Steel Assassin

by Geoffrey Saign

  Her eyes flicked up at him, and then she described it. Her ability to escape a very dangerous situation a second time surprised him. “You didn’t follow directions.”

  “I did the best I could.”

  “You did as well as I could have.” He meant it. “Let’s go meet Colonel Jeffries’ man.”

  As they gathered their things, he went into the bathroom to get their ponchos, which they had hung the night before to dry. He saw the bullet holes in Christie’s poncho and just stared.

  They left the hotel and drove southwest out of the city, past the suburbs until they were on a deserted dirt road where they parked on the shoulder. They waited by the trunk of their car.

  The sun was already up, the air dry and hot, and the sky blue. Arid land. Scattered bushes. Occasional hedgehog and foxtail cacti. A black-tailed jackrabbit chewed on vegetation fifty feet away. A few ravens circled in the sky.

  In a different situation Steel wouldn’t mind taking a hike to see what other wildlife he could find. He had a Glock in his belt beneath his shirt, while Christie carried a SIG Sauer beneath her blouse against her back.

  In twenty minutes a black SUV approached them from the east. It pulled past them, made a U-turn in the road, and went by them again. Making one more U-turn, the SUV parked on the shoulder behind them.

  Two young men got out. Dressed in shorts and tees and wearing sunglasses.

  One of the men said, “Colonel Jeffries sends his regards.”

  Steel and Christie followed them to the rear of the SUV. One of the men opened up the door, revealing a large duffel bag which he unzipped.

  Steel liked what he saw. An M3 MAAWS with three anti-tank rounds, ear muffs for sound protection, another set of silenced Glocks, five Rattlers, a pair of SIG Sauers, two phones with Bluetooth earbuds, four car trackers, and two knives. There was also another silenced G28 sniper rifle.

  “Are we good?” asked the soldier.

  “We’re good.” Steel zipped it up. When no traffic approached in either direction, he carried it to the trunk of their sedan.

  One of the soldiers held up a small tracker. “Colonel Jeffries says it’s nonnegotiable.”

  Steel gave a small wave. “Agreed.”

  The soldier squatted and attached it to the underside of the front of their car frame. When he stood, he said, “Good luck.”

  Steel nodded. “Thanks.”

  The SUV took off, and they leaned against the trunk, waiting.

  Christie edged up to him. “Kiss?”

  He obliged her for a few seconds and pulled back. “You okay?”

  “Harry’s life is on the line. Our lives are on the line.”

  “We’ve come this far. We can jump a few more hurdles.” He had to believe they could.

  “I still want to take a road trip with you.” She tousled his hair.

  “You get whatever you want when this is over.”

  She smiled, pain showing in her eyes. “Hmm. I’ll remember that.”

  He couldn’t smile back, amazed that she still wanted to be around him.

  She gazed at him. “You need to let it go. You’re not responsible for Dale’s death.”

  “I brought your family into this mess. It’s on me.”

  “Oh, Jack.” She wrapped her arms around him, her head on his shoulder.

  A silver pickup truck approached from the east and they pulled apart. The vehicle soon pulled off the road in back of them. Three men exited the truck.

  “Be ready.” Steel recognized their size and shape from the first night. Their faces also matched the photos Jeffries had sent. He wanted to put bullets into all of them.

  Carlos was in his fifties, stocky and strong, with a moustache and a cowboy hat. He looked self-assured. This man could be dangerous. Like his two sons, he wore sunglasses.

  Mario was in his thirties, strong, with easy strides. He and Carlos wore boots, western shirts, and jeans. Mario wore a small western hat and had a toothpick in his mouth. Pedro, in his twenties and lean, had on a hoodie, shorts, studs in his ears, and sandals. Unlike Mario and Carlos, Pedro had longer hair tied back in a ponytail and was shorter.

  No weapons were visible so Steel relaxed. He stared at Carlos, despising the man that had put him and Christie into so much danger. However he kept his mouth shut, waiting to see what would happen.

