Requiem

by J. B. Turner

  “And you did Stone’s buddy Barney good?”

  “Sure did.”

  “You’re going to be doing it all again tonight. You’ve got a taste for it, don’t you? Felt good?”

  Thornton nodded. “Felt good.”

  “Let’s talk tonight’s scenario through again. I want us all to be on the same page.”

  “Sure.”

  De Boer pictured the scene. “If they’re both in the bar enjoying a cold one, tell me again, how do we neutralize them? What would you do, Craig? Just want your thoughts on what you’d do. Not what I think we should do.”

  “Masks, wait till they come outside, silencer, shots to the head when they leave. Drop a bag of coke at the scene. Drug deal gone wrong. Then we’re off.”

  De Boer nodded. “No point in taking them down inside the bar?”

  Thornton shook his head. “It’s open till midnight. So we’re hoping it’ll just be them settling in for some booze.”

  “Then again, might be one drink, then off. Going to get ugly if there are other customers outside.”

  “Collateral damage. I’m ready for anything. You know that.”

  De Boer was deep in thought. “What about this . . . ? When Stone arrives, two of our guys wearing masks are waiting in the parking lot. They shoot him point-blank with a 9mm with a silencer when he gets out of his vehicle. Then they disappear. But then the guy in the bar takes out the girl and the bar staff and any customers.”

  “That’s nice. I like that a lot. Sadly, collateral damage. But it means Stone is taken out quickly. We’re not fucking around waiting for them to leave. And then we get her and do her in the bar. Could still be read as a drug deal gone wrong.”

  De Boer nodded. “Boat waiting a mile away. And our men are out of there.”

  Thornton checked his watch. It was 8:01 p.m. “I’m sorry about Pieter, man.”

  De Boer nodded. “I’ve got the rest of my life to mourn him. But he’s got a widow who doesn’t know she’s a widow.”

  “Jesus.”

  “She still thinks my brother is alive. I’ll need to tell her all that when we get back. But first I want that fucker Nathan Stone deleted, and the girl.”

  Thornton said nothing.

  “Are you okay, Craig? You’ve gone quiet on me again.”

  “I just want this over with. Fucking jinxed this whole thing.”

  Forty-Six

  Stone was doing some breathing exercises as he stared at the stars in the inky sky, pondering what lay ahead for them that night. He had run the scenarios through his head a dozen times and still thought his plan was solid. He had to be careful, though. He didn’t want his face popping up on any surveillance footage. He had gotten lucky so far. But he knew that even the best-laid plans could come apart at the seams.

  He popped a couple of steroid-and-amphetamine pills, washing them down with a bottle of water. He tasted the bitter aftertaste, swallowing hard. He waited a few moments. Then he checked his watch. It was 8:19 p.m. precisely.

  He waited until 8:20 and called Beatrice in Cudjoe. The phone rang three times before she picked up.

  “Change of plan,” he said.

  Beatrice said, “Why?”

  “I’m at a nice bar in Marathon,” he lied. “Frank’s Bar. Straight across the Overseas Highway from Big Pine Key. Overlooks the water. It’s gorgeous.”

  “How far is that from where I am?”

  “Thirty miles. Take Route 1 north. Forty minutes.”

  “Why so far away?”

  “No reason. Cool little place I found.”

  She was silent for a few moments. He was worried she wasn’t going to respond. “You still there?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you hear what I said? Change of plan.”

  Beatrice cleared her throat. “When do you want me to leave?”

  “Leave right now.”

  “Right this second?”

  “Yes. Drive straight here.”

  Beatrice sighed. “You’re there already?”

  “Yeah,” he lied again. “Got a strong mojito. You like mojitos? I’ll get one lined up for you.”

  “Sounds nice.” Beatrice’s voice betrayed nervousness.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good. Just . . . I’m not good when plans are changed.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  Forty-Seven

  De Boer took off the headphones he’d been using to listen in on the conversation between Stone and the woman. “What the fuck is he up to? Changing plans. Fuck!”

  Thornton stared at the monitors. “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s almost as if he knows we’re listening. And taking his bait.”

  Thornton clicked his fingers. “That’s what it is. He’s setting the bait for us.”

  De Boer stared out the side window. “You don’t know that. You’re overthinking it.”

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  De Boer stared at the monitor showing the entrance to the beach house where the woman was staying. “Still no sign of her.”

  “He’s doing the classic thing. He’s setting a time and place to meet up. Then he changes it at the last minute.”

  “Then again, maybe we’re making false assumptions. What reason would he have to think the phone in the house is being bugged?”

  Thornton was quiet.

  “Isn’t it more likely that Frank’s is just a bar in Marathon he likes and was always going to use, perhaps concerned that she might be compromised, maybe have gone to the cops?”

  Thornton sighed. “Could be. I say we send one team up there now. Just to sit outside until we’re all there. Observation only until they both leave, then we take them down.”

