by Jon Mills
“Do you know how much this box of cigars cost?”
He shrugged. “Three hundred bucks.”
Ray chuckled and came around the table, rolling the long brown tobacco stick between his fingers, savoring every inch.
“Actually, let’s play a game.”
“A game?”
“How much do you think this cigar cost me?”
He shook his head and looked confused. He cast a glance at Thomas and the other men in the room and Ray could tell he was nervous.
“Well um…”
“Actually. Wait. I have a better idea.” He looked at Thomas. “Thomas, would you assist? Bring Chris closer.”
Thomas moved in on Chris and he backed up. “What is going on here?”
“We’re playing a game. You like games, don’t you, Chris?”
“I don’t know what the hell you are on about.”
“Well let me show you.” He gave a nod to Thomas and he strong-armed him over to Ray.
“Put his hand out and place it on the table.”
Chris’s eyes fluttered. “Ray. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, you’re misinformed.”
“I’m misinformed? Interesting choice of words.”
Thomas spread his fingers on the table.
“Now, let’s try this. You get three chances. How much is this cigar?”
“Ray, please.”
“HOW MUCH!” he shouted.
Chris swallowed hard and a bead of sweat formed on his brow, Thomas had him down on his knees looking up at Ray with his right arm outstretched and fingers spread apart.
“Two hundred dollars.”
“Wrong.”
“Ray, please, tell me what it is you think I have done.”
Ray chuckled. If Jack was right, these Mitchell brothers must have thought Ray was a complete idiot. He wasn’t going to be made to look like a fool in front of Thomas or his other men. Neither would he allow his clients to hear whispers about his inability to keep his men under control.
“Again, tell me how much is this cigar?”
He was panting hard now, but no tears were in his eyes. It pained him to have to do this to those he had grown up with but if they had the nerve to insult his intelligence and try to pull the wool over his eyes, it would cost them.
“A thousand dollars.”
Ray burst out laughing. “You really don’t know your cigars. So let me give you a hint. The brand is King of Denmark. Now try again.”
“Ray. It was Jimmie. He was the one who did it. I’m telling you, I didn’t know until after.”
“Um.” Ray got up from his position against the table and paced around with a grin on his face. “Is that your answer?”
“What? No, I’m telling you. Jimmie was the one who killed Jamal. He was the one responsible for the attack on Atomic Charley’s. It was payback for selling in someone else’s territory. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”
“HOW MUCH IS THIS CIGAR?” Ray bellowed.
Chris dropped his head despondently. “Two thousand dollars.”
“WRONG! It’s $4,500 per cigar. Didn’t anyone teach you how to count with your fingers?”
Ray moved across the room quickly and pulled up one of Chris’s fingers and slid the cigar cutter over it.
“Please, Ray, it was Jimmie who was going to rip you off.”
Chris struggled trying to get his hand free but Thomas forced his weight down to hold it there.
Ray paused for a second to answer him. “I already know. And you know who I heard it from?”
He shook his head.
“An outsider. A fucking outsider. Jack Redford.”
Chris shook his head. “No… no! You can’t trust him. He works for the feds, so does Isabel.”
That caught his attention. He was fond of her. “Isabel?”
Chris nodded. Ray gritted his teeth together. He couldn’t trust anyone. He clenched his jaw.
“Please, Ray. No. NO!”
He was just about to slam it tight and sever his index finger when gunfire erupted. His head shifted to the right. “Go see what’s going on,” he told Thomas. “And Rico, bring Isabel here.” Thomas and Rico pulled their Glocks and headed towards the door. Ray removed the cigar cutter and went around the table, and removed a Sig Sauer from inside his desk.
He pointed at Chris who was rubbing his wrist. “We are not done. Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The second slug shattered his skull, brain matter flicked against the wall as the security guard collapsed to his knees. Moving with purpose, he entered the control booth and hit the button to open the gate. The rain was coming down in sheets. Heavy gray clouds loomed over emptying all they had. The iron gate groaned, revealing its age as it pulled wide. Jack ducked his head back into the truck.
Jack pulled out a wad of notes from his jacket and handed it to Karla.
“Take the truck. Get out of here. Leave Florida, don’t ever come back.”
“But where would I go?”
Jack cast a glance off towards the house. The gravel-covered ground was slowly turning into a mini stream. He could already see several men rushing out looking side to side, disoriented as to where the shots came from.
“Anywhere but here.”
He moved forward ready to do battle.
He tapped the top of the truck, slung the strap of the AK over his shoulder, pulled the Beretta M9A3 from the small of his back and checked the magazine. There were eleven rounds. He tucked it into the front of his pants, pulled the AK around.
“What about you?”
Jack looked back as he entered the grounds. “Go.”
She reversed out fast, tires squealed, a cloud of dirt and grit filling the air as Jack brought up the AK and pressed into the grounds. The mansion itself sat in the center of what could have been described as an oversized baseball diamond. All around it were thick trees.
