The Falau Files Box Set 1

by Mike Gomes

  “So you can fight.” said Falau talking more to Tim than Wyatt.

  Falau pulled his hand up into to a fighting stance and started to close the distance. Wyatt lashed out with a lightning fast kick that landed squarely on the side of Falau’s head. A cloud instantly covered his mind and he stumbled backwards. The kick was unexpected and more than most men of that size could do.

  “Ten years military stationed in Israel. I learned Krav Maga from the best.”

  The stakes had suddenly went up. If Wyatt was not joking he knew the most deadly form of hand to hand combat in the world. The Israeli special forces were experts and were said to have the ability to kill any man without the use of a weapon.

  Wyatt kicked again, hard and forward, hitting Falau in the forearms. A sting jetted up his arm. Again, another kick, and Wyatt was backing him up further and further, finally having him with his back to the wall.

  Wyatt sized up his prey and twisted into a spinning kick that was telegraphed a bit too early. Falau ducked and sprang back up after the kick went by. He kicked hard into the small of Wyatt’s back buckling his body and knocking him across the entryway. Falau reached back to the wall ripping the bottom section of the frame from the Picasso loose and started at Wyatt as he laid on the ground.

  As he approached Wyatt reached down to his boot and pulled out a nickel plated Derringer hand gun small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. A pea shooter is what the men called them back in the 1920’s. He rolled to the side and fired striking Falau in the right shoulder stopping the piece of frame from coming forward instantly.

  Falau stumbled back and hit against the wall from where he came. Pain seared through his arm and throughout his body. He had never been shot before. Blood started to roll out of the wound. He was sure the Derringer did not have the power to make it all the way through his body so the bullet was lodged in him. If it hit a vain he could bleed out before getting help. But Wyatt was getting to his feet and the look on his face said that he wanted to finish the job.

  Falau reached back and pulled the 9mm from the back of his pants with his good arm. It was an act of desperation from a man significantly wounded. He fired twice missing the mark. Wyatt dove to the ground instinctively and pulled himself to the dining room opening. Falau lifted the gun to him again when the scream of a siren and a blue flashing light was making it up the driveway.

  Wyatt saw Falau turn his attention to the police car and jumped on the opportunity to get out of the line of fire. Falau could hear the cowboy’s feet running across the kitchen and pausing slightly seeing the guard beaten on the floor. The back door slammed as the front door started to open. Falau pulled the gun close to his side ready to pull it up if he needed to but knew that with the loss of blood he would not have a very good chance at hitting anyone unless they were right in front of him.

  The door slammed open and Tim rushed in and crouched down next to Falau.

  “You’re the cops?” questioned Falau in disbelief.

  “Got the light a long time ago from a friend and the siren is just an app on the cell phone sent through the PA I have in the car.” replied Tim as he pulled at Falau’s shirt and inspected the wound.

  Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wash cloth he had grabbed from the hotel before he left in case he needed to stop some bleeding. He had enough experience to know that fights with men like this almost always ended in blood shed.

  “Ok, just leave the cloth there to stop the bleeding . I can field dress you when we get back.”

  In the driveway the screech of tires could be heard. Wyatt was on his way out of the neighborhood.

  Tim lifted Falau up and put his arm around his waist. Falau reached around his shoulder with his good arm. Tim had saved his life with his quick reaction time in getting to him. Tim placed him in the car and closed the door. Getting in the other side he looked at his new friend.

  “You got hit but you will live.”

  “Did you hear his name?” questioned Falau.

  “Wyatt Houston. Already ran a diagnostic on him. He is a bad guy.”

  Chapter 15

  Tim’s foot pressed down on the accelerator but the Ford Focus had just so much to give. Falau pressed against the passenger side door trying to keep his shoulder as still as possible. He could feel the blood running down his chest. The cloth was filled with blood and doing little to stop the flow. The Derringer was not a powerful gun but hit him hard and from point blank range it dug deep into his body.

  “Were did you get this car?” asked Falau as Tim flipped the switch to put the siren on.

  “I stole it.” said the older man pressing play on his phone and the sound of a siren screamed out the passenger side window. Falau looked to the phone and saw a basic 8mm line leading from the headphone jack to a speaker that was mounted to the passenger side window with a large clip.

  “You steal cars?”

  “Only if I have to.” yelled Tim trying to get his voice above the sound of the siren. The color started to run from Falau’s face and he was taking on a gray tinge.

  Approaching the gate to the complex he could see that two men were outside the booth looking at the gate that had been broken into several pieces. Wyatt must have failed to stop and crashed through the gate during his escape thinking that the police arrived. As they approached the gate at 80 MPH the men moved away and pointed their fingers back up the street indicating where Wyatt’s car had sped off to.

  Tim didn’t break stride fitting the car perfectly though the opening of the gate. It was a tight squeeze no more than a foot or two on each side. The car shot up the road reaching the spot where Falau had crossed when he first got to the area and was entering the property.

