by J. A. Marley
“You always wanted to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. To meet your precious maker. Next time we see each other? It’ll be in hell.”
And June shot him again. This time in the head.
Ines walked over to her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Señora, it is time to finish business.”
“Harkness…”
“He is gut shot. He will die anyway. To business. The shots… they will have been heard.”
Danny knew it was his turn. But the gun wasn’t pointed at him. Instead, it was placed against the black bag over Amparo’s head. She fell to her knees. June simply adjusted the angle of the gun.
“The money, Danny. The money. Where is it? Tell us and you live and she lives.”
Ines joined in. “You are in no position to argue, Señor.”
Danny looked at both of them and then calmly raised his hand into the air and made a thumbs-up gesture.
Ciaran acted on his cue.
The shot rang out and struck the ground at Ines’s feet. Shock flashed across her face, and June took an involuntary step backwards. The bodyguards started to make a move, but Ines held her arm up.
“No, Ines, I still have skin in this game.”
Danny’s thumbs-up had been their agreed signal. It meant a shot across the bows, a warning shot. After that, the killing was to start on the second thumbs-up.
“My men will kill you, and her.”
“But you won’t know where the money is, and you’ll all die in the trying. Believe me, if my friend had wanted to make his shot count, he would have.”
June looked confused. “That’s not how this ends, Danny. I didn’t go through all of this for nothing.”
“I’m not suggesting you did, June. But I have achieved what I wanted out of this, or, at least, you helped me do it.” He gestured towards Harkness who was passed out on the ground next to them. “I’m a businessman. I am happy to make you a deal.” Danny was looking at Ines now.
“Do you realise who you are crossing, Señor? We are a cartel for a reason.”
“No, you crossed me. You all were happy to have me do the dirty work, but I know Harkness had sold my ass to you for afterwards. I know June here fucked my brains out and then expected me to roll over, do her bidding like a puppy. I wanted none of this.”
Ines considered him for a second. “Terms?”
“There was seventeen million in the take. You can have half of it back.”
Ines snorted at him.
“It’s my only offer.”
“We will kill you, and your friend.”
“No. No, you won’t, because this is business. I’m not the first person to try and rip you off, and I won’t be the last. You will be busy with another Harkness or Danny Felix in six months’ time. If your bosses don’t kill you first. You could tell them that whilst you killed Harkness and Vincent, the money was never found. Your bosses will say you did the right thing. It is important to send a message that says don’t fuck with us, even if the money disappeared. And then, you get to pocket the eight and a half million I’m offering you. It’s the only deal on the table.”
“And what about me, Ines? What about our deal?” June looked panicked.
“You were going to steal from me. I let you kill the men you wanted to kill. Be grateful you lived long enough to do it.”
“You fucking bitch.”
The bodyguards raised their guns in unison, all of them trained on June.
“Ah, ah… June, stop and be sensible for a moment.” Danny pointed at her. She stopped.
“What if I take your deal, señor? My guards here, they will know the truth.”
Danny knew she would say it. He had discussed the possibility of it with Ciaran.
He stuck a thumb in the air and then dropped to one knee. He shot the two immediately behind Ines with ruthless efficiency, a military-style double tap. Ciaran took out the one next to Amparo. The guard’s head exploded like something from a horror film, and then, Ciaran popped another as he tried to dive behind one of the cars. The bullet caught him in between the shoulder blades and punched him into the dirt. The last guard came at them, raising his TEC-9, screaming in Spanish, when June stepped into the fray once more. She shot him twice in the chest, the impact dumping him onto the ground, his chin slumping onto his chest, leaving him to look like a sulky child in death.
The last guard, the one who had come with Ines, was thinking about starting in. Ines held her hand up.
“Solecito! No! You stay with me.”
The guard, an obvious favourite of hers, did as he was told. Danny also raised his arm in the air.
“That makes this a much more even negotiation. It’s almost like a proper business deal.” Danny chuckled darkly.
“You are an impressive thief, Señor Felix.”
“I try, señora. The casualties will make your story look plausible. And now, I will make a further compromise. Leave June with me.”
June’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck…”
“I will look after her from my take. She can walk away. She didn’t start this. Vincent did. Me, my sniper friend, June and Amparo. We all walk.”
“When will I get the money?”
“Three days. Hand delivered to your suite at the Delano.”
“That’s a long time, señor. A lot of trust.”
“Would you trust me more if I told you I didn’t steal it?”
“Que?”
“Never mind. You’ll get your money. Trust me. I could have killed you, or at least had you killed, in the last five minutes. I may be a thief, but I’m not a preacher. You can take me at my word.”
Ines stepped forward and shook his hand. “We have a deal, Señor Felix. Do not let me down.”
“I won’t, señora.”
“Have you ever been to Mexico, señor?”
“No.”
“Really? I could have sworn you were a Culiacán dog, just like me.”
“English through and through, and I have no plans to visit your homeland…”
“Nunca! Never say never, Señor. Solecito, we will take Vincent and Harkness’s bodies. Vamos.”
