s put down roots.”
“And you see how I have to look over my shoulder.”
“I guess that’s the price we pay, huh?”
I nodded.
She extended her hand and stood straight, trying to act professional. "It was fun, Deputy Wild."
I took her delicate hand. "It was certainly an adventure."
"Stay safe, Deputy. I hope you find that bomb before it goes off. Just don’t get yourself blown up.” She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. It was soft and tender, almost like she cared.
“You’ll find Holden Cauley at 1127 Grayling Lane.” She spun around and marched back into the terminal to charter a flight. I watched her hips sway and wondered if that was the last time I would see her.
“Let’s get it in gear!” JD yelled.
I helped him hobble across the lot and into the passenger seat of the Porsche. He gave me the keys, and I hopped behind the wheel. I cranked up the engine and dialed Sheriff Daniels. "You find anything?"
"Bomb squad has been through the Seven Seas multiple times. The dogs didn't find anything. The Coast Guard has gone boat to boat in the marina, searching every vessel on the water. They found no trace of an improvised nuclear device. Are you sure we’re not on a wild goose chase?"
"I'm not sure of anything. I wouldn't put it past Fink to stir up drama over nothing."
"One last prank?” Sheriff Daniels suggested.
I backed out of the space and pulled out of the lot.
"The island was crawling with DHS and FBI,” Daniels said. “When nothing turned up, most of them packed it in. You sure the ETC is the target?"
"It's gotta be. CEOs from every major energy company on the planet are all here for a weekend of schmoozing and boozing. You couldn't pick a better target. Think of the disruption to the sector.”
“Think his goal was to spike energy prices?”
"I think his goal was disruption and destruction.” I paused. “Where are the convention-goers now?"
“The hotel was temporarily evacuated. Since the dogs didn't find anything, they let everyone back in. The convention is proceeding as if this was a hoax."
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I said. “I don't think this was a hoax."
“I’ve got deputies at the hotel, keeping an eye on things. The convention has typically been running till 5 PM, then continues at the bar till the wee hours of the morning. Tonight there is a party around the pool.”
“Were all the vehicles in the parking lot searched?”
“The dogs sniffed everything, and there were guys running around in hazmat suits with Geiger counters. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Maybe Fink’s goon was full of shit?” JD said.
54
We stopped by the marina at Diver Down, and I grabbed my badge and gun from the Avventura. I brought a backup for JD.
We headed to the Seven Seas. Deputy Frazier checked cars entering the parking lot. We stopped at the entrance and talked to him for a moment.
“Where’s the K9 unit?” I asked.
“They split. I think they’re at the airport.”
“The airport isn’t the target.”
“Hey, I just work here,” Frazier said.
“Have you seen anything odd?”
"Nothing out of the ordinary. I think this is a whole lot of nothing if you ask me.”
We pulled into the lot, and I drove to the valet stand. Finding a parking space would have been damn near impossible. The place was packed. I flashed my badge and told the valet to keep it upfront.
JD climbed out of the car and hobbled around.
People milled about, and a few execs smoked cigarettes near the entrance. Deputy Bronson stood by the door.
"Maybe Fink’s people were waiting for the final go-ahead from him,” JD said.
I shook my head. “Once Fink puts a plan in motion, it stays in motion.”
"We don't know that he's actually targeting the island,” JD said. “That could have been a misdirection."
I was beginning to think he might be right. I was dreading the thought of hearing about an explosion at some other location that we hadn’t considered.
I called Sheriff Daniels. “Let’s get the dogs back here. I want every car that comes in this lot evaluated.”
“As soon as they finish at the airport, I’ll send them back.”
“Is anyone guarding the hotel marina? Somebody could cruise right in and detonate a device. Why is nobody taking this seriously?”
Daniels was starting to get annoyed with my tone. "It was taken plenty seriously, and no threat was found. This whole thing is based on unconfirmed intel. The FBI and DHS have investigated and found no credible threat. What do you want me to do about it?"
"I have firsthand confirmation that something is going down."
"I believe you. But we can't secure the entire island. We don't have the resources."
"I'm telling you, this is the target. Whose bright idea was it to move the dogs away from this location?"
"It was mine," Daniels said with a tight jaw. "The airport is a viable target, and the Secretary of Energy wi
ll be landing at the FBO any minute. She’s slated to give a speech at the close of the conference tomorrow, and her office requested a full sweep after hearing news of the threat. I'd say that's a high profile target and warrants consideration.”
I couldn’t argue.
"After her flight arrives, I'm sending the K-9 unit back to the Seven Seas. In the meantime, do what you do. Talk to your people and find out when and where this thing is going to hit."
Daniels ended the call, and I dialed Isabella. "What are you hearing?"
"Not a damn thing. With all these encrypted messaging apps, it's hard to get good intel. I’ll let you know if I hear anything."
It wasn’t long before a black limousine pulled into the parking lot with a police escort, red and blues flashing. The patrol unit and the limo pulled to the main entrance. They were followed by a black SUV with tinted windows.
Deputies hopped out and secured the area. The Secretary’s security detail climbed out of the black SUV, scanned the area, did a quick check in the lobby, then returned to the limo and pulled open the passenger door.
The Secretary emerged wearing a navy blue blazer and skirt that hung past the knee. The security detail ushered her into the lobby.
Deputy Frazier waved a pool maintenance truck into the lot.
The 10-foot box truck rumbled around beside the entrance to the pool. The logo, surrounded by clear blue water, was painted on the side. The vehicle drew my eye right away.
The driver hopped out, wearing a jumpsuit and hat with the company logo. He moved around behind the vehicle and ambled down the pathway toward the pool.
I sprinted toward the vehicle, running past it, and held up at the pathway. I watched the pool maintenance guy pass through the gate and slip into the crowd of convention-goers. He weaved his way through to the far side, moving past lounge chairs, past the outside bar, and exiting toward the beach.
He wasn't here to maintain the pool.
The roll-up rear door to the box truck was padlocked shut. There was no doubt in my mind that there was a dirty bomb contained within.
55
A lawn maintenance guy was clipping branches with tree snips on the path to the pool. I raced toward him and flashed my badge. I grabbed the tree snips from the stunned man and raced back to the box truck.