To The Lions - 02

by Chuck Driskell

  * * *

  “Hey there, Capitana,” Gage said.

  Her head was slightly tilted to the side as she slept, her hands resting on a clean white sheet that covered most of her body. From across the room she looked fine but, as Gage stepped closer, her skin still showed lingering scratches from their marathon day. All things considered, other than her leg that was held in traction, Angelines de la Mancha looked damn good.

  “I’m no longer la capitana,” she murmured, her large eyes fluttering open. She extended her left hand and Gage took it. Justina’s footsteps could be heard walking away.

  Angelines motioned to the door. “Does she think you and I…?”

  “No,” Gage replied. “I assured her.”

  She gave his hand a little tug. “Well, there’s still time and this bed is very soft.”

  Gage couldn’t help but enjoy her bawdy humor, finding her similar to many of the people he’d been in service with. His smile quickly faded. “So, will you stand trial?”

  “My attorney knew they wouldn’t want that.”

  “And?”

  “Provided I agree to all their conditions, which mainly revolve around silence, he thinks I’ll only do a year. And there will be a stipend for my son and my mother, plus tuition and expenses for his university.”

  “You can do a year standing on your head,” Gage repeated.

  “Yeah,” she laughed weakly. “Supposedly, I’ll get my own little suite, an aposento, and can even have male visitors on the weekends.” She squeezed his hand. “You remember that if you and your lady don’t make it.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, with Gage telling her all he knew.

  “So, who were the men with Xavier?”

  “Mercs.”

  “What?”

  “Mercenaries. Americans. Hell, I knew one of them.”

  She covered her mouth.

  “Some people will do anything for money.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “Colonel Hunter told me.”

  “And what about Justina? Is she okay?”

  “Luckily, yes. She’s lucky that sicko didn’t O.D. her, though.” Gage tapped his Timex. “Unfortunately, I have to leave in a few minutes.”

  She looked away for a moment before refocusing on Gage. “If there had been no Justina, would you have had interest in me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “I’m not. But I don’t think we’d make it long-term.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He smiled as he patted the back of her hand. “Of the few women I’ve dated for any length of time, none of them were anything like you.”

  She cocked her eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You’re type-A, Angelines. We’d have fun for a week or two before we killed each other.”

  She smiled with him. “But what a fun week or two that would be.”

  He nearly responded but instead averted his eyes.

  “Where will you go?” she asked.

  “Back to the States.”

  “Why the rush?”

  “My agreement provides that I will never set foot in Spain again.”

  “Right. And you always follow the rules, don’t you?”

  A period of silence ensued. It was the uninhibited type, when both people had other things to say but they knew there was no real point in saying them. The entire time, Angelines continued to massage his hand with hers.

  Finally, Gage said two words. “Cortez Redon.”

  He watched as she nestled her head back into the pillow, eyeing the ceiling as her nostrils flared. “I’m trying not to dwell on it.”

  “What happened?”

  Her large eyes flashed to his. “You’ve heard nothing?”

  “I’ve asked about him a dozen times but they’ve stonewalled me.”

  She nodded. “And they’ve questioned me about him a number of times but won’t tell me anything.”

  “Did you see him again on the beach?”

  She shook her head. “After you were taken away, I’d told the policemen about Cortez being handcuffed in the truck and, a few minutes later, one of the cops came back and said the steering wheel was gone from the truck.”

  “And you left the bonds in the truck?” he asked.

  “Yes. Because he was handcuffed securely.” She shook her head. “You should have killed him when you had a chance.”

  “Thought you were done with that kind of life.”

  “He’s an exception.” She gave his hand a final squeeze, letting it go and giving him a little shove. “Go on now; live up to your agreement.”

  Gage stood above her, making a fist. “Be strong, Angelines. And do it right from here on out.”

  An impish grin came over her face. “Did you meet Fabian Molina?”

  “My buddy,” Gage said monotone.

  “He’s my ace in the hole.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a few things on Señor Molina. Very, very bad things from what I remember. But I haven’t decided, yet, if I want to play the angle.”

  “Has your agreement been finalized?”

  Still grinning, she shook her head.

  “Do I even want to know?” Gage asked.

  “No,” she laughed. “Just know that, if I decide to make a few calls, there’s a video of him ‘cavorting’ that he will not want getting out.”

  “Bona sort,” Gage said, kissing her on her forehead.

  An hour later, after making numerous promises to Señora Moreno, Gage, Justina and Colonel Hunter departed Spain on a well-appointed Dassault Falcon 7X.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands - Eight months later

  The incoming guard force arrived through the back of the compound, mustering per S.O.P. in the maintenance garage. Leaving his own force in place until each station was relieved, Gage Hartline, limping ever so slightly, came around the corner, walking to the rear of the garage, away from the guards. Standing there was his counterpart. Gage handed him the small hand radio and the binder containing all guests, vendors, possible threats and contingency plans.

  “Nothing to report?” the night commander, a former Sayeret Matkal commando—a part of Israel’s special forces—asked.

