by Nick Thacker
“I thought you said she told you that already,” Derrick responded. “I thought she told you yesterday she was trying to prevent The Shift?”
Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
“THE SHIFT. THERE IT IS AGAIN,” Reggie said. He was pacing the carpet between the chairs and couch and the bed, and he was looking down at his feet, trying to place them in the same spot each time he passed over a section.
“The Shift is just what we use to describe the change in power from the old way to the new way. It’s never happened, and my job — my charge — is to prevent it.
“‘We?’” Ben asked. “Are you trying to say you’re —”
“Yes,” Derrick said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it seemed more important to make sure you understood the nature of the situation first, so you wouldn’t immediately discount what I have to say.
“For most of my adult life, I’ve been a member of the American Philosophical Society, working hard to prevent the exact thing Daris Johansson, our president, is trying to accomplish.”
“The Shift.”
“Exactly,” Derrick said. “The shift in power from the group that supports the integrity of the nation’s history to the group that wants to prove Daris right.”
“So we’re stuck between a crazy lady who can’t act and a guy who’s FBI but also part of the same crazy organization that’s big enough to maintain membership but not big enough for anyone else to know about it?”
Derrick looked back at Reggie. “Yeah, something like that. And I’d really appreciate your help.”
“Finding Daris?” Ben asked.
“Finding Daris, and then proving that she’s out of line. That Jefferson used money — American money only — to purchase Louisiana.”
“But again, why does it matter?” Julie asked. “I mean no disrespect, but we’re not a part of your organization, and it doesn’t seem like she’s harming anyone.”
Derrick stuck up an index finger. “That’s the part I haven’t told you. She fired at you, Juliette, and — thankfully — missed. But it’s not the first time she’s attempted harm, and it won’t be the last. In fact, she’s killed before.”
“Daris?” Ben asked. “The little librarian who couldn’t react fast enough to get off a shot?”
“Yes, Ms. Johansson might not be a dead shot, but I assure you she has other… talents. I’ve been on her case for two years, and I’ve got a body count about fifty people long.”
“All thanks to Daris?”
“All because of Daris, either indirectly or directly.”
“So whatever she’s trying to accomplish, she's willing to kill for.”
Derrick nodded. “As well as her half of the organization. The ‘New APS,’ as they call it. They’re willing to do whatever it takes to smear Jefferson, prove they’re right, and then —”
Derrick cut himself off as his head flicked sideways at the noise.
“What was that?” Joshua asked.
“Sounded like a door getting thrown open,” Reggie said. “A door close to us. Derrick, you got any way to defend us?”
Reggie had left his 9mm handgun next door, and he wasn’t sure if Joshua was armed. He figured Ben and Julie weren’t either, as neither of them had any sort of concealed holster with them and they weren’t carrying in a pocket or belt.
Derrick nodded, then pointed. “I’ve got two more pieces. The Glock is for me, and I’ve got a Taurus and an S&W. All nines.”
Reggie and Joshua dashed off to load up, and Derrick started barking orders to Ben and Julie. “You two, heads down and eyes up. We don’t need any civilians getting —”
“I’m in this, and you can use the extra hand,” Ben said. “I’d recommend coming up with a better plan for the two of us than, ‘heads down,’ or you’re going to have to put up with whatever I come up with.”
“I’m with him,” Julie said. “This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“Fine,” Derrick said. “Your funeral. But the weapons are for us.” He motioned to Reggie and Joshua.
Reggie ripped open a duffel bag and rummaged around in in until he found the case for the Taurus. He opened it and began loading the first magazine into it, placing the second in a back pocket.
Joshua tossed the Glock to Derrick, who caught it, then the magazine, and all three of the men began working their weapons and testing them out.
“Ben, why don’t you post up in the bathroom?” Reggie said. Derrick shot him a glance, but he ignored it. He’d seen Ben in action, and a pissed-off Harvey Bennett was a thing of beauty. Just wind him up and point him in the right direction, he’d told Joshua once. “Get Julie in the closet across the hall, but you’re last out of the gates, okay? We don’t need any casualties today.”
