by Rob Buckman
"I'm sure you’re fully aware of the formalities of a legal transaction of this nature."
She nodded, unable to speak or look at him. She didn't bother to cheat on her signature, as she knew he would check, carefully signing her name to each document. Including, she noticed a quit claim deed to the property up on Thunder Mountain. That was odd, because she didn't own it, Mike did... or had.
"Thank you my dear. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Now go to your room!" Something had gone out of his voice. It was no longer a request, but an order. "In case you should get lost, you will find a guard waiting outside who will escort you there."
Dully, she got up and left, saying nothing. As he had said, a burly guard waiting outside the door. Grim faced he followed her up to her room. These were the same stairs she come down so grandly so many short hours before. The thought of all those men she had met tonight having seen that tape sent a shudder of revulsion through her, making her feel sick and dirty. Thinking back over the evening, she felt like such a fool, like some prize animal placed on display. She had played her part well, even dressing the part for them. Angrily and without thinking, she stripped off the dress and underwear, throwing them in the corner, until the memory of the video cameras came back. Reaching for the light she switch them off, or tried to, find that they stayed on.
"Damn you! Damn you all to hell!" Proudly walking across the room and climbing into bed. At that point, the lights went off, and turning to towards the wall, she cried.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Bonner stood up and looked around. Now they would have to go hunting. 'How the hell had he known' he thought, or was it just rabbit blood making him run. Either way, they'd have to go hunting him now.
"Over here you guys." Keying the radio, he called the rest of the team, ordering them back to the house.
"It looks as if we will have to go hunting, and we're not equipped. Karl! Billy! Get your asses back to the gate now. Stand guard while we go up to the house and get the gear we need. Stay sharp. There's no telling where this guy may be."
"My guess is that he’s either taken off across county or tried to make it back to the house."
"A lot of good that will do him" someone commented.
"Shut up both of you. I do the thinking around here, even if you are right. The moon is coming up so that might help us spot him, so keep your eyes open!"
With that, they split up heading in opposite directions. Mike followed the two back to the gate. Now it was fun time. He could have shot them were they stood, but that would be too easy. He had to get the rest of them off balance. Simply shooting them, or a distance kill wouldn't do that, this would have to be done up close and personal. He remembered the hot steamy nights he crawled through the jungle into NVA camps to put the fear of God into them. Morning brought screams of terror, as men awoke to find the person next to him missing a head. This would have to be on the same order, hopefully scaring the living daylights out them.
Working his way down to the chain link fence, he dropped both packs next to it, removing his jacket. The only weapon he'd need for this would be his knife. He crawled on his hands and knees to within fifty feet of the gate before lying down on the damp ground, his back just touching the fence. With the moon up, it would take time to do the job, but he wasn't going to rush. Settling down, he attuned himself to the night around him, getting the feel of its movement. There were always small sounds at night, some made by animals, other by insects, Even the air itself was in constant motion, adding to the overall background envelope of the night. The fence looked new, so little or no litter, nor had small shrubs had time to collect or grow. Grass and small plants had grown up along fence lines, and at night they became a dark mass along the base. This just made it easier for him to blend in. Inch by inch he wormed his way along, soon hearing boots crunching on gravel. A lighted cigarette showed in the dark, meaning that at least one of the guards was smoking. Whoever it was would have the worst night vision, the glow of the cigarette destroying part of it every time he took a drag. It turned out to be the one closest to him, so for the moment he ignored him, concentrating on the other one. Each was taking an irregular walk back and forth across the twenty-foot driveway, some twelve feet out from the gate, meeting in the center before walking back. Their whole attention was up the driveway, towards the house, expecting the action to come from that direction. So much the better. That only made his task easier. The difficult part was crossing the gravel drive, both men no more than twelve feet away as they walked back and forth. Luckily, the moon was still at a low angle and the trees providing deep shadow across the gate. At one point, a wire sticking out snagged his pullover and let go with a slight sound.
"You hear something Karl?" One of them asked.
"No did you?" Karl answered, looking round.
"Thought I did." Both men stopped in the center and looked around. Human nature being what it is, few if any, will look at the ground closest to their feet, a common human failing. They assumed the danger lay further way. Knowing this fact, Mike used it as his concealment, holding the knife back against his forearm to cover any reflected moon light, freezing into position. Even if they looked right at him, he would not move. The human mind will not believe what the eye is seeing, thinking it an illusion. Until too late, that is.
"Guess not."
"This sucker would have to be damn good to get close to us."
"You've got that right."
Turning, both resumed walking. Checking the moon, Mike could see that he was running out of time. Yet refused to hurry. Knowing it would be fatal. Inch by inch he worked his way across the drive, standing up only when he was in the deep shadow by one of the large stone gate pillars. He waited in the shadow, watched as the guard walked back and forth three times. There was no pattern. Sometimes they walked off the road onto the grass, sometimes not. The next time the man crossed the driveway he stepped onto the grass, pausing a moments before returning. On his return, he walked right up the pillar before turning. The moment he turned, Mike reached out of the shadow and killed him. His hand clamping the man's mouth shut at the same moment the knife slammed into the base of his brain, killing him instantly. He lowered the body into the shadows, slicing the sling and picking up the man's weapon. Stepping back into the rhythm of the man's movements. Quickly he slipped the hood off his face, not wanting to arouse the other man's suspicion until it was too late. Holding the weapon across his body as the man had done, he stepped back onto the driveway. Holding the knife behind his back, he walked the same path as the first guard, meeting the other in the center. The other one turned, starting back, before his mind registered that something was wrong. It was the grin. Mike couldn't help it. He'd started grinning like an idiot. 'Damn, this feels good!' He thought. He was doing what he'd been train to do. Karl registered what it was, starting to turn.
