The Spirit Survives

by Gary Williams Ramsey

  Chapter 78

  Gerry didn’t worry about the speed limit on the trip to Clear Lake, and we arrived in about twenty minutes. Nothing appeared out of order as we pulled into the parking lot of the condominiums. He parked the car in a slot marked “visitors” and we exited his vehicle.

  “Okay Ben,” he said, “that’s the Russian’s condo over there,” signaling to the right. “There’s a car parked in the reserved slot for the condo, he must be home. We don’t have a warrant, so I’ll knock on the door and when he answers, just follow my lead. If we see anything suspicious, warrant or no warrant, we’re going in.”

  “I agree, but if there is any chance that Leah’s in there, I’m going in regardless.”

  Gerry nodded and we approached the door. Before we could knock, I heard a car coming into the parking lot fast and screeching to a halt. Three rather large men got out of the vehicle. We were standing directly in front of the condo. As the men were advancing the big guy in front yelled with a strong Russian accent, “What do you want there?”

  Both Gerry and I were casually dressed. I was in jeans and a golf shirt and Gerry wore a sports jacket hiding his service revolver. We would never have been recognized as law enforcement.

  “Who wants to know?” Gerry asked.

  As the men approached, I noticed that the guy, who was slightly in front of the other two and the one who had spoken, had a gun in his belt.

  “Gun,” I said in a low voice.

  Gerry instantly drew his revolver, “FBI,” he yelled, “Get on the ground right now!”

  The big Russian, without hesitation ducked, and went for his gun. He didn’t even get it out of his belt before the red splotch of blood appeared directly between his eyes from the bullet that Gerry fired. He crumpled to the ground as the other two men jumped behind nearby cars in the parking lot. We didn’t know if they had guns or not. Almost simultaneously, I heard a shot from inside the condo.

  Gerry yelled to me, “I’ll handle these two. You get in there and find out what’s happening!”

  I kicked the door hard twice, the lock shattered and the door flew open. I heard a gunshot and a bullet ripped into the wall alongside my head as I entered the condo. I glanced to my right and saw a man holding a gun. I leapt behind the sofa as he continued shooting. After two shoots into the sofa, I heard a familiar click. He was out of bullets. I jumped up and saw him getting another clip out of his pocket. I picked up the end table beside the couch, hurled it at him, and charged. The end table crashed into his leg. He momentarily stumbled and I tackled him. The gun flew out of his hand as we rolled on the floor. He outweighed me by a good fifty pounds, but I got in the first punch to the gut. I heard him gasp, but he didn’t stop clutching me. His weight would get the best of me if I didn’t get to my feet. I punched him again, managed to free myself from his bear hug and got to my feet.

  The man was big but he sprang to his feet and assumed a Baqua stance, which is a form of Chinese Kung Fu.

  I knew instantly that I was in for a fight. My principal training was in Aikido Japanese martial arts, a derivative of Jujutsu and Kenjutsu.

  We circled each other and he advanced with a side pivot kick. I blocked the leg and sent a straight punch to his knee. That punch would have sent most men to the floor, but he kept coming.

  I stepped forward and shot my fist toward his neck.

  He was too quick and moved his head to the side and delivered a left hand to my ribs. My breath left my body as I fell to the floor. He was on me immediately and kicked the ribs again.

  I rolled away and executed a leg sweep as he was preparing to stomp my head. This blow did take him off his feet. That was all the opening I needed, and I pounced on him as he fell to the floor. I gave him two quick straight punches to the solar plexus, and a jab to his neck. He moaned as his head snapped to the right from the velocity of the punch.

  I jumped to my feet and just gave him an old-fashioned American kick to the head. He lay motionless with blood seeping into the carpet from his busted ear.

  I heard a groan from the bedroom and rushed through the open door. The first thing I saw was an elderly lady lying on the floor. She was trying to get up. She had a small pistol in her left hand. Her right arm was limp and twisted.

  “I’m here to help you,” I said softly to her.

