One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik)

by Nico Rosso

  A police car eased up a street parallel to theirs. It tracked with them for a moment, and Ben could see the cops staring. One of them was the angry officer from the rec center. He waved forward, and the driver accelerated.

  More train tracks collected near the two he and Mary had been following. They approached the yard. The parking lot should’ve been empty without workers. But there were plenty of cars in the spaces.

  “Too many out-of-state plates.” He couldn’t see any of the workers at this far end of the yard.

  Mary’s eyes narrowed on the cars. “Florida, Mass, Texas.” Anger chopped into her words. “I’m seeing out-of-date military base permits.”

  “Mercs.” The population of Morris Flats was transforming from civilians to some kind of private army.

  Mary slowed her pace and muttered, “The brass is here.”

  Kit Daily and the mayor and her husband all stood at the edge of the parking lot. Their cold breath swirled with the steam rising from their paper cups of coffee. The Limerts hunched like conspirators and flinched when they caught sight of Ben and Mary approaching. Daily only smirked smugly and hooked his thumb in his wide belt.

  After a second, the mayor mustered her usual vote-getting smile. “Of all the places to jog. You know we have a nice greenbelt on the other side of town?”

  Ben had seen the muddy tract punctuated by high power lines. “This is only the first leg.” He and Mary stopped and stretched. Past Daily, the rail yard was in full swing. Men used forklifts to move pallets of crates from a freight car into a warehouse.

  Mary shook hands with the three locals. “Yeah, we’ll see how far Mr. Louis is willing to chase me this morning.”

  Daily leered at her calves. “I reckon he’ll never stop running.”

  She ignored him and directed a question to the mayor. “Is there a problem in town? We saw police cars blocking roads.”

  Donna Limert rolled her eyes at the nuisance. “Road maintenance. Nothing to worry about.”

  Her husband chimed in, “Yeah, nothing that’ll drive down property prices.”

  Ben chuckled. “I thought they were setting up for a parade.”

  Mary was a pro and knew when to cut out so they didn’t look too suspicious. She bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to run again. “Come on, let’s see if you can chase me all the way to Chicago.”

  “My old home turf?” He readied himself to resume the job. “You won’t escape me there.”

  Daily looked Ben over. “You’re a Chicago boy?”

  Ben rolled his shoulders and tried not to tense at being called a boy. “It’s my city.” And if Daily showed himself there, he wouldn’t last a second in an alley with no witnesses.

  The boss of the train yard still looked down his nose at Ben. “Go Cubbies.”

  It felt good to laugh outright in Daily’s face. “Sox.”

  Mary waved at the group and took off running. Ben followed without looking back, and they were quickly around a corner and out of sight from the rail yard.

  She glared at him when he caught up to her. “You want to blow it?”

  “I’m not really trying to sell bracelets.” Their pace picked up. “And I don’t need him as a friend.” He wanted to run back to Daily, take the pistol from his belt and smash it into the side of his head. “I’m on target and won’t fail the op. But that doesn’t mean I have to let myself get buried by that fucker.”

  She eased up, and he wanted to keep charging ahead. Her sincere voice brought him back to her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you.” Had he snapped too hard at her?

  “I know.” She slowed to a walk. He stayed with her. “And I’m still sorry.”

  He stopped walking, the rage still bubbled up through him. “Sons of bitches like Kit Daily smile, throwing guns in the streets and counting their money. We’ve both seen what that does.”

  She nodded. “I want him, too.” Her jaw set. “I want to stick my knife in so deep it cuts his roots and there’s none of them left.” She patted Ben’s chest. The small touch shocked him with her comfort. “That’s how we do it. With Automatik. With the plan.”

  He took her hand in his. “All the way to the bone.” Her sleeves covered her knuckles, so he pushed the cuff back and kissed the top of her hand. Not something he’d ever done with a teammate or operator before, but it felt right. A promise, not just to get the job done, but to not let her down at any cost.

  Her hard eyes softened and she took a long breath. “All the way.”

  They resumed their run, seeing more police cars and roads blocked with cones or city sawhorses. Their route took them across the north-south highway and into the more residential neighborhoods. The greenbelt wasn’t green. Neither was the park across from the high school. Teachers and administrators were just starting to arrive in the parking lot and chatting as they walked into the main buildings. Ben angled the run toward there when he saw Romero and his wife, Sue, getting out of their car.

  He waved and got a questioning squint back from Romero. But as they approached, the man seemed to recognize Ben and smiled politely. Sue extended a “good morning” and Ben introduced Mary to the couple.

  Sue’s eyebrows raised when she heard what kind of real estate Mary was involved in. “Sounds like an uphill battle in Morris Flats.”

  Romero nodded and scratched at his freshly shaved chin. “I’ll bet there are other towns that would be open to it.”

  “But not with the highway access,” Mary corrected. “It makes this town perfect for development.” And for gunrunners.

  “Well, the best of luck to you.” Sue sounded sincere.

  Before parting, Ben asked, “What’s with the streets being blocked off? We going to get trapped by construction?”

