by Matthew Rief
Ange was standing inside, facing the closed doors. She had her hands at her sides and a bag over her shoulder. She was wearing all-black corporate business attire, including high heels and a pair of glasses. Her hair was tied back, and her eyes were trained forward as she stood stoically.
Wake broke out into a fit of laughter as he looked at her image on the screen.
“How sweet,” he said, calming himself. “Looks like Mrs. Dodge has come to try and save the day.” He motioned toward the three guards behind Brier. “Get over to the elevator and give her a proper welcome when she arrives. Don’t hold back. I want her dead before she’s able to take a single step.”
Each of the three guards nodded and stormed out of the room, heading toward the elevator. They each had submachine guns slung over their chests, and they grabbed hold of them as they disappeared from view.
I gasped and sprang after them. I managed a single step before freezing in my tracks. Brier had grabbed his Colt and had it aimed straight at me.
“Not yet, Brier,” Wake said. He snatched the .45-caliber handgun, then turned and looked back toward the screen. “I want him to watch as his wife is killed because of his actions.” He shot me an evil sneer. “And I also want him to see the little firework show we have planned after.”
He turned and looked out through the massive window, then glanced back at the screen. We heard the guards move into place, heard their exchanged words and their boots stomping against the marble through the large entryway.
Wake watched with great anticipation. He kept looking back and forth between me and the screen. He was enjoying the moment to an extent that revealed his insanity—his dark, all-consuming hatred.
My heart pounded as I watched the screen. All I could think about was the plan we’d originally made back at our house in Key West.
This better work.
A warm beep resonated from the entryway, signaling the arrival of the elevator. The moment I heard the doors slide open, the enormous screen went staticky, then turned black. The three guards brought hell. They each held down the triggers of their automatic weapons, sending a barrage of gunfire that rattled against the walls and echoed loudly into the main room.
“What the hell?” Wake growled. He grabbed a radio from the table and yelled into it. “Bring up the feed!”
The gunfire stopped suddenly. Confused voices replaced the loud banging sounds.
The screen flashed a few times, then a different view came up on the screen. It showed the three guards moving in slowly toward what appeared to be an empty elevator. The floor was littered with fired rounds.
“What the—?” Wake said.
Just as the words left his lips, gunfire erupted once again. This time, it was the rapid fire of a semiautomatic handgun. Three quick shots. And we watched as the three guards collapsed one by one onto the floor.
FORTY
I knew that if I was going to make a move, this was the time to do it. With Wake distracted and three of his guards lying dead on the floor outside the grand entryway, I turned to engage Brier.
My mouth dropped open in surprise. He wasn’t there. The former SEAL, who’d been standing right behind me, had slipped out a door beside the fireplace during the commotion. It was like he’d vanished, leaving just myself and Wake in the large room.
Realizing that Brier had made a run for it, I turned back forward and lunged toward Wake. The enraged billionaire snapped his head away from the screen and stared me down with fierce intensity. His right hand still gripped Brier’s Colt. Before I could take two steps toward him, he raised it, aiming the barrel straight at me.
“Freeze, Dodge!” he snarled, narrowing his gaze.
I did as I was told. The rubber soles of my shoes squeaked on the marble floor as I stopped myself less than ten feet from him.
Keeping the barrel aimed at me, Wake moved to his right and quickly punched in a code on a wall-mounted panel. A buzzer sounded and the massive doors on the other side of the room slammed shut. He’d put the place on full lockdown.
“You take one more step and you’re dead,” Wake said, turning and moving back over toward me. “I’ll fill you with lead and then I’ll send that entire container ship up in flames. There are nearly a hundred people aboard. Do you want their blood on your hands, Dodge?”
My eyes shifted from the Colt to the detonator he held up in his left hand. “It’s over, Wake,” I said, shaking my head. “This is the end for you.”
The businessman composed himself. He straightened his body and smiled, showing off rows of perfect white teeth. Then he sneered and looked out the window beside him.
“No, this is just the beginning, Dodge.” He raised his left hand in the air, shaking the small remote. “Tonight, I alter the course of history. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He motioned for me to move toward the window, then looked out at the downtown skyline and waterfront. I observed him carefully as I stepped up to the glass. I was worn and beaten from the fights with Brier and Darius. I didn’t have much left, but I’d need to focus and be ready if I was going to get out of this.
“Look, Dodge,” Wake said, pointing toward the Port of Miami.
I followed his gaze. The ASC Josephine was moored on the southern part of the island, all lit up for the onboard event. Murph had said that well over a hundred people would be in attendance. One hundred souls, not to mention the small army of staff.
“I wanted to have the 1812 Overture playing for this moment,” Wake said. “But given the change of plans…”
He started humming the epic finale to the famous Russian overture. His head bobbed and his smile brightened. He kept the Colt aimed at me while moving his left hand up and down and side to side like the conductor of an orchestra.
When he reached the crescendo, he laughed again, raised his left hand and flipped the small switch. Then his thumb pressed down on the button. I peered intently through the glass, keeping my eyes locked on the container ship. Wake did the same while continuing to hum. His expectations and excitement were at an all-time high.