  She dropped the pistol and lay back down on the floor.

  I looked toward the bed and my heart skipped a beat. Leah was tied spread eagle to the bedposts. She was naked with a cloth stuffed in her mouth. Her lip was split and there was a nasty blue mark on her midsection. Dried blood was crusted on her mouth. The bastard must have beaten her. I rushed to the bed and took the cloth out of her mouth.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to form the words, “Ben, oh Ben, you’re here.” The words were slurred and only a whisper.

  I untied her hands and feet and wrapped her in the sheet. I held her tightly as she sobbed.

  “It’s all right, honey,” I kept repeating to her. “I love you.”

  Just then the lady on the floor screamed.

  I turned, just in time to see the big Russian holding a brass lamp and approaching me. I laid Leah on the bed and stood to meet him. The damn son-of-a bitch was still alive, and he had done God knows what to Leah. Uncontrollable anger seized me.

  He swung the lamp. I side-stepped it and landed a solid punch to this eye. I felt the bones fracture in his eye socket.

  He dropped the lamp and his hands flew to the injured eye. I had nearly knocked his eye out of the socket. I followed with a side pivot kick to the groin. He crumpled to the floor.

  I turned him over, sat on his stomach and locked my hands around his neck. I shrieked, “You’re going to die for what you did to Leah, you bastard!” I squeezed and his good eye budged.

  I heard some commotion behind me followed by Gerry’s voice. “Ben, don’t kill him. He’s our only connection to his boss, Sergey. Sergey is the one who ordered this. Sergey is the one you want, and if you kill him, we don’t have any connection.

  It took all the will power within me to loosen my hands from his neck, but I did. I got off him, moved back to Leah, and took her in my arms again and held her tightly.

  Sirens shrilled in the distance, as I slowly rocked Leah, saying, “I love you.”

  Chapter 79

  The unexpected phone call from the Benefactor filled Macy with both apprehension and gratification. Her principal mission had been to work her way through the web of criminals to get to the top boss. She knew now that the Benefactor was that man. He had somehow obtained her cell number and had spoken to her on other occasions, but now he wanted to meet. He was the one who asked her to call Ben Harris and tell him where Leah Hamilton was. He was the one who needed her to plant in Ben’s head that Sergey was involved in Leah’s kidnapping. She believed that he was testing her with these requests. She apparently had passed his tests.

  This elusive kingpin had avoided anyone knowing his true identity for years, while building his personal fortune and power in the underworld of crime. No one, to Macy’s knowledge, knew where he resided, or what he looked like. Now he wanted to meet her. She wondered if she would come out of the rendezvous alive. The meeting was set for 2:00 p.m. The address he gave her was in the downtown business district of Chicago. He told her to ask for Mr. Jones at the security desk. She tried to determine who owned the condo but the owner’s name wasn’t available, even to the probes of a crafty FBI agent.

  Using her sex had always worked and if this man was straight, there was no reason to believe she couldn’t get to him. She dressed in a short black dress, showing off stunning long legs. The top was low cut, displaying abundant cleavage. To accessorize the outfit, she donned her solitaire diamond pendant necklace. She wore no other jewelry of any kind. Black high heels perfected the outfit. No undergarments of any kind were necessary. She looked in the mirror before she left her hotel room. What she saw was a tall, slender Indian woman with 34C breasts, a beauti
ful dark completion and long muscled legs. The red lipstick emphasized her full lips. Her deep brown eyes were highlighted by long lashes. She was astonishingly gorgeous, sexy and smart, and she knew it.

  Macy grabbed a taxi and arrived at 1:50 p.m. The taxi driver kept gaping at her through his rearview mirror during the entire trip. She avoided his eyes, but was pleased to get the attention. It confirmed that she was dressed to impress. She entered the building and walked to the security desk just inside the entrance.

  The guard on duty was a short bald man in his fifties. He watched Macy approach the desk and smiled broadly when she arrived. “How can I help you?” he said. His eyes lowered to her breasts and then quickly recovered, blushed and looked into her eyes.

