by Matt Rogers
‘Sure is.’
‘How close were you?’
‘Very. But he hadn’t seen my family in years — I think he was ashamed of what he’d become. He used to live round here. He’d come visit every single day. Mamá would cook us meals, and he’d teach me English. Then that began to fade. We were still close, but we kept our personal lives apart.’
‘How long since that went on?’
‘Five, six years. Maybe more.’
‘So his number shouldn’t be here?’
‘Maybe he’s been helping them. Maybe he knows where they are. We need to find him.’
Just then, the kitchen window shattered into thousands of shards. King recoiled at the noise and ducked his head instinctively, aware that a bullet must have already passed them by. He wrapped an arm around Raul and dove to the kitchen floor, hitting the linoleum hard.
Knowing that more gunfire would follow, he scrambled to the nearest cabinet and pressed his back against the surface. There were several windows in the apartment. He wasn’t sure which would bring the next round.
‘Fuck!’ Raul screamed.
King wrapped a hand around the man’s collar and held up a finger. ‘Quiet.’
Fragments of glass trickled off the pane and into the sink. It created a pitter-patter effect, harshly juxtaposed against the burst of gunfire that had sounded moments earlier. As King held Raul down, another volley of shots broke the silence. These dotted the entranceway, gouging out chunks of plaster, shattering the vase on the coffee table by the front door.
All the gunfire came through the same window. King noted this, and figured that the Movers had yet to surround the apartment entirely. There was a man in the neighbouring building, evident from the direction of the shots. The other windows faced out onto the street. It would take a noteworthy vantage point to cover those.
‘There’s only one of them,’ he told Raul. ‘Stay low. Head for the door.’
He swore at his own idiocy. The AK-103 he’d escaped El Infierno with lay useless on the back seat of the stolen hatchback. He hadn’t brought it into the building in order to save a panic at the sight of an assault rifle in a residential area. Now, he realised that was the least of his problems. The Movers were fast. Rico must have got the word out instantaneously.
They couldn’t have been free from prison for more than an hour.
He noticed a rolling pin on the kitchen counter just above his head. Thick and sturdy and wooden. He reached up and lifted it off, then threw it at an upward diagonal angle like a pitcher hurling a fast ball. The exertion behind the heave sent it shooting out the open window frame, turning end over end. He heard a window shatter in the neighbouring building.
Zero chance of doing any damage.
But maybe enough to make the sharpshooter flinch. Drop his aim for a fraction of a second.
King scrambled to his feet as soon as the rolling pin left his hands, tugging Raul along with him. They fled down the length of the kitchen and reached the front door in a matter of seconds.
He threw it open and hurtled out into the hallway.
And ran directly into two armed men in the process of charging into the apartment.
CHAPTER 30
Most people — no matter how adept in combat — were stunned by rapid bursts of violence. He made use of the confusion, lashing out as soon as he recognised the presence of hostiles.
The guy on the left was tiny, almost an entire foot shorter than King. He had short hair and the shadow of a beard. He gripped a dirty Taurus 24/7 handgun — the same as Tevin’s. To compensate for his slight stature it seemed he’d spent half his life in the gym, to the point that he resembled a small round ball of muscle.
It wouldn’t do him any good.
Charged with adrenalin, King smashed the man’s gun away. He picked him up from the torso and hurled him into the second man, who had been in the process of locking on his aim. He was taller and wielded an identical pistol. The first man crashed into him and they both tumbled to the carpeted floor of the corridor.
King didn’t hesitate.
He went through the motions, which were second nature to him. He used the moment of utter panic to crouch down and scoop up the Taurus that the first man had dropped. He got a finger in the trigger guard.
The two hitmen began to scramble to their feet.
King shot the shorter one in the head. He lined it up perfectly and fired, noting the man’s death in a spray of gore. The guy had been in the process of getting his feet under him, but the impact killed him instantly and he fell back, trapping his partner under his own deadweight. It took little effort at all for King to send a second bullet through the base of his friend’s skull. The second guy went instantly limp. Blood pooled across the floor.
‘What the fuck!’ Raul said, staring at the two bodies. ‘Oh my God.’
King turned to him. ‘What? Did you want me to let them live?’
‘I don’t know, man. Do what you gotta do.’
King held up the Taurus. ‘They were here for one reason, Raul. Not my fault they ran into me.’
‘Okay, okay. Let’s go.’
King retrieved the second Taurus and handed it to Raul. He knew they had to move quickly. The unsuppressed gunshots would have drawn the attention of every resident in the complex. It wouldn’t take long for commotion to break out. The last thing he wanted was to find himself trapped in a mad rush for the stairwell as everyone exited their apartments in unison. He relayed this concern to Raul.
The man laughed. ‘Are you crazy?’
King stared at him, confused.
‘Look around,’ Raul said. ‘Gunshots aren’t very far from normal. No-one’s panicking.’
‘Ah. Never mind then.’
They set off down the corridor. King re-entered the stairwell first and descended slowly, Taurus raised, ready for any confrontation that may occur. He didn’t imagine that the Movers would send more than three men. He guessed their forces weren’t limitless. And the sharpshooter in the adjacent building would take too long to leave his position. He’d missed his first shot, and it had all been downhill from there.