He locked eyes with Ben, and the two comrades shared a moment of understanding. Take care of Julie, and we’ll take care of you. Julie was a renegade, a solid fighter, with a scrappy and spunky attitude that flourished in high-stakes situations like this, but Reggie knew she still wasn’t a trained soldier like him and Joshua. Ben wasn’t either, but Ben had something no one else he’d ever met had.
Pure, unbridled fury combined with an absolutely massive frame. Ben was like a freight train: it took some time to get up to speed, but once it was moving it was nearly impossible to stop. If Joshua was the quarterback of the group, Ben was the linebacker.
Reggie, for his part, wasn’t sure where exactly he fit. He was a soldier, an ex-Army sniper who had been trained as well as any special forces operative, and what was missing from his training he’d later made up on his own time, through teaching and directing a survival training program from his Brazilian home on the edge of the rainforest.
They’d met there, Reggie and Julie and Ben coming together to track down a group of mercenaries led by Joshua, who had been the face of the enemy they were after. Joshua realized later that he was on the wrong side and promptly adjusted for it, gaining the trust of Reggie and the others.
They were a great team together, but it was hard to say exactly why. They hadn’t been trained together and they had barely known each other for half a year, yet they had so far been brutally effective. Mr. E and his wife had done a fine job bringing them together and corralling their individual skill sets into a cohesive whole.
Ben nodded, and stepped behind Julie to lead her to the hallway. She didn’t argue, knowing that unarmed she wasn’t likely going to be able to put up much of a fight against any intruder.
“It’s time,” Derrick said. “Hurry it up, Bennett.”
Reggie watched as Ben spun around and ran to the bathroom across the short hallway from Julie’s closet. He closed the door, but Reggie didn’t hear it lock.
The walls were thick, and the hotel was well-built, but he could hear the faintest sound of heavy footsteps — more than one set — on the floor in the next room, as well as some low voices. The footsteps moved around the room more, checking in each of the smaller closets and bathroom, then they started toward the main door once again.
He didn’t hear the door close, and he no longer could hear the footsteps or voices.
A few seconds passed, and Reggie gripped the handle of the Taurus a bit tighter. He forced himself to relax, to wait for the right moment and not anticipate the shot. With small arms such as the 9mm, he knew aiming across a room, even one as small as a hotel room, was going to be a chore. Their door would form a natural choke point, forcing their attackers into a small confined space and therefore only allowing one or two of them to enter at a time, and Reggie hoped that with three guns pointed at them at least one of them would land a shot.
He tested the give of the trigger, waiting.
He heard a click. The sound of a room key sliding into the lock and and disengaging the magnetic catch. He watched the hallway, unable to see all the way to the door from this angle. The lock clicked once again, and he heard the handle being turned and the door slowly pushing open.
Then the door flew sideways, the shadows and lig
hts mixing from the hallway and spilling into the room. He gripped the pistol and waited.
Derrick shouted, but Reggie couldn’t understand what he’d said. He raised the Taurus to eye-level and prepared to fire.
The first man barreled into the room, running at full-tilt toward Derrick. Derrick fired two shots in quick succession, the first glancing off the man and landing wide of the mark.
The second round hit, but the man’s momentum kept him in motion and he collided with Derrick before he could release a third shot. Reggie had waited too long, and now his target and Derrick had congealed into a large, writhing mass. He swung his pistol around again and toward the doorway.
Crack!
A shot rang out through the closed space, and Reggie fell sideways. The man who’d fired on him had missed, but it was a close miss. Reggie felt the sting of the bullet’s hot arc sear through his shoulder, and he brought the handgun up once again.