  Gage leaned against the Bentley, rubbing the shin of his still-healing left leg. “Just after we came on this morning, we had a perimeter motion detector flash on us. Turns out it was a huge bird. She was circling around later and then we saw her working on a nest in the tallest royal palm beside the home.”

  “Great. We may have to adjust the sensitivity if she keeps landing.”

  “Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “What’s his mood today?”

  “Didn’t say too much, but seemed happy about something.”

  “The missus?”

  “Same old tricks. As soon as he left for meetings in town, she went out to the pool and dropped all her clothes, parading around for everyone to see before she sunbathed for three straight hours. Later she asked Trillio if he could come inside and help her ‘adjust the shower head’.”

  “You didn’t let him?”

  Gage straightened and made sure he hadn’t left a mark on the Bentley. “I called in a plumber, a very obese plumber.”

  Once the positions had been assumed, Gage handed his counterpart a letter.

  “What’s this?”

  “My resignation,” Gage breathed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give a notice.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. My forwarding address is in there, too. Will you pass it on to the boss?”

  “Sure will.” The night commander eyed Gage. “Where you headed?”

  “Someplace I’ve been waiting to go, to see someone I’ve been waiting to see.” Gage winked. “I’m going to serve someone a very cold dish.”

  It took a moment, but the night commander soon connected the dots. He shook Gage’s hand and wishe
d him luck.

  Gage found his small guard force waiting on him and, together, they walked down the rear drive. There, in a concealed strong box, they each deposited their weapons. Outside the gate, Gage bade the group farewell, not telling them that he was leaving for good.

  Gage didn’t like goodbyes.

  The group of capable men, happy to be done for the day, ambled down the hill, toward Bodden Town, where they would collectively catch the 6:15 bus back into George Town. Gage, however, ascended, cresting the hill in the exclusive, Beverly Hills-styled enclave, finding Justina just over the other side in their tiny red Ford.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, he leaned over and kissed her, removing his tie and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. Gage wouldn’t wear another tie for some time.

  “Good day?”

  “Yes,” Justina answered. “I spoke to my mother and my brother is doing very well. They have him on an experimental medicine and it’s helping.” She smiled.

  “Outstanding,” Gage said, kissing her again.

  “How was your day?”

  “Uneventful, thankfully. With what we’ve got planned, I couldn’t focus and definitely did not earn my pay.”

  “Where was the aging pop star?”

  “He was in town managing his fortune, or so he told us. Fortunately he didn’t want me to go with him.”

  “And did she take off her clothes?”

  Silence.

  “Did she?”

  “Yeah,” Gage breathed.

  “Dziwka,” Justina snapped. “Did you look?”

  “Of course not.” He pushed Justina’s sun-bleached blonde hair back, rubbing the backs of his fingers on her cheek. “How about your day?”

  “I ran this morning. Ran again this afternoon.”

  “If I ever fully heal up, it’s gonna be hell catching up to you.”

  “I had to keep my mind occupied. Like you, I’m anxious about tonight. This has been six months of planning and waiting.”

  “Waiting comprises nine-tenths of my job.”

  “Why did we wait so long, Gage?”

  “I wanted to heal up. Work for a few months. Clear my head.”

  “And is it clear?”

  He kissed her for his answer. “You ready?”

  “Tak,” she answered in her native tongue. “Oh, and are we eventually going after that Air Force man that tracked the satellite phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Colonel Hunter will let me know. That asshole’s still in Spain.”

  “Does the asshole know that you know?”

  “He has no idea. That payback is going to be dessert.”

  “And tonight is the main course?”

  “Are you positive you want to do this?” he asked. “I could go in alone.”

  “Hell no.”

  Gage ran through the threats, trying to find even one that would give him enough pause to delay this operation. He couldn’t. Instead, he slapped the dashboard and said, “Let’s go do it.”

  They drove for about a half-hour, to the area at the north end of the island informally known as Turtle Beach. They talked about the operation the entire way.

  “What happens afterward?” she asked.

  “It’ll be a fluid situation.”

  “That’s one of those colloquial-whatevers,” she said, twirling her hand as she couldn’t find the word. “I have no idea what ‘fluid situation’ means.”

  “It means that we’ll make it up as we go along.”

  “Like you typically do,” she said, smiling.

  “Correct.”

  Just like they had planned, they parked in the rear lot of a charming condominium complex. The condos were similar to those found in the United States, especially beachside, painted gray and two stories, the units side by side. There were lots of slanted angles and accents of shaker shingles. Massive clumps of pampas grass grew at the walkup to each unit and, across from them, right where he expected it to be, the nearly new cherry red BMW 335i gleamed in the setting sun.

  “What now?” Justina asked.

  Gage lifted his sleeve, glancing at his Timex. “We wait. And if he doesn’t make the call, then we wait for another night.”

  “Doesn’t he call every Monday?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you call our friend today?”

