The Falau Files Box Set 1

by Mike Gomes

  “How about a little more about you. Your skills. How long you have been doing this. Helps build the team morale.” said Falau.

  “I don’t care about morale. I am here to get paid for the job. I will do what it takes to make that happen. If you want me under cover I will do it. If you want me to infiltrate in a stealth manner I will do it. You want me to kill I will do it. You do not need to know anything more than that. This is a job not a friendship.”

  “Ok. Looks like Gabriela just lost employee of the month.” said Tyler with a sarcastic tone dripping from his voice. “Looks like this is your stop. See you on the ground floor in 20 minutes.”

  The bus pulled over at the curb and Tyler launched the door open. The three new teammates stood up and started to file off the bus. Falau waited patiently for Gabriela and Tim to disembark.

  Turning to Tyler as he went down the first two steps of the bus Falau asked “Why the bus?”

  “Well, first, it’s cool and I never drove one. Second, it’s great cover for us to blend in. Third, if they did know we were on her it would be impossible to hear what we were saying because I put transmission breakers all over the bus.” Tyler smiled reaching over grabbing the handle to close the bus door.

  “Works for me.” said Falau then stepped off the bus with the door closing behind him.

  Chapter 8

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  The large man in a cowboy hat let his thick callused hand drop down upon the door and waited for an answer. The curtain that filled the small window next to the door slipped open a fraction of an inch but it was more than enough for the man to see out of his peripheral vision. He stood well over six feet tall wearing the Black Stetson cowboy hat that had a number of years on it. It was not for show or to look country. The hat had seen a lot of work over the years. He dressed in a white collared shirt that buttoned down tucked into a pair of Wrangler Jeans. He always felt the real men wore the Wranglers. The shirt left two buttons undone at the top showing a small tuft of chest hair sticking out. His cowboy boots were black matching his hat in style and wear. The man was doing his best to look professional but it would be clear to anyone that he was no stranger to hard work.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  His hand hit down harder on the door followed by him reaching and pressing the doorbell. The door opened just a few inches and a Hispanic woman’s face appeared in the door that still had the chain running across it from the inside.

  “Hello Señor. How may I help you?” said the woman in a thick Spanish accent and unable to contain her nervousness.

  In a slow southern drawl the man replayed “Hello mam. My name is Wyatt Houston. I am here to meet with Mr. Duke.”

  “Mr. Duke is not here. Sorry. Goodbye.”

  The door closed having the woman’s face vanish from view. Wyatt pursed his lips drawing in a long slow breath through his nose and raised his hand and again knocked on the door.

  From the other side of the door the woman’s voice spoke sounding more faint. “Sorry Mr. Houston. He is not here. Come back tomorrow.”

  Wyatt raised his voice making sure the woman on the other side of the door could hear him. “Mam, if you could just open the door we could have a simple conversation rather than calling through this door.”

  The knob on the door turned and the chain remained fastened. The woman did not draw her face close to the door this time. She stayed back several inches looking at the big man with mistrust.

  “I am sorry if I frightened you.” said the cowboy. “I take it that Mr. Duke did not inform you of our meeting. After all he has been through over the last few months I can see why you keep that chain on the door. But I can assure you I am not from the press or the police. I am a representative of some people looking to do businesses with Mr. Duke. He should know that I am coming today.”

  “He is not home.”

  “Could you please undo the chain and let me in so that we can have a real face to face conversation?” Wyatt let a large white smile cross his face putting on as much down home charm as he could. “I promise I don’t bite.”

  “The door closed again and the sound of the chain being undone was clear in the ears of Wyatt. The door creaked open and the woman kept herself partially shielded behind it.

  “Welcome Mr. Houston. Please sit down.”

  “No thank you. I prefer to stand after a long car ride. I know you said that Mr. Duke is not at home but I know he is. I saw him look out the upstairs window on my way up the driveway.”