  “I am her to see, Mr. Jones,” Macy replied.

  “Mr. Jones is expecting you. He asked that you proceed to the seventh floor and wait for him in the sitting area just outside the elevator.”

  Macy nodded and went to the elevator. She pushed seven and waited to be delivered to the seventh floor. The door opened with a ding and she exited. Directly in front of the elevator was a sitting area with a brown leather couch and a matching chair. A beautiful arrangement of yellow roses was on the coffee table in front of the couch. Macy sat down and looked at the roses. Clipped to the front of the vase was a yellow envelope with her name in block letters printed on it. She took the envelope and opened it. The note simply read, “Welcome Macy, I will come by for you momentarily.” It was not signed.

  She glanced around and realized that she was on an unusual floor. None of the doors visible to the sitting area had numbers on them. She figured that it must be a unique executive floor designed for privacy for the residents.

  Fifteen minutes passed and no one arrived. She was beginning to question if she had been stood up when a tall man in his forties approached her. His hair was black and he wore a small mustache and short beard. He had clear blue eyes and was quite handsome in a rugged way. He wore a white silk shirt, open collar, beige slacks, and a black sports coat. With her experience in law enforcement, Macy recognized that the man donned a very professional disguise. However, there was one thing he could not conceal in the meeting, his voice.

  “It’s good of you to come, Macy,” the Benefactor said. “Please follow me.”

  He walked to an unmarked door and opened it. “After you.” He stepped aside and gestured with his hand. Macy walked in.

  The sitting area just beyond the foyer was undoubtedly decorated for a man, all black leather and stainless steel. “Please take a seat,” the Benefactor requested.

  Macy walked to the black leather couch and sat down. “May I prepare you a Vodka collins?” he asked. Macy nodded and wondered how he knew this was her favorite drink. He went to the stainless steel bar to the left of the sitting area to prepare the drinks. While he was there, Macy looked around the room. Beside the couch was a matching black leather chair. The coffee table and end tables were stainless steel and glass. On one wall was a strange picture of President Richard Nixon shaking hands with Elvis. On the other wall was what appeared to be an original Picasso. What a strange combination, she thought.

  The Benefactor returned with her drink. His glass was filled with an amber liquid over ice.

  She smiled, accepted the drink, took a sip and set it on the coffee table on a black leather coaster. The Benefactor took a long pull from his glass, “Why don’t you call me Jerry,” he said.

  “Well Jerry, I’m very pleased to finally meet the renowned Benefactor. I hope this can be a beneficial meeting for both of us,” Macy replied. She crossed her legs showing as much skin as possible. The Benefactor didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have a deal for you, Macy,” he said. “Since you’re an FBI agent, you have certain accesses that would be helpful to me, and I’m willing to pay a small fortune for your assistance. I know your relationship with our deceased former associate Bastone. I know that you’re on the take, and I’ve checked you out with the FBI. They trust you but are looking into your work. Right now they believe you’re still working as a loyal undercover agent for them. They don’t know you’ve turned. That makes you even more valuable to me.”

  Macy wondered how this man had contacts with the FBI, only other high ranking law enforcement officers could get this information. “Well, I have certain needs that require a lot of money.” She leaned over a little farther than necessary to pick up her drink from the coffee table and looked up as he was gaping at her breasts. She lingered for a moment, giving his imagination time to form a picture. She smiled, sat up, and took another sip of her drink.

  The Benefactor hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. “Let’s get down to business. I’ve recently taken control of the dominate drug cartels in Houston and Chicago. I have one task to complete my total dominance of the drug trade in both cities. There are other very profitable businesses, which are a sideline of the drug trade. To fully control them also, I need to have my man in command of the Russian Mafia. The man I had ready to take over, a man called Bern, was recently killed, but I have another man in place as soon as we can get Sergey Ivanova out of the way. That’s what I need you for. Are you willing to give it a shot?”