“Come on, June. Help me.”
Once he had removed the duct tape wrapped around Amparo’s ankles and taken the black bag off her head, he could see that she had indeed been gagged, too. There was no gentle way to remove the tape over her mouth, he told her so and then yanked it off as quickly as he could. He then freed her arms, and instantly, she began to flail at him, punches, kicks, a stream of invective pouring from her in Spanish. He took every blow, every kick and every punch until she eventually dissolved into his arms, tears pouring from her.
Danny eventually walked her and June back towards a stolen Chevy Suburban. “June, do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes.”
She handed it to him, and he handed it to Amparo.
“Here, can you remember your friend’s number?”
“Cheryl? Yes…”
“Call her, get her to meet us on Collins Avenue, Miami Beach.”
She made the call as he drove there. The nightlife was in full swing, the traffic slow. Forty-five minutes later, he could see Cheryl approaching.
He stopped the car and asked June to hold on a second.
He went around and opened the passenger door of the car, helping Amparo out.
“You were right. Amparo. I am too far gone to have any chance of anything normal in my life. I’m toxic. I put you at risk with a daydream of a relationship. You won’t believe me, but for that, I will be eternally sorry.”
She could only stare at him.
“Go back home, or go to a station house, raise the alarm, do whatever you think is best. But you won’t catch me and you won’t ever see or hear from me again. Cheryl will look after you for now.”
“You… you. All those people. Shots… death…”
“You’re probably in shock, Amparo. I’m sorry. I have to get back to my life now, whatever that is.”
He kissed the t
op of her head and climbed back into the car as Cheryl rushed to grab her, both of them crying.
Danny drove away. It was the hardest thing he had done in his entire life.
As he drove, it was June’s turn to rail at him.
“What the fuck’s going on? You patronising wanker. I don’t need your white fucking knight act. I had a deal with Zedillo.”
“Shut the fuck up, June, and listen.”
“Who do you think you are? I—”
“Shut up and listen. I just saved your life. Zedillo wanted heads. Yours would have been one of them. Mark my words, Vincent’s head will be found on Miami Beach tomorrow morning. As will Harkness’s. They will want to send a message. Don’t fuck with the cartel.”
“And what? You don’t know what she and I had agreed. She let me kill the two of them. She would have stood over…”
“You were entertainment, June. To her, you were a woman scorned whose anger could do the dirty work for her. Listen, here is what’s going to happen. I’m putting you on a boat—”
“A fucking boat?”
“Yes… a boat to the Dominican Republic. You need to stay fucking low for at least a year before you try coming back to the United States or anywhere else the cartel has reach. If you stay where I have arranged, then you will be sent money… at least a million.”
“What? Why the fuck are you doing this? Why should I trust you?”
“Because, I owe you. Because you brought me the opportunity to put Harkness down. And even better than that, you then did it for me.”
She fell silent for a minute, taking it all in, until another question formed in her eyes.
“Go on… ask. I can tell you want to know something.”
“What did you mean, back there? About you didn’t steal the money.”
“We didn’t.”
“What? What does that even fucking mean?”
“The money. It’s still there, at the convention centre. And it will be for at least another forty-eight hours until the police are finished trying to work out who killed those security guards and the preacher. Mind you, Harkness’s head turning up will help. But the money? It’s still on site… but no one realises it. Now, settle back. We have to meet Ciaran, and it’s going to be a forty-minute drive to get there.”
They travelled in silence, until just before they arrived at the rendezvous point. June turned to look at Danny. “You’re right. If it had been me, I’d have killed me too. Ines would have had my head on a stick.”
“No doubt.”
“But, as it turns out, I was right all along.”
Danny cocked an eyebrow at her. “You. You were a Godsend all along.”
Epilogue
Forty-eight hours after the robbery, the police began to allow access to the convention centre again. This meant the resumption of business, including delivery of supplies. There was a show the following week, some YouTuber was holding an event. Mass crowds were expected, kids showing up to see another kid tell them stuff they already knew. And a lot of soda would be drunk.
The big rig that showed up with its tautliner trailer full of Coca-Cola was driven by a man who had been delivering such loads up and down the Florida Coast for many years. He had delivered to everywhere. Hotels, restaurants, the convention centre and even a place called Woody’s down in the Keys.
With a minimum of fuss and a little paperwork, he drove away the old trailer filled mostly with empty soda canisters and small vats. Plus, just over seventeen million in dollars.
Nobody ever thought to take a look inside the trailer. Just as Danny had wagered.
“D’ye think she’ll stay put?”
Ciaran and Danny were in a Denny’s in Louisiana. The money had been delivered and divided out amongst the players. They’d then made their way north and west, seeing where the wind would blow them.
“Who?”
“June… the preacher woman…”
“Some vicar’s wife!”
They both laughed.
“I dunno. My friends will tell me. If she does, we’ll send her some money. When I say we, I mean I’ll have my lawyer to do that.”