‘Do you still have José’s number?’ he said.
Raul nodded and held up the scrap of paper.
‘We might need to chase that up,’ King said.
‘Now?’
‘No, not now. We’ve barely been out of El Infierno an hour. Every gangster in the city is going to be searching for us. Time to lay low for a while.’
King stepped out into the lobby, not bothering to hide the Taurus. If more Movers came rushing in through the entrance, he needed to be ready. It didn’t matter what the receptionist thought. She could wet herself for all he cared.
In the end, she simply gave both men a passing glance. Noted the guns in their hands. Recognised that she was not the object of concern. Turned back to her newspaper and flicked the pages with nonchalance.
He paused by the entranceway, sensing Raul come to a halt behind him. He glanced out into the carport. From what he could see it, the lot was deserted. The neighbouring building that the rifle fire had come from was blocked from view, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes since they left Raul’s apartment. He assumed it was safe.
He kept the Taurus raised as he stepped out into open ground. He half-expected a bullet to punch through the back of his head and shut him down forever. If that happened, he would never know. It would simply flick the off-switch.
There were worse ways to die.
Given what had occurred over the course of his life, he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if his luck finally decided to run out.
They got back in the hatchback and King fired it up and reversed out of the parking space.
‘Where to?’ Raul said.
‘The hotel I was staying at still has a few things I need,’ King said. ‘My passport, my wallet, a few fresh pairs of clothes.’
‘You’d risk going back there for some clothes?’
&
nbsp; ‘Emphasis on the passport, Raul.’
‘What if they call the police?’
‘I can deal with that. There’ll be worse problems than that if I can’t leave the country. No offence, but I don’t want to stay in Venezuela a moment longer than is absolutely necessary.’
‘Oh, believe me, that’s understood. Won’t they just arrest you at the airport though?’
King paused. ‘How would they do that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had no trial. They threw me in there solely based on Rico’s instructions. I wasn’t an official prisoner by any means. They didn’t even ID me. They just kept me in a holding cell overnight and then transferred me across. The entire thing was off the books.’
‘What if they tell airport security to keep a lookout for you? You’re fairly noticeable.’
‘Then I’ll retaliate. You can be sure as shit I won’t go willingly this time. I had slight faith in the justice system here a few days ago. That’s gone.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then Plan B.’
‘Which is?’
‘Old friends. Contacts in the military. Higher-ups. They’ll get me out of here. It’ll just take longer.’
‘Your life sounds like insanity.’
‘It is.’
He drove on.
CHAPTER 31
The hatchback crawled through the mid-morning traffic, entering the heart of Maiquetía. King looked around as they drove, admiring the culture — but he didn’t want anything to do with the country any longer.
Your whole system can go fuck itself, he thought.
It took ten minutes to reach Diamanté Resort, and in that time their surroundings underwent a dramatic transformation. The dilapidation vanished. The roads became cleaner, the air seemingly fresher, the atmosphere more relaxed. This was the tourist district. Little chance of a war between drug cartels occurring in these parts. He turned the car onto a pristine road running along the beach. Parallel to them, the Caribbean Sea twinkled in the sun.
Raul stared in awe. ‘Never used to come to these parts. I look like a local thug. The police would always chase me away.’
King pulled into an enormous parking lot filled with luxury cars. He ignored the questioning glances from the valet. The beat-up hatchback stood out against the other vehicles.
He and Raul got out and made for the lobby. He recalled the high-ceilinged reception area, complete with vast walls of marble and a broad sweeping desk housing more than ten receptionists in pristine uniform.
King drew the attention of everyone in the building as he entered. He knew he was a mess. His clothes were now three days old, covered in dried mud. Blood dotted his collar — not his own. Cuts and bruises littered his exposed skin. Dirt caked his fingernails. His right cheek had swollen from the beatings it had sustained.
For a moment, he felt detached from reality. Two hours ago, he’d been in the midst of a wild brawl between prison inmates and Guardia Nacional, fighting for his life, knocking brutish thugs senseless left and right. Now he stood in utter luxury as a free man.
He took the lead and approached the front desk. Raul followed tentatively. King wasted no time in making his intentions clear. He withdrew the rest of the money in his pocket — probably over twenty thousand bolivares — and slapped it down on the table. Then he looked at the well-groomed man in front of him. The man recognised him. He’d been the one to secure the penthouse suite for King several days ago.
‘You probably have a million questions,’ King said. ‘Like — why was I carried out of here under police escort? Why have I come back looking like I’ve been through World War Three? What did I do to warrant all of that effort? Why would I return when I made the hotel look bad?’
‘You’re quite right, sir,’ the man said. ‘I can’t help but find myself curious.’
King pointed at the wad of money littering the unblemished marble surface of the desk. ‘That’s all yours. I’d like my stuff back that I left in the penthouse. I’d like a room for the night — the cheapest one you have. And I’d like to not have to answer any questions. Can that be arranged?’