  Approaching them with a son on either side, Carlos grimaced as he stopped a few yards away. “I told my sons they get to say whatever is on their minds to you, just once, and that’s the end of our vendetta.”

  Mario took off his sunglasses, his voice and eyes steady. “I will never forgive you for what happened to Marita, but I can let that go if you help us save Isabella.”

  Steel heard the man’s conviction and levelheadedness. A professional. He believed him. He turned to Pedro. Smaller and shorter. He remembered the intuition he had days ago when Pedro held the dynamite. The young man was willing to do anything, which made him reckless.

  Pedro took off his sunglasses and his eyes narrowed. “I honor and obey my father so I too will let it go. I loved my brother Juan so I hate Angel even more than I despise you. But if Isabella dies, all bets are off.”

  Steel wasn’t surprised. Carlos wouldn’t be able to control his son if things went bad. “The cartel has her, not us.”

  Pedro’s eyes narrowed. “Because you let Marita die, the cartel came after you and now they have Isabella instead.”

  Steel remained quiet. Young and hot-headed, Pedro wasn’t skilled enough to be a threat to him.

  Carlos took off his sunglasses, glancing at Pedro. “I will honor my word, and so will my sons. The vendetta is over. Now we try to save my daughter and Christie’s brother.”

  “First I get to say something.” Christie stepped forward. “Jack tried to save Marita, but she was scared of him because he was half-delirious when he killed Gustavo Alvarez. He protects women. It’s his business. And if you come after him again, we’ll kill all of you.”

  She flicked her hair back, eyeing Pedro. “Your father already knows what we’re capable of.”

  The three men looked at her, and Carlos said, “You remind me of Isabella, how protective she is of us. She never wanted this vendetta.”

  Christie’s voice softened. “I want the cartel men dead as much as you do. I’m sorry about Juan.”

  Carlos' voice was gentle. “Gracias. And I’m sorry about your brother.”

  Christie grimaced. “His name was Dale.”

  He tipped his hat to her. “I’m sorry for your loss of Dale.”

  Mario lifted a hand. “I didn’t know Dale, but if he was anything like my brother Juan, I understand your loss.”

  Christie stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Thank you.”

  “We’re going to make them pay,” spat Pedro.

  Christie nodded to him. “Yes, we are.”

  Steel stared at Carlos, still not trusting him and wanting to kill him. For now he stuffed his feelings. “First things first.” He opened the trunk and the duffel bag. “We have a sniper rifle for you, Carlos, if you want it.”

  Carlos eyed the weapons. “Excellent.”

  “Our biggest advantage is that they won’t be able to identify you three so the element of surprise is on our side.” Steel studied Mario. “I’d like you to find Diego’s hotel room and get a photo of the ISIS connection.”

  “I told you we’re not involving ourselves with your ISIS problem.” Carlos’ tone was emphatic.

  Steel kept his voice calm. “These men want to kill innocent people. You were a trainer at the School of Lanceros to stop things like this. I also think you’re going to have a problem leaving the country after this is over. You kidnapped someone and were involved with murder, among other things. All that goes away if you help us. We’ll make sure all of you get out safely and any possible charges
disappear.”

  “Lies,” said Pedro.

  “Papá, I don’t mind doing it.” Mario waved a hand. “ISIS is something we shouldn’t support for any reason. And I want to come back here.”

  “How can we trust you will keep your word or that your government will support us?” Carlos shook his head. “Marita took the same risks and it cost her everything.”

  Steel pulled out his phone and dialed Colonel Jeffries, putting him on speaker. “Sir, Carlos and his sons will help us track the ISIS connection, if you can guarantee they’ll face no charges and can leave the U.S. safely, and return for visits and travel if they like.”

  “You help us take down ISIS and you have my word. No charges, no problems leaving and returning. No retribution.”

  “Your name is?” asked Carlos.