  The woman smiled. She was in her later forties with dark hair and eyes. She was overweight and dressed in a housekeeper's uniform.

  “I am sorry to have lied to you sir.”

  “Don’t you go apologizing to me. I know how it is to have a boss tell you something to do. That’s why I am here. My boss sent me out so I have to do what I am told just like you. I just wish someday I could sit on the other side of that desk and be giving the orders.” Wyatt reached out his hand and placed it on the woman’s shoulder nodding approvingly.

  “Yes. I understand.” the woman said joining Wyatt in his nodding.

  The cowboy had taken less than five minutes to make a solid connection with the woman and disarm her of her apprehension of him.

  “Can I just get five minutes with the man? If you say that I saw him in the window he can’t blame you. It sure would keep my boss from climbing up my backside when I get back to Chicago.”

  “Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can also get you a cold drink after your long ride.” said the woman smiling at the big man.

  “Well, I would be much obliged. A simple water will do. Too much soda gets my heart racing with all the caffeine.”

  The woman smiled and walked up the staircase that rested on the far side of the entry way.

  Tristan Duke’s home was a mansion by anyone’s standards. It was in a double gated community that had its own security details that were on patrol twenty-four hours a day. The houses sat on lots well over 10 acres. Any interruption from neighbors was not an issue. Duke’s house sat at the end and was fit for the multi- billionaire he was. Despite being a single man, the house boosted over 8 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms and a movie theatre built into the basement. The detail of each and every aspect of the house was cared for by a professional team and the house had been featured in a home design magazine when it was first built. The entry way that Wyatt stood in was bigger than a normal family’s home. The floor was Italian marble that Duke selected himself on a trip to Italy. The door was ornate and carved by hand. An original Pablo Picasso painting hung on the wall directly across from the door so it was the first thing you saw as you entered the house. Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali paintings flanked it to either side. The mixture of the different styles of painting was not pleasing to the eye but that was not the intent. It was a showing of power and wealth that Duke could just have these things in the entrance way of his home.

  Five minutes passed and Tristan Duke came around the corner at the top of the stairs dressed in a silk bathrobe and pajama pants. “Can I help you sir.”

  “Oh, I am sorry if I woke you Mr. Duke.”

  Walking down the stairs Duke sized up the man in the cowboy hat “Don’t be silly. I have been awake for hours. Just have nowhere to go today so I figured that I could just lounge around for a bit.”

  “Sounds like a good day to me.”

  Tristan Duke got to the bottom of the steps and walked sharply toward his guest. No hesitation in his gate and no regard that this man may not be friendly to him.

  “So come with me. My study is right here.” Duke said pointing to the left and leading the way for his guest. He opened the door with a shove revealing an office that seemed in stark contrast to the entryway of the home. The room was dark and without windows. The size was smaller than expected for a man of Duke’s wealth. It looked more to be the size of an office at a business that a CEO would have. A desk and chair. Off to the side a sitting area with a sofa, chair, and coffee table. The walls w
ere deep and dark woods that Wyatt recognized to be cherry. The furniture leather was dark as well. The lighting was reassessed into the walls and limited. Any work to be done had task lighting that was on the desk in the form of an old fashioned light that sat on the end of an adjustable pole and could be cranked in any direction based on what was needed. A wet bar was next to the sitting area and Duke walked over to it and started to assemble a drink.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Houston. Would you like a drink?” questioned Duke.

  “No sir. Your housekeeper said she could get me one before I leave. I just have some business I would like to speak with you about.”

  Duke turned to the man with a fresh drink in his hand and sat down in the large leather chair. “Vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon. The only thing I drink. I know a bit unconventional. Most people go with a lime but I find when one goes the opposite direction of the crowd he can find a lot of things the others have overlooked.” He brought the drink to his lips, sipped it and smiled.

  Wyatt reached up and took his hat off from his head like a man showing respect to a man of a greater station in life. “Mr. Duke the business I am here to discuss with you is one of a delicate nature.”