Bullets snapped past him as he unloaded several rounds at two men carrying nothing more than handguns. He dropped to one knee to steady his shots. With minimal ammo, he needed to make each one count. The first was a chest shot, taking the guy off his feet. His colleague zipped sideways trying to seek cover behind a looming statue of a lion. Jack slipped down to his belly and waited for his head to peek out. Covered in grime and laying in rain water, he unleashed three more rounds before a slug hit its mark. A spray of red mist mixed with concrete was his signal. He rushed forward, staying low and taking advantage of the moment.
Jack hurried through the main doors into the lobby, ducking to the right at the sight of another guy descending the spiral staircase. Jack squeezed the trigger but it just clicked. It was out of ammo. He threw it to one side and dived into the kitchen area and slid across the floor as bullets careened off marble and peppered the walls. A chunk of stone grazed Jack’s face causing it to bleed. Soaked by the rain, he stayed low behind a breakfast counter as a guy came into view with an automatic rifle and unleashed hell. The eruption of bullet after bullet tearing through wood, drywall, concrete and glass was deafening. Glass shattered, pots and pans dropped from above, water gushed from taps and sparks shot out of electrical sockets. Jack pulled the Beretta, inched his way around the corner and fired. A bullet struck the man in the thigh and he squeezed off multiple rounds as he dropped. Another round to the face and he was out. Jack scrambled up, nearly slipping in the process on the water that was now flooding the kitchen. He darted across the room and scooped up the man’s automatic rifle.
“Ray!”
He let out a shout but there was no answer.
Rico tugged at Isabel’s hair, dragging her into the study and locking the door behind him. Chris had been eyeing Ray ever since he had brought that weapon out. Ideally he wanted to end him the first chance he got but if push came to shove he was ready to bolt, if the opportunity arose.
“Get off,” Isabel screamed as Rico tightened his grip on her hair. He threw her in front of Ray like an offering. On her knees she looked up t
o see the barrel of his gun near her face.
For an FBI agent in a life-threatening situation, she wasn’t sobbing, in fact she was belligerent.
“You want to tell your goons to handle a woman the right way.”
Ray stepped forward and crouched down to her level. He placed the gun under her chin and took a hold of her hair.
“Like this you mean?”
“What is going on?”
“That’s right, you haven’t been brought up to speed.”
He released his grip and rose to his feet. “Let’s begin with this. How long have the feds had my operation under surveillance?”
“What?”
He hurried back to her and slapped her across the face. “Don’t make me out to be a fool.”
Chris was in a seated position up against the side wall watching it all unfold. His eyes darted to Rico who had his gun aimed at the main door. Outside they could hear a hail of gunfire that was followed by the cries of men. It even sounded like one of them had been tossed over a railing. His cry echoed for a second, then there was a thud.
Ray tapped the hard muzzle against her head as if trying to knock some sense into her.
“How long?”
“Look, I’m not sure who’s told you what but…”
Ray turned and fired a round into her kneecap. She screamed in agony, grasped her leg and whimpered like a wounded animal. Every few seconds she would bawl hard. Chris looked at Ray. There was no mercy to be found in him. He had killed numerous women before. They were all the same.
“Tell me how long?”
She spat some blood on the floor in front of her. “Months,” she mumbled.
“Months?”
His eyes darted around the room as if trying to figure out a difficult math equation. The fact was, Chris knew what he was thinking. At the very start of their partnership with him they had discussed what would happen in the event that the feds were on to them. It was agreed they would go their separate ways. But the naivety of Ray was that he thought he would never get caught. Jimmie on the other hand had been harping on about getting out from the day he signed on. He’d always been thinking about their exit strategy. That’s why Chris was there, to put an end to Ray, to deal with that bitch of an FBI agent and then join his brothers on a yacht in the Caribbean. But none of that was going to happen if he didn’t take control of the situation.
“Rico, get out there now and take Chris with you.”
Chris rose to his feet. Ray came over and grabbed hold of him by the collar and shoved him towards Rico.
“You want to fix this? Go deal with this shit.”
Chris followed Rico outside into the chaos. He had no intention of getting caught in the crossfire. In his mind, his association with Ray ended the second he laid a hand on him. There were only a few things he would not put up with. A lack of respect was one.
The second the door closed behind them, Chris reached into his back pocket and with a flick of his wrist he extracted a sharp blade. Rico’s eyes were focused on the staircase. As eager as he was to learn who was bringing the war to Ray’s home, he didn’t have time to find out. He edged forward and jammed the sharp steel into the side of Rico’s neck, twisting and holding his head. His jugular spurted blood and he let him drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes to bleed out. Chris scooped up his handgun, turned back towards the door. He placed his hand on the knob and then the idea came to him. He went back to Rico, and ran his hand through the ever-increasing pool of blood that was forming around his head. He wiped it across his face and neck, then rushed back into the study firing behind him as if he was coming under attack.
He saw the sheer panic in Ray’s eyes as he imagined that they were both seconds from being killed. Reaching his side, panting uncontrollably, he stammered that there were too many. Ray lifted his gun towards the door while Isabel lay on the floor gripping her knee. There was blood everywhere. That distraction was all he needed. Within spitting distance, Chris turned the gun on Ray. He didn’t even give him a second to register it. A sudden flash as the bullet left the chamber and Ray hit the ground with a wound to the side of his skull.