  “For enough money, I’ll do anything,” Macy responded.

  The Benefactor reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to Macy. “There’s twenty thousand dollars. When Sergey is dead, I’ll give you another eighty thousand and this can be the start of a very financially rewarding relationship.”

  “How do you expect me to pull this thing off?” asked Macy.

  “You’ve already helped Ben Harris find his fiancée. Surely now he trusts that your information is correct. I want you to talk to him and maneuver him to Sergey’s business apartment. That should be easy to do because Harris is angry. Meet him there and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your deal if you promise to cut me in on your operation and share some of the details with me,” Macy answered.

  “When Sergey is dead, you can write your own ticket,” the Benefactor said with a smile. “To be honest, I want you to be a business partner with benefits.”

  Finally, he’s reacting to my body, Macy thought. If I get him in bed, he’s mine. She smiled back at him. “Let’s get this deal done and you can have all the benefits you want.”

  “This has been a very beneficial meeting. I’ll escort you to the elevator.” He handed her a card with a number on it. “Call me at this number when you have the meeting with Ben Harris set up.”

  Macy took the card and followed him out the door to the elevator. He pushed the lobby button for her and stepped out of the elevator. He was still standing there when the door closed, and she was on her way to the lobby level.

  She hailed a taxi back to her hotel, went straight to her room, hauled out her secure phone from the dresser drawer, and pushed a speed-dial number.

  A gruff voice responded, “This is Peter. Where in the hell have you been?”

  Peter Allen Branson was in an elite unit of the FBI known to only the FBI Director. His unit handled the deepest undercover Special Agents. While other units talked to these undercover agents, only Peter’s unit got involved when a major hit to the drug cartels or the Mafia was involved. His unit was set up to make sure the undercover agents were kept secure and safe from discovery.

  “Peter, I’ve finally met the Benefactor and have established a relationship. If I play my cards right, we can bring him down along with Sergey Ivanova and two major drug cartels. He has contacted some members of the FBI to check me out. That leads me to believe he is a high-level law enforcement officer or has connections with one. He was wearing a disguise, so I can’t accurately describe his face. He thinks I’ve turned, and he gave me a twenty thousand dollar retainer to get Sergey Ivanova killed. I’ll work at the plan and when I get enough information to nail him, we can move in. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

  “Macy, as we
planned, the word is out at lower levels that you may be a renegade agent, but they don’t have anything to charge you with. Be careful for a few more days, and we can wrap this thing up. Just don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Macy answered sarcastically and hung up.

  * * *

  After Macy left the Benefactor’s apartment, he fixed another Jack Daniels and water and sat down to think. He shed the fake beard and mustache and took out the blue contact lens. He was still aroused by the sexy woman, but he had enough discipline to wait. He additionally was fixated by her lovely dark brown eyes. He was determined to add them to his collection when his plot was executed.

  Chapter 80

  When I carried Leah out of the condo, Gerry had the rescue squad waiting for us. He had cuffed the badly beaten Russian and shoved him into another ambulance. I noticed the other two men, who had approached us outside the condo were on the ground, cuffed. There were three patrol cars and at least five police officers were working at the scene.

  “Just get Leah to the hospital,” Gerry said. “I’ll finish up and meet you there.”

  Two medics took Leah from my arms and placed her on a gurney. They put an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. Her eyes looked glazed as if she was in shock.

  They put the gurney in the ambulance and inserted an IV in her arm. “Where are you taking her?” I asked.

  Clear Lake Regional Medical Center in Webster,” was the reply. “Get in, we need to get her there quickly, she’s going into shock.”

  I jumped into the ambulance, and we sped off with sirens blasting.

  We arrived at the hospital in minutes and sped up to the emergency room entrance. Leah was rushed in and I followed. She was taken to a waiting area and the doctor on duty came to look at her. He was a man in his fifties, slim, of Indian decent with black hair and very dark eyes. He spoke with a heavy accent. “What happened to this girl?”