by Matt Rogers
King took a deep breath, then fired a ten-round burst into the corridor. The muzzle flash lit up the space like a fireworks display. A violent outburst of sound ripped through the space. It would make anyone flinch. He charged in after the shots, using the shock value to advantage. His reflexes would never be sharper than they were now. He took in the length of the corridor in a single glance. Knowing he had the speed advantage on anyone. Knowledge acquired through countless scenarios identical to the one King currently found himself in. Scenarios where he always managed to come out on top.
But no targets presented themselves.
The corridor lay empty. It stretched into the distance, descending into total darkness until the very end, where a beacon of artificial light illuminated what seemed to be a large stairwell. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the blurry sight. A shadow briefly passed over the light, dimming it for a moment.
Shit.
Rico hadn’t been bluffing. He’d made it to the stairwell despite his injuries. He would be en route to Raul’s mother and sister, ascending the steps as fast as his wounded leg would allow. If King had simply charged headlong into the corridor, he probably would have caught the man by now.
‘You were right, Raul,’ he said, and took off at a breakneck pace.
He knew with each step he was gaining ground on the injured Rico. It all came down to whether he could close the distance before the man reached Raul’s family.
He heard Raul’s panicked breathing behind him as he tried to keep pace. The noise quickly shrank into the distance. Not many men could match King’s speed when he put everything he had into it.
The benefit of having long legs, he thought.
Which proved disastrous as he burst out into the stairwell.
He entered a rusting, winding stairway with a gaping hole in the centre, drilling through the ship’s mass all the way to the basement. The stairs themselves curved around the exterior of the space, ascending past dozens of different floors home to cabins, entertainment centres and supply areas. The stairwell seemed to be the hub of activity in the cruise ship, connecting all its various parts together. King burst onto the wide staircase at full pelt, and instantly realised his mistake.
A long metal object flashed across his vision. Before he could react, it powered into his ribs. The blow cracked across his sternum with enough weight behind it to cause serious damage. He ran straight into it like a fool, adding power to its impact.
He coughed and groaned at the same time that he was thrown off his feet. He landed on his side, hard. Rolled once. Slammed into the stairwell’s banister — the only thing separating him from a twenty-storey fall to inevitable death. The HK417 fell off his shoulder and skittered away. He watched it disappear under the banister and cascade into oblivion. Just like that, he’d been disarmed.
He came to rest against the wooden railing with burning pain flaring through his abdomen. He looked up, expecting to see Rico standing over him, snarling in victory, aiming a pistol at his forehead, ready to fire the kill shot.
But it wasn’t Rico.
It was Roman.
The man from the police station, who had grilled him on his intentions and then vanished when his cover had been blown. King had assumed he worked for Rico in some capacity. This confirmed it. He’d cleaned himself up since departing the holding cells. He was dressed in a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt and khaki combat trousers. His long hair remained tied back. He held a steel crowbar in one hand. A Zamorana pistol rested in a leather holster at his waist.
King pointed to it, and spoke softly. Still in incredible pain from the rib shot. ‘You should probably use that.’
Roman smiled and raised the crowbar, its jagged metal tip gleaming under the stairwell’s spotlights. ‘No need. This will do.’
‘Do you know what’s going on out in the shipyard?’ King said. ‘Killing me won’t achieve anything. You won’t make it off this ship.’
‘Of course I know what’s going on out there,’ Roman said. ‘And it’s the only reason I’m going to make it off this ship.’
‘What?’
‘Who do you think I am?’
King cocked his head. ‘You work for Rico. You’re a Mover. That’s why you interrogated me in the holding cells. You needed to know if I was working for your competition.’
Roman let out a harsh laugh. It echoed through the stairwell. He crouched down until his face rested a few inches from King’s.
‘I am the competition,’ he snarled.
‘Oh.’
‘Those men out there are my men.’
‘You’re attacking Rico?’
‘I am.’
‘How’d you get in here?’
‘Very carefully. Something you clearly know little about. I guess I never considered driving an armoured truck through the wall.’
Something clicked in King’s mind. ‘Ah. That would explain the scouts.’
‘Scouts?’
‘We were spotted on the way in by a couple of men decked out in tactical gear. In an apartment complex. I thought they were Movers, but they were yours, weren’t they? Assessing the situation before attacking?’
Roman nodded.
King flashed back to the holding cells, where Roman had revealed a shred of his true identity. ‘You said you were in the import-export business?’
Roman got back to his feet and held his arms out wide, gesturing to their surroundings, to the cruise ship itself. ‘Business is booming. At least, it will be. When we have control of this place.’
King made to get to his feet but his ribs flared, buckling his knees. The pain sent him straight back to the floor. Roman noticed the gesture and whipped forward like a cheetah, moving faster than King thought possible. He lashed out with the crowbar, then stopped the blow short. The tip came to rest an inch from King’s throat. Another ounce of movement and Roman would sever arteries. King understood the message and stayed put.
‘How’d it feel to be played?’ Roman said.
‘What?’
