by Ben Follows
“We are making weapons, and you need weapons. I’ll even give you a discount, and from now on you will only use the weapons we provide you with. Next, you will send a dozen of your best guys to work with me. Same thing, if anything goes south, that video gets sent to every media outlet in the country, maybe some in Canada too, just for fun. I won’t kill Frank Tanners. Not yet.”
He paused and listened. Then he smiled and responded. "I have the video, but Frank Tanners is even better leverage. And don’t you want to know how he faked his death? I’ll let your guys take a swing at him if you want to try to get the information out of him. Do we have a deal?"
He listened then grinned. "That’s fantastic, Mr. Cuminskey. I look forward to doing business with you. Get your people to call this number, and we’ll get it all set up. So glad to be doing business.”
Dimitri hung up and placed the phone back on the table, picking up his cards. “He’s in. He didn’t have any choice. I'll keep an eye on the guys he sends. I don’t want any double-crosses. Paul, make sure that video is actually sent out to some reliable people. Now,” he said as he laid his hand on the table, “can someone please explain me how this isn’t a royal flush?”
Chapter 21
Nicholas Cuminskey poured another cup of coffee, adding rum, and sipped it. The moment he’d watched the video, he felt a knot form in the bottom of his stomach. He had attended Frank Tanners’s funeral. He had known he was dead and buried, six feet under.
But somehow he wasn’t. Nicholas was the head of one of the most successful criminal organizations in Nevada, if not the country, and was respected by those who knew his identity. There were many who doubted Frank had chosen him as his successor, but there were none who doubted he had the skills. If that video went public, the doubt would return, and all his credibility would disappear. It’d be a miracle if he survived a week. Then again, Frank had survived three years, so it was possible. He just needed to know how Frank had done it.
But that was the backup plan, and Nicholas forced it out of his mind. He had lived his life by the phrase, “If you need a backup plan, you’re not confident enough.”
At age thirty-five he was one of the most successful criminals in the state, and one of the least sought after by the authorities. He hadn’t got there by sitting back and letting some Russian punk tell him what to do.
His phone rang, and he picked it up before the second ring.
“Keelan’s here to see you, sir,” said Emma.
“Thank god. Send him in.” Nicholas hung up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The large oak doors opened, and a man with a blank expression walked into the room. He was tall and lean, with a few premature gray hairs above his ears. He walked with swagger and confidence. He wore a shirt that showcased the rippling muscles of his arms. There was a clearly visible handgun at his waist. He walked across the carpet that took up most of the large office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from Nicholas. Normally, Nicholas would have someone killed for not asking to have a seat, but it was Keelan he sent to take care of those people, so it was a bit of a moot point.
“Rough night, boss?” said Keelan, monotone except for small inflections that were impossible to pick up if you didn’t know him.
“You could say that,” said Nicholas. He poured himself another glass of rum—no coffee this time—and turned in his chair to look out over the city of New York. He had relocated the head of the operation from Las Vegas when he took over.
The sign outside stated that he was a lawyer named Mark Larson, available by appointment only, and far too expensive for anyone to realistically afford. He even had a reputation in New York for being a hotshot, despite knowing little more about the law than the average layman and always claiming that his cases were confidential. This, ironically, had gained him far more respect and prestige than the lawyers who badmouthed their clients and revealed all their secrets after a few drinks.
“What happened?” said Keelan.
“Look at the TV.” Nicholas turned and used the remote to restart the video of Frank Tanners. He could trust Keelan with the information. Keelan had been a key part of the mutiny during which they had overthrown Frank Tanners and taken over his network.
When the video was over, Keelan hadn’t moved a muscle or changed his facial expression. “Did you call him?”
He nodded and recounted the conversation with Dimitri.
Keelan nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
Nicholas finished his rum. “It’s a clever ploy. I’ll give them that. And killing Stamper shows how serious they were.”
“I didn’t like Dimitri,” said Keelan. “Couldn’t be trusted. Just gave off that vibe. And Stamper was a useless pervert. Forget about him.”
Nicholas nodded. “They made one mistake. They thought I would go quietly, and I wouldn’t put up a fight. They think they have my balls in a vice grip, and you know what? They do, but that sure as fuck doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. I don’t get blackmailed, and I don't negotiate. That’s not how I operate.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Nicholas leaned over the desk. “Gather a team of guys you trust, and leave soon enough so you can be there by 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. I don’t care what you have to pay them. I’ll bankroll it. Go out there, meet with Dimitri, pretend to be his personal guards, find where he sent the video, and then kill fucking everyone!” At this point he began stabbing his index finger into the table. Keelan didn’t react. “Burn the fucking factory to the ground, burn Crescent Point—wherever the fuck that is—to the ground. Kill anyone who has even heard of that video! Do you understand me?”