  “Classified,” said Jeffries. “Steel can vouch for me.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Steel hung up.

  “So an unnamed officer gives us his word, which can just as easily be denied,” Pedro said with disgust.

  Mario remained quiet.

  “I understand it’s the best we will get.” Carlos put his sunglasses back on. “All right.”

  Steel eyed him. “You know where Diego is planning to take Isabella and Harry, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Diego has a place in the desert. I’ll show you on a map.” Carlos stepped closer to him. “I’ve hated you for so long that it feels odd to finally meet you in person. But if you help us save Isabella, I will find it easier to believe your story about Marita.”

  Steel didn’t give a damn what Carlos believed about him anymore. “I’ll do whatever it takes. My daughter could be next. It ends here. Today. And if you help save Harry, I won’t put a bullet in your head.”

  Carlos extended his hand and Steel took it. It meant nothing to him.

  Carlos lifted his chin. “If you really tried to save Marita, then I owe you an apology. But the dead don’t talk and no one else knows what happened in the jungle.”

  Steel kept his expression neutral. “I might have the same reaction if I was in your shoes.”

  Carlos nodded. “Then we understand each other.”

  They discussed Diego’s hideout and their strategy. Afterward, Carlos and Mario grabbed weapons and left with Pedro, driving back to the city.

  Steel leaned against the trunk. Christie pressed against him, holding his waist.

  He gazed into her eyes. “You were pretty tough with your comments.”

  She trailed a hand gently down his face. “I’m getting used to it. Maybe it’s the new me. Does it bother you?”

  “Not at all.” He wrapped his arms around her, amazed at her strength.

  She held him while she dialed her brother. “We’re ready, Clay.” Pocketing the phone, she said, “I need some time alone with him, honey.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Steel waited in the car, having mixed feelings about Clay joining them. Christie’s brother had flown in overnight and was nearby. It wasn’t long before a black sedan drove up from the east and parked close behind their car.

  Steel adjusted the rearview mirror and sat close to the open passenger window.

  Clay got out, a large bandage wrapped around his head. No hat. Christie strode forward to hug him. She pulled back from him, wiping her eyes, and they exchanged quiet words for a few minutes, talking in low tones.

  Steel watched them in the mirror, assuming they were talking about Dale. His stomach knotted again, knowing he was the reason for their brother’s death.

  Clay straightened, his voice louder. “You’re beat up.”

  “You don’t look much better,” said Christie.

  “If you’re injured you should sit this one out, Christie.”

  “Then so should you, Clay.”

  Their voices were amped up. Steel guessed Clay wanted him to hear them. He was glad Clay voiced concerns for his sister. He wanted Christie out too.

  Clay’s hand flew up as he continued. “We lost our brother and I don’t want to lose my sister too.”

  Christie shoved her hands in her pockets. “Jack is my family, Clay. Like it or not, I’m staying.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Steel had heard enough. He got out and walked up beside Christie. “Words can never tell you how sorry I am about Dale.”

  Clay stood with his fists bunched at his sides. “Your mess got my brother killed, and now you’re going to get my sister killed.”

  “It wasn’t his fault!” snapped Christie.

  Steel shook his head at her. “No, he’s right. I accept responsibility for Dale.” He turned to Clay. “Christie performed as well as I could have in both Ops thus far.” Ironically his efforts to protect her in the Garcia and Vincente Ops had put her in more danger, and she had handled it. “Anyway, I’ll be the one inside on this Op.”

  Clay stuck his hands in his pockets, his voice gruff. “Okay. What’s the play?”

  Christie explained what they needed from him.

  Clay gave a dismissive wave. “Do we have to work with the scum that kidnapped Harry and got Dale killed?”

  “I don’t like it either, but we need them to take Diego,” said Steel.

  Clay shook his head. “When this is over you’re going to kill Carlos, aren’t you?”

  Steel was aware of Christie watching him. “Yes.”