  “Fine.” De Boer sent out the message that team A was to move from the bar in Big Pine Key and head up to Marathon. Stay in vehicle until further notice on arrival, he instructed.

  “What about the No Name Pub?”

  “We’ve still got your operatives in position. I say they stay as they are until further notice.”

  Thornton got on his cell phone and passed on that instruction to his team. “So we’ve got both places covered?”

  De Boer took a few moments to consider the development. “Fuck.”

  “I know. It’s like we’re being played.”

  “It’s either that or he’s just unpredictable.”

  “We need to be on the ground in Marathon, or nearby, to make sure this fucker doesn’t disappear again.”

  De Boer nodded. He glanced out the side window as the door to the house opened.

  An operative’s voice came through his earpiece. “We’ve got movement. She’s on the move.”

  “Copy that. I want one car in front of her and one at a distance.” De Boer stared at a monitor as the woman locked the front door of the beach house and walked over to the Jeep. He watched as she pulled away. He waited for a minute until she was out of sight. Then he cocked his head at Thornton. “Let’s get in the SUV. Leave the van here just in case Stone decides to return.”

  Thornton climbed out the rear door of the van and got into the back of the waiting BMW SUV.

  De Boer got in the front.

  “Marathon?” said the operative who was driving.

  “Frank’s Bar.”

  They pulled away, leaving the white van with the two other operatives inside.

  Forty-Eight

  Berenger was in Sarasota watching dashcam footage from the BMW as de Boer and his guys finally closed in on Stone when his cell phone rang.

  “Mark, plane waiting outside.” It was Fisk.

  “Sir, we’re reaching the endgame here. I thought we—”

  “You don’t have to hang around for the endgame. I’ve seen the latest report. We’re in a position to finally nail that fucker Stone. But I want you out of Florida and back with your family before the shit hits the fan down in the Keys.”

  Berenger took a few moments to contemplate what Fisk was getting at. “Si
r, with all due respect, my work will only be done when Stone is neutralized.”

  “Mark, when’s the last time you saw your family?”

  “Quite a while ago.”

  “Months. So we’re going to put this right. De Boer and his guys have this in hand.”

  Two men in suits appeared at a side door within the facility.

  “Two of my people will accompany you back home,” Fisk said.

  Berenger stared at the men. “Those are your guys?”

  “They work for me. They will make sure you arrive at your destination safely. Part and parcel of the contract.”

  “And you want me to go now?”

  “The facility will be shutting down within minutes of Stone being taken out. I want you out of there. Out of sight. The Cessna is waiting.”

  Berenger thought the whole situation strange. “Sir, if it’s all right with you, I’d rather just wait until I have confirmation that the job is done. It ain’t over till it’s over, as they say.”

  “You can’t do any more. So, get on the plane, get out of there.”

  Berenger looked up at the footage showing de Boer and his guys talking in the car. “I’ve got some personal stuff I need to organize.”

  “We’ll pack it up and ship it out to you. As of now you need to get on the plane and become a civilian again. You need to get out of Florida. The money all went into your account this morning.”

  “I saw that. I thought it was on completion.”

  “Mark, we’ll talk soon.”

  “Shouldn’t I say goodbye or something to the team here?”

  “No. Your job is done.”

  The line went dead.

  Berenger was accompanied out of the facility by Fisk’s men. He turned to look around, and only the computer hacker brought in by de Boer looked up from his monitor. The kid nodded in acknowledgment.

  A few minutes later he was in the air, headed to Iowa. As quick and as sudden as that.

  Berenger was handed a whisky on the rocks. He tossed it back as the Cessna climbed through the night sky, the lights of Sarasota below.

  He closed his eyes. He began to think of Nathan Stone at the mercy of de Boer and his crew. Finally, the end of the battle to track him down and kill him was in sight. He felt an emptiness in his soul despite everything, knowing Stone’s life would soon be over.

  Forty-Nine

  De Boer opened up the iPad. It showed the BMW’s GPS position, headed north through the Keys. “Okay, looks good. So, let’s take this nice and easy. We’ve got people in position. And we’re on her tail. But we need to keep at least a half-mile gap. No closer. Are we clear?”

  “Got it,” the driver said.

  The miles rolled by as they headed on to Summerland Key and then Big Pine Key. From there it was Bahia Honda Key. Then Ohio Key and Missouri Key. Then on to the Seven Mile Bridge, which would take them up to Marathon in the Middle Keys.

  He couldn’t help but think of his brother. His tough brother. He would have to accompany Pieter’s body all the way back to South Africa when the mission was complete. He knew his sister-in-law would have millions in her bank account as compensation. But that wouldn’t mean anything to her. She was a widow now, raising the kids by herself in a gated community. He wondered if maybe his brother’s family should move to his ranch for better protection.