Keelan stood and smoothed out his pants. “The usual fee?”
Nicholas took a few deep breaths and sat back in his chair. “I’ll give you an extra fifty percent if you can do it within a week.”
The tiniest trace of a smile crossed Keelan’s face. “How about double for within twenty-four hours?”
Nicholas smiled, showing his teeth. “Sounds fair.”
Keelan turned and left the office without a goodbye. Nicholas turned the chair back around and looked over Manhattan. He had read the newspaper articles claiming that Frank Frederickson—Frank Tanners’s new identity—had most likely run away to Vegas.
Nicholas laughed despite himself. If Frank Tanners had gone to Vegas, he would have been dead a long time ago.
“What a stupid story,” muttered Nicholas as he poured himself another drink.
Chapter 22
Amanda Obrasey tried to sneak past Zach without walking him up. When she looked through the blinds, she saw that the sky was still dark, clouds covering the stars and the moon. She showered and dressed quietly, hoping to make it to the police station earlier than the FBI agents to show how devoted she was to the cause. She grabbed a thermos of coffee she had made the previous night and walked across the carpet past Zach. She was almost to the door when she heard him groan.
She turned back. Zach was watching her with one open eye. “Where are you going?” he said.
“Heading to meet the agents I told you about.” She had given up the idea they might not be FBI agents after spending the previous night looking up Kathryn Landy and making sure she was as she claimed. A video of her giving a speech on YouTube had matched the voice she’d spoken on the phone exactly.
“Good luck,” said Zach. “Show them what you got.”
Zach seemed to doze off again, and Obrasey watched him for a moment before opening the door and stepping out.
“Amanda, wait.”
She turned back to see Zach awake again. He smiled at her. “I love you.”
Obrasey smiled back at him. “I love you too.”
She made sure the lights were off before walking out of the house to the street where her police cruiser was parked. She drove to the police station in silence. The streets were empty and completely dark save for the streetlights and the occasional glow from a living room window.
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br /> When she made it to the police station, the FBI car was already there. She parked her car and checked the time. It was barely past six thirty. She climbed out of the car, thinking she would still be praised for being early.
The station was mostly silent except for the silhouettes of bodies behind the window of the chief’s office.
Obrasey knocked on the chief's door and entered when told to do so.
The FBI agents were in the same seats as the day before, and they were both sipping on large mugs of coffee.
“Thanks for coming early, Officer Obrasey,” said Chief Williams. “We were just about to call you, but we were worried about waking you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anything new?” She took a seat.
“Yes,” said Emerson, more serious than usual. “We’ve received information that Jake Lavelle is going to be attacking the factory on the north shore today with the intention of murdering someone. We’ll need to push back our investigation on Harold McMann and make this our primary point of investigation.”
“Why is he attacking the factory?” asked Obrasey.
Emerson looked over his shoulder at Thompson, hesitated for just a moment, and then said, “According to our source, he's going to murder Frank Tanners.”
Obrasey took a few seconds to process that information. “Frank Tanners? Why would he be there?”
“No idea. That’s what our source says.”
“Is he reliable?”
“Who?”
“Your source, obviously.”
“Yes, he is reliable.”
“So what are we doing?”
The chief said, “I’m not convinced this is real, and the visit I paid to the factory the other day made it seem that it was all on the up and up. Seemed legit. Sure, they’ve got Dirk involved there, and this Dimitri fellow doesn’t have the best record, but Dirk made me realize they all deserve a second chance. The idea of Frank Tanners being there is absolutely ridiculous.”
Thompson nodded. “In accordance with the chief’s wishes, we will be allowing you and a small team of police officers and FBI agents to investigate the premises of the factory while we hold on to Dimitri, Dirk, and Paul. If they find nothing, there will be no harm, no foul, and we don’t risk smearing their name in the dirt any more than it already has been. If you do find something, we’ll already have them in our custody and it won’t be a problem. I’ve called in for an FBI unit to come and protect our teams from Lavelle. Everything I’ve heard about him makes me uneasy.”
“What’s my role?”
“That’s why we wanted to call you,” said Emerson. “We want you to lead the team that investigates the factory. The team will be made of a combination of police and FBI agents, including myself. You will do a complete sweep of the premises and bring out anything suspicious you find. If there is probable cause, we will conduct a full FBI shutdown of the premises. Interested?”
Obrasey looked to the chief. He shrugged and said, “I would do it, but I haven’t done the best job staying in shape. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. You deserve it.”
Obrasey turned back to the agents. “I accept.”
Thompson said, “Perfect. The FBI backup should be here in fifteen minutes, then we’ll start conducting the necessary preparations, and we plan to begin around 10:00 a.m. Any problems with that?”
No one had any, and Obrasey was beginning to feel the pull of excitement, as though her entire life had been building up to this day, the day she was born for.