  The two didn’t talk and within a few minutes Tim arrived at the Mercedes and he pulled up behind it and pulled the siren off the top of the car and killed the sound. “Stay here.” said Tim reaching into Falau’s pocket and taking out the keys to the Mercedes. He opened the door and put both his feet out first and put them onto the ground. Using his hands he pulled himself out and got into the standing position. He gathered his items and placed them in the trunk of the Mercedes.

  The door opened and Falau cranked his head toward his teammate. ”I am not doing so well. I think the bullet stayed in.”

  Tim pulled Falau forward ignoring his grunt of pain and rubbed his hand inside the back of his shirt feeling for blood but there was none. “It is in there. No exit wound at all. This will hurt but it will help.” Tim took his index finger and placed it on the outside of the washcloth and pushed hard sending it into the wound more than two inches. Falau let out a scream of pain as the shock waves ripped from his arm through his body. He punched the seat with his good hand attempting to find some relief in the futile act.

  “I know. I know it hurts like hell but it will help stop the bleeding. They had to do the same thing to me in Panama back in the 1980’s and I am still alive. You will be to.”

  Tim reached in and pulled Falau out of the car. Both men grunted. He shuffled with the younger man and guided him into the passenger seat then got into the driver’s side himself.

  The Mercedes started with attitude and pulled out of the parking lot without haste. Tim drove with purpose but knew he could not get stopped by the police. How would he ever explain the bleeding to death man in the passenger seat?”

  Grabbing the cell phone again Tim flipped through the various applications he had. Most were the standard one that could be downloaded from the phone’s manufacturer, but Tim had built several of his own. One particular one he opened was called XD35. The application linked into his ear piece and then used WIFI to link to the computers he had set up back in the room. He could do most of the things he would do when working from the room over his phone including talking with Gabriela.

  The screen ran a series of numbers and letters making the connection and disguising itself by bouncing off several satellites. The app kept things well disguised and Tim knew that even the most
experienced technology experts would need about an hour to track him using the system. Even then he would be on the move when using it.

  He flipped up and down on the screen and then pressed the send button and within moments he could hear Gabriela laughing through his earpiece. She was still with the kid.

  Tim looked over to Falau who stared straight ahead. He did not look well but he looked no worse. Stuffing the cloth into the wound may have been crass but it did stop the bleeding and that’s all he cared about at this point.

  “Gabriela if you can hear me clear your thought.”

  “Hmmm hmmm.”

  “Abort the mission. Repeat, abort the mission!” Tim said leaving no doubt about what was needed.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. But I am getting a little too drunk. I should be getting home.”

  Listening to Gabriela work her way out of being with Duke, Tim was unsure if she were to fall into a situation where he needed to back her up that he could with Falau in this condition.

  He moved his way in and out of traffic and arrived at the hotel and pulled into a space right in front of the door to their room.

  The hotel was nothing fancy. It was one story high and all rooms opened to the parking lot. Most people would have felt it was more of a motel than a hotel but the ownership was quick to correct anyone who made the mistake. Looking to the right and the left nobody was about out of their rooms. With any luck if someone came out they would think that he and Falau were drunk and stumbling back in for the night.

  Tim lifted his friend out of the passenger seat and wrapped his arm around his waist. Falau put his arm around his shoulder. Falau did all he could to help but he had lost a lot of blood. With the loss of blood he had become light headed and his legs felt like jelly.

  The door opened and Tim pulled Falau to the chair that sat next to a small table by the door. Falau slumped down and started to breath hard.

  Tim moved to his bag on the far side of the room. The room was basic in every way. The door opened into a large room that was fitted with two queen beds. Between them was a night stand with a clock and hook ups for electronic devices. At the front of the room next to the door was the chair that Falau sat in and the table. On the opposite side of the room was a stand for the TV and a sink with a mirror. A bathroom sat off the room.

  Tim emptied his backpack onto the bed and pulled out a blue case that was marked first aid. He popped it open and grabbed a few items.

  Falau watched trying to focus on what his teammate was doing but his mind drifted wondering what was happening with Gabriela and Duke. What problem does Duke have with the cowboy?

  Coming back to Falau’s side Tim turned him in his chair having him face the bed. Then he dragged the table over. He struck a match and lit a candle that he had brought over. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pocket knife that would normally be used to open boxes. The blade itself was small and had little effect for battle. Tim leaned the knife so the blade sat in the flame.

  “Why are you doing that?” questioned Falau with a mumble.

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing. I will have you fixed up in five minutes but who knows if we will still be friends.”

  Falau’s eyes widened and he looked at Tim with shock on his face.

  “I am kidding!” said Tim shaking a small brown bottle in his left hand.

  “Ok. Time to remove the cloth.” said Tim and wasting no time he pulled the cloth before Falau could respond. The big man moaned in pain and the fibers of the cloth had ripped from the hole in his shoulder. Tim kept the pace knowing that to wait between each movement would only make the process more painful. He uncapped the bottle that he had shook in his hand. It was hydrogen peroxide. The liquid substance would clean and sterilize the wound but it would also hurt like hell. Tim placed his free hand on Falau’s shoulder sure the man would flinch when the liquid hit him and he was right. Tim pressed the bottle and squirted it into the wound and immediately a small foam built up. Falau thrashed and gritted his teeth. The wound was clean and could now be worked on.