“Feck me… trusting a lawyer. Ye can’t even trust the preachers these days.”
“And what about you, Ciaran? Isn’t your mammy expecting you?”
“Ah, she’s grand. I’ve sent her a few quid, she’ll be all right. I have seven brothers and three sisters there to look after her.”
“Okay. What do you think you’ll do? You’re a bit richer, now.”
Ciaran put the last bite of syrupy waffle in his mouth and washed it down with a slug of coffee before he answered. “I’m going to stick wit’ ye. Ye need looking after more than me Mammy. What with the broken heart and the shit fits and all dat you got going on.” He punched his friend on the shoulder and winked.
Danny responded with a rueful smile but he kept his thoughts to himself. Shit fits? Well, they’ve not surfaced for a week or so now. But the broken heart? That one will never mend.
“Awww, feck.”
“What?”
Ciaran handed Danny the newspaper he’d been reading over breakfast. He poked the page, pointing to an article on the bottom half of the front page.
It was a gruesome story. A head was found by a tourist on the shore in Miami Beach.
Danny read one line aloud. “The decapitated head is believed to belong to the preacher Vincent Cardell who, along with his wife, have been missing since their Miami mission was robbed last month.”
Danny repeated his friend’s earlier sentiment. “Aw, fuck.”
There was only a mention of one head. Where was Harkness’s?
Amparo spent days giving endless statements and pleading to be allowed on the taskforce investigating what the press had begun to call “The Bible Bandits”. But her requests were refused amid rumblings of conflict of interest and questions as to why the perpetrators had chosen to kidnap her in the first place. She had been careful as to how she characterised her relationship with Danny. They had taken her word at face value, but she knew that their concerns remained.
She knew then and there that her career in Florida law enforcement was over, and she cursed all the times she had joked with her friend about the sexy Brit with his funny accent. He had taken her career at home away from her and, at some level, also broken her heart.
She was later accepted into a sheriff’s office in Arizona, a position that was dedicated to relations with the tribespeople of a local reservation. It was honest work and interesting. Slowly, she began to rebuild her life.
June Cardell did stay put and received her money. But a million dollars was not enough to build the kind of life she wanted. She knew that. But what could she do? She bought some land and grew crops. Specifically, marijuana, using all the tricks she had learned from the ex-boyfriend that she had sold out back in London all those years earlier.
Within eighteen months, she had become a serious player on the Dominican drug scene. But her ambitions didn’t stop there. It would take some courage and a leap of faith, but she knew it would be worth it. She wanted to build her operation. She wanted a joint venture, open some new markets, maybe even diversify. June contacted Ines Zedillo.
“Ines…let’s make another deal.”
Father Simeon would always be curious. About a number of things. Where had his fishing buddy gone? Had his criminal life caught up with him? Had he fled? Did he ever find peace of mind to stop the panic attacks that Simeon had witnessed? It was a mystery to him, but he prayed for his friend all the same.
But one day, the questions were answered… sort of. A parcel arrived at his church. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, sent through the regular mail. There was no return address on the outside. But when he opened it up, Simeon nearly fainted. It was money. Lots of money. And a handwritten note that read: “I still don’t believe in God, but I do know a good man when I meet one. Put this to good use. Use it to build your dementia centre.”
It wasn’t signed
, but he knew who had sent it, nonetheless. Father Simeon blessed himself and started to count. It took quite a while. There was half a million dollars in the parcel.
The police were never able to establish a direct link between what became known as ‘The Stripper Protest’ and the ‘Bible Bandits,’ so the participants got away with a slap on the wrist. Having already been given ten thousand dollars each for their trouble, they were all happy enough, but when envelopes arrived containing another twenty thousand each, Woody’s was unexpectedly closed for a night, and a spontaneous staff party that would go down in legend kicked off.
A few weeks later, Slow Tina received a parcel containing one hundred thousand dollars. She went out and bought a new car. It wasn’t small, but it did have power steering. She thought she looked great in a red Ford Mustang. Morty seemed to like riding in it, too.
Ines Zedillo was listening. The satellite phone was buzzing. She waited for it to be answered on a sun terrace at a Villa in Fayence, the South of France. Her boss, Alvaro Montoya, had sent a message. He wanted to talk.
“Bonita, buenos dias.”
“Buenos dias, jefe.”
“I will make this quick. The man. The one who helped himself to some of our candy. Candy we never found.”
She tensed. Did her boss know about the deal she had made with Danny Felix?
“Sí, señor?”
“He was a clever man, no?”
“The candy. It is still missing… and so is he.”
“Find him, Bonita.”
“Do we want to… express our disappointment to him? In the normal way?”
“No, no, señora. A man that talented can be useful. I have a job for him. And he owes us for the candy, no?”
“Sí, jefe. Es verdad.”
“Bueno. Find him, Bonita…”
And the connection went dead.
Danny Felix will return…
THE END
A Note from Bloodhound Books: