by Matt Lincoln
The hit knocked the man’s head back against the floor of the pool roughly, and he was out in an instant, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out.
It hadn’t been much of a fight, but I was grateful. My injured arm was throbbing in pain, and as confident as I was, I really didn’t know how much longer I could keep up fighting one-handedly.
I quickly got back onto my feet and pulled myself out of the shallow pool with one arm, looking around for Holm and the Vegas agents as I did. I didn’t see Holm or Hills, but I spotted Chapman immediately. He was on his back, on the ground, in quite possibly the worst position someone could find themselves in a fight. One of the pirates crouched above him, a long machete similar to the one Javier had used against me in his hands. The blade was just inches away from Chapman’s face, and the kid was barely managing to hold the guy off as he pressed down against the knife with the full force of his weight.
I didn’t think before rushing forward toward the man, tackling him at full force. He yelled as I knocked him sideways off Chapman, but to my dismay, his grip on the knife remained strong. I ignored the piercing pain that was now tearing through my right arm and punched him with my left. He grunted with pain but recovered quickly, swiping the machete at me.
I jumped backward as the large knife sliced through empty air just inches in front of me and scrambled back up to my feet. The man did the same, and for a second, we just stared each other down. His resolve broke first as he lunged toward me with a vicious slash of his machete. I jumped to the side and punched him hard in the ribs. He bent over in pain, but just a second later, he bounced back and slashed at me again, the knife missing me by just a hair’s breadth.
I ducked out of the way again as he continued to stab and slice toward me, barely managing to move out of the way each time. My heart was beating painfully in my chest, a bead of sweat rolling down my neck as the exertion began to take its toll.
Suddenly, Chapman was behind the man. He locked both arms behind the pirate’s neck. He coughed and sputtered in shock, and I took advantage of the distraction to hit him hard, first in the nose and then twice in the stomach. He bent over in pain, and I quickly gripped the wrist that was holding the machete, squeezing forcefully until he let go, and it fell to the ground.
As soon as the weapon was out of his grasp, Chapman kicked the man hard behind the knees and forced him down onto the ground before yanking his wrists behind his back. I crouched down to help him get the guy’s hand cuffed together before looking up at the surrounding scene.
It looked as though the tide had turned in our favor because most of the pirates were either on the ground dead or in handcuffs. I spotted Holm and Hills on the other side of the room. There was a group of men standing in front of them, their hands in the air as they slowly got down onto the ground.
I was about to get up to help them when a loud, booming voice cut over all the noise of the fight.
“Everyone, freeze!” Leeland roared from where he stood on top of one of the tables. As long as I’d known him, he’d been fairly soft spoken, so it was jolting to hear him suddenly bellow with such a commanding voice. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who felt that way because virtually everyone, pirate and officer alike, quieted down at once. “Look around! Half of your group are dead! You are not going to win this fight. Lower your weapons and put your hands up now!”
For a long moment, the only response to his order was quiet stillness. The only movement in the room came from a few of the pirates as they turned to look at each other questioningly. Finally, one by one, they obeyed, dropping their weapons as they realized that it was over.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a risky move for him to climb up onto that table and expose himself like that. Fortunately, it seemed like the pirates were smart enough not to fight a losing battle. The cops began to rush around in earnest, pushing the suspects onto the ground to get them into handcuffs.
I turned back to where I’d seen Holm and Hills. They were helping the cop to get the group of men under control.
“You’re bleeding,” Junior muttered beside me as he pointed at my arm.
I looked down and realized that he was right. My stitches must have torn during the fight.
“Crap,” I sighed as I examined the bandages. It wasn’t a lot of blood, just a small spot right at the elbow, but any amount of blood couldn’t be good. It stung as well, but not too bad, though that might just be because of the adrenaline that was currently rushing through my veins. It would probably hurt a lot more later once I came down from the rush. “Holm’s gonna say, ‘I told you so.’”
“Let me--” Chapman trailed off as he shifted around, as though looking for something. “My bag’s in the car. My first aid stuff is in there. I can have a look at it once we get back outside.”
“Thanks,” I replied as I looked back at Holm and Hills, who walked toward us now.
“You guys okay?” Holm asked as he came to a stop in front of us. There was a bruise on his face, and the sleeve of his shirt was ripped. Hills looked totally fine, aside from a spattering of blood over this shirt that might not have been his.
“Fine,” I replied with a short nod. “I might have popped a stitch, but I’m okay.”
“I’m fine too,” Chapman replied as he massaged the back of his neck. “I hit my head when one of them knocked me down, but it doesn’t seem that serious.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Hills scoffed. “Come on. We need to get you two out of here and back upstairs to get some medical attention.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning and leading the way back toward the entrance of the basement.
It was quiet now as the police worked to get everyone rounded up and restrained. It was kind of eerie how things had changed so drastically in what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes total. As we were going up the stairs, I turned to Holm, who hadn’t said very much since the battle had ended.