‘We used you.’
‘Who used me?’
‘I got a call from my business partner before,’ he said. ‘Asking if we should send you in before we made our move.’
King grimaced. ‘Oh, shit.’
Suddenly, the mad situation began to make a little more sense. He’d wondered why José had been so open to handing across most of his expensive arsenal. The Cobra had never been intended for Rico. It had been ordered and primed to carry out an assault on the Movers’ compound. The tales José had told them of fleeing the country, of being sick of the life of an arms dealer and deciding to retire.
All bullshit.
He and Roman had been amassing their forces to launch the attack when King and Raul had broken out of prison and stepped willingly into their warehouse. José had seen an opportunity to use two martyrs free of charge, desperate men willing to act as a spearhead for the assault which now raged outside.
Roman saw him thinking hard, and didn’t speak. He knew King would be piecing together what had happened.
‘You’re drug dealers?’ King said.
‘Small time,’ Roman said. ‘Movers were shutting us down at every corner. This is the endgame. We win this, and we take over.’
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ King said. ‘It appears that we both have the same short-term goals.’
‘Kill Rico?’
King nodded.
‘We do indeed,’ Roman said. ‘But then what?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Say we work together to clear this cruise ship,’ Roman said. ‘And we succeed. What will you do after?’
‘Get the next flight out of here.’
‘You sure? I thought you hated drug dealers.’
‘Is that what you think this is? Me being here?’
‘You seem to be some kind of vigilante warrior. What else would you be doing here?’
‘If this was a crusade against organised crime I would never sleep,’ King said. �
�I just don’t like it when people fuck with me.’
‘So you don’t care that I’m just going to carry on the drug trade after we’re done here?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ King said.
‘Then I think we have a deal.’
Roman extended a hand. He tucked the crowbar behind his back as a gesture of camaraderie. Probably to show that he meant no harm. King seized the grip and rose tentatively to his feet. He placed a hand on his ribs and took a deep breath. Agony flared. A few were likely broken. Not good. But it wasn’t on the level of crippling incapacitation that meant he couldn’t continue. The adrenalin dump was still powering through his system. It numbed the pain just enough to press forward for a few more minutes.
That was all he had.
Then he thought back to the last few days, and met Roman’s eyes. ‘What were you doing in the police station, then?’
Roman smiled. ‘We have connections too. José still supplies the Movers. They had no idea he’d embedded himself in a rival organisation. When he found out that the internal mechanisms of their operation had gone to shit, he did some digging. Found out that you had something to do with it. So I went in to try and find out just exactly what was going on.’
‘And you realised I was a nobody?’
Roman nodded. ‘I did.’
‘And you left me there to be transferred to El Infierno and killed by either Rico or the prisoners?’
Roman hesitated. ‘I—’
‘On second thought,’ King said, ‘I don’t need your help.’
CHAPTER 45
He seized Roman by the collar with one hand and battered the crowbar away with the other. His ribs burned with every action, but he held an uncanny ability to bury pain away for brief spurts of violent explosive action. His brain released neurotransmitters — called endogenous opioids — into his system, suppressing the emotional response to his aching torso. He battled through the physical sensation and continued with his actions, his brain an impenetrable fortress.
Roman’s eyes widened as he noted the change in atmosphere. He’d been disarmed in a matter of seconds. He recognised that King had been holding back, refraining from retaliation over the course of their conversation.
The drug boss had underestimated him.
King reached down and undid the holster at the man’s waist and ripped the Zamorana free. He touched a finger to the trigger, slotting it inside the guard. One shot was all it took. The bullet entered the side of Roman’s skull just above his ear. Compared to the intensity of assault-rifle and sub-machine gun fire that King had grown used to, the round from the pistol felt surprisingly subdued. Roman died quietly, blood spurting from the exit wound on the other side of his head. An instantaneous passing. Probably what the man deserved, considering how little he had provoked King.
Still…
One less crime boss in the world.
King kept the corpse on its feet with the hand he had wrapped around its collar. He took one look at the dead man, and felt no emotion. Roman had said it himself. If he took over the shipyard, nothing would change. Maybe this would do something. Probably not. But King was only a single man.
And he didn’t like to be fucked with.
He wound up and tossed the dead body over the banister. It fell into the empty space in the centre of the stairwell and soared away, legs and arms splayed. King turned back to the corridor he’d come from and ignored the brutal squelch of the body slapping the ground floor that echoed up through the space.
Raul had emerged from one of the side rooms, still brandishing his own rifle. The HK417’s stock rested on his shoulder. His eyes were wide. He’d been ready to fire.
‘All clear,’ King said.
‘I wasn’t sure if he saw me,’ Raul said. ‘I ducked into the room. I was about to shoot him when I heard you two speaking. Some kind of truce?’
‘Not anymore.’
Raul glanced at the railing that the body had disappeared over. ‘Clearly not.’
‘Where is Rico likely to be?’
