Tense silence hung in the air as Gold stared at the bank of monitors. Behind him, Jasper and Ling stood a few feet apart, each of them studying the images in silence. Off to one side was a young man with thick black hair, on standby to bring champagne at a moment’s notice. He stood fidgeting with his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and avoiding eye contact.
On the monitors were news feeds from every major provider in the country. CNN. Fox News. ABC. Gold had even turned one of the monitors to ESPN.
If it could cover 9/11 and the capture of Bin Laden, surely it would cover him as well.
Time ticked by, the room silent as they waited for the call to say things were in place, Liberation Day could commence.
“Are you sure they have the right number for this residence?” the young man asked, unable to bear the tension any longer.
Gold did not bother to respond as his eyes slid shut. Instead he coughed once, a tiny throat clearing. At the signal, Ling sidestepped and shot his heel hard into the man’s throat. A small stream of blood seeped over his lips as he fell to his knees and then his chest without a sound.
Just as fast Ling resumed his post, neither Jasper nor Gold acting like they’d even seen what happened.
Two more minutes of staring at the televisions ensued, all three men watching images from around the world, none of which had the slightest thing to do with them. In frustration Gold cut away the feeds, the screens going black. Snatching up his phone, he dialed the number, squeezing the head of his cane with the opposite hand so tight his knuckles showed white beneath the skin.
The phone rang seven times before it was picked up, the din of a boat engine mixed with the low sounds of the ocean filtering over the line.
“What happened?” Gold snapped, not waiting for any acknowledgement on the other side of the line. When more silence ensued he leaned forward in his seat, bellowing the question again, spittle flying from his mouth and down his chin.
A moment passed before anybody spoke.
“Bad news, boss,” a man said. “We lost two men.”
“You think I give a damn about two men?! What happened to my weapons?!”
“They were waiting for us,” the man said. “They got Sykes and Benson. We were lucky to escape.”
Gold’s face grew hot as he leaned toward the speaker phone. “I would not call that lucky at all. Getting shot would be preferable to what I’m going to do to you.”
The man said nothing as background noise again came in over the line.
Gold exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Where are my Vaporizers now?”
This time any response was cut off by the line going dead, though if it just a lost signal or was disconnected Gold couldn’t be certain.
Not that it mattered one bit either way, the men just two more that would be eradicated as part of his plan.
“Idiots,” he muttered, gripping the cane and stamping the base of it hard against the floor. “Right now my Vaporizers are at the bottom of Boston Harbor. I guarantee it.”
Spinning in his chair, Gold turned to stare at Ling. “These are your best men? These idiots that can’t do a simple job and run at the first sign of gunfire?”
Remaining rooted in place, Ling’s eyes narrowed at the attack. “None of these are my men. My men were killed in China many years ago. These are your men.”
Malevolence burned on Gold’s face. “I hired you to train them into your men.”
“You hired me to watch your back,” Ling countered. “Many have died in the last week. You have not been touched.”
Gold leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He was not a man used to employees talking back to him, or of his plans not going as directed. Things were beginning to tug at the seams. “You know who is responsible for this, don’t you?”
The brim of Ling’s fedora dropped so he could just see out beneath it. “Yes.”
“You’re right, I did hire you to watch my back. But right now, I want you to leave. I want you to go Boston and get rid of that son of a bitch. Go after his friends, his family, anybody he owes money to. Teach him what happens when he meddles in my affairs.”
“I will find him.”
For the first time all evening, Jasper spoke. “Actually, I don’t think you’ll have to.”
“Why not?” Gold asked, glancing in his direction.
Raising a floral clad arm, Jasper pointed to a monitor on the opposite wall. “He’s come to us.”
Rotating his chair around, Gold focused on what Jasper was pointing toward. “He’s come to us,” he echoed. “You know what this means, Ling.”
His words were met by silence.
Ling was already gone.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel Page 64