Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7)

by Siegel, Alex

  "Continue the show," he muttered. "I'll get through this somehow."

  Sheryl went back to the center of the stage, turned on her microphone, and said, "We'll start with a shooting demonstration."

  A stagehand wearing black pushed a cart over to her. A tall stack of white plates, a pair of safety goggles, and some other items were on the cart. She slipped on the goggles.

  "Gary," she said, "are you ready?"

  Aaron nodded even though he didn't feel particularly ready.

  A net with a fine mesh was drawn across the stage behind her. She grabbed a plate and tossed it high into the air. He reacted instinctively to the moving target. He drew his gun and fired from the hip. The plate shattered, scattering fragments across the stage and onto the safety net. He was shooting a .38 with low velocity rounds tonight, and the recoil was minimal, but the gun still made plenty of noise.

  She smiled broadly as she began to toss plates in rapid succession. She was trying to challenge him, and he was up for it. He picked off every plate without wasting a shot. The exercise relaxed him and eased his stage fright.

  After the demonstration ended, the audience applauded wildly. Aaron wished they had kept quiet instead. He didn't need to be reminded they were out there.

  He swapped the magazine in his gun for a fresh one.

  "He's spectacular," Sheryl said, "isn't he? Having him on stage is a unique treat for all of us. Let's see if he'll do one more demonstration. A little encouragement, please."

  The audience applauded again. Just get on with it, Aaron thought.

  She picked up a baseball from the cart. She held it high and said, "Some people play baseball with bats. Gary likes to use his gun."

  She lightly tossed the ball at him. He timed his shot so the target was at the peak of its arc. The bullet knocked the ball backwards straight into the net. She turned around and caught the ball on the rebound. She held it up again, showing a bullet hole in the center.

  The applause was even more enthusiastic this time, but it didn't make Aaron happy. He really didn't care whether people liked him or not. The only affection he desired was Marina's.

  "That's enough playing around," Sheryl said. "Let's get down to business."

  A line of strings was lowered from the ceiling, and each string had a rubber clamp hanging on the end. She put a white plate into each clamp and steadied them so they wouldn't swing. The plates formed a straight line.

  She stood at the end of the line. The last plate was just a couple of inches in front of her stomach. It would be impossible to hit the plate and miss her.

  "You may fire when ready," she said boldly.

  There were ways to perform this trick safely. Traditionally, the shooter would use blanks, and tiny explosives would shatter all the plates on cue. Electronic timers would make everything happen simultaneously. Alternatively, a stagehand could strike the targets from above with a pellet gun. The plates were made of unbaked clay and broke very easily.

  Aaron took a deep breath. He was going to do this trick the dangerous, stupid way and use a real bullet. He wanted the audience to see the most realistic effect possible. It had to fool everybody, even the crew.

  He visualized his target. Sheryl was wearing a metal disk under her gown just below her sternum. The disk was only three inches across, and if he missed, a compelling illusion would instantly become tragic reality. She was placing an enormous amount of trust in him.

  He didn't let himself think about it. He smoothly aimed and fired.

  All the plates broke at once. Sheryl's eyes bulged, and she collapsed in a heap. She pressed her fingers against her stomach. Blood oozed out, but that didn't mean she was actually hurt. A big pack of fake blood was taped to the metal disk.

  Members of the audience screamed.

  Marina and Kamal immediately ran onto the stage. They began to go through the motions of checking Sheryl's injuries like real paramedics. Marina gave Aaron a subtle wink. It worked.

  He dropped the gun and pretended to be horrified by what he had done. He ran off.

  His escape route had been planned in advance. He dashed through the narrow back corridors of the casino. He only had a minute before security got organized and tried to stop him.

  He burst into the parking lot behind the casino. It was a warm, humid night, and clouds of insects surrounded the lights. Instead of running away, he hid in a cramped space behind a dumpster. The stench of rotting food turned his stomach.

  Two security guards came out the same door. After a brief hesitation, they split up and headed in opposite directions. Neither of them checked behind the dumpster.

  Aaron waited. The quiet darkness was just what he needed to feel right again.

  A short time later, an ambulance with flashing blue lights came around the corner of the casino. He emerged from his hiding place and climbed into the back. The ambulance immediately pulled away.

  Sheryl was sitting on a stretcher with her legs hanging over the edge. Marina was beside her on a bench.

  "Are you OK?" Aaron said.

  "Yes, sir," Sheryl said, "but it hurt a lot more than I expected. It was like being punched in the gut."

  "That was a light load, too. You're officially dead now. Rest in peace."

  "Won't the police wonder what happened to my body?"

  "Don't worry," he said. "I have contacts in the coroner's office that will take care of it for me. This won't be the first time paperwork got lost and a dead body went missing. My friends in the force will also stall the investigation into your murder, or assign the case to the most incompetent detective."

  "How many contacts do you have?"

  "They're spread all over my territory. Of course, none of them know who I really am. I need a whole file cabinet to keep track of the lies and bribes. That part of my job is a pain in the ass."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe I could help you. I'm good at lying."

  "Indeed." He nodded. "Do you like golf?"