‘Sir, I may have to contact the authorities before—’
‘No need for that.’
‘Were you released from the station?’
‘You bet. It was all one big misunderstanding.’
The man sighed. He sensed the sardonic nature of the tone, but King had communicated what he wanted clearly, effectively, and decisively. There was no room for interpretation. He wanted to be left alone, and he didn’t want to bother anyone else. And money always held some level of influence.
So the receptionist tapped a few keys, clicked a few times with the mouse, withdrew a keycard from a drawer next to him and slid the wad of cash into the same drawer.
‘No more trouble, okay?’ the guy said.
‘You won’t hear from me again,’ King said. ‘Thanks for your co-operation.’
‘Third floor. You’re in a two-bedroom suite.’
‘Appreciated.’
The receptionist retreated into a back room for a moment, then came back with an expensive-looking sports bag.
‘Everything should be in here,’ he said. ‘We cleaned out the room after your hasty departure and put all your belongings in this bag. We hadn’t got around to delivering them to the police station yet.’
Lucky you didn’t, King thought.
He took the bag, nodded his thanks and led Raul into the same spacious elevator.
‘This is crazy, man,’ Raul said. ‘Some people live like this?’
‘This is a luxury resort, so nobody lives here,’ King said. ‘But yes, people live like this. Elsewhere.’
Raul glanced around. ‘You said you were staying here…’
‘I was. Until all this happened.’
‘Are you rich, Jason?’
King hesitated. Then he decided to tell the truth. ‘Yes. I have enough money to not have to work for the rest of my life.’
‘From being a soldier?’
‘Soldiers don’t make that kind of money.’
‘But you did?’
‘I was one of a handful of men. We were basically thrown to the wolves for ten years straight. And we were compensated as a result.’
‘I think I would want to be rich,’ Raul said. ‘If it means living like this. I would sign up.’
‘No you wouldn’t, Raul,’ King said. ‘If you knew what I’ve done, you definitely wouldn’t.’
He recalled times when bullets had shredded his limbs, when third-world dictators had tortured him for days on end, when his life had been nothing but a constant raging battle to simply stay alive. Often — when he looked back on it — he couldn’t believe the things he’d achieved. The fact that he was alive today was something of a miracle. But he knew he possessed a gift — the reaction speed that had yet to fail saving him from death. He’d used it to forge a path of destruction through terrorist organisations and drug cartels and hired mercenaries.
Now, he wanted nothing more than to avoid reckless situations.
It was about time to hide from them.
But not yet.
Raul needed him. He’d been nothing but a low-level drug dealer with his heart in the right place. Now he was facing the loss of his brother and the potential loss of the rest of his family. He’d helped King escape from El Infierno. So King would help him make things right.
Or at least try to.
But there was more to it than that. If that had been the sole motivation keeping him attached to Venezuela, he might have ignored it and fled. It was about time he took his own interests into account instead of desperately battling to help others.
But Rico infuriated him.
He couldn’t force the man’s expression out of his mind. The way he’d slaughtered Percy and shot Luis. The way he’d thrown King into El Infierno with little regard to his own survival. King clenched his fists as the elevator rode smoothly to the third floor.
> He would not stop until the man was dead.
Sometimes, a lifetime of experience in killing proved useful.
They walked down a corridor with antique side tables and plush carpet and exquisitely decorated wallpaper. Raul continued to flick his gaze between each individual object in turn, struggling to comprehend such decadence.
King unlocked the door to a plainly-furnished hotel room, similar to many he’d seen before. The cheapest rooms in luxury hotels all looked the same. Kept clean, freshly maintained, but nothing was there that didn’t need to be. Nevertheless, it was probably the nicest place Raul had stayed in. Especially after a year in the hellhole they’d just came from.
‘Can we rest for a bit?’ Raul said, cautious to sit down on his bed and ruin the pristine sheets. His clothes threatened to fall off him at any moment. They were tattered, torn to shreds, muddy and caked with blood and dirt. ‘I can’t keep going much longer.’
‘You need to help me with one thing first.’
‘And that is?’
‘I have personal reasons for helping you out.’
‘You do?’
King nodded. ‘I’m going to find Rico, and kill him.’
Raul scoffed. ‘Your best shot was in El Infierno. He made himself vulnerable by acting as a guard. He had none of his usual securities. Now he will.’
‘I can deal with securities.’
‘No you can’t. You don’t know the Movers like I do.’
‘I’m about to.’
Raul stared at him blankly.
‘You need to show me where your old co-workers operate,’ King said. ‘It’s about time I paid one of them a visit.’
CHAPTER 32
At mid-afternoon, the avenue had come alive with activity. It reminded King of the bazaar where his troubles had first begun. There were no stalls. There was no steam rising from hot grills and loud arguments between haggling customers and determined traders. But the pavement was just as populated. Civilians bustled along the strip, darting in and out of shopfronts and carrying bags of produce over their heads.
Raul had led King here after a half-hour nap. They’d showered one after the other, washing away all the filth and degradation of El Infierno. King had stepped out from under the jet of water feeling like a new man.