Silver Lead and Dead (Evan Hernandez series Book 1)

by James Garmisch

  Roger waited for Evan on the ground floor, just outside of the bathroom. He admired the magnificent architecture of the building, indoor palm trees, natural lighting, glass, marble, and the echoing sound of fountains. He knew he could never afford to shop in any of these stores, with the exception of Crate & Barrel. He watched the glass-enclosed elevator rise up into the building and stop on the second floor. The hotel entrance was somewhere on the second floor. Roger looked at his watch and then spotted a water fountain. Suddenly, his throat was dry. He took a step forward and almost collided with a young woman who was coming out of the female restroom. Roger paused and put his arms up to avoid hitting her.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said in English and smiled.

  She was breathtaking, and she almost caused Roger to lose his words. She had been crying.

  “You OK, bonnie?” Roger frowned and touched her shoulder. One of the problems Roger had with being so tall was that he was afforded a vantage point that in some instances revealed too much. He tried to keep eye contact as she looked up and smiled. Her eye makeup had run down her cheeks.

  “Sí. Oh, you are American?” Her English was basic and cute.

  Roger felt suddenly weak in her presence. “No, lass, I am Scottish.”

  “Oh, really?” She looked puzzled. “You are tall!”

  “Aye, I get that all the time.”

  “You play basketball?”

  “No. You model?” He smiled.

  “Sí, part time.” She nodded matter-of-factly.

  Roger laughed. “Of course.”

  She frowned.

  “Whatever is wrong, sweetie, don’t let it get you down. Man trouble?” Roger looked around for Evan.

  “My name is Maria. Not man trouble. Monster trouble! Comprende?”

  “Sorry, honey. Men usually act like monsters to cover up their little problems. Get what I mean, lass?” Roger winked.

  She giggled and for a split second was free of her burden. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. She squeezed his arm, sniffled, and walked to the elevator in the lobby.

  Roger watched with great respect and then turned quickly away.

  “Who were you talking to?” Evan came out of the bathroom wearing a black leather jacket that made him look a little stockier than he was. He had his duffel bag looped over his shoulder like he was going on a trip.

  Roger could tell Evan was wearing a vest. He could also see the bulge under his arm and the strap from his tactical sling. “Lad, you could not be more obvious. Ye carrying the HK under that? What else you got in your bag?”

  “Toys. Toys that make loud noises.”

  “Only insecure men need so much gear.”

  Evan laughed. “Let’s go, wise one!”

  Roger and Evan walked toward the elevator and waited.

  The two men rode in silence to the second floor. Roger reached into his duffel bag and grabbed a full-sized XD .40 and shoved it in his waistband. He pulled his shirt over it.

  “Does my gun show?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Yes, and it makes you look fat!”

  Roger was about to say something smart, but the doors of the elevator opened.

  Yuri looked at Maria. She seemed perkier than earlier. He had been joined by four more of his henchmen as he stood in the hotel lobby waiting on her to return. None of them spoke. Yuri liked to use other Russians as his hit men and inner circle. Each Scorpion operator ran his own cells as he saw fit.

  Maria waited patiently for a few minutes for the Russians to speak among themselves. They seemed to be planning. Suddenly, Yuri motioned for them to move toward the hotel elevator. “Let’s go.”

  The five large men and one tiny girl crammed into the elevator. Maria felt very uncomfortable and tried to make herself one with the wall. She avoided eye contact and the chance of touching any of the men. Maria hummed a little tune. Suddenly, she giggled and then coughed to cover it up.

  “What the hell is so funny?” Yuri asked.

  “Oh, nothing, sir. Just someone funny I met.”

  “Want to share it?”

  Maria chewed on her lip and shook her head. “No, it’s kinda rude. But true.”

  “Whatever. What room are we going to?” Yuri asked.

  “Tenth floor. Room 1025.”

  She tried not to look at Yuri’s gross piercings or satanic tattoos. She also did not want her back facing him. The glaring eyes of Yuri’s men made her feel sick and like less than a piece of meat. Yuri had voiced his unconcern with females, but these men were different.