  De Boer stared straight ahead as the headlights illuminated the asphalt. His earpiece buzzed. “Kevin, we’re in position in Marathon.”

  “Copy that. Any sign of the target?”

  “We’ve scouted the bar, but nothing so far. We think he might’ve gone to the bathroom, but we’re on it.”

  De Boer relayed the message to Thornton in the back seat. “They reckon he’s in the bathroom. No escape for the fucker this time.”

  Thornton just stared out into the darkness, not saying a word.

  “Don’t go quiet on me again,” de Boer said.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About Stone. I’m wondering what Stone is doing now. Does he have one or two drinks under his belt? Is he relaxed? The annoying thing is that we’ll have to go with a new game plan now. New bar, new location, and also, since Stone’s there already, he might be able to check out the entrances and exits, have that covered.”

  “Yeah, but so will we.”

  “He’s got us on our toes.”

  De Boer knew Thornton was right to feel uneasy. They were dealing with a highly dangerous operative. Unpredictable. Savvy. He pictured Stone kicking back with a beer alongside his mojito, having a piss before he met up with the girl. Perhaps making sure that the bathroom didn’t have anyone in it. He wondered if there was direct water access from the bar. Was that something they needed to consider? He passed on his question to the team in Sarasota for them to come up with an answer. And fast.

  His earpiece buzzed. “That was quick,” he said. “Tell me about the water access.”

  “Our guys are looking into it. Meanwhile, I wanted you to know that Berenger got a call a few minutes ago and he’s out of here.”

  “What?”

  “I know. Strange.”

  “He took off? Seriously?”

  “Two guys landed in a Cessna and escorted him to the plane. And that was that.”

  De Boer had expected Berenger, as the top guy, whom he reported to, to hang around. “Maybe a precautionary move before this goes down?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. We’ll be cleaning up and getting out of here quick.”

  “Appreciate the heads-up, man,” de Boer said.

  De Boer ended the conversation. Ahead of them on the road was the woman in the Jeep. Stone was at the bar. De Boer chose to take Berenger’s departure as a sign of confidence that things were finally going to plan. Then, just as they reached the halfway point on the deserted bridge, a siren blared behind them.

  He glanced back and saw blue lights. “Are you kidding me?”

  Thornton looked back, then turned to face de Boer. “All our IDs are fine. Relax, we’re allowed to carry. We’re good.”

  “I know. Just a fucking irritant, that’s all. Pain in the fucking ass this whole job.” De Boer looked back again as the cop started flashing his lights. “You think he wants us?”

  The driver nodded. “Yeah, he’s signaling for me to pull over.”

  De Boer sighed. “Fuck. Okay, do what he wants. No smart-ass comments. The guy’s just doing his job.”

  The driver slowed down and pulled over. He adjusted his mirror, keeping an eye on the cop. “Yeah, he’s taking a good look at our taillights.”

  De Boer glanced in the side-view mirror and saw the cop approach. He wore sunglasses and the uniform of the Florida Highway Patrol. His motorcycle was parked a few yards behind them.

  The cop knocked hard on the window. The driver lowered it.

  The cop was wearing forensic gloves. He smiled. Then he pulled an Uzi out and sprayed the vehicle with bullets until everyone was dead.

  Fifty

  Stone reached in through the window to unlock the car’s doors. Then he rifled through the blood-spattered pockets of the three men in the SUV. He took all their cell phones. And it was clear that the guy in the front passenger seat had been giving instructions, sending operatives to the bar in Marathon where Beatrice was headed. He sent a text to Beatrice on the cell phone he’d given her. It read:

  Drive past Marathon. Meet up where we first met.

  Stone threw the Uzi into the blood-soaked back seat. He wanted the cops to think it was some drug deal or some gangland thing gone wrong.

  He climbed back on Barney’s old bike and gunned it across to Marathon. He found a deserted beach. He was careful to dump the Harley among the dunes and bury it with sand.

  But first Stone pulled a backpack out of the pannier. Inside was a change of clothes. He took off the forensic gloves and bloodied cop clothes and buried them, then put on his clean clothes and switched the new cell phone on.

  He
walked a quarter mile, hot-wired a Toyota he found in a parking lot, and got back on the road, headed north, straight for Miami.

  Fifty-One

  Catherine Hudson was staring up at the big screens in the Miami office, struggling to comprehend the blood-spattered dashcam footage from the SUV that had been carrying de Boer and the other South African operatives. It was her worst nightmare. The whole operation had imploded. And still Stone and the woman were free.

  When her cell phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Yes!” she snapped.

  “You’ve got a problem.” It was the harsh voice of Reg Thomson, the ex-SAS operative.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Your men should’ve seen that change of time as suspicious. They must have had their doubts. But they were led to that location by that simple call. Staggering.”

  “How is that even possible? I can