  "I've never played."

  "I have a regular foursome that includes the mayor of Chicago and the chief of police. You can come along next time. I'm sure they'll find you very charming and distracting. You'll hear the dirt that the public never learns about."

  She grinned. "Sounds like fun."

  Chapter Eight

  Tawni was lying in the weeds, and it wasn't comfortable. Insects were crawling across her skin. She couldn't see them in the darkness, but their tiny legs were impossible to ignore. She had to remain perfectly silent, so she couldn't smack them. At best, she could gently brush them off, but some were underneath her body armor.

  The air was thick with humidity. Even though it was night, sweat dotted her forehead. She would've killed for an icy glass of soda.

  She raised her head enough to see the pinball machine factory. All the lights were off, but a half-moon provided sufficient illumination. The brown walls of the factory were just as boring as the first time she had seen them. There was no movement.

  She turned to Smythe. He was lying beside her, and even though he was just two feet away, he was hard to see. He wore a ski cap and face paint with a black and gray camouflage pattern. A loose cloak with the same color scheme covered his body down to his knees. He was so still she couldn't even see him breathing.

  "This is a shitty assignment," she whispered.

  He shrugged. "I've had much worse. I spent years in Afghanistan. At least we're not dehydrated, starving, or baking in the sun."

  It was a good point. She decided to stop complaining.

  Norbert was lying on his back and sleeping. The whole team didn't need to watch the factory at once, so they were taking naps in turns. Tawni had another half-hour to go before she would be allowed to sleep.

  A car pulled into the parking lot.

  She furrowed her brow. "Late night security?"

  "Possibly," Smythe said.

  A man got out of the car. He turned on a flashlight and shined it in all directions.

  Tawni and Smythe
ducked into the weeds until the danger passed.

  The man opened the front door of the factory with a key, and he went inside. He didn't turn on the lights.

  Another car arrived a moment later and parked next to the first. This driver also had a flashlight. He quickly went into the darkened factory.

  "Strange," Smythe said.

  A third and a fourth car drove into the parking lot. Those drivers repeated the pattern.

  "A secret meeting?" Tawni said.

  "Wake up Norbert," Smythe said.

  She touched Norbert's shoulder. His hand whipped around and grabbed her wrist with an iron grip. He squeezed hard enough to hurt.

  "Relax," she whispered. "It's me."

  He released her and opened his eyes. "Sorry."

  "Look."

  He rolled over and propped himself up with his elbows to get his eyes above the weeds.

  Three more cars parked next to the others while he watched. All the new arrivals carried flashlights. They entered the dark factory without speaking to each other.

  "Maybe these are the guys that make the monkey machines," Norbert said. "The night shift."

  "We have to check it out," Smythe said. "Tawni, take pictures of the cars. Make sure the license plates are in sharp focus. Norbert, sneak in for a closer look. I'll patrol the perimeter and watch your backs. Keep your phones handy. You can use them to track our positions so we don't kill each other by mistake."

  A gray duffle bag was on the ground with them. Tawni rooted around until she found a small camera. It was designed to operate in very low light conditions.

  She crouched down as she worked her way towards the parking lot. A line of trees and brush provided some cover. She tried to walk silently, but it was hard to accomplish under these conditions. Grass and small sticks kept crunching under her feet. Silent movement was one of the many skills that Aaron was trying to teach her. Even though the man was much bigger than her, he could move like a ghost.

  Tawni heard another twig snap, and this one wasn't her fault. The sound had come from behind her. She dropped flat on her belly and squirmed under a bush.

  She looked out through the leaves at the landscape. The moonlight passing through the trees cast long shadows. There were too many good places for an enemy to hide. She remained still and watched for the slightest movement. Patience and discipline were major themes in Aaron's lessons.

  Finally, she saw a shift in the darkness near a bush. Somebody was hiding there. She took out her phone and opened the tracking app. Smythe and Norbert's positions were displayed over a satellite image background, and neither location corresponded to where she was looking.

  Tawni considered pressing the emergency button on her phone. She liked to think of herself as a fearless fighter, but she knew that wasn't really the case. It took at least a year of rigorous daily training to turn a recruit into a fully competent legionnaire, and her career had just begun. Honest self-assessment was yet another of Aaron's favorite lessons.

  However, she wasn't ready to press the panic button yet. Body armor covered her torso, and it would stop any bullet short of a high-power sniper round. She also had an assortment of weapons including a razor sharp sword strapped to her thigh. Camouflage covered her from head to toe. If her adversary wanted to dance, she was properly dressed for the occasion.

  She needed to draw him out, which meant using herself as bait. She looked around. She spotted a tree with low branches that she could climb easily.

  She dashed across a clearing to reach the tree. Her footsteps were intentionally loud, and the moonlight made her easy to see. She ran past the tree until she reached the cover of a big bush. Much more carefully, she circled back to the tree. She climbed very slowly so the branches wouldn't shake until she was about ten feet off the ground. Finally, she drew a gun.

  A figure was moving towards her position. It was a big man wearing all black clothes, but the whites of his eyes were visible. He was carrying a compact assault rifle with a suppressor. Clearly, he wasn't an ordinary rent-a-cop.