  “Isn’t all business of a delicate nature?” Duke questioned smugly.

  Wyatt’s jaw tightened as his teeth clenched together. His eyes tightened sharpening his view. “This is more delicate than the normal things people talk about in business.”

  “Well, go on with it. I don’t have all day. Just let it out and I can tell you yes or no.”

  “Thank you sir.” said Wyatt his voice becoming harder. “I guess you could call me a debt collector of sorts.”

  Duke interrupted “I have filed bankruptcy. You should have gotten money if your organization deserved any. This discussion is closed.” Duke stood up and started to walk to the door. “I am sure you can show yourself out!”

  Wyatt pulled himself up to his feet and placed his right hand on the door as Duke attempted to open it. The door did not move even with a hard tug from Duke. The cowboy showed no strain or discomfort in holding the door shut.

  “I am not that kind of debt collector. Just sit down!”

  “Who do you think you are? You will tell me to do nothing. This is my home.”

  Wyatt took his free hand and grabbed Duke by the robe and started to lift him from the ground. Despite the struggles, the big man pushed Duke back into his chair. Placing his hat back upon his head the big man gave a long hard stare at Duke who appeared to be trying to melt back into the fabric of the chair.

  “You know I could sue you for that. It’s assault and battery.” said Duke his eyes widening.

  “Just shut up!” said Wyatt harshly. “I am a freelance debt collector and I work for very specific clients. The client interested in you is the Volkov family in Chicago.”

  Duke’s eyebrows turned in and pulling his face back, confusion turned to realization of what the man was talking about.

  “You remember the name. That’s good. Always good to remember the name of people you screwed out of ten million dollars.”

  “It’s not my fault the investment didn’t work.”

  “Investment!” exclaiming Wyatt. “Son, you didn’t get an investment for that family. You know as well as I do that the Volkov’s are involved in organized crime. You came to them for a loan because the feds were getting close and you wanted to sprinkle around some money to your investors to get them to back off. Sound about right.”

  “It was an investment. The company folded.”

  Wyatt shook his head and stepped closer to the chair that Duke sat in. The smaller man pulled away as the big cowboy drew closer. “It was no investment. It was a loan. I don’t want to hear about that again.”

  “O...ok...I understand.” stammered Duke wishing the larger man would move away.

  “I am going to make this very clear for you Mr. Duke. I will be back here in 48 hours to collect the ten million dollars for the Volkov family. Don’t try to tell me you don’t have it because we all know you have money hidden everywhere. If I come here and you do not have the money I will be upset. Is that clear?”

  Duke attempted to speak but no words came from his mouth. He simply stared into the hard dark eyes of Wyatt and nodded his head feverishly.

  “Good. I am sure you will have it, but if you don’t, you and I will get to be good friends because I will not be leaving your side until I have ten million dollars in cash. You will not be able to shit, shower, or shave without me right there. I will motivate you to find that money. Is that clear?”

  Duke nodded again looking more and more desperate as the moments went by.

  “If you fail me, then I will need to bring you back to the Volkov’s and God only knows what they will do with you. The Russian Mafia is not fond of this kind of thing, especially from some snot nosed New York City rich boy. They gonna make an example out of you, boy. Just a red hot poker, a pair of pliers, and your body is what they need to send a message to the world.”

  Duke flinched as Wyatt moved his finger in a circular motion in front of his face imitating the red hot poker.

  Wyatt pulled away from Duke and placed his hand on the knob of the door and turned it. Pulling the door open he exposed the housekeeper holding a bottle of overpriced spring water. His massive hand reached out taking it from her as she stared at him having heard bits and pieces of the conversation from the other side of the door.

  “Well thank you darlin’. I sure do appreciate that. Please run along now.”

  The housekeeper did as she was asked and moved quickly as far from the big cowboy as possible.