Raul’s face paled. ‘I … I don’t know. Upstairs. I know he has an office up there somewhere.’ He trailed off, staring into space, eyes tearing. ‘Fuck, man … what if we don’t find him? What if they’re dead?’
King slapped him across the face — distracting him from what-ifs — and took his rifle. ‘We don’t know that yet. Until we do, pull yourself together. He could be anywhere.’
The pair took off running, taking the stairs three at a time, ascending the gargantuan stairwell. Around them, the structure groaned. The opioids still flooding into King masked the pain in his ribs just enough to enable full function. They would wear off eventually, and then the waves of agony would begin. He would have to move fast.
As they ran, King felt a sense of dread creeping into his chest. Whether from the eerie sounds of the long-dormant cruise ship and the unnerving nature of their surroundings, or the fact that they were likely heading for a pair of dead bodies that would change Raul’s life. King hoped to hell that there would be a different outcome. He couldn’t imagine losing everyone dear to him in the course of a single day.
Their rasping breath echoed off the steel walls. There were no other sounds except for the clanging of their feet against the steps. If Rico was around, he would hear them coming from a mile away, but they had no time to employ the benefits of a stealthy approach. Roman’s interference had cost them what little time they had.
It had also raised a dozen new questions.
If José is running a rival gang, then what on earth was he doing visiting Raul’s family?
There wasn’t time to mull over the technicalities. They could do that later. King shot a glance down one of the many corridors branching off the stairwell, just as he had done for the last dozen. All were entirely unoccupied. The sheer size of the ship began to dawn on him. There could be an army of Movers living within and there would be little chance of him stumbling upon one of them.
Then he noticed a flash of movement heading through a doorway. It occurred at the edge of his peripheral vision. Someone darting into a room. A leg disappearing from sight.
‘There,’ King said quietly, and exited the stairwell into a corridor that was well into the process of falling apart. There was much more natural light up here. It poured in through the windows in each room, which he guessed faced out over the shipyard. He assumed the movement he’d seen had been Rico, darting into his office or personal living quarters.
He kept the HK417 trained on the space in front of him. Any sudden movements would warrant a reaction the instant he recognised them as hostile. He approached the doorway very slowly. Raul stayed behind him, quiet as a mouse, his heart more than likely pounding in his chest. The next few seconds would answer a lot.
King tapped into his reflexes, recalling memories of hundreds of hostage rescue situations he’d been through in the past. He knew how shaky the situations were. One stray bullet would spell complete failure. Raul would be even more devastated if King accidentally shot a loved one in the process of trying to save them.
He would not let that happen.
He paused by the doorway and listened for any sounds from within.
Nothing.
He took a deep breath. Employed tunnel vision. Checked Raul’s position, verifying that he was out of the line of fire. Then he spun into the room as fast as he could, taking in all his surroundings in the blink of an eye, sizing up the threats…
… of which there were none.
Rico sat on the surface of an enormous oak desk in the middle of the large room. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a balcony that faced out over the shipyard. Far below, battle raged. King heard it in the form of relentless gunfire and saw a few dozen muzzle flashes, flaring over the dock. Small figures darted to and fro amidst the haphazard cover that had been erected in the form of spare vehicles.
No battle raged in the room.
Because Rico was unarmed.
He sat cross-
legged, staring at them with a resigned smile of acceptance.
‘What?’ he said as the two of them entered the room.
He was the room’s sole occupant. There was no sign of Raul’s mother, or his sister. No sign of other Movers.
Rico noticed them searching the room for signs of life and laughed cruelly.
‘Oh,’ he said, and raised a finger in Raul’s direction, pointing at him. ‘That’s right. Your dearest loved ones. Did you really think I ever had them?’
Cold silence descended over the room.
CHAPTER 46
‘Where are they?’ Raul whispered, his voice cold.
Rico waved a hand around the room. ‘Not here. They never were.’
‘Where are they?’ Raul repeated.
Rico made to answer, and then noticed something. He stared long and hard at the HK417 King had trained on him, barrel pointed directly at the drug lord’s face. He paused, thinking. Then his eyes widened. ‘José sold you that?’
‘He didn’t sell us anything,’ King said. ‘He used us to front the assault out there. Turns out he’s in bed with your competition. He was never loyal to you.’
Rico turned and looked out the window at the carnage below. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. ‘No shit. So that’s what brought me down. Crazy world.’
‘It’s over, Rico,’ King said. ‘Just tell us where you’re keeping them.’
Rico turned back to them. ‘Oh — you don’t get it?’
‘Get what?’
‘José isn’t loyal to anyone. Especially not you.’
‘How so?’ King said.
Rico looked past him, locking eyes with Raul, speaking directly to him. ‘Who do you think I sent to kill your mother and sister yesterday? The man who knew them. Who trusted them. That way it was easy. They just went along with everything he told them to do. They happily followed him to the middle of nowhere. Then he shot them. And I paid him well for it.’
Before King could process the new information, he heard a thump behind him. He turned, keeping Rico in his sight the entire time. He saw Raul on the floor, his legs buckled, his face whiter than King had ever seen it before.