by Dan Ames
He threw the bags in the passenger foot space, keyed the car’s ignition and when the engine roared to life he pulled a U-turn and raced away.
Paco thought he heard more gunfire but couldn’t be sure.
His hotel was on the other side of the city and he drove fast but efficiently, making sure no one was following him. He also didn’t want to attract any cops with erratic driving.
He thought he could make it to the hotel.
Once there, he would make a call to a good friend of his. A legend within a group of freelance soldiers known by a nickname: the Department of Murder.
A guy named Michael Tallon.
Chapter 4
As he would contemplate it later, Tallon wasn’t exactly sure why he went into town to have a beer.
Maybe he was lonely.
The love of his life, Lauren Pauling, was still back in New York tying up some loose ends with the business she had sold. Something about the firm’s acquisition of a new client had piqued her interest. So she was staying in the Big Apple for a little longer than they had both planned.
Which left Tallon on his own.
After a lifetime of being alone, initially finding himself going solo felt very natural. Even, at times, downright good. He’d always enjoyed solitude and found peace in the mountains behind his little adobe ranch in his corner of the world – at the junction of Nevada and California – a stone’s throw from Death Valley.
So it was a bit of a surprise to him that after he’d worked out, answered a couple of emails regarding possible upcoming security opportunities and pulled out some chicken to grill later, he’d hopped into his SUV and driven into town.
Town was a little place called Independence Springs, Nevada, and it consisted of a main street, a quiet residential section, post office, city hall and a single combined school.
There wasn’t much more other than a grocery store, drug store and a few mom-and-pop type businesses. None of the big chain stores like Walmart or Target had bothered with the small community, which made Tallon happy.
One of the few establishments was a little place in town called Rooster’s. It was a classic western watering hole made of clapboard with a front porch and country music playing 24/7. There was sawdust on the wood floor and a few John Wayne movie posters.
An older couple sat in a booth along the far wall. They both looked up as Tallon entered.
He took a seat at the U-shaped bar and the bartender who Tallon thought was also the owner, emerged from the back of the room near the kitchen.
Tallon was fairly certain her name was Kate. She was probably in her late thirties or early forties. She was pretty, with a permanent expression of semi-skepticism laced with sardonic amusement. It was the kind of face that said, I’ve seen it all and at this point, I’m able to see the humor in even the worst of situations.
Tallon liked her, had even escorted a rude gentleman out of the bar many months back. He wondered if he liked her because he felt a kinship with her take on life. He too had seen it all. Maybe he didn’t always see the humor in life like Kate appeared to, and maybe that’s why he was here now, ordering a beer.
She set the frosted mug in front of him.
“Start a tab?” she asked.
“Nah,” Tallon replied and slid a twenty across the bar to her. “Just here for a cold one.”
Kate got his change. “Haven’t seen you in here in awhile.”
“Yeah.”
She noted his short answer and turned.
“Work, you know,” he said quickly, surprising himself with the desire to keep her in front of him, talking.
“Yeah, I sure do know.” She smiled and he noticed her teeth, which were perfect, save for one incisor just a touch out of place. It was one of those cases where a slight imperfection made everything just right.
Behind her, Tallon noticed the older couple in the booth. The man was looking at him as he put down a cell phone. He’d either just ended a phone call or sent a text. Tallon wondered why he was looking at him and the old man looked away when their eyes met. The woman’s face wore a look of concern and it looked like she was saying something under her breath to the old man. Maybe scolding him for something.
Tallon took a drink of his beer and relished how cold it was. His run this morning had been long and brutal. Nothing capped off a jog through Death Valley better than a frosted mug of draft beer.
“What’s their story?” Tallon asked Kate, nodding his head toward the couple.
“Ben and Mary?” Kate asked without turning to look at the couple. “They’ve lived here forever. They come in at least three times a week, always sit in the same booth and order the same thing: one cheeseburger they split with a side of onion rings.”
Tallon took another sip of his beer.
Kate must have noticed the tone of his question because she asked, “Why?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Is Ben any relation to that wonderful guy I met the last time I was here?”
Tallon was referring to a big load of uselessness who’d slapped Kate on the ass and threatened more until Tallon taught him the importance of respecting women. A rather harsh lesson administered in the tavern’s parking lot. If Tallon recalled correctly, he’d broken the thumb and index finger on each of the big man’s hands.
“Not that I know of,” Kate said. “But everyone knows everyone around here.”
Tallon nodded. He had a bad feeling about it but he was enjoying his beer and even contemplating a second.
“You’re kidding me,” Kate said. Tallon smiled. He didn’t even have to look. He glanced up at her and saw she was looking toward the bar’s entrance.
She looked back at him.
“How did you know?”
Tallon smiled, set down his beer and looked over at the bar’s newest customers. Two men. The first one, a giant of a man, was Tallon’s former student from the session in the parking lot. The second man was about the same size but definitely younger. Probably a brother or a cousin.