  Wyatt cracked open the bottle and took a sip of the water and held it in front of himself examining the label. “Bullshit this is from a spring. Tastes like it is from the tap.”

  Duke looked on not moving from his chair. He tried to not move a muscle unsure of what the big man would do or what could provoke him.

  Starting to walk out the door Wyatt turned back raising one finger off the bottle of water indicating he had something else to say. “Now just to be clear if you’re not here when I get back in two days I am going to have to put my very experienced skills as a tracker to use in finding you. Don’t matter to me if you’re a turkey, deer, moose, or human. I am gonna find you and when I do I will shoot you. You go on the run and it will be the worst mistake of your life and the most painful. Now you go on and have a good day and get to work getting that money. No checks! Only cash. Adios, Amigo.”

  Chapter 9

  Leading the way into his laboratory Tyler opened the door to the elevator as it hit down onto the ground floor of his home. The newly assembled team stood in the darkness as he looked for the door.

  “Just a second guys.” said Tyler finally activating the switch to open the doors. Light filled the elevator and the four of them walked out.

  Tyler’s laboratory was expansive and wide. It was twice the size of the footprint of his home. The massive room was sectioned off into numerous areas. Ballistics along the closest wall. Automotive at the far end of the room. A chemical section before that and numerous other pet projects scattered about and unable to be distinguished by anyone but Tyler himself.

  Tyler made way for a group of chairs that sat in front of a screen that descended from the ceiling.

  “Grab a seat everyone.” stated Tyler as he sat on a stool next to the screen and grabbed a laptop off the table. “This is your first mission together. Before today none of you have ever met so we need to make sure you are all on the same page at every moment. We can have no mistakes on this mission. It is extremely high profile and could blow the entire system to hell if we get caught.”

  “So you're saying to be careful.” sarcastically said Tim.

  “Yes, Tim, be careful or we could all end up in prison for the rest of our lives and we could be front page news in every newspaper, website, and newscast across the world. That should be motivation for all of us to have this thing down pa
t before you leave here today.”

  “Not dying is motivation enough for me.” said Falau.

  “The money is what I am here for.” chimed Gabriela.

  “Ok. Ok.” interrupted Tyler with a look of exasperation crossing his face. He looked at the team wondering how a team of three people that seemed to have nothing in common was going to be able to blend together and capture one of the most high profile people in the world of finance. “Let’s start off understanding that everything I say does not require a comment from all of you. I understand you’re all jockeying for position for who is top dog but be clear that I am.”

  All the eyes on the team shifted to Tyler with his suddenly more abrupt and commanding tone. He was gaining control of the room and the team before they spiraled out of control.

  Falau smiled at his old friend understanding exactly what he was doing. The team was built by Falau and Tyler did let him have his picks of who he wanted. Now it was his job to shape and mold them into something workable and smooth. Falau thought how they could ever make inroads into the life of Tristan Duke to get close to him realizing that the team would not only have to work together but independently as well. Things would have to shift and change on the fly. For three people who didn’t like to work with anyone other than themselves, this was going to be hard.

  The screen on the wall lit up with a blue print of Tristan Duke’s home. Tyler picked up a laser pointer and flashed it at the screen making sure that it is was on. “This mission has a few different levels that the judges are looking to have accomplished. If you all get the job done then you’re looking at $25,000 each.”

  All the members of the team came to attention and locked their eyes on Tyler ready to take on any information he could impact on them.

  “Ah, now I see what gets your attention. Realize this...if you all do not work in concert the mission will fail and your money will be gone.” said Tyler straightening out his back and sitting upright on the high stool. “I don’t like having to bring this up and I don’t think I have anything to worry about with any one of you, but, it is an issue that needs to be discussed. You're all going to have access to hundreds of millions of dollars if you do your job right. If any of the money goes missing and we find out that a member of this team is responsible, your services will no longer be needed. You will also become a target that needs to be brought in for trial with the judges. Is this all perfectly clear to all of you?”