Suddenly, out in the moonlit bay, a tower of water shot up into the night air like a powerful fountain. It rose over two hundred feet, spraying out in all directions and splashing back into the sea.
The Josephine remained fully intact and unaffected by the harmless explosion out in the bay. Scott, Kyle, and Jack had done it.
The moment the water exploded up into the air, Wake’s excited expression melted into despair. His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. His cool veneer cracked like a vase dropped onto his fancy marble floor.
I didn’t hesitate, didn’t question myself for a moment. This was my chance, my one opening to make a move. It was now or never.
With Wake’s horror-filled eyes witnessing the futile end to his plans and his brain processing that he’d failed, I sprang toward him.
I lunged straight for the Colt, dropping out of the barrel’s path and snatching his wrist. His numbed body jerked to life and he squeezed the trigger. The sound of the exploding gunpowder boomed and echoed across the room. It shot a painful rattle through my eardrums, but I ignored it and forced the gun away from me.
He continued to fire, sending a succession of rounds that crashed holes through the glass window right beside us. He yelled like a madman as I broke his wrist, sending the Colt out of his grasp and clanking onto the floor at our feet.
His face full of rage, he retaliated by slamming his forehead toward me. I tilted my head sideways and back, taking the brunt of the blow against the side of my face. It hurt but was far from a knockout blow.
I felt a surge of energy and strength take over. My adrenaline pumping, I engaged Wake with everything I had. In a rapid sequence of relentless movements, I slammed my heel into his left foot, kneed him in the chest, then locked his shoulder back and manhandled his body around. He groaned and struggled and tried desperately to break free. It was to no avail.
I wrapped my left arm tightly around his
chest, then gripped a handful of his hair with my right. Tugging hard, I jerked his head back, and he gave out a shrill cry.
I was far from done with him. Stepping toward the massive bullet-hole-riddled window, I smashed his face into the glass over and over again. His flesh was cut to pieces, and blood flowed down onto his fancy suit and dripped onto the marble floor.
When his angry cries shifted to gasps for air, I turned him around and let him slide down and collapse. My heart pounded from the exertion. I slowly caught my breath.
“You’ve failed, Wake,” I said. “It’s all over.”
Dark red streaked down his sliced-up face. He breathed heavily, coughed a few times, then spat out a tooth and a gob of blood. His anger was so powerful that it caused his face to shake.
“You’re wrong, Dodge.” He struggled to get the words out. “My men are on their way here. They’ll storm into this room and kill you. And your foolish wife.”
He coughed more and spat again. His white dress shirt was torn and blood-soaked. He tilted his head up, his dark burning into mine.
“Even if you kill me, it doesn’t matter. The Wake Empire will continue on. It will prosper long after I’m gone.”
“No, Wake,” I fired back. “Everything you’ve built dies with you.”
Suddenly, the main doors into the living room slammed open. I dropped down, grabbed hold of the Colt, and took aim. Wake had fired off four rounds. That left me a minimum of three depending on the size of the magazine. And if it had been filled.
I put my finger on the trigger instinctively, ready to take down whatever backup was arriving to save Wake. When my eyes focused on the dark outline of a woman, I lowered the weapon.
I was relieved and worried to see her at the same time.
“Ange, watch out!” I said. “There’s more guards on the way.”
She stepped into the room with her Glock raised. With my attention on Ange, I could only hear as Wake forced himself up off the floor behind me. I turned just in time to see him falling toward me with his gold-hilted dagger in his right hand. I turned my body instinctively, but I didn’t have time to aim the Colt.
Just as the tip of his blade was about to dig deep into my body, a crack filled the air. Wake’s momentum shifted in an instant, his body twisted around and he collapsed face first onto the smooth marble. He let go of the knife, pressed his hands to his chest, and struggled for breath.
Ange strode into the center of the room. She had her Glock raised. It had been one hell of a shot. A moving target, far off, and obstacles in the way. One of them being me.
I kicked the blade away from Wake as he struggled onto his back. Ange moved in beside me and we both aimed our weapons at him as he winced and groaned.
“Like I said, Wake. It’s over.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength. Ange’s 9mm hollow-point had struck him right through the heart. He only had seconds to live.
His eyes narrowed. He bit down hard. His brow furrowed. He made a few more coarse sounds before his mouth opened, his eyes closed, and his head dropped back.
Richard Wake was gone.
FORTY-ONE
I lowered my Colt, stepped closer to Ange, and wrapped an arm around her. She shifted into me. We embraced in a full-on hug, and we both squeezed tight.
She’d played her role in the plan beautifully, hitching a ride on Wake’s car elevator instead of the main one. Murph had handled all the technical stuff. He’d recorded a short video of Ange on Wake’s private elevator before she’d hopped off, then had played it on a continuous loop to trick Wake. When Ange had entered our level on the other side of the penthouse, all she’d had to do was walk over and catch the three guards by surprise.
Apparently, she’d also somehow managed to break in after Wake had locked the place down.
