Burn Notice: A Key West Thriller (Kelly Maclean Book 2)

by Nate Hawk

  His laugh was quickly overpowered by the noise of a vehicle and five motorcycles pulling into the adjacent parking lot. Just on time, Kelly thought to himself. He saw the Cadillac and figured it was Deluca and Franco. He was surprised when a much shorter and smaller man climbed out of the back along side two men with pistols drawn. They surrounded a black SUV and began looking in the windows.

  “Is this da fug’n SUV?” the medium-built confident man asked the biker that had spoken up earlier.

  “I don’t know. It’s black.”

  “I can fug’n see that! Ya know, there’s a lot of black SUVs in Florida you fug’n twit!”

  That’s when Kelly elaborately stood up and set down the newspaper on the bench. He seemed to look towards the eight men in the parking lot across Garrison Bight Causeway with the false fear of a Hollywood actor.

  One of the bikers spotted Kelly and said, “Hey! That’s him!”

  “Who the fug is “him”?” Basciano snapped.

  “It’s uh…,” he stuttered, realizing he was about to spill the beans about the encounter with the stranger that had caused so much of their trouble. “It’s uh… It’s one of them! Get him!”

  The group began moving towards Kelly. He took off in a mad dash down his boat dock, thankfully not seeing any other people out on their boats. He ran as fast as he could, doing his best to put distance between himself and his pursuers. Meanwhile, the eight other men stormed across the road that separated them. The first biker dared for traffic to hit him as he puffed up his chest and stared down the drivers. The motorists slammed on their brakes nearly causing a pileup. There were several horns that honked but with the combined bulk of the men crossing the road there were no middle fingers given. One man yelled out his window but he knew he was at a safe enough distance to do so. Besides, these beastly looking creatures had their eyes set on destroying someone else.

  Kelly made it to his boat in record time. He hadn’t needed to run very far and he was in good shape so he wasn’t winded. Just past his boat he grabbed at a deck piling with his arm and allowed his body to swing around. He disappeared behind the side profile of his boat just as the men had reached the entrance to the dock.

  “We’re gonna get that asshole,” one man yelled as his adrenaline and testosterone took over. Any ability that he may have had to think clearly at the time was replaced with a chemically enhanced rage.

  As the group of eight men made their way down the dock their pace slowed. The bikers were leading the charge, chomping at the bit to tear apart Kelly like a pack of jackals sizing up an injured gazelle. The two foot soldiers ran next, pistols holstered but looking around carefully. They were more worried about witnesses to what was unfolding than the actual threat that Kelly provided. They’d killed much more menacing looking characters before. In fact, the two men Basciano had killed were monstrosities compared to Kelly.

  Basciano hadn’t run much of the distance. He had carried himself with more of a determined walk. He had more class than to break into an all out sprint on the boat docks. That was what hired help was for. Besides, he didn’t want to get his expensive wing-tips scuffed up or creased or worse, covered in sand. They were already acquiring an annoying coat of white dust from all of the crushed coral that was so prevalent on the island. He knew it was better to hang back; safer too. Basciano’s might have been several physical steps behind but his mind was thinking several steps ahead. He had located a new supplier for his business endeavors the prior week when he’d realized Deluca and Franco were getting sloppy. And then there was the whole ID business and it looked like they were trying to ditch Basciano anyways. He had no current use for them so like any useless items they had been discarded. He couldn’t wait to get the rest of the loose ends tied up so he could get back to running his part of the organization in Miami.

  The five body builders had closed the distance on the large cabin cruiser. They had come to know which one was his from the surveillance two nights before. The big craft was a bit menacing since they weren’t sure exactly where inside Kelly was hiding. They quickly boarded his boat and headed towards the locked entry door that was accessed through the bridge.

  One of the foot soldiers asked a body builder, “How’d you know this is his boat?”

  “Saw the son-of-a-bitch run in there,” he lied. “Besides, you hear the radio? Ain’t nobody else around. He’s in there!”

  Just then Owen terminated the cell phone call, which in turn turned off power to the radio.

  “Wait, you hear that? The mongrel just turned off his radio.”

  The two foot soldiers kept some distance as they watched the events unfold. The underboss eventually caught up with them at his own speed and with his own fashion.

  “We’ve got him surrounded. Let’s kick that door in and drag this sucka out. Wasn’t that him talking about teaching us some manners? We’ll see who the teacher is now!”

  The men had a good laugh as one of them drew back his massive leg in preparation of kicking the door in. He found added confidence in the fact that it was a marine style door that would be much easier to penetrate than some of the residential entries he’d made on shore. His last thought was a common one to him: sheer confidence in his ability to annihilate anything in his path.

  His foot made contact with the door and instantaneously breeched the threshold of the doorway. The explosives that the CIA kill team had positioned, in hopes of killing Kelly and Owen, were in place and armed. As the door swung open the detonator was triggered which in turn set off two pounds of plastic explosives that had been previously taped to a box of nails. The explosion itself would have blown the boat to pieces and caused a brilliant fire but the nails added the necessary shrapnel that provided a kill radius of fifty feet. The body builders were eviscerated into unrecognizable pieces that were cast into the water like fish chum. The bits of their bodies that landed on what was left of the deck and nearby boats would be a wholesome meal for the gulls that had been temporarily scared away by the explosion. The carcass of the boat immediately caught fire sending a column of thick black smoke skyward. It was a mostly windless day and the plume of smoke rose straight up like a big, black middle finger to anyone who had the nerve to mess with the CIA. It said: this is what you get. The inferno burned like the depths of hell, which is where the souls of the men that had perished must surely have gone.