Another shot rang out, this time from Joshua’s Smith & Wesson. The man fell, and Joshua hit him again. He stirred, and Reggie didn’t think he was dead. He hoped, however, that the man was injured enough to be out of the fight for a while.
A third man was at the doorway, and Reggie dared a stretch around the couch to get a better look. Three gunshots rang out from the hallway, the first landing dangerously close to Reggie’s head. He ducked back behind the relative safety of the couch and looked back at Joshua.
Joshua was shaking his head and shrugging, as confused as Reggie.
“You get a look at them?” Joshua asked.
“Just barely, right before they took a few potshots at my head. Nothing memorable, though. Just a big guy, standing, black clothes.”
“Mercenary?”
“Sure,” Reggie said. “No idea. Doesn’t matter. They’re shooting at me, so I’m going to kill them.”
Joshua nodded.
Just then, the glass window behind Reggie smashed into a thousand pieces and his mind shifted into slow-motion. He rolled sideways, knowing he only had a foot or so of space before he’d bump up against the couch.
It turned out to be the wrong move.
A person flew through the window, right on top of Reggie, and he felt the air leave his lungs. He groaned, trying to shift his weapon to his other hand. A foot landed on his hand, crushing it, and kicked the gun away. Another stomp and he felt his nose crack, a gush of blood following shortly.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derrick still wrestling with the first attacker.
No help there.
He shifted his gaze just a bit and saw Joshua aiming his pistol at the man standing on top of Reggie. Reggie closed his eyes and waited for the shot to ring out, but it never did.
Instead, another window broke, this one right behind Joshua. Joshua jumped, but he was a moment too late. Another person sailed through the smashed glass, feet-first, sending Joshua flying.
Shit.
The man who had previously been just outside the hotel room in the hallway and had fired at Reggie walked in, his swagger confident and his gaze on Reggie.
“Gareth Red,” the man said. “I never thought I’d find you here.”
For a moment Reggie — Gareth Red — was stunned. He wasn’t sure how this man knew who he was.
Then it hit him.
Chapter THIRTY-SIX
“YOU SON OF A —”
“SAVE it, Reggie. Isn’t that what we called you, back then? What kind of a welcome is that, anyway? Aren’t you glad to see your old commander?”
Reggie considered spitting on the floor in front of The Hawk, but he refused to even acknowledge his disgust for the mercenary.
Still, a well-worded note of encouragement couldn’t hurt anything.
“You washed-up piece of —”
“Again with that mouth of yours,” the man said, cutting him off. He nodded over his shoulder and two more men stepped into the room. They stopped to help the man Joshua had hit, who appeared to have just been dazed when the bullet hit and lodged in his body armor. The two new men helped him to his feet, and then turned back to their leader who was standing in the center of the room.
Reggie didn’t recognize them, but he didn’t need to. He knew their leader, so he knew what they were now up against.
“Ravenshadow,” Reggie said. “You guys are still around, then? Last I heard you were taking potshots at foreign ambassadors.”
Derrick and his attacker had reached a stalemate, with Derrick held tight in a half-nelson standing in front of the man who’d ran in and tackled him.
“What’s Ravenshadow?” Derrick asked, his voice strained.
“It’s a security company,” Joshua said. He, like Reggie, was prone on the floor, his weapon lost, a man standing over him with an assault rifle pointed down at him. “They specialize in less-than-reputable corporate clients, and they’ll do just about anything for a buck.”
“We specialize in ensuring our clients’ safety,” the man said. “And yes, we’re still around. Thanks for asking. And it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Joshua Jefferson. I’m surprised that you’re surprised we’re here. You’re leading this little mission, aren’t you?”
Joshua glowered.
“My recommendation? Leader to leader? You need to operate with a bit more stealth. You know how easy it was for my men to figure out who you were and where you were located?”
Joshua’s face didn’t reveal anything, but Reggie was a bit surprised that the man knew Joshua.
“Who the hell are you?” Joshua asked. “I mean, besides Ravenshadow.”