“Doug, I don’t want any trouble,” Kate said.
Tallon was amused. Doug must have told his old buddy Ben that if the guy who’d given him the beat down in the parking lot ever showed up again, to call him immediately.
Tallon looked back at Kate.
“When I’m done with them, I’ll have another one of these,” he said and slid off his barstool.
Chapter 5
One of the reasons for Lauren Pauling’s success over the years, as both an FBI agent and the owner of a private investigative firm, was her ability to delegate.
She could be hands-off when she needed to be.
At the same time, when she was hands-on, she exerted a level of control that bordered on the extreme. No detail was too small and nothing was overlooked. She was all in.
When her firm had grown and was taking clients away from some of her much bigger rivals, the offers had started to come in. She’d resisted them until the granddaddy of them all had arrived and she simply could not say no.
The price tag made her an independently wealthy woman who could choose to do whatever she wanted to with the rest of her life.
There had been some concern on her part that she would have trouble letting go once she sold her firm. She’d built it from scratch, after all. From the ground up it had all been her work, her strategies, and her instincts.
Surprisingly, she’d had no trouble moving on.
Until now.
The CEO of the firm that had purchased her company, a man named Karl Furlong, had invited her to an annual meeting. There, one of the emerging stars of the company had announced the acquisition of a huge client. But for Pauling, the news had been delivered with no shortage of red flags.
Information on the new client had been scant.
And the employee who’d landed the huge account, a man named Henry Torcher, had given off a vibe to Pauling that had only raised her concerns.
So now, she was on the elevator taking it to the top floor where Furlo
ng’s company, Global Strategic Services Inc., or GSS, was headquartered. Like her firm had been, it was headquartered in Manhattan. Unlike her company, which had only been a few blocks from her co-op on Barrow Street, the firm was in SoHo, so she’d taken a cab down.
Now, the elevator doors opened and she walked to the front desk where she introduced herself and said she had an appointment with Karl Furlong.
The woman spoke into her headset and smiled at Pauling. “You can go right on back,” she said. “It’s the corner office at the end of the hall.”
Pauling already knew that but she smiled and walked down to the CEO’s office. His private secretary nodded to her and she went into the big office. It was floor-to-ceiling windows with multimillion dollar views of the city. Furlong, a trim man with a Savile Row suit and Patek Philippe watch, stood as she entered. He hadn’t been sitting at his desk, but instead, at a small conference table around which sat four chairs.
Pauling hesitated.
Because in one of the other chairs was Henry Torcher. His immense bulk was stuffed into a tailored suit and the smile on his face was not friendly in the least. It was predatory, Pauling realized. He had short, close-cropped blond hair, icy blue eyes and a fleshy face tinged with red.
“Hello,” he said to her. “I understand you have some concerns.”
She wasn’t fazed by the intensity of his expression.
But underneath it was something else that Pauling could feel radiating out toward her.
It was rage.
Chapter 6
The behemoth of a man now known to Tallon as “Doug” didn’t approach him straightaway. Instead, he went over to the old couple and said something.
“You don’t have to do this,” Kate said to Tallon. He had stood and begun to walk toward the door. “I can call the cops.”
“No need to,” Tallon said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.
The younger man glanced over at Doug to see if he should let Tallon pass.
The answer must have been in the affirmative because he stepped aside and gave Tallon a look that was probably supposed to be intimidating.
“Tell your buddy the bell is ringing for round two,” Tallon said, and stepped out of the bar into the hot desert sunshine.
He stepped down into the parking lot and stood in the center of the space, facing back toward the bar. The door was flung open and Doug hurried out, convinced that his quarry was probably running away.
It seemed to Tallon that the first lesson hadn’t sunk in. Doug should have known that Tallon had no intention of running.
“You,” Doug said to him.
Tallon got a better look at him in the bright light and saw that his hands were still kind of mangled. The fingers hadn’t grown back straight and he wondered if Doug could even make a fist.
He got his answer when the younger man stepped forward.
“Get him, Bradley,” Doug said.
“Whoa, guys,” Tallon said. He held up his hands. “Look – are you two related?”
The younger man looked back at his elder.
“What’s it to you?” Doug asked.
“I’m just wondering if you’ve got a big family. Because when I do the same thing to him,” he said, pointing at Bradley, “that I did to you,” and he pointed at Doug, “will I have to keep doing it with a new family member every few months? Until I get to the end of the line?”
“Listen to this guy!” Bradley said. His ham-like face bore an expression of disbelief. With a shake of his head he raised his fists and turned slightly to the side.
Tallon immediately knew his new adversary had done at least some boxing. He was on the balls of his feet. He’d turned no doubt so he’d be able to throw some jabs and save the giant right haymaker that would be intended to decapitate Tallon. It would be his favorite punch that he’d probably had great success with on drunks after closing time.
And then Tallon’s cell phone rang.