  The two foot soldiers had been just far enough down the dock that the brunt of the piercing shrapnel had not hit them. They’d been peppered with bits of flying debris and the blast had blown them clear of the dock where they had landed in a shocked state of mind within the shallows. The sudden plunge into the water was enough to shake the foot soldiers out of their state of shock. They swam briefly towards the dock and then pulled themselves back up onto the damaged structure in search of their boss. Basciano had been struck with the head of a nail across his right shoulder. It was a shallow wound and Basciano’s primary concern was the damage that had been done to his outfit. The blast had tossed him backwards some but he had landed in relative safety aboard a fishing skiff. As his men climbed aboard the dock so did he.

  “Christ! Wadda fug was dat?” Basciano said in rhetorical disbelief.

  “Come on boss!” one of the men in water soaked suits hollered. “We gotta blaze out of this mess! Cops’ll be here any minute!”

  The black plume of smoke was a smoke-signal, beaconing for first responders. The sirens began to wail and the noise of engines accelerating hard became the theme of the morning. Basciano and his men dashed across Garrison Bight Causeway, lost in their primitive instinct of escape and survival. The images of the exploding men had been seared into their minds. Basciano’s priorities had changed so he wasn’t considering any extra points for fashion or class. He too ran as if his life depended on it. He sure didn’t want to be answering any of law enforcement’s questions. The dead bodies were beginning to pileup in Key West and there was still more killing that would have to be done.

  ***r />
  When Kelly had swung around the piling and disappeared behind the profile of his boat he had given the signal. Owen was watching the charade nervously from across the other side of North Roosevelt Boulevard and he knew exactly what the signal was for. Both men knew their actions had to be carefully choreographed for their plan to be convincing. Owen then quickly dialed his phone and the last thing Kelly heard before sliding into the water was the metallic shriek of a ‘90’s hair-band coming on over the radio that he had prepositioned in his boat. Once under water Kelly began swimming with all his strength back the same way that he had just run. The process wasn’t as fast as he had hoped that it might be as he immediately realized that he must navigate the pilings and underwater cables that held the dock in place. He kept quiet and steadily made progress as he heard the crowd of heavy-footed men shake the dock as they passed over him just a few feet above.

  Kelly heard the heavy footsteps continue as the sounds quickly faded away. Then softer footsteps overtook Kelly, still with the speed and determination of pursuit. Lastly he heard Basciano strolling along like he was out for a Sunday walk. Still under the modest protection of the boat dock, Kelly took another deep breath, submerging his body underneath the water as he propelled himself towards the shoreline. In a motivated manner Kelly quickly arrived to his destination. He was tucked up tight under the entrance ramp to the dock, sitting in years of filthy debris buildup. There was a blanket of driftwood, a smelly old milk jug and some empty bottles of Coke. The entire hidden cavern stunk like sweat and dead fish. Man what I’d give for a cold Coke about now, he thought. Then he waited for what he knew was sure to come.

  When it did, he was as prepared for it as he could be. He had worked on the Boston Bomb Squad and as a Marine in Fallujah so he was an old acquaintance of explosions. Not to mention that big one that he had been in the middle of a year and a half before. Despite his level of preparedness, when this explosion did come it had rocked him to his core, seemingly interrupting his heartbeat and setting it to a different rhythm. The explosion had sheared off pilings and snapped several underwater support cables near what had formerly been his residence. The dock itself had rippled like a snake flailing in a bird’s talons and had temporarily lifted itself up around him several inches. Then it had settled down in the same general spot where it had been moments before, preventing Kelly from obtaining any injuries. Although he wanted nothing more than to run out of the confines of the space that he now occupied, he knew that he must wait to be sure any surviving adversaries were able to make their escape.

  Kelly heard shuffling and the muffled sound of wet footsteps as the men passed above. He stuck his head out of the covered alcove and watched through the underbrush as the men crossed the street and poured themselves into their Cadillac. Hearing the sounds of incoming sirens, Kelly understood time was of the essence. He clambered out of his hidey-hole, onto the dock and past the bushes. The caddy was long gone and there was no sign of Quinn and his men either. Relieved, Kelly trotted over to Megan and Owen, disappearing into the atmosphere of hysteria that had arrived at the marina.

  ***

  Chapter 18

  With the bikers out of the way the next step of the plan was to physically remove any trace of receiving Congressman Swanson’s bribe shipment through Southern Florida Import and Export. Kelly wasn’t exactly sure how many bikers were associated with the organization but the most they’d seen at once was five. He knew there had been some casualties during the first two altercations so they were betting that they wouldn’t run into any more. If they did, it would be one or two of them tops. As Kelly caught up with Owen and Megan, he retrieved his personal belongings that he’d not wanted to have in his pockets when he swam. Satisfied, he eyed his car keys as the three of them walked over to the former lumberyard that still housed Kelly’s car. When he had hidden the car he had kept some of his belongings in there. He found an outfit and quickly changed in the privacy of the stall where his car was parked.