  Frustration flared in Romero. “That’s just...truckers getting the right of way. Doesn’t matter who else they inconvenience.”

  “How long?” Ben tried to map the town and the newly protected routes. “I mean, what if I need to get out of town or something?”

  Romero glared out toward the east side. “Usually under a week. Three days?”

  The timeframe sped up. Ben knew Mary would be feeling it as well but was experienced enough to know not to share a glance with her. He shook Romero’s hand. “Thanks. Glad we ran into you.”

  They said their goodbyes and parted. The teachers walked into their school as Ben and Mary jogged back toward the center of town. Private security forces. Street closures. Activity at the rail yard.

  He watched her processing his same thoughts. “They’re gearing up,” she said, flat.

  “I’ll let Automatik know.” As soon as he had a second alone with his phone. “They’re the trigger.”

  “Security is tightening. They’ll have to leak in slowly.”

  Hopefully the strike team could assemble in time to stop the guns from leaving this hub. “Until then, it’s us.”

  Her face was calm. She was a warfighter. “We’re the hammer.”

  * * *

  Mary had dropped into deadly territory from airplanes, helicopters and trucks. She’d hiked over a mountain range with her Delta team and inserted invisibly into hostile land. But she’d never watched a town transform into a combat zone around her. The tension she already felt being in the field dialed up. Every rooftop, every passing car was scrutinized. Her legs couldn’t rest, ready to run. And her hand was never far from her pistol.

  After her jog with Ben, she’d gone through the motions of scouting more of the town from her rented car. She’d eaten lunch alone, then returned to the hotel, where she now sat in the bar, paperwork spread out across the small table and her phone at the ready. A regular woman, working on her regular job.

  But in fact, she was positioned to track the traffic in the lobby and front desk. The
private security forces she and Ben had seen earlier came and went. Their pace had been measured and calm. They weren’t on the job yet. And they didn’t perceive any threats around them. She could tell from their slow reactions to the front doors opening that their radar wasn’t tuned for trouble in town.

  Two other men had arrived while she’d been observing the lobby. They were like the others. In their thirties, strong, athletic and kitted with heavy luggage. The count was up to at least eight. And that didn’t include the armed men from the state park meeting or the newcomers at the rail yard. Former military. Probably networked to Daily through his old contacts with the Marines. The corruption rotted deep and the betrayal fueled her anger. No, she wasn’t a Marine, but had known plenty of good men and women, Art Diaz the latest, and hated that the military was being used this way.

  “You sure I can’t mix you a cocktail to take the edge off all that work?” Will the bartender held up a shaker hopefully.

  “The way I’ve been burning the candle—” she shook her head and looked up from her files, “—it would put me right to sleep. And the boss might call any minute.”

  He put the shaker down and busied his hands rearranging little cups of garnishes. “As soon as you clock out, let me know.”

  It was just the two of them in the bar. She had a feeling that would change when the evening descended. The security men clearly knew each other and were familiar with the hotel. They’d take over.

  From the size and weight of their luggage, she assumed they carried pistols and submachine guns. Small arms for intimidation but not real fighting. If they’d fired any shots protecting the cargo over the years, there would’ve been news and it wouldn’t have taken Automatik so long to track the center point for the gunrunning operation.

  By now, Ben had informed the rest of her team about the escalation. He’d gone about his own business during the day and was now perched at one of the tall tables at the back of the lobby where the breakfast was served. Another working stiff who didn’t arouse suspicion.

  She couldn’t see him but trusted his presence. He had her back, just as she had his. Teammates. And something else. She couldn’t name it, but she couldn’t ignore it.

  “Is your job going to keep you in Morris Flats long?” Will ran out of things to organize.

  “A few days, I think.” She shuffled papers. “It depends on how things pan out.”

  A silent alert appeared on her phone. She opened Ben’s message: Hitter in the gray coat currently armed. 9mm on right hip.

  She glanced into the lobby and saw the man leaning on the front desk, talking to the girl behind it while she politely smiled and went about her tasks.

  Will came out from behind the bar and sat on one of the stools with a groan as he stretched his back. “Days get long out here without much to do. Sure you can’t bounce early?”

  “Not unless I want to find another job.” She texted Ben back: Identified.

  “Too bad. This place kind of sucks.” He stared out of the bar and through the front doors of the hotel. “And this is a shitty season.”

  A hint of pain in his eyes. Just like that little flinch when she’d mentioned the rail yard on her first day. Kit Daily and his operation had crushed this town.

  “You making your own escape plan?” She put down her work and focused on Will.

  For a second he looked like a high school senior posing for his portrait and having no idea what was coming next, then he rallied and gathered more swagger about him. “It’s all in motion. A few more paychecks, and I’m up to Chicago. There’s always work for a bartender. And I can cook a little.”

  “A friend of mine owns a restaurant in California. Tough business.” Being in Hayley’s kitchen when it was in full dinner mode was like trying to dance between helicopter rotor blades. “But she’s a tough chick.” An understatement, considering the story Art told about Hayley going toe-to-toe with a Russian mob goon, armed only with a cooking spoon. And she showed her grit fighting not just for herself, but to protect what she had with Art.

