by Robert Boren
“How’s the visibility up there?” Malcolm asked.
“I can see the street and part of the parking lot from up here.”
“They can’t see you, I hope,” Malcolm said.
“George laughed. “Naw, there’s a bunch of junk to hide behind up here.”
“That’s not junk, it’s merchandise,” Steely said.
Malcolm chuckled. “I’m ready. Steely, if I say get down, that means drop to the floor. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“We’d better get quiet,” George said. “Somebody just parked a couple vehicles across the street. Nobody got out of them yet.”
“What kind of vehicles?”
“A small van and a small SUV,” George said softly. “Somebody just got out of the far side of the van, must have slid open the side door.”
“I just heard a car door in back,” Malcolm said. “It’s them all right. Just sent a text to Sam.”
“Where is he?” Steely asked.
“Alternate location,” Malcolm said. “His RV Park.”
“That’s close,” Steely said, moving the sawed-off out of sight, then leaning on the counter. They heard the back door open, the bell tinkling. A man moved in, a sub-machine gun out, Steely seeing the barrel before the man was visible. He picked up the shotgun. Malcolm picked up a loose electronic component and tossed it out into the front of the store. The barrel of the gun stopped moving, then the man ran in a crouch towards the spot, not noticing Steely behind the counter, seeing the component on the floor, knowing it didn’t get there by accident. He hit the floor, rolling towards the counter, just in time to get both barrels from Steely’s shotgun in the face.
“Shit,” George said, firing through the window with the M60, hitting both vehicles across the street, along with several of the men milling around next to them. “How about the guy in the store?”
“Face full of buckshot,” Steely said. “He won’t be getting up.”
The back door opened again, the bell tinkling, multiple footsteps coming in, one of the men whipping around the corner with a submachine gun, Malcolm spraying fire from his M4, taking that man down, another racing into the room, George firing the M60, knocking the man off his feet, Steely hitting a third man with a shot gun blast as he tried to rush in.
“Nailed those creeps,” Steely said, shoving two more shells into the shotgun. The windows in front exploded, hit with machinegun fire from the road, George returning fire, getting one man, two more getting under cover, Malcolm rushing out of his hiding place and heading for the back door, where several men were getting ready to rush in. He leveled the other M60, spraying fire, two of the men hit, another jumping behind a small wall in the back of the lot. Gunfire erupted from the other side of the store now, shattering windows, bullets ripping into stock on the shelves, Steely rushing out there and firing the shotgun again, George shooting at some men in the street with the M60.
“Holy crap, how many did they send?” Steely asked. “We’ve killed half a dozen at least.”
“Don’t know what was in the back,” George said. “Crap, another SUV just pulled up behind the first two. Then they all heard machine gun fire, bullets ripping into the SUV, killing the men inside. “Never mind, Heidi just wasted the lot of them.”
“Keep that woman,” Malcolm said. “Only one left behind the store that I could see. He’s behind a short wall in the back of the lot.”
“There’s at least two in the front,” George said. “They’re behind cover, so I can’t hit them from here. Time to go earn my pay.”
“You’re getting paid for this?” Steely asked.
“Figure of speech,” George said as he rushed to the ladder and climbed down, M60 in his hands, the M4 slung over his shoulder. “Gonna toss a grenade in back.”
“They ain’t firing anymore. Maybe they’ve left.”
“Yeah, maybe,” George said, setting down the M60. He grabbed the M4 and slipped out the back door, getting behind the dumpster, catching a glimpse of the man hiding behind the wall. He fired, hitting the wall, causing the man to cry out as he was hit with chips from the cinder block, dropping onto his belly. Then George tossed the grenade next to him, the man trying to back away as it went off, killing him.
“Scratch the guy in the back,” George said. “I’m going around the other side of the building.”
“I’m heading towards the front,” Malcolm said. “Steely, keep an eye out.”