"What the fuck you grinning at? ..."
Before he could complete the turn or the sentence, an iron hard hand had clamped around his windpipe, shutting off the air, as a burning line of fire entered his back. "...asshole!" Mike said, finishing the sentence for him. It was the last words he heard in this world. The devil's welcoming laughter was the first sound he heard in the next.
Working quickly Mike smashed the lock on the gate, swinging them open. He arranged each man, stepping back for a moment to admire his handy work before vanishing back into the safety of darkness. Ten minutes later Will Bonner arrived, somewhat in panic having been unable to raise either man on the radio. He soon found out why. The two men hung on the end of each gate like sides of beef, their weight dragging the gate down and holding it open.
"For Christ sake. Get them down from there!" He yelled, angry and scared. What the hell was happening here?
These were good men. Not FNG's who didn't know which way was up. Yet they were dead. Without much ceremony, the men were taken down and lay on the grass, the group cluttering around.
"What killed them?" He asked, already knowing the
answer. There was silence for a moment. "Well!" He demanded.
"Both got it in the back with a knife. Billy in the back of the head, Karl through the heart."
"Holy shit!" Someone whispered. "What the fuck have we got ourselves into?!"
"That what I'm going to find out." A shiver ran up Bonner's back, a shiver of fear. He'd only felt fear a few time in his life, and this was one of them. He hadn't liked it then, and he liked it even less now.
"Will! Whoever this guy is, he's good, damn good. You don't just walk up behind Karl and Billy and stick a knife in them. Not unless you know what the hell you’re doing." There was a note of awe in the man's voice, and fear.
"I agree, so spread out. We don't know what this guy is armed with beside a knife." Bonner hoped that was all.
"Shit! The gates open. If he had any sense at all he’s long gone..."
In answer, the night erupted into gunfire, all incoming, answering both questions. The group hit the ground and rolled away into whatever cover they could find, bullets chipping and whining around them. One man screamed as he was hit, another just groaned and died. From the sound of it, whoever was shooting at them was a hell of a long way off. The sound of the firing coming out of the dark, yet no flashes could be seen. The sound only giving a vague indication of direction. All fired wildly into the night. After the first burst the shooting settled down into searching fire, probing every place they were hiding, some hit, some misses. Bonner cursed the moonlight, wishing for complete darkness or at least cloud cover. For fifteen minutes, it kept coming in, first from one place then another, as if two or three men were out there. At last it stopped, silence, dropping like a heavy blanket. It couldn't silence the sobs and groans of those around him. Bonner thanked lady luck, getting away with nothing more than a burn across his arm and leg. The arm he picked up during the first burst, the leg from a probing fire that had almost found him. Even though he was hiding behind the stone gate pillar. It did tell him one thing. Whoever was out there had night optics, and was using them well. The butcher bill turned out to be three dead and one walking wounded, plus Billy and Karl. In nothing flat, this guy had reduced his fighting force from seven to one, with nothing to show for it. Bonner shook his head in disbelief. He should have stayed working as a mining engineer, even if the pay wasn't enough. At least you didn't have people shooting at you. If he didn't need the money so bad, he'd walk away now, and say to hell with it. The idiots up at the house had said this was going to be easy, shit, if this was easy, he’d like to see hard.
Roland Hawkins was furious, letting him know it in no uncertain terms.
"I was informed that you and your men were professionals. I give you a simple assignment, to kill one man, and you end up turning in a poor remake of platoon."
"Mr. Hawkins..." Bonner started to say.
"Don't interrupt when I'm taking." Roland Hawkins snapped. He failed to see the expression on Will Bonner's face, nor its darkening hew.
"Mister, you keep taking that tone with me, and I'm going to stick this Mac 10 up your ass and pull the fucking trigger!" To make his point Will cocked the weapon. Bonner was still scared at what he'd seen outside and to him Roland Hawkins represented no threat at all.
Never in his life had Roland Hawkins had someone directly threatening him. At least not with a loaded weapon in his hand and a look on his face that said he would use it. The fact that four men of his regular security staff were standing around the room didn't look to be any deterrent, nor did it make him feel any more secure. He was no longer sure how to handle himself. He back peddled and tried again.
"I apologize for my rudeness. But to me, this was a simple assignment. What happened?" Thinking questions were the safest course of action at this point.
"If you must know, we ran into a shit storm of lead. All coming our way, that's what!" He was still pissed and scared. This guy wasn't supposed to have any weapons, so where the hell had he come up with a rifle, night sights, and God knows what else?