  “So who did you talk to? Did he flirt with you?”

  “No, no, sir. He was an older gentlemen. Tall like a basketball player, funny accent, Scottish, he said.”

  The door chimed, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

  Maria made to leave the elevator and paused. “You look pale, sir; are you OK?” She asked, not really concerned just curious.

  Yuri walked slowly off the elevator as if he were in deep thought and none of them were there. Her words had jolted him like a few lines of cocaine. He leaned against the wall and put his hands up, as if trying to make the world pause for a second.

  His men paused. Maria froze.

  “Am I being paranoid? How many Scottish men can be in this town? In this country? Big Scottish men?” Yuri looked around and touched his knife. He had a .357 strapped under his leather jacket.

  “Move!” He put his hand on the small of Maria’s back and shoved her gently along. She was light like a paperweight. Yuri decided he would kill her or use her as a shield if he needed to. He wanted to locate Tanya and get out of the city quick. He cursed the fact that Gerard was without cell phone coverage. He spoke to his men in Russian.

  “Look, I think we are being followed. Could be same stupid bodyguard from the Manuel operation and Veracruz. Sounds crazy, but bear with me. One of you stay at the elevator! If it’s obvious, kill him. You two, go to the room!”

  Tanya paused and took a deep breath. “Reo, look, I have a twisted ankle. I can’t walk up any more stairs, and my ribs are cracked. I may have a punctured lung!” she lied and leaned against the wall in the fire-escape stairwell. Tanya wanted to take the elevator; it was more public.

  Reo looked at the teenagers and then Tanya. “You made it five flights. That’s admirable. Fine, we will take the elevator.”

  “I have to be able to make it, and I know you can’t carry me.”

  Reo frowned and looked coldly at her. “You are a piece of work.”

  “And you are a sucker. Try calling Nathan—see where he is.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “He left you.”

  “Shut up!”

  Tanya opened the fire door and considered running for it. She was outnumbered five to one.

  “Tenth floor, Tanya?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elevators are all busy. We can walk, or I can turn Carlos loose on you!”

  Tanya looked at the teenager. He just glared, vacant of human thought.

  “Fine, we can walk, but slow.”

  Roger and Evan did a mental assessment of their gear and equipment and the day that stretched ahead of them. Evan had six thirty-round magazines for his submachine gun. He liked to tape two together facing in opposite directions. This way he could remove it, flip it, and slam it back in. This was not always the best technique, but it would serve his purpose today. He adjusted his bag, which was beginning to feel a little heavy. Forty-caliber ammo was not light. The struggle was always carry too much gear and not need it and be slow, or don’t carry enough so you are light enough to run like hell, yelling, “Wish I had more ammo.”

  Evan spoke first. “I am hungry.”

  “Aye, me too.”

  Both men watched the digital numbers flash by slowly.

  Five, Six, Seven…

  “So, what’s your favorite Mexican dish, and don’t say Mia!” Evan teased.

  Roger laughed and snapped his fingers. “You got me, lad.”<
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  Eight…The elevator stopped and a little old lady made to get on.

  “Going down?” she asked.

  “Honey, we are going up not down,” Roger said politely and smiled.

  The lady looked at him angrily, threw her hands in the air, and barked with a New York accent, “Why the hell not!”

  She left. The smell of Ben Gay hung in the air. The doors closed.

  There was silence for a second, and then Evan spoke.

  “Fish. I would say fish is my favorite.”

  “You don’t say?” Roger asked.

  “Definitely!” Evan finished.

  Ding…Floor nine.

  “You know, I won a recipe contest with my Balsamic vinaigrette salmon recipe,” Roger said matter of factly.

  Evan looked interested now. “Dude, you’re making me hungry.”

  Ding…Floor ten.

  The doors opened, and both men jumped.

  “Watch out!” Roger yelled.

  Evan and Roger both moved at the same time.