George moved along the back wall of the store, poking his head out, rifle fire hitting the side of the building, forcing him back. He got out another grenade, then stuck his rifle barrel out far enough to see, the man firing again, George laughing. “Come on out, moron!” He stuck the barrel out again, the machine gun going off again, hitting the side of the building and flying past the corner into the wall around the dumpster. Then there was a click and the firing stopped. Out of ammo. George slipped out and tossed the grenade, landing it under the car the man was hiding behind, blowing up, killing him as the car caught fire.
“Scratch the cretin on the left side,” George shouted. He rushed up that side of the store, stopping before he got to the front, seeing a man across the street, not hidden well enough from his position. George fired, tagging the man in the right thigh, another man getting up and trying to run into a building, Heidi hitting him before he got there. Then there was silence.
“I think that was the last one,” Malcolm shouted. “High body count.”
Suddenly there was the sound of pounding horse hoofs, Garrett’s cavalry rushing out from behind the buildings across the street, guns at the ready.
“I think we got them all, men,” George shouted. Sam’s Jeep roared up, followed by Sid’s, pulling up in the parking lot next to the replica Jeep.
“Holy shit, how many people did they send?” Sam asked.
“Lost count,” Malcolm said. “More than they should’ve.”
Heidi ran over from across the street, and then Sid and Yvonne walked over.
Steely rushed over to greet them. “Got a few enemies, I see.”
Sid shook his hand. “Sorry about the mess. We’ll get that taken care of.”
“No problem,” Steely said. “Broken glass, a little bit of merchandise shot up. No biggie.”
“You might want to make yourself scarce for a while,” Sid said. “They might want revenge.”
“I’d be surprised,” Sam said. “These were Mercs, although they weren’t very good Mercs.”
“And by the way, your friend Steely here dispatched several of them with that wicked shotgun of his,” Malcolm said to Sid. “I’m Malcolm Davis, by the way, and there’s George and Heidi.”
“Heard so much about you,” Yvonne said.
“Nobody showed up at the RV park, I take it?” George asked.
“Not a soul,” Sam said.
The group chatted a bit more, then Sam and Erica said tearful goodbyes. The team was back to the airport within the hour.
***
Mr. White and Mr. Black rode the elevator to the sixth floor.
“Think they let us in?” Mr. White asked.
“I have idea. Let me do talking.”
Mr. White nodded, and they went to the door, with a simple sign that read Relaxation Therapy. The door opened suddenly, a well-dressed man walking out towards the elevators, avoiding eye contact.
“Just got oiled,” Mr. White quipped, opening the door again, walking to the counter, Mr. Black joining. An older Korean woman came out to greet them.
“Been here before?” she asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
“No, but hear of wonderful service,” Mr. Black said. “We Bulgarians, on UN diplomatic team. Hear of this establishment there.”
The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, we have many customers from there. Come, we take care of well.” She led the two men past the door, into a long hallway with doors on either side, some of them open.
“Here one room,” the woman said. Mr. White nodded, taking it. The
n she walked Mr. Black to the next open door. A tiny Asian woman poked her head out one of the doors, her eyes wide. She receded quickly.
“She scared, no?” Mr. Black whispered. “We large men, but gentle.”
The woman sent an angry stare down the hall where the woman had been, then ushered Mr. Black inside. “Few minutes.”
Mr. Black went inside the room. There was some hushed, aggressive talk, and a slap, then some muffled crying. Mr. Black heard the old woman stomping back up towards the front, and grabbed her arm, yanking her inside, snapping her neck in an instant, setting her body on the floor behind the bed. Mr. White slipped over, getting into the room, looking at Mr. Black’s handiwork.
“Already?” Mr. White whispered.
“She mistreats girls, and she in way.”
Mr. White nodded. “Good. Three doors closed. Only two have lights on inside. You take one, I take other, no?”
“Yes,” Mr. Black whispered. They were about to leave when one of the girls came out of the room, walking towards them.
“I take one,” she said. “Me Britney. This room?” She walked in before the men could stop her, freezing in her tracks when she saw the legs of her boss sticking out from behind the bed. She peeked over, then turned back to them and smiled. “You do?”
Mr. Black nodded.
“You come for pig?” Britney asked, her face a mixture of disgust and glee. “He beat all the girls. Killed one last month.”
“UN creep,” Mr. White whispered. “What room?”
“Rear room, on right,” Britney said. “I show you how to sneak out afterwards. Back way.
A slight whimper came from the room at the back of the hall. Britney spat on the floor. “He do again. Pig.”
Mr. Black and Mr. White grinned at each other, then walked down the hall, crashing through the door, the young woman inside screaming.
“Not nice to beat women,” Mr. Black said, moving towards Mateo as he tried to get to the phone sitting on his pants, Mr. White grabbing him by the neck and punching him until he was unconscious. They heard the door of the other occupied room open, and footsteps running towards the door.
“UN?” Mr. Black asked Britney.
“No, another regular. He not beat us.”
“Let him go, but let’s finish this fast. Britney, lock front door and watch please.”
She nodded, rushing out there, several other women running after her, speaking to her in Korean.
“I brought knife, but no time to flay,” Mr. White quipped.
“Gut him alive, then slit throat,” Mr. Black said, eyeing a robe hanging on a hook behind the door. “Put that on.”
Mr. White chuckled, then put the robe on backwards, and began cutting, Mateo waking up during the process and screaming until Mr. Black came over and stuffed his underwear in his mouth.
“We need to go now,” he said. Mr. White nodded, holding the knife in front of Mateo’s terrified eyes, then slitting his throat from ear to ear, Mr. Black jumping back, narrowly avoiding the spurts of blood.
Mr. White wiped his knife with the robe, then put it back into the sheath on his lower left leg, pulling the pant leg down over it. “Let’s go.”
Britney rushed over, leading them through the shower and into another exit, dumping onto a long hallway. “Go to end, take service elevator to ground floor, escape through alley.”
“Thank you, Britney,” Mr. Black said. “You and other girls should leave now.”
“We have nowhere to go.”
“C’mon, let’s go,” Mr. White shouted. “That screaming will draw somebody.”
“Yes, go,” Britney said. She took Mr. Black’s hand and kissed the back, then scurried back into the massage parlor.
“Run,” Mr. White said. They ran down the hall, getting into the elevator and riding it down, the sound of sirens approaching as they got into the alley, ducking into the subway station.
{ 11 }
One Bar
I t was getting late. Ivan rushed into the intel room, most of the team there. He was grinning ear to ear.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“The operation in Dulzura came off without a hitch. They sent fourteen Mercs after Sid. George, Malcolm, Heidi, and Steely killed them all.”
“None of our people got hurt?” General Hogan asked.
“Not a scratch, although Steely will need some glass and merchandise replaced. I’ll take care of that.”
“When will the team be back?” Ted asked.
“They’ll be landing in Missoula soon.”
“So this happened earlier today?” Jane asked.
“I was napping when the message hit the drop box,” Ivan said. “Sorry.”
“Shoot, I haven’t been in there for a while either. Been too wrapped up with the Joint Chiefs. They’re making progress on the enemy operatives still in the bureaucracy, but it’s like pulling teeth.”
“Well, it’s good that we drew some blood,” Tex said.
Jules nodded, but his brow was furrowed. “This might ramp up violence. People we leave behind must watch carefully. I’ll be worried until we hitting principles.”
“There is a problem,” Ivan said. “Justin and Katie are way overdue, and nobody can raise them.”
“Oh shit,” Robbie said, his lower lip trembling. “Not them. Wonder if Steve and Colleen are okay?”
Morgan moved closer to him, her arm going around his shoulder.
“Don’t get too upset yet,” Sparky said, “they might have had to go someplace other than Dodge City. Justin and Katie have become pretty good fighters. They won’t be easy to take out.”