“Nice shot, Ange,” I said into her ear. “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved my life now.”
“That’s why you married me, Logan,” she said. Her voice was soft. “Somebody’s gotta watch your back. And… somebody’s gotta watch mine.”
I smiled and squeezed her tighter. She felt so good in my arms. Her warmth and strength resonated and made me forget about the pain my body was feeling. If only for a moment.
After a brief hug, I remembered what Wake had said moments before he’d been shot. That all of his guards were on their way. That they’d barge in there and fire at will.
I let go of Ange and stepped back.
“We need to move,” I said. “Wake said he—”
Ange raised a finger at me, cutting me off. She listened to her earpiece, then pressed a button on her radio.
“Murph, we’re both on,” she said.
“Hey, you two,” Murph said through the speaker. “I hate to interrupt your sweet little reunion, but you’ve got about a dozen guards heading your way.”
I’d hoped that maybe it’d been a bluff on Wake’s part. But nothing about tracking him and taking him down had been easy. Of course he had a bunch of guards storming up to avenge his death.
“Where they at, Murph?” Ange asked.
“They’ve congregated on the forty-third floor near the main security room and are getting into an elevator now.”
Ange listened intently, then cracked a smile.
“Good thing there are two elevators that lead to Wake’s penthouse,” I said, reading her mind.
“Any sign of Brier?” I asked Murph.
“He’s up on the roof,” he replied. “Getting into a Wake Corporation helicopter.”
I shook my head. The coward was making a run for it. I wasn’t surprised. At the end of the day, his loyalty no longer extended any farther than himself.
“Should we go after him?” Ange asked.
“No. Let him run. I’m sure we’ll run into him again someday. Provided he finds some other rich person to leech onto.”
I took one last look at Wake. The billionaire businessman had been involved in corrupt dealings since before I was born. He’d swindled, lied, cheated, and murdered his way to the top.
He was lying with his face angled toward the big shot up window. He’d told me that it was one of his favorite views in the world.
Well, tonight it was your last.
I grabbed his dagger off the floor and slid it into my belt.
“Time to move, guys,” Murph exclaimed. “They’re on their way up.”
Ange and I exchanged glances, then strode across the room. Stepping over the three dead guys in the entryway, we headed around to the other side of the penthouse. We heard the ding of the main elevator and the sounds of muffled voices as we stepped into the car elevator.
Ange pressed a button on the side, and the doors closed. A moment later, we felt the elevator descend smoothly.
We hugged again, and I kissed her softly. We both smiled, then chuckled. It was partly because we were happy, and partly because we were slightly in disbelief that the plan had actually worked as well as it had. Aside from a few minor hiccups, that was.
“We need to get you to a doctor, Logan,” she said, looking over my battered body.
I shook my head. Even though my adrenaline was fading, giving way to intense pain, I knew that there were other, more pressing priorities.
“No. We need to get out of the city. We should call a cab or something so we can meet up with the others. Is your Cessna moored at the Coral Yacht Club?”
Ange paused a moment. She looked to her side and smiled.
“Yeah. And we could take a cab,” she said. “Or we could travel in style.” She strode over to the driver’s-side door of the black Bugatti Veyron. “Wake won’t be needing it anymore.”
“You really think he left the keys in the car?” I said.
She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he? It’s safe in his penthouse, after all.”
She opened the door and leaned inside. I smiled as she raised a black key fob over her head.
As the elevator stopp
ed and the doors opened in front of us, Ange roared the 1000-hp engine to life. She smiled, shot me a wink, then hit the gas. My body pressed hard against my seat and I held on as she accelerated us out of the underground garage.
FORTY-TWO
Ange drove with a heavy foot, quickly bringing us onto the main stretch of First Street, then turning sharply onto Brickell Avenue. It was the smoothest and fastest car I’d ever ridden in. In what felt like mere seconds, we blurred our way through the downtown streets, and she pulled up to the curb across from the Coral Yacht Club Marina.
She shut off the engine and left the keys on the seat, and we both stepped out.
“I’ve got to get myself one of those someday,” Ange said with a beaming smile as she walked around the front of the car.
I smiled back but felt aches and pains all over my body. I tried my best to fight it but moved slowly alongside Ange down to the dock. It didn’t feel like I’d broken anything, but I was banged up nevertheless. Ange offered me an arm.
“That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me,” she said.
As we neared her tied-off Cessna, we spotted a familiar boat floating beside it. It was the decrepit-looking trawler that I’d first seen two years earlier back in Cay Sal Bank in the Bahamas. An old rusted boat on its last legs by all appearances, but one that packed a punch where it mattered.
Jack was lying up on top of the pilothouse, staring up at the stars.
“City lights are brighter here than the Keys, eh, Jack?” I said.
He sat up and peered at us through the dark. Only a few dim marina lights were on.
“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes?” he said enthusiastically. He knocked a fist against the top of the pilothouse. “Guys, they’re here.”
Scott and Kyle looked over at us through the open pilothouse window. Jack dropped barefoot onto the trawler’s main deck as they stepped out, and the three of them climbed over to meet us on the dock.