  Will kept gazing out of the hotel. “Just a few more paychecks.”

  That dream might stay alive if he kept his head down and let Daily and the others roll over him. Just like the rest of town. She saw it in the teachers Ben had introduced her to. No ability to fight back. The crime was too entrenched. And when Mary and Ben and their team shined a light on it, aimed their weapons at it, the gunrunners were going to fight hard to keep their bloody dollars. Morris Flats could crash quickly into a battle zone. Civilians would be in the crossfire and her blood ran cold thinking of any of them being hurt.

  Will got off his stool and walked back behind the bar with more purpose. “I’m out of here soon. And you should be out of here sooner.” It was the most serious she’d ever seen the bartender. He seemed to age ten years with just the somber look in his eyes.

  She shrugged and fanned her hands over her paperwork. “I can’t.” She had to stop Daily and the Limerts and Pulaski. She had to stay for the fight, shoulder to shoulder with Ben.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dead of night, she came alive. It was after 3:00 a.m. when she opened her hotel room door and crept into the hallway. Like before, she kept her tactical gear bundled so it looked like she was carrying her coat, but no one was out to observe her silently move to the service stairs and descend.

  She reached the cold, abandoned terrace, pulled on her vest and secured the buckles along the front. Every strap was squared away and silent. Any piece of metal—from her knife to her pistols—had been muted to the point that it would reflect no light and give away her position. She climbed down to street level and started the route to the rail yard.

  The private security forces who’d arrived at the hotel wouldn’t be patrolling tonight. As she’d suspected, they’d taken the bar over around five and closed it down by eleven. Their loud conversations and barking laughs had echoed into the hotel lobby. They were sloppy. Small bits of intel had slipped, and she’d picked them up as she’d passed by on the way to her room. More than one man had mentioned “last year” or “three years ago.” The gunrunning was systematic and long running. A guy jeered another about not having the right clothes for his shitty detail in a cold freight car. Another man alluded to trouble he’d avoided at a truck weigh station, “Just sitting and eating my apple, looking pretty and innocent.” Their voices lowered when they spoke of collecting and transporting money, but they were still reckless enough to let anyone within fifty feet hear. So they rode shotgun with the guns, collected the money at the final destination and carried it back to the base of operations: Morris Flats.

  She’d communicated everything she’d gathered to Automatik and Ben while resting in her room in preparation for the night’s action. He’d been in the bar, surrounded by the security men, for about a half hour, pretending to drink a beer and watch a basketball game. From their reckless conversations, he’d been able to identify most of them as former Marines, even down to two units out of Florida. The connections to Kit Daily were strong. Ben had understood when he’d worn out his welcome at the bar and had retreated to his own room as well. Both of them had communicated via their app when they’d heard the drunk men stumbling and laughing and insulting each other along the hallways.

  The security men weren’t on alert yet. They felt safe in Morris Flats. First mistake. She knew to feel safe was a sure way of getting blindsided. But what did it mean that she felt safe with Ben?

  Separated by the floor and only in electronic contact, Ben’s presence had surrounded her. He was an operator who could be relied on. His awareness extended to minute details about the men and the environment. It wasn’t just his training or time in the wars. Ben had an innate ability to zero in on just the necessary details. It was how he’d found her.

  Out in the night, she dissolved into the shadows of the street and followed t
he deepest corners like an inky river. No one could see her. Except Ben. If she was brave enough. If she could trust him to be caring and gentle with the delicate, newfound hope she carried.

  Two blocks away from the hotel, her senses prickled. She wasn’t alone. Her hand hovered over the pistol on her chest. A figure separated from the angular silhouettes of the building before her. Ben. He stood in his black tactical gear among the gas pumps of the derelict service station they’d chosen as rendezvous. She approached, and the features of his face emerged in the dim streetlights. His face was still all business, but his eyes were keen. He gave her a nod and extended a fist. She bumped it, and the two of them moved away from the gas station and to a weedy ditch behind it.

  Train tracks striped the other side of the ditch. Without speaking, the two of them slipped into the shadowed side of the ditch and trekked forward toward the train yard. Their steps were quieted by soft dirt. Ben led and avoided any extra noise by looping around collected trash and fallen branches from nearby trees. He’d point all these obstacles out for her, always moving, always scanning forward and to the sides. She maintained her own watch of their perimeter and rear, keeping a hand on Ben’s upper shoulder for silent communication.

  His strong body balanced perfectly as he navigated. She’d known those muscles, not just in combat. Holding her. Giving her his power to crash against. Matching her and challenging her to find more pleasure. And now he was out on a secret detail with her. The memories of their sex made her breath run hotter in her chest, but they didn’t cloud her judgment. She and Ben had fit together in the backseat of that SUV, and they fit together during a silent insertion into hostile territory.

  She only needed to tighten her fingers for Ben to halt his progress. He looked at her. She tipped her head behind them, in the direction of a solitary civilian car two blocks away. The two of them remained completely still until the car continued away and disappeared into the north side of town.