“Dammit, we need to hit a principle,” Ted said. “Taking out their Mercs is good, but it doesn’t send a strong enough message.”
“I agree,” General Hogan said. “What do we have on that front?”
“I’m expecting to hear from Mr. Black and Mr. White soon,” Ivan said. “It’s been a while.”
“I’ve been seeing some interesting social media posts from the UK,” Jasmine said. “Lots of people over there distrust the story about Maggie being killed at the hospital, and now they’re all abuzz about the limo chase in Manchester. Everybody knows that Maggie’s got an estate in that town. It’s common knowledge over there.”
Ivan’s phone dinged, so he walked out of the room, reading the message. He came back into the room after a moment, a smirk on his face.
“What happened?” General Hogan asked.
“Mr. White and Mr. Black were contacted by the resistance in that region.”
“Region?” Morgan asked.
“Mid-Atlantic and New England,” Ivan said. “They tailed Mateo from the restaurant. The guy is stupid. He was bragging to a couple friends about some massage place on 7th Avenue on the way back to his hotel.”
General Hogan chuckled. “You’re joking.”
Ted’s brow was furrowed. “How do we know these resistance fighters aren’t really the enemy?”
“They talked it out,” Ivan said. “The resistance people knew things that they wouldn’t have known had they not been resistance.”
“Do you know these guys?” Ted asked.
“No, but I know of them. Our main funder is also supporting them.”
“Jared Carlson?” General Hogan asked.
Ivan nodded. “These resistance operatives made the phony hit on Lance Evans.”
Dick burst out laughing. “Really? That’s beautiful. Lance probably thinks it was Charles.”
“How do you make a phony hit without the target knowing about it?” Haley asked.
“They knew he’d be wearing a vest. Wounded him in the arm and shot him in the chest. The attacker said Charles says hi.”
“That’s hilarious,” Ted said.
“Might be why Charles Livingston took a powder,” Ivan said. “The fly in the ointment was that person who killed the phony hitman. That was not expected.”
“This expands the game some,” Ted said. “We should work togethe
r with this other resistance team.”
“It’s definitely worth looking into,” General Hogan said.
“I’m going to see if I can raise Jared Carlson. I want to ask him some questions about the other group. Be back in a few minutes.”
Ivan left the room.
“Hope this turns out to be a good thing,” Jerry said.
Jasmine looked over at him. “You look a little worried.”
“It’s just new information, that’s all,” Jerry said. “Hope Ivan’s guys didn’t share too much info.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” General Hogan said.
“Whoa,” Jasmine said. “The House of Lords and the House of Commons are fighting it out this morning. The BBC is having a cow.”
“Why?” Agent Williams asked.
“Somebody leaked the truth about the DNA testing at the ICU unit. It’s from a reliable source. The House of Commons is demanding answers, and the House of Lords is calling them conspiracy theorists. The PM is heading over there now.”
Jules chuckled. “This will get good, no?”
“Everybody’s starting to whisper that the Royals are involved,” Jasmine said. “Damn, the message traffic is incredible now.”
“Might end up with riots like we’re seeing in Paris,” Jerry said. “Maybe we ought to turn on the TV. They’ve probably got coverage.”
“Wait a minute,” Jane said, her eyes glued to the screen. “Something’s happening in Manhattan. Something big. The NYPD has just blocked off 44th Street and 7th Avenue.”
General Hogan and Jules shot each other a glance.
“Could it be?” General Hogan asked.
Jules snickered. “Wouldn’t put it past those guys.”
Ivan rushed back into the room. “Something happened in New York. Just got a buzz from my news search.”
“We’re seeing it,” Jane said.
Ivan’s phone rang. “Mr. Black. I’ll put it on speaker.” He did that, setting the phone on the table. “Talk to me.”
“Hey, boss,” Mr. Black said, sounding out of breath. “Mateo dead. Gutted him like fish.”
“Where are you?”
“Subway train, heading away from area. Woman in brothel helped. She say Mateo beat up women there, killed one too.”