Thompson said, “Try to relax. This is going to be a big day.”
Chapter 23
Jake and Sarah woke up at almost exactly the same time, just moments before their alarm clocks went off. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were cleaned, dressed and sitting in the kitchen with Harold, who had a quick, nutritious meal ready for them.
Once this was done, Harold brought them into the bunker, where he gave all the information they had on the factory and its premises. Fully dressed and each with enough firepower hidden beneath their clothing to take out a small army, Jake and Sarah watched, remembering everything.
“There is one new piece of information that only came in about half an hour ago,” said Harold. “Which essentially proves that our suspicions about Dimitri Kulovich is involved in the disappearance of Frank Tanners are accurate, and that is the arrival in Crescent Point of this man.”
On the screen along the wall of the bunker, a picture of a tall, grizzled man with a blank expression came onto the screen.
“This man,” explained Harold, “is Keelan Ochre. He is suspected of over three dozen murders we know of. He is one of the most prolific contract assassins of the modern age yet has a completely clean record and zero time spent behind bars. He is also suspected to have been an integral part of the overthrow of Frank Tanner. No one has ever been able to prove anything against him. Frank himself told us this when we set up his false identity here three years ago.”
Sarah said, “So why is he here?”
“We don’t know,” said Harold. “This footage was taken from a convenience store near the Crescent Point bus station. Coming in on the bus with Keelan Ochre were nine other men who have less clean records than his. All assassins.”
“Where did they go?” said Jake.
“We don’t know,” said Harold. “We lost track of them. Keep an eye out. If they know Frank Tanners is alive, they’re either here to kill him or save him. We don’t know which. Any questions?”
There weren’t.
“Good, moving on," said Harold. "The police are allegedly staging a raid on the factory this morning. You both know the rules in this kind of situation. They cannot find out about the existence of The Compound. If there is an above zero chance they know or suspect anything about our operations, kill them or retire yourself. It is that simple.”
“So they figured out same thing that we did?” said Jake.
Harold shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Any questions?” He waited for a moment. “Good. I wish you the best of luck. I’ll be directing the operation from here.”
They both nodded and stood in unison.
Once again Jake felt a pang of nostalgia and guilt for Doug, who he had been partnered with for every practice raid he had ever done.
As they were about to leave the bunker, Sarah grabbed Jake’s arm. Harold glanced back as he climbed the stairs but said nothing.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she said as Jake turned around. “It’s about your attitude.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night, when you were trying to go to your date. This has turned into a dangerous mission, and I’m not comfortable with you being on it if you don’t understand that you need to follow every rule. I was the same as you when I started, thinking the protocols were just there for show, that there was no way everyone was following all of them. But all the veterans follow those rules exactly. Not because they learned but because the ones that don’t end up dead. Relationships are fine, but not at the risk of a mission or The Compound.”
“I understand—“
“Let me finish. You need to understand that we are not the good guys; we are not the bad guys. We are just people doing the only thing we know how, the only thing we were ever meant to do. We were born and raised for this. Do you understand me?”
Jake nodded.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not willing to commit to it, tell me now and I will do this alone.”
Jake nodded, more determined this time. “I understand.”
Sarah locked eyes with him for a few moments and then patted his shoulder. “Good.”
They left the house carrying bags filled with weapons of every kind, which they placed in the trunk of Sarah’s car. They said goodbye to Harold, who would be remaining behind to monitor them from the bunker. Sarah drove, and they said nothing on the drive away from the farmhouse to Crescent Point.
They drove up toward the north shore, where the factories were
located, past the rising sun. They pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road about a kilometer from the factory and climbed out of the car, grabbing their bags and slinging them over their shoulders. They set up a base at the same decrepit, crumbling house from which Jake had watched and listened to the chief’s conversation with Dimitri, giving them a clear line of sight to the factory.
It amazed Jake how much change had taken place at there over the previous few days. Most of the rust on the factory had been scrubbed off, and it was beginning to look like it could actually one day become a functioning, thriving operation. Most of the trucks had left, and the windows along the front of the factory had been opened up to air out the dusty interior, revealing the shiny new machines within, interspersed with unopened boxes.
Sarah climbed up beside him, and they both lay on their stomachs on the roof to conceal their location. Jake pulled a long-range camera out of his bag and scanned the grounds. The workers didn’t look suspicious, but Jake took photos anyway, transmitting them back to Harold to check them.
Beside him, Sarah finished assembling her sniper rifle. It had been easy to decide who would go into the factory and who would provide cover. Their scores on short-range accuracy had been mostly even, but Jake was a better fighter, and Sarah had always been more steady and able to take out targets from longer distances.
Jake’s camera fell on someone he recognized.
“To the right of the front gate,” he said.
Sarah followed where he was pointing with her scope. “Is that Ochre? Is he guarding the place?”