"And what of Grainger?"
"Beats the shit out of me. I think he’s still on the grounds if you want my opinion." Roland Hawkins didn't, but he wasn't about to say so at this point in time.
"What happen to the other three men?" He said, counting bodies.
"Murphy and two others bugged out for some unknown reason."
"Why didn't you try to stop them?!" The idea that someone would simply quit when so much money was being offered surprised him.
"Mister! These are mercenaries. They go when, and where they want. If they don't like a job, they can bug out any time. It's not as if they'd been paid. You made that a condition of the job, no results no pay." That was true, he had made it a condition of this job. His mind refused to grapple with this situation, it was all wrong.
"But where did he get a gun from?" He said at last. "From one of your men?"
"Hell no, and not just any gun. This guy had some sophisticated weaponry out there. I've never heard a weapon quite like it before." The sound of it still puzzled him.
"What do you mean? How can anyone tell the difference, they all make a loud noise." Roland Hawkins said with a sniff. To him, one weapon was the same as another.
"Not really. Each rifle or machine gun has its own sound. A Mac 10 is as different from, say an AR 15, as night and day. I've personally never heard anything like what I heard tonight."
"Couldn't you tell from the bullets or something?"
"We never found any if that’s what you mean."
"What about in the bodies?"
"The ammo he's using explodes on impact. All we found were bits and pieces. It's small is all I can tell you, about the size of a 7.62 mm but I've never seen one make a wound like that."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The entry hole is about the size of a pencil. Coming out it leaves a hole you could put your head in without touching the sides." Roland Hawkins stomach began to turn at Bonner's graphic description. How could he talk so casually about it, as if discussing the weather?
"What do you want us to do now?" Will didn't bother with the Mister or a name, after tonight he was past all that bullshit. The omission did not escape Roland Hawkins. He filed it away for later. His turn would come.
"Go after him of course."
"With what?" He said looking round the room. His men sat or lay as the case may be around the room. Besides himself, only one other man was alive. And he was in no state to do anything except go to hospital, and he said so. "That man has to go to the hospital. I'm the only one who is fit enough to go anywhere."
"I see." He thought it over for a moment. "I will arrange to have the man shipped to a hospital. One that I own where the doctors know how to keep their mouths shut. What I need you to do, is hire more men."
"Not for what you're paying now, I won’t. You can keep the job and find someone else." He grabbed his pack and started stuffing items into it.
"Cost is no object, within reason" he added hastily. Seeing Bonner stop packing. Money always talked.
"I still don't know if I can find anyone to take the job. This guy Grainger knows what the hell he's doing, and has the equipment to do it." He thought about the people who he might be able to get. "To find someone as good and willing to take on the job will come high" he said, eyes narrowed, pondering the possibilities.
"So find some people who know more and have better equipment! You must know somebody." There was a slight note of desperation in his voice, and Bonner knew he could exploit it.
"Oh, I do. But they don't come cheap."
"How much?" Roland Hawkins said, gritting his teeth.
"One hundred thousand. Each! In advance." He added. "Plus all expenses and equipment, and they get to keep the equipment." He not only shoved it all the way in, but broke it off as well.
"That outrageous! How many men are we talking about? Twenty or thirty."
"No, just ten. The best in the business."
"One million dollars!" The sound of that number sent a shiver
down Roland Hawkins spine.
"No. One Million, one hundred thousand. Plus expenses and equipment. That's my price." His grin was tight, no friendliness in it. It took exactly one minute for Roland Hawkins to make up his mind. One Million or two Million was a small price to pay for getting what he wanted. The planned business venture would turn that in an hour on the scale he was thinking of working.
"You have yourself a deal, but on one condition."
"What's that?"
"I want Grainger dead. No excuses, nothing, just dead."
"No problem."
"If you fail, don't come back."
"If I fail I won’t be able to, I'll be dead."
"Then make your call."
* * * * * *
Mike headed for the high country, putting distance between him and the house before he settled down for the night. Finding a dry crevice in a rock outcropping he climbed in. First checking for a back door, then scattering a dozen 'hockey pucks' around both entrances. If any one came this way, he'd know it in an instant. Or so he thought. Pulling a lightweight blanket out of his bag he settled down, using the bag as a pillow, relaxing, and drifting off to sleep. An hour later as he was rudely awaken by a cold wet nose that was shoved against his, and a raspy tongue licked his face.
"What the hell...Max!" he sat up with a start, his hand reaching for the bowie knife stuck in the dirt beside him. "What on earth are you doing here? I told you to guard the house." He said, getting over the initial shock. Max just wagged his tail and kept on licking.
"Will you stop that!" he said grabbing him by the neck. There was no sign of his girlfriend, but Mike would lay a bet she wasn't too far away.
Stroking and scratching him behind the ear, Mike calmed him down to the point where he lay down beside him, and watched while he went back to sleep. He slept well now, as nothing walking on this planet could get within a thousand yards of this place without Max knowing it, and waking him. Somewhere between waking and sleeping he felt a tear run down his face, the memory of her face, and the feel of her body in his arms drifting away as he started to wake up. It faded, and he went back to sleep.