“I’m in charge of protecting and securing Ms. Johansson’s assets, domestic and abroad. My name is Vicente Garza.”
“Captain Vicente Garza,” Reggie added.
“You know him?” Derrick asked.
“I served with him. He was a good soldier, and a decent leader. Sometimes they fall hard though, you know?”
Garza walked over to Reggie and knelt down, pressing the barrel of a sidearm against his temple. “You’ve always had a way with words, Mr. Red. I heard you were out as well — ran off with some girl and then started a survival company?”
“Something like that, asshole.”
“But you lost both, no? Now you’re doing pretty much the same I’m doing, but for far less pay, I’m sure.”
“I’m nothing like you, Garza. I still have integrity.”
Garza threw his head back and laughed. He stood, then walked over to where Derrick was standing and stared up at the large man.
“You must be the government grunt they sent in. Nothing much to see here, huh? Just a scared little lady with a secret? Find the secret and call it in, no sense sending more than one?”
Derrick clenched his jaw.
“That’s the trouble with you — all of you. You head into situations far understaffed. It’s the US government, for crying out loud, you can literally print money whenever you want. Why can’t you figure out how to print some, then use it to hire more guys?”
Garza stared at Derrick for another few seconds, then turned back and headed toward the center of the room, right in the middle of the couch and set of chairs. He turned to address Joshua and Reggie.
“Okay, boys. Introductions have been made. It’s time we get back to headquarters. I have a scheduled call with Ms. Johansson this afternoon, and I’m dying to tell her how simple it was to take care of this little issue.”
He nodded again at the two new soldiers who’d walked into the room and they started forward.
Just then the bathroom door ripped open, and Reggie could hear the heavy footsteps. He couldn’t see the bathroom from his position on the floor, but he knew what was happening.
No, Ben. No.
He silently willed Ben to stop, to turn around and hide in the bathroom once again, but he knew Ben too well. He also knew the others had heard the same thing and were better prepared for the attack.
Reggie caught sight of Ben’s thick legs pumping up and down as he closed the distance
between the bathroom door and the first soldier on the right. He heard the snapping sound of the contact, then both sets of legs lifting off the ground.
Dammit, Ben.
They landed loudly on the chair next to Garza’s position and tumbled over it. Reggie could see them now, wrestling just like Derrick and the first soldier had minutes ago. They fought for a few more seconds before Garza smiled and stepped over to Ben.
He held the gun up and out, and Ben stopped moving.
“Save it, boy,” Garza said. “I’d hate to kill you so easily.”
Ben muttered a profane response under his breath.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? You must be Harvey. Tell me, Harvey, did Mr. Red tell you anything about me?”
Ben glanced at Reggie. His face was red, flush with anger, and there was a welling bruise around his left eye. He shook his head, once.
“Good. It will be all the better to have him catch you up on our endeavors together. Your friend, Reggie, has some history lessons for you all.”
The man who’d wrestled with Ben pushed Ben off of him and stood, brushing off his pants. He raised his own pistol and held it at Ben’s back. Reggie watched, trying to get a measure of the men in the room. On a better day, with better weapons and better preparations, it would have been a fair fight.
But a fair fight in Reggie’s world was unacceptable. A fair fight meant some of them — some of his men — would be hit. Probably killed. A fair fight, with equally balanced teams, meant there would be some casualties.
It was a mistake for Ben to rush out of the bathroom, especially unarmed. Ben knew it, and everyone else knew it. The fact that Ben wasn’t bleeding out on the floor of the hotel room right now was a lucky thing.
“Mr. Bennett, I have been looking forward to meeting your FBI friend here for some time. I’ve even prepared a special welcome for him, back at our facility.”
Reggie stared at Ben, who was staring at The Hawk. Garza was smiling, a small, thin sliver of evil.
No.
“But now that I know you’re here, I know that your girlfriend… sorry — fiancée, correct? — is here as well.”