  “She’s waiting by her phone.” Gage placed a special cellular phone of his own on the dash of the Ford. They settled in.

  People came and went. Gage and Justina watched with amusement as a long-haired couple in their sixties furtively smoked what must have been at least two joints on their balcony. Then, after night had fallen, the cell phone finally chirped. Gage opened the third-party phone he’d paid a small mint for, holding his finger over his mouth as he listened. After a minute, he turned off the phone.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It’ll be a half-hour. Finish up your getup.”

  “Why do you have to intercept the hooker?”

  “I don’t want her stumbling into what we’ve got planned.”

  While they waited, Justina applied heavy makeup and donned a wig. Thirty-five minutes later, a George Town taxi appeared, a mini-van. It stopped near the BMW.

  “Stay here and wait,” Gage commanded.

  When the woman exited the taxi, Gage spoke to her. There was a brief conversation before she walked with him over to the Ford.

  “And all you have to do is take my money and call another cab,” Gage said.

  The woman, a striking ebony escort, stared at the thick wad of bills in Gage’s hand. “And this is only because your girl here wants to hook up with him?” she asked in what sounded like a Jamaican accent.

  Justina exited, holding her hands over her heart. “I’ve wanted him for so long.”

  “Him?” the escort asked, having obviously come here before. “We are talking about the same man?”

  “He’s the man of my dreams.”

  The escort finally shrugged, snatching the money away. “The longer I live, the less surprised I am by what people are into.”

  Gage had stepped a few feet away. He ended his call and said, “I called you a taxi. It’ll be right over there by the entrance in about five minutes.”

  The escort lit a long cigarette, winking at Gage. She tucked the money down into her moon-lit décolletage. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Before the escort ambled away, Justina asked her for a cigarette, accepting a light but not inhaling. When they were alone, Gage cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “To help obscure my face,” she said. Justina slid on her aviator-style sunglasses, strutting up the walkway as Gage entered the breezeway from the rear of the building, concealing himself just out of sight.

  “I’m nervous,” she whispered as she stared at the red door.

  “Don’t be,” Gage said. “This will be nothing but sheer fun.”

  After a final deep breath, Justina rang the doorbell. She held the cigarette to her lips, standing back to give the condo owner a full view. The bolt shot. As the door opened, the man was already talking, his voice dripping with disgust.

  “…going to quit using your damned service. I was very clear about wanting an African woman tonight.”

  “Hello, Cortez,” Justina said, lowering the cigarette and pulling her sunglasses off.

  Cortez Redon, living under the alias of Julian Cirrosa, gaped at her. Though he probably looked vibrant on a normal day, with his deep tan, an open silk shirt, linen shorts and expensive flip-flops, right now he was the picture of terror.

  “My name is Julian,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t you remember your real name?” she asked, tugging the wig off.

  Just then, Gage stormed around the corner and grabbed Redon by his neck.

  The two men ended up on the sofa with Gage straddling the little man. The barrel of Gage’s pistol, a handsome Ruger P95, was inside Redon’s mouth. Behind Gage, Justina
locked the door, striding in and sitting demurely across from the scene.

  Gage eased the pistol out of the Spaniard’s mouth and spoke over his shoulder. “Make the call.”

  Justina dialed a long number on her mobile phone. “Hola, Señora. I know it’s late there but I assume you’ve been waiting up for us.” She listened for a moment, smiling. “Yes, we’re inside and little Cortez is here, right here in front of me. Do you have a message for him?” She nodded. “Let me put you on speaker.” Justina touched the screen of her phone.

  “Cortez?” came the voice over the speaker.

  Redon was wide-eyed but silent. Gage rapped him on top of his head with the pistol. “Answer her.”

  “Y-y-yes?” Redon said, rubbing his head.

  “Cortez, Mister Hartline and Miss Kaminski are under my employment now. They’re there to retrieve something of mine.”

  The famous painting known as “The Scream” was a good representation of Redon’s face at that moment.

  “Gage, dear?”

  “Yes, Señora Moreno?”

  “Help Cortez remember where he put my money. I’ll hold the line and listen.”

  Gage handed the pistol to Justina. He then shed his suit coat and cracked his knuckles as he stared at Redon with balled fists. “You ready, hombrecito?”

  Cortez Redon soiled himself.

  THE END

  NOTE – I hope you enjoyed this book. Whether you did or didn’t, would you mind writing a quick review at Amazon? It can be as short as a line or two. Doing so will assist with Amazon’s search feature and will help other customers decide if TO THE LIONS is right for them. I appreciate your help and your support! Please read on for acknowledgments.

  To The Lions is my first effort at writing a series. I hope you enjoyed it. After reading The Diaries, so many readers requested a series built around Gage Hartline. Honestly, creating a series was never something that appealed to me but, after writing this “sequel”, I now know it was enjoyable—at least from my end. Please let me know if you want more of Gage.

  As always, my books are highly-contrived and not to be taken seriously. Factual and grammatical errors surely exist, and all of them lie solely with me.