  Tawni took out her phone and called Smythe. The phones were set to vibrate, so she wasn't worried about making noise.

  "Yes?" he whispered.

  "I need backup."

  "On my way."

  She clipped her phone to her belt.

  The man in black stopped near the tree and looked around. He was searching for her.

  She pointed her gun down at his head. In a clear voice, she said, "Drop the weapon. Hands in the air. Don't move."

  He looked up at her. Streaks of black paint marked his face.

  He abruptly rolled to the side and brought his gun around. With a little squeak of surprise, she leapt off the branch she was standing on. She heard a rain of bullets strike the wood behind her.

  Her landing was painfully awkward, but she didn't stop moving. She returned fire. A suppressor kept the noise down to loud clicks and hisses. She couldn't tell whether she had hit her target.

  The parking lot was directly ahead. She sprinted towards the nearest car, weaving as she ran. She slid across the hood of the car and fell to the ground on the other side.

  She peeked under the car to find her enemy. Her heart was pounding in her chest. As her eyes searched the shadows, she wondered how she could've handled that situation better. Why hadn't the guy just followed her instructions?

  Her phone vibrated.

  She put it against her ear and whispered, "Hello?"

  "You killed him," Smythe said. "Come back over here."

  Tawni cautiously returned to the tree. Pain in her right knee bothered her, but it wasn't enough to slow her down. Smythe was crouched over a body on the ground. In the poor light, she saw the man had a bullet hole in his forehead.

  Lucky shot, she thought.

  "What happened?" Smythe whispered.

  She gave him a quick description of the fight.

  "You're OK?"

  "I tweaked my knee," she said, "but it's not bad."

  "You want me to fix it?"

  "Let me try to walk it off."

  He shrugged. "Your choice. Why did you jump?"

  "He was going to shoot me."

  "You could've shot him first. There was no reason to risk an injury by throwing yourself out of a tree. When you point a gun at a guy, be prepared to pull the trigger."

  "I guess I panicked." She looked down in embarrassment.

  He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Lesson learned."

  The dead man had a military radio headset. Smythe put the radio on his own head and listened intently.

  "Hear anything?" Tawni said.

  "Shh."

  She waited silently.

  "They're speaking Russian," he said after a minute. "I can't understand a word. I wish Marina were here. She's fluent in Russian."

  "No English at all?"

  "No." He pulled off the radio. "Go take those pictures. Hopefully, the camera isn't broken. I'll search this body for more clues."

  The camera was in her pocket. She checked, and it seemed intact.

  She went back to the parking lot. A wooden sign offered a convenient shadow, and she hid there while she snapped plenty of pictures. An ultraviolet flash was invisible to her eyes, but she heard the bulb popping every time she pressed the button. She checked the pictures to confirm they were in sharp focus. Bethany and Leanna would be able to identify the owners of the cars.

  Tawni noticed a shifting patch of darkness on one side of the building. She could tell from the fluid way it moved that it was Norbert. He could twist his body like a gymnast despite his bulky muscles.

  More movement drew her eye to the other side of the building. Another man in black with an assault rifle was coming around the corner. He seemed to be on patrol. This security is hardcore, she thought.

  She called Norbert.

  "What is it?" he said.

  "Trouble. Fifteen seconds."

  She watched him leap, climb the wall, and grab the edge of the roof with his fingers
. He pulled himself up in a flash. She was jealous of his athletic prowess, but she knew he had earned it with countless hours of training.

  The man on patrol passed beneath Norbert, oblivious to the danger. Norbert dropped like an owl taking a mouse. It didn't even qualify as a fight. He carried off the body without making any noise.

  Tawni called Smythe to tell him what had happened. The whole team regrouped about a hundred yards down the road. They found a ditch which had a thick screen of brush all around. The unconscious body of the guard was placed on the damp, black dirt. He was short but solidly muscular.

  "Thanks for the heads up," Norbert said.

  "You're welcome," Tawni said. "Did you see anything through the windows?"

  "No." He shook his head. "It was too dark."

  "What about the flashlights?"

  "I didn't see those, either. It was like the workers had disappeared."

  The team searched the guard, but they couldn't find any identification or even a wallet. He had two guns, a knife, and a radio headset though, and these were tossed deep into the brush.

  "I didn't find much on the other one, either," Smythe commented. "These guys don't want to be identified." He used some rope to bind the guard's hands and feet.

  "Other one?" Norbert said.

  Tawni explained what had happened.

  "I'll stay and watch the prisoner," Smythe said. "You two go back to the factory and try to get a peek inside. Those workers didn't just disappear. Stick together."

  Norbert and Tawni walked back up the road. With practice, she had become a little better at moving quietly. The main trick was checking the ground with her foot before putting her weight on it. She was trying hard, but she was still a lot noisier than Norbert.

  "How do you want to do this?" she whispered.

  "I'm not sure."

  "What are the rules of engagement?"

  "This is still just an investigation," he said. "We're not supposed to kill anybody until we know God's enemies are involved."

  "But I already killed somebody."