It was in his front pocket and at that moment, Bradley forgot he was a boxer and instead, turned into a brawler. He charged forward with a pathetic jab and swung a huge right cross that took so long to arrive Tallon felt like he should have brought his beer with him so he’d have something to drink while he waited.
When the giant fist passed by Tallon’s face like a freight train pulling into the station, Tallon stepped forward and threw a straight right that hit Bradley square in the mouth. Tallon felt the man’s lips burst and the teeth cave in. Tallon could tell the younger man was surprised. His eyes widened and he stood straight up.
Everyone’s got a plan until they get punched in the mouth, someone wise once said.
Tallon kicked straight out with his heavy, steel-toed boots and his heel landed on Bradley’s knee cap. Tallon kicked straight through it and heard a sickening pop as the young man’s knee ligaments snapped and tore.
The kid crumpled to the ground and from behind the younger man, Doug let out a painful bellow. Maybe he felt guilty for recruiting his younger family member into the same humiliating beat he’d received. Or maybe it was sympathy pain. Whatever the reason, Doug lowered his head. He charged Tallon who easily stepped aside, avoiding Doug’s grasp, and clouted Doug on the back of the head as he went by.
Tallon figured the young man had a better chance of learning his lesson so he decided to leave him conscious. Instead, he turned his attention to his former pupil who was now whirling around in a cloud of dust.
Tallon faked the same kind of big right cross that Bradley had thrown but stopped it halfway and when Doug’s hands went up, Tallon buried a wicked left uppercut into the bigger man’s belly.
“Ooh,” Doug said.
There clearly hadn’t been any ab work done recently in Doug’s workouts because Tallon’s fist felt like it had connected all the way through the man’s midsection and scraped his spinal cord.
Doug leaned forward and now Tallon brought his right fist back down and pivoted for a powerful uppercut that caught Doug under the chin and lifted him straight up. Tallon heard the man’s teeth shatter and one of the fragments hit Tallon in the face.
He finally managed to hit me, Tallon thought with wry amusement.
Doug landed flat on his back.
“Good Lord,” Kate said behind him.
Tallon turned and saw the bartender looking at the two big men on the ground. He pulled out his cell phone and frowned at the caller ID.
Paco? he thought.
“I’ll take a rain check on that second beer,” Tallon told Kate. “Tell Ben he shouldn’t have called them.”
She smiled at him, the tired humor still on display in her eyes.
“Will do,” she said.
Chapter 7
“Now, I understand you have some questions about our new client, Zeta Corporation,” Furlong said.
They had already dispensed with small talk and when it was clear there was a certain amount of unease at the table, the CEO had decided to get to the heart of the matter.
“Not exactly concern,” Pauling said. Inwardly, she was displeased Furlong had chosen to invite Torcher for the meeting. She had really meant it to be a very unofficial chat during which she had been planning to simply mention, as an aside, her questions regarding the news of the new account.
“Then what?” Torcher asked. He leaned forward in his chair, his massive shoulders straining against the custom-made shirt – probably designed to show off his bodybuilder’s physique. His face had taken on an even dark tint of red. Anger? Steroids? Testosterone injections? Pauling wondered.
“Well, as I mentioned at the annual meeting it seemed that background information on Zeta was scant,” she said. “You, I believe, had said you would follow up with more details.”
Pauling let the sentence end with the implication hanging in the air. Torcher certainly hadn’t followed up with any more information.
“Yes, I apologize for that,” he said. “I’ve got a new team working on this account and although I had directed them to get
you that information, clearly, they hadn’t followed through. I will remedy that immediately.”
“Thank you,” Pauling said.
Karl Furlong cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at Pauling. “Is that the only reason you contacted me? A lack of background information?”
This was getting to the heart of the matter and Pauling would certainly have to tread lightly. If it was her company, she wouldn’t have had to bother with such niceties.
“Now that you mention it, the numbers presented were quite large. Almost staggeringly so,” she said.
Torcher beamed a megawatt smile at Furlong. “Indeed,” he said.
“Having worked in the private security sector for so long, it surprised me that a company with that kind of budget was one I had never heard of,” Pauling said. “As you know, when I was at the helm of my company new account acquisitions were something I focused on. So, at one point or another, I had at least initial contact with virtually every large company with a significant need for security in the world. Yet, somehow, I had never heard of Zeta Corporation.”
Pauling omitted the fact that she had done some initial online research, admittedly superficial, and found virtually nothing save for a minimalist website and a few listings on various business association databases.
Torcher’s big head swiveled directly at Pauling.
“First off, I don’t know if I mentioned this already, but I wanted to thank you for bringing your concerns to Karl,” Torcher said. “Your dedication is a big reason we’re all sitting here today and the fact that you continue to remain invested in the firm’s success is admirable.”
Pauling’s bullshit meter was in full red alarm but her face remained impassive.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Now, let me tell you about Zeta Corporation. There is a very good reason for the limited information available to the public. They are, in fact, also in the security sector. However, unlike our services, which tend to be investigation, surveillance, personal protection and so on, they are purely digital security.”