  A short, stocky Russian thrust a .45 with a suppressor through the doors as they opened. The man made eye contact with Roger, cursed as he recognized him, and let go a string of Russian words that Evan did not care to translate.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Roger pushed the man’s arms up so that he shot into the ceiling while Evan charged low. Roger dove into the hall over the two tumbling men and away from the muzzle of the gun, which continued to pop rounds into the ceiling. Suppressors were not really that silent. Roger pulled his weapon out and moved to regain his balance.

  Evan pinned the man’s elbows with both arms and tried to move into a better position. The Russian kicked wildly and began to wriggle free.

  Evan head butted the Russian as hard as he could and then twisted with all his might, swinging both his legs around the man’s gun arm, causing it to hyperextend. Evan twisted the weapon away from his grasp and flung it. He broke the man’s arm and then kicked him in the side of the face as he fully extended. The crack was loud.

  The whole thing was over in seconds.

  The would-be shooter screamed as loud as he could.

  “He is warning someone!” Evan said as he removed his H&K from his ankle holster and put a bullet in the man’s forehead. Evan held his weapon down and looked at Roger, as if this killing was just a tiny pause in their conversation.

  “Aye, I think we need to move, lad!”

  Evan stood up and checked himself. He stepped over the body, picked up his duffel bag and slung it, holstered his H&K .40, and pulled out his H&K UMP .40, which had twisted around behind his back during the brief wrestling match.

  Evan liked to keep things simple. He could use the same ammo in both weapons if given the option. The UMP was a smart-looking submachine gun, compact with a folding stock, and it weighed a neat 4.96 pounds.

  “You know, Roger, they really need to be more careful who they let in these places.”

  Roger looked sideways at Evan as if he had two heads. “You’re not freaking right in the head, son!”

  Evan was moving quickly down the hall now, his tactical sling tight, and his weapon out in front. “Let’s go, Scotty!” Evan mocked Roger’s accent, doing his best voice of Scotty from Star Trek.

  “Now you done crossed the line, you little—”

  The scream of a girl suddenly made the two men shut up and put their game faces on. They heard the pop-pop of a handgun and covered each other as they moved in.

  There was no cover in the hallway, unless they kicked in a guest’s door and hid inside.

  A Few Moments Earlier

  Yuri kicked the door to room 1025 open and burst in with his .357 held high. A uniformed Mexican police officer was coming out of the bathroom, and they locked eyes for a second. He never had time to react. Maria screamed.

  Yuri shot him twice and dragged the screaming Maria into the room. “Shut up, whore!” He hip tossed her onto the bed and she rolled across it and onto the floor.

  Yuri spun around and glared at his other three comrades.

  They spoke in rapid Russian.

  “You hear that?” one asked.

  “Police?” another asked.

  Yuri answered “No! They are coming! Cover the hall, right where it curves up there, move up. We take them down then head left to the fire exit. I don’t want them on our flank!”

  “Fine.”

  “I am going down to the floor below. You guys meet me. I will pull the fire alarm. That’s our cover to leave!”

  “Brilliant! Elevators will stop. People will flood the stairwells!”

  Yuri stepped back into the doorway and watched two of his men creep with their handguns to the bend in the hallway. They took a knee and covered the hall.

  Guests could be heard talking loudly in their rooms, and no one dared venture out into the hall.

  Yuri knew that one of his men was dead and had a gnawing feeling that things were about to get worse. Yuri looked at Nicholas, who was a large man with thick arms and a barrel chest. He had spent the last ten years in prison and was indifferent to life.

  “Nicholas, good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck.”

  Yuri grabbed Maria by the hair and dragged her to the fire exit.

  Maria started screaming.

  Yuri kicked opened the door into the fire-escape stairwell and was about to go down when the explosion happened.

  Evan nodded to Roger, who plugged his ears and made ready. Evan tossed the flash-bang around the corner, took a knee, and held his breath. This was going to hurt.

  Boom!

  The percussion caused the fire alarm to sound, the sprinkler system to fire, and about half a dozen people in their rooms to start screaming. Doors were opened and then slammed.