“You’re not going to tell me off?” I asked as we made it back up onto the main floor. Paramedics were already waiting nearby, tending to some of the officers that had been injured during the fight. “For doing what you said might happen and busting my arm up?”
“Nah,” Holm sighed before tossing me an understanding smile. “We both know I would have done the same. There’s no way I would have wanted to miss that action either.”
“What did happen to you?” I asked curiously as we walked out of the building to where the ambulances were parked. “You look rough.”
“Sneaky one,” he grumbled darkly. “Fell over and pretended to be unconscious. When I bent down to cuff him, he suddenly swung up at me with these spiked knuckles. My shirt took the worst of it, but he still managed to elbow me in the face.”
“Man, so much happened so fast,” I muttered as he walked toward one of the ambulances.
“Yep,” Holm replied, “and it’s not over yet. Now we’ve gotta figure out what they know. We still have to find Viper.”
“I know,” I replied as one of the paramedics spotted me. His eyes went wide as he zeroed in on the sling on my arm before rushing toward me. I only hoped I hadn’t done too much extra damage to myself.
31
Ethan
I groaned as I plopped down onto the edge of my bed. As I’d suspected, the cut on my arm stung intensely now that my body was no longer being kept wired by strong doses of adrenaline. Everything else hurt too, and I’d discovered some bruises on my wrist and elbow that must have gotten there when I’d knocked that suspect backward into the empty pool.
Several hours had passed since the raid on the underground base. The fact that there were so many people to process meant that it was going to take a long time for us to have a chance to interrogate anyone, and that wasn’t including the fact that I’d needed to go to the hospital to get my stitches checked.
Surprisingly, only two had broken, despite the large amount of blood that had managed to seep into the bandage and onto my shirt by the time I�
�d finally made it to the hospital. Regardless, the doctor had been extremely displeased with me and had spent the entire visit drilling phrases like “loss of motor function” and “permanent nerve damage” into my head as he patched me up.
I looked down at my arm as I replayed those words in my head. I’d been lucky this time to have only caused myself a little bit of damage, but Holm was right. I couldn’t be reckless like that again.
What else was I supposed to do, though? Just stand back, waiting around in the hotel while Holm and the Vegas agents went and did everything on their own? There wasn’t a single chance of that happening.
In the end, we’d decided to just call it a night and resume the following day. By the time we’d get clearance to begin the interrogations, it probably would have been morning, anyway. Better to use that time to rest and approach the suspects again with a fresh mind.
I pushed the thoughts of the case away as I fell backward onto the bed, too tired to even get beneath the covers. It was warm anyway, the way it always tended to be on tropical islands. My hotel room window was open, and a warm, salty breeze wafted into the room, filling the small space with the scent of the ocean. It was enough to get me to relax, and I could feel myself slipping further and further into sleep.
It felt like barely any time had passed when my alarm suddenly went off on the small table next to the bed. I was still on my back, in the exact position I’d fallen asleep in last night. I must have been out like a rock to have not moved at all during the night.
I winced as I shifted to get up, and a lance of pain shot up my arm. After I blinked the last vestiges of drowsiness from my eyes, I rolled over and grabbed the small bottle of painkillers the doctor had prescribed me the night before. Once every twelve hours, he’d said, as needed for pain.
Well, they’re needed right now, I thought to myself as I downed two of the pills without any water. The sting was worse than the night before, so sharp that it surprised me it hadn’t woken me up in the night.
After spending another couple of minutes in bed, praying for the pills to work faster, I got up and walked into the bathroom to shower. Once that was done, I stepped back into the room and rummaged through my bag for a fresh set of clothes to wear. The sky outside the window looked a little overcast today, so I opted to wear one of my heavier shirts in case of rain. I hadn’t brought a jacket with me, so it would have to do.
Once I had dressed and had the annoying sling back on, I walked over to the little coffee maker that was sitting on the long cabinet that the television was also set on. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was at least more convenient than having to trek down to the lobby to get some like I had to back in Italy.
As I was waiting for the coffee to brew, I looked down at my holster and wondered if there was a way to reconfigure it to the left side of my belt, but it just wasn’t feasible unless I wanted the gun to be facing backward. It had been cumbersome yesterday when I had to reach across to my right hip with my left hand to draw my gun. In a fight, precious seconds could cost you your life, so I didn’t want to have to struggle. In the end, it just wasn’t possible, so I left it as it was.
After finishing my coffee, I double-checked to make sure I had everything I needed for heading out through the door. I left my room at the same time that Holm did.
“Morning,” he greeted me as he stifled a yawn. “How’s your arm?”
“Better,” I replied. Now that the drugs had kicked in, the pain dulled to a faint throb. “It’s honestly more annoying having to keep it in this position.”
“Well, it’s only six weeks,” Holm replied encouragingly as we made our way down the hallway toward the elevator. “Unless you do something stupid and hurt yourself worse, that is.”
“I’ll try not to,” I snorted as we stepped onto the elevator.