Not wasting another minute, he stomped over to Isabel, grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up.
“You’re my way out of here.”
He dragged her back towards the double doors, kicked them open and they burst out onto a stone balcony that overlooked the rear yard. It was a ten-foot drop over the side to the ground. He turned back only for a second at the sound of more gunfire. He was getting closer.
Isabel let out a scream as Chris pushed her over the edge of the balcony. She clung to his arm and fought back.
“Let go, you bitch.”
He wasn’t trying to kill her, he needed to get away from the house and over the side was the only option. A quick jab to the face with the back of his gun and she released and dropped into a mass of bushes. Chris clambered over the edge and took the plunge.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was like hacking his way through a dense jungle, except instead of brush it was armed personnel. When Jack reached the second floor he scanned the hardwood corridor that contained numerous rooms. His eyes fell upon the dead body of one of the men he’d seen with Ray. He’d always been at his side, which meant Ray wasn’t far from him. His boots pounded the floor as he shouldered the automatic rifle, moving it from side to side to scan for potential threats as he passed by closed and open rooms.
He glanced briefly at the lifeless corpse before stepping over it and entering the study. A pool of blood caught his eye initially; it was slightly smeared as if someone had been dragged. Then his eyes saw feet behind the desk. He raced up and found Ray dead. His eyes rolled back in his skull. Blood seeping out of a wound. What the fuck?
Thin white drapes in front of him blew in a cold breeze. Rain assaulted the panes of glass as the storm reached its peak. Ducking outside onto the balcony, he caught sight of them. His stomach dropped as he watched Chris drag her by her hair across the lawn. He brought his weapon up but he knew they were too far away, and even if he could take the shot he didn’t want to risk injuring Isabel. He slung the strap over him and gazed down before hopping over the edge. The ground came up to meet him. Landing with all the prowess of a cougar, he broke into a sprint, swung the rifle around and double-timed it after them.
Jack’s feet slipped against the waterlogged grass. He squinted as rain exploded like musket balls. It plastered his hair to his head and his clothes to his body within seconds. He darted past a small koi pond with a statue of a mermaid in the middle. He fired off a few rounds. Chris twisted around and tried to fire but Isabel threw a fist and knocked him back. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough. He reeled back and slapped her twice, inciting fury in Jack.
They were drawing close to a marble mausoleum that housed the bodies of Mr. Howey, his wife and daughter. Why he chose to step inside was unknown. Peculiar even. Perhaps he thought he couldn’t gain enough ground, or feared Jack would circle around and so this would prevent an attack from behind. Either way he had just made one hell of a mistake.
Jack took cover behind a nearby tree. Spanish moss hanging low from majestic trees provided ample cover.
“Chris!” Jack shouted through the noise of the torrential downpour. “Let her go and nothing will happen to you.”
“Bullshit!” Bullets exploded, snapping past him, several embedding in trees.
“Jimmie has already got the money. Just leave her and go.”
There was no reply this time.
Jack shifted position, darting between the trees.
“She’s useless to you. The cops and feds already know and are on their way here. Think smart. Get out of here now.”
He saw Chris look out. He was nervous, acting erratic.
“This doesn’t have to end with any more bloodshed.”
“Fuck you.”
He unleashed another few rounds, Jack didn’t return fire but kept advancing on the mausoleum. The tricky
part was it was at the center of a circular clearing. Either side were two trees. Certainly not thick enough to provide cover.
The rain began to slow, an eerie quiet fell over the place. The wind caused the trees to sway making a sound like ocean waves.
“Listen, I can get you out of this.”
Laughter erupted. “I’ve heard that before. What are you going to do? Strike up a deal?”
“I’m telling you. If you leave now, you can get out of here before it’s too late. Just let Isabel go.”
Chris fired off a few rounds in his direction, giving him the answer.
“Lay your weapon down.”
“Okay,” Jack wanted to feed into his need to be in control. He tossed the automatic rifle on the ground but kept the Beretta in the small of his back. He’d noticed out of all of the Mitchell brothers Chris had a chip on his shoulder. Not only did he have a taste for violence against women, as evidenced by the welts on Karla’s face, but he had enjoyed going overboard and beating Jack when they had tested him.
This wasn’t a man that was going to go easy.
It was what he saw next that caused him to rush forward. He squeezed the trigger and nothing happened. It was out of ammo.
“Shit!” Chris stammered, pulling Isabel back from the doorway.
When Jack made it to the entrance of the mausoleum with the Beretta in hand, Chris had his arm around Isabel’s throat and the other held a knife behind her ear. They were tucked into one of the back corners. It was dark inside, vines hung above the entrance, cobwebs stretched out in various places.
Jack’s eye went to her bloodied knee. It was torn to pieces by a gunshot wound. Hobbling, and trying to place all of her weight on the other leg just to stay up, tears streaked Isabel’s face; and still a defiant resilience remained even though she had no way of getting out from his grip. Chris kept moving back and forth trying to avoid the aim of Jack’s gun.