  Falau started to sweat and his head bobbed back and forth. Tim grabbed the hemostats that he kept in the first aid case. The medical tool looked a lot like scissors but they had the ability to clamp on to something and they would not release. Pushing the shoulder back for a second time, Tim used his thumb and middle finger to spread the wound open. The blood started to flow again. He slid his index finger in and Falau stamped his foot into the floor. Tim was impressed that he was holding his screams in knowing that they would cause attention from the people in the rooms around them. Tim felt the bullet not too deep inside. It had been stopped by the bone. He slid in the hemostats holding them open about a half inch. The hemostats hit the bullet and he moved his finger to put the tool on each side of the bullet. Tim clamped them and knew he had the bullet. He drew the bullet out slowly and methodically careful to not cause damage on the way out. The bullet was extracted and Tim pulled the pillow case off the pillow and used it to wipe the blood away from the wound. Falau was silent with his eyes half closed. He looked beaten and worn down. The bleeding was manageable and from all that Tim could figure there was no sign that a vein had been hit.

  Tim looked at Falau and felt a shooting pain of empathy for the man. He had not gone to the house expecting anything like this. Tim was not the man who shot him but he was giving him far more pain than the gunman did. The worst was yet to come. He knew that Falau was not expecting what Tim had to do next and he felt that it was best. He lifted the pocket knife out of the flame. It had turned red hot and looked like it could be bent and shaped like any blacksmith would do. For the third time he held the shoulder but this time he dreaded what he had to do. He took the blade and pressed it hard onto the wound cauterizing it closed. The smell of burnt flesh found its way to Tim’s nose. Falau moaned through gritted teeth and let out a sound like a wounded animal. His head flopped forward as he passed out from the pain. Tim removed the knife and again cleaned the wound with the hydrogen peroxide.

  He lifted Falau out of the chair and placed him in the bed. He removed Falau’s shoes and shirt. Going back to the first aid kit he found a dressing for the wound and headed back to finish the job of caring for his teammate.

  Chapter 16

  Holding the cell phone to her head a look of sadness covered Gabriela’s face.

  “Are you sure?” she said into the phone as a crinkle of distress developed between her eyebrows.

  “I understand. Is there anyone who can cover? This is my day off.” she let out a large sigh and leaned back in her chair frustrated. “No, it looks like I have to come in.”

  Tristan Duke watched attentively as the beautiful woman took the phone call. He felt he had put in more than enough time to get to take her to dinner and who knows what the rest of the night would hold. She was beautiful and funny. He looked at her as more than a one night stand. This is the kind of woman he could have a relationship with. The kind of woman who would care for him and he would not have to worry about what she would say or do at parties that could embarrass him in front of his friends or business associates. He had been down that road before. He knew that it was a superficial thing to think about and he should not care what others thought of the woman he chose to have beside him but it did matter. In the game of finance everything was judged and everything held value. Having the most beautiful woman at the party who also was classy and refined could only help him when he dove back into the business world looking for more financing. Those boys took little risk with their money and everything had to be right.

  Gabriela pulled the phone away from her head and banged it down in her lap. A look of exasperation had overtaken her. “That was my work. I am being called in because too many people called out.”

  “You know I never did ask you what you do for work.” said Duke leaning in trying to keep the intimacy alive for a few more moments.

  “I am a nurse practitioner. I work at County in the emerge
ncy room. Normally I work overnights but they need me now and I can’t really say no, no matter how much fun I am having with you.”

  Gabriela turned her head away and coyly looked back with a slight smile. She reached her hand across the table and took Duke’s hand in hers. “This was a great time. I hate to end it. Do you think we can pick up where we left off tomorrow?”

  “Of course we can. I have been working up the courage to ask you out on a formal date for the last thirty minutes but looks like you beat me too it.”

  “Doesn’t mean you still can’t ask. A girl likes to be asked out. At least this girl does.”

  “Well then, would you do me the honor of letting me escort you to dinner tomorrow night?” asked Duke attempting to sound silly and playful but his words came across childish.

  Matching his tone Gabriela responded “It would be my honor.” She acted like she was giving a curtsy in her chair that made her feel ridiculous.

  “Let me give you a ride home.”

  Gabriela paused “I don’t think I have time for that. It would be better if you could just give me a ride to the hospital and I can change into some scrubs there. Sounds like they are really backed up.”

  “I love your dedication. Think it will be okay for you to work with four drinks in you?”

  “Four drinks? Oh keeping track are we? Four drinks is nothing for this girl.”

  Duke smiled and stood up from the table indicating it was time to leave. He took the lead feeling he should start to assert his dominance now if the relationship were to continue. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet removing a $100 bill. He held it in the air for all to see and waved to the waitress with it.

  “Leaving this on the table sweatheart.” he called “You can keep the change.”

  The two walked from the bar and got into Duke’s car. Within fifteen minutes they sat parked in front of the hospital. Gabriela leaned over and gave the young man a kiss on the cheek.