  Freshly dressed and feeling relatively cleansed after the resolution of his biker gang problem, he dug a bit deeper into the rear of his car and came up with a hard-hitting weapon. After spending a lot of time in firefights with an m16, Kelly had felt that he needed a rifle with a bit more punch. He wanted a bullet that would easily penetrate vehicle doors and engine blocks without adding too much weight. He was a big guy after all and he knew that the added weight that this specific caliber rifle usually came with was negligible for a man of his stature. He had a few tricks in mind though to balance the weight difference of the weapon out. It had begun its life as an Imbel FAL rifle chambered in 7.62 x 54. Originally the firearm had a sturdy fixed stock and a heavy twenty-inch barrel. Kelly had ordered a pistol receiver and had paid a shop to disassemble the original rifle, shorten the barrel and turn it into what was technically considered a pistol. But just technically. Sig was now marketing a forearm brace that could act as a stock, giving Kelly the legal equivalent of a short-barreled rifle. Up until this point the firearm had acted more as unnecessary cargo than anything. All he had was Pakistani FMJ rounds, which he was kicking himself for. He doubted that there would be a need for any type of precision shooting on the island but he still wasn’t excited about the ammo. He knew it had a reputation for leaving a dirty residue as it was fired through a weapon. He had his chest rig though and he carried six, twenty-round magazines with which to feed the carnivorous brute. That oughta be enough, he considered to himself. Kelly inserted a magazine into the gun and chambered a round. He carried the rifle in one hand and his battle vest in the other as he placed them within quick reach in the front of his vehicle. It was a different sensation using a new weapon but he welcomed the challenge with excitement. The group loaded up in his car, ever watchful for their enemies that they knew were still lurking somewhere in the thick humidity of the island air.

  “So we currently have no idea where Quinn and his agents are,” Kelly said as he pulled out onto Greene Street and made a quick southerly turn onto Simonton Street. “They obviously know who I am since they planted explosives on my boat in hopes of killing us all. We’ll just make a quick trip past the B&B to drop off Megan.”

  Driving down Simonton Street they quickly made a turn onto Eaton. They didn’t see any suspicious people or vehicles so Kelly pulled over in front of the Artist House and dropped Megan off. Kelly got out and gave her a quick peck on her lips.

  “Would you like me to walk you inside,” he said with a wink and a moderate level of sincerity, hoping that their plan would work.

  “No, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she promised as she looked towards the doorway. “I can make it to the porch by myself,” she quipped.

  “Alright, I lo.. I mean I look forward to seeing you when this is taken care of.”

  Megan had paused ever so briefly after Kelly had started his statement, almost sure that he had almost said the four letter ‘l’ word. She shook it off. They’d known each other for a year and a half but hadn’t spent much time together since he’d been in the hospital. She shrugged off the thought, sure that ‘look’ was truly the word he’d been searching for. Kelly’s mind was on reeling in the CIA killers and eliminating them so that Owen could get on with his life. Then Megan and Kelly could figure out what they wanted to do with the passion that had begun to blossom into something deeper. Kelly jumped back into the car with Owen ready to bust his balls.

  “Lllll… look?” he said with a boisterous laugh. “All of your tongue twisting aside, she’s a really great woman Kelly, who loves you back. When this is all over I hope you two can find enough common ground to properly establish a relationship.”

  Kelly was caught in a rare moment of blushing. He’d slipped up a bit and all three of them knew it. He could feel those dangerous feelings of love floating around inside. He’d always felt a connection to Megan that was deeper than just attraction but the time had never been right. Then, everything had changed the night before. The experience had just seemed so… right. All he
really wanted to do was hold her and be held. It had been so long since he had been with a woman whom he’d cared so much about. In fact, the last time he had was the morning of that tragic day in Boston. Kelly tried like hell to push the thoughts that he was having from his mind. They didn’t need to be passing around vows at the moment with so much danger lurking around them. Kelly’s eyes became slightly red and watery and he let the moment pass in silence as he continued on towards the import warehouse.

  “Man! Did you see that explosion?” Kelly asked. “For a few seconds I though it was gonna get me too!”

  “Well, I saw it take out the bikers. The explosion eviscerated them.”

  “It’s what I needed. The owners of that boat are in South America right now. I rented that boat with cash and paid one of the neighbors who forwarded the payment to the owners.”

  “You sure there’s no paper trail?”

  “As sure as I can be. It’s not like they are going to look for me. Once the police start putting that crime scene together they will think I died in the explosion too. There’s gotta be more DNA at the docks than there would be in Axel Rose’s tour bus!”

  “Well, it sounds like your foresight paid off for you. Guess we’ll see if they hunt you down. But listen… the bikers are gone so let’s get over to the import office. We need to shake down Deluca and Franco to eliminate the shipping and receiving orders with Swanson’s name on it. We’re gonna need that favor from him,” Owen said.