  Evan shook his head to clear his throbbing ears, spat on the ground, and tapped Roger on the shoulder. The two men burst around the corner, aiming low and searching out targets. Evan was not an advocate of spray-and-pray unless it was necessary.

  Both Russians took rounds to the face and chest as they scrambled to regain their balance after the shock of the grenade. Wild rounds peppered the walls and ceiling. Hot shell casings bounced across the carpet.

  Suddenly Evan felt a thump to his chest and stumbled. He lurched sideways. He knew he had been shot. He crashed through a door as rounds began punching holes in the drywall next to him.

  “There’s one more!” Evan yelled. “You OK?”

  Evan assessed what had happened and within a few seconds had the information he needed and a plan. His ears were still ringing, and he realized he still had his earplugs in. Evan pulled them out. He had been hit in his vest by a round. They had killed two stunned shooters in the hallway. The flash-bang had left a nasty charred mark on the carpet and filled the hall with the smell of sulfur. Evan thought briefly about Camp Lejeune, Panama, and Colombia.

  “Smells always bring back the fondest memories,” he muttered as he checked himself. “Boots, fingers, toes.” He grabbed his crotch. “I am OK, Roger!”

  “I wasn’t asking, wanker!”

  The other shooter, wherever he was, was ready for them.

  “We gotta keep the momentum!” Roger said.

  Evan pied off the corner of the doorframe with the short barrel of his weapon. All was clear. He decided against a smoke grenade since the confusion would hurt him more than help. When civilians started to fill the hallway, the bad guys would have the advantage.

  He gave a quick nod to Roger, who had crashed through a door on the opposite side of the hall and was using the door-frame as cover. Evan could hear females screaming inside the room.

  “Somos la policia, permanecer abajo!” Evan yelled and began to move quickly, hugging the corner of the hallway, weapon and eyes acting as one.

  Roger followed close behind, the side of his face stained with drying blood.

  As Evan made his was down the straight hallway, he noticed a door open to his left; it was Tanya’s room. He backed up an
d scanned the fire-exit door to his right. It had just closed with a click.

  “We are sitting ducks out here. Either go in Tanya’s room or go down the fire exit,” Roger said.

  Both men could hear hotel guests talking in their rooms; the fire alarm was deafening, and Evan knew it was a matter of time before the police and fire crews were storming the building.

  Roger covered the open door to Tanya’s room while Evan held up two fingers and counted down as he inched along the wall.

  Suddenly, a large man burst from the room in a last-ditch effort to gain surprise.

  Roger shot him in the head while Evan shredded his body with a quick five-round burst. The man stumbled forward a few steps, never squeezed his trigger, and collapsed at their feet with a thud.

  “I think the idiot was out of ammo,” Roger said after the man dropped.

  “Some guys got all the luck, eh?” Evan said.

  Without a word, they made sure Tanya’s room was empty and then moved toward the fire door.

  “I hear screaming!” Roger blurted.

  “They went down the fire escape, reloading.”

  Evan switched magazines and dug out his last two grenades from his bag. He put a smoke grenade in one cargo pocket and a flash-bang in the other.

  “OK, Evan, you getting a little carried away with your pyro. We gotta have a talk, lad!”

  Evan pouted and then spat on the floor. He flicked sweat off his bald head. “I missed the Fourth last year—gotta make up.”

  Roger shook his head and coughed. “You’re not right, son, really.”

  “Fine!”

  Evan scanned the halls and stepped toward the fire-escape exit.

  Yuri grabbed the screaming Maria by her hair and dragged her as fast as he could down the stairs. He was on the ninth landing and did not like the sounds he heard from above. He knew his crew was dead, and at this point he just wanted to save himself and get word to Gerard that he had been right all along. There was a conspiracy. His cell phone had no signal, and he cursed.

  “Zatknis! Shut up!”

  “Let go of my hair!” Maria screamed hysterically. She tried to fight him for a moment.

  Yuri paused at fire-exit door nine, jerked her around, and punched her in the diaphragm. She crumbled to the ground, stunned and unable to suck in a breath.