Unsurprisingly, Hills and Holm were already in the lobby when we stepped back out. I wondered vaguely what time they got up since it seemed like they were always the ones waiting for Holm and me to arrive. It took me a moment to realize that Officer Finch was there as well, sitting next to the Vegas agents and drinking from a large styrofoam coffee cup. We’d only spent a brief amount of time together the previous day, so it had taken me a moment to recognize her. She looked up at us as we approached and smiled.
“Good morning,” she greeted us as we approached the couches where the three of them were sitting. “I came to pick you up. The sergeant thought you might need a ride after yesterday.”
I realized that she was right. Since Chapman and I had both gotten taken away in ambulances, we’d left the car we’d been using behind at the scene and had ended up calling a taxi to get back to the hotel the night before.
“That’s very nice of you,” I replied as the three of them stood up.
“Not a problem,” Finch replied with a small shrug. “We need to be going, in any case. In total, we arrested twenty-one men last night. Four of them are still in the hospital, but that still leaves a good amount for us to question. It’s going to be a long day.”
“We’d better get going then,” I replied.
She nodded and turned around to lead the way out of the hotel toward a large police van that was parked just outside.
“How’s your arm?” she asked me as we all climbed inside. “I heard that you got injured during the fight. It must be bad if it’s in a sling.”
“It was already like that,” I assured her as she got into the driver’s seat in front of where I was sitting. “I just popped open some of my stitches.”
“Ouch.” She grimaced as she looked down at my arm. “Well, luckily, there’s very little chance of anything exciting happening today. I’m afraid it’s going to be a lot of talking from here on out.”
“That’s fine with me,” Chapman mumbled. “It’s been non stop since we left Miami. I could use a day where we’re not chasing after someone or getting shot at.”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket,” Hills scoffed at him. “Why’d you join MBLIS if you were going to complain about getting shot at?”
“What?” Chapman snapped at him. “Just because I’m a federal agent doesn’t mean that I enjoy getting shot at. Why wouldn’t I complain about it?”
They spent the rest of the brief drive down to the station bickering quietly at each other.
“Okay,” Finch announced as she pulled the van into the parking lot of the station. “Everyone out.”
We all got out of the car and followed her into the building. Since she was with us, we could bypass the front reception and go straight to the door at the side of the lobby. That was good because the place was crowded with people once again.
“You don’t understand!” a man wearing a brightly colored shirt and khaki pants insisted to the officer attending him. “My fiance’s engagement ring probably cost more than your entire salary! You need to do something to help us find it!”
I tuned out the conversation as Finch pulled a card out of her wallet and used it to unlock the door from the outside. While I agreed with Chapman’s earlier gripes about having to constantly deal with being attacked and shot at in our line of work, I honestly would take that any day over being one of the poor schmucks that had to sit here dealing with whiny tourists’ non-issues.
At least chasing after bad guys was fun.
“We should speak with the sergeant first,” Finch suggested as she led us down the hall. “He’ll know where we should start. After all, with so many--”
She stopped short as we turned the corner. Sergeant Leeland was there, speaking to one of the officers, a frown on his face as he listened to the other man. He turned to look at us as we approached, his expression only darkening further.
“Sergeant?” Finch asked him warily. “Is everything alright?”
“There’s been a development,” he sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. The officer he’d been speaking to pursed his lips and looked at us as well, an odd expression on his face.
“One of the men you arreste
d last night has asked for a deal,” Leeland continued. “We haven’t begun any formal questioning procedures yet, only taking down base information, but he offered as soon as he had a chance to speak with us.”
“Already?” Hills grumbled, his voice low and filled with suspicion. “Usually, they don’t do that until they're desperate. Did he offer to talk right away? He’s up to something.”
“That’s what I thought as well.” Leeland nodded. “I was just on my way to go speak with him now to try to get a feel of his intentions before you showed up.”
“You seem like you don’t trust him,” I noted as I looked at his and the officer’s faces. It was one thing to be suspicious, but they both seemed overly concerned. “Did he say anything else?”
“He was very vague,” Leeland replied, “but yes, he did. He said something about ‘having a way to get any information we wanted,’ including the whereabouts of Jorge Velasquez.”
“I can understand why you’re skeptical,” I muttered pensively. That was a pretty tall claim and one that he wouldn’t make unless he actually knew where he was, or at least, he thought he could convince us that he did.
“He’s full of crap,” Hills snorted dismissively. “Everyone we’ve talked to so far has confirmed that Viper’s base is on a moving ship. How the hell would this guy know where it is right now?”
“I brought up the same point,” the officer who’d been standing by spoke up. “I thought he was full of it, too. But then he said that he ‘has ways’ of making things happen. He could have just been bluffing, but there was something about the way he said that… it gave me chills.”
I wasn’t sure how much faith I was willing to place in some random cop I’d never met, but the guy looked genuinely shaken as he recalled the memory of the suspect’s words. Surely any half-decent cop wouldn’t be so easily intimidated by some weak threat unless, of course, they had reason to suspect that the threat was credible. Even if all you had to go on was a hunch, sometimes it was better to follow your instincts than to brush them off.