  “Secondly, Christie,” said Clay, “Angel is dangerous and I’m a marine with combat experience. I should be facing him, not you. Are you trying to protect me now?”

  “No.” She stared her brother down. “I want to be with Jack. That’s final and not up for debate, Clay.”

  “You always were stubborn.” He stared at her for a few moments, and then motioned to Steel. “Angel is at your level. He’s one of the best I’ve ever come across. Watch out for the trunk compartment. Watch out for surprises. Don’t expect anything to be what it seems.”

  Steel didn’t like hearing any of it.

  Clay eyed Christie. “If this goes well, are you going home?”

  She took Steel’s hand. “Of course. Mom and Dad need our support.”

  Steel opened the trunk. “Take your pick, Clay.”

  Clay examined the arsenal. “You look ready for war.”

  “We’re going to bring it to them.” Steel knew they would use all of it.

  Christie picked up a Rattler. “We’re getting Harry back today, and we’re going to bury all of these animals.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Harry woke up nestled against Isabella. She had one arm draped over him. It was almost amusing, except that they could both be dead soon.

  His wounded shoulder and arm ached and his legs were cramped. He tried to stretch his right leg by lifting it above Isabella and extending it into the corner of the trunk. It helped. He was thirsty and hungry but didn’t expect food or water from the killer.

  Isabella stirred and quickly pulled back her arm and moved away from him a few inches.

  “Good morning, Isabella.”

  “How are you feeling today, Harry?”

  Surprised she cared, he said, “Sore and stiff. But I’ll be okay.” He doubted he could even throw a punch. Maybe with his left hand.

  The car stopped.

  He stiffened. “Get ready.”

  A door opened, then shut. Preparing himself, he tensed. Then the car began moving again. He didn’t know what it meant, except that their opportunity for escape or death had been postponed once more.

  Isabella released a breath. “I just want it to be over, one way or the other.”

  He agreed, but said, “We’re making more turns so I think we’re in a city.”

  “I’m scared, Harry.”

  “I am too, but I’m more angry than scared. Where do you have the knife?”

  “At my back tucked int
o my jeans. My blouse will hide it.”

  “Perfect.”

  Her voice quieted. “Do you think we have any chance to get away?”

  He couldn’t be honest with her. “My brothers and sister will be looking for me. They won’t quit until they find us.” Truthfully, he wondered if any of his siblings were still alive.

  “Others will be searching for me too.”

  He doubted it mattered. “Steel will eventually find us so the more time we have, the better our chances.”

  “How can you work for that man and be friends with him?” Isabella sounded disgusted.

  “He tried to save Marita. I know the story and I’ll tell you if you want to hear it.”

  Her tone became harsh. “I don’t want to hear your lies.”

  “Why do you think his protection agency was protecting Afia Ameen? A woman who has a fatwa on her head? He would never have abandoned Marita to the cartel. He was betrayed by our own military down there…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

  The car stopped again. Quiet.

  Footsteps. The trunk opened and a Latino man stared down at them. Not the killer.

  Harry glimpsed a dimly lit garage of some kind behind the man, who was average in size and build. He felt a spark of hope. Anyone would be easier to face than the killer.

  He couldn’t effectively punch the man with his stiff shoulder. And he would never get out fast enough over Isabella before the man drew his gun. No doubt that the man would be armed. They needed an advantage.

  “We have to use the bathroom,” he said.

  The man smiled. “Tough, amigo. You’re not getting out.”

  Harry hoped Isabella could stab the man with her knife. He lifted his chin slightly to her. Giving a tiny nod, she slowly allowed her left hand to slide to her back.

  “Chiquita.” The man ran his left hand along the side of her thigh, toward her hip. “Maybe we have a little fun while we’re waiting, huh?”

  Isabella said something harsh in Spanish.

  Harry recognized one of the words—puerco—pig. She tried to push the man’s hand away, but he blocked her arm with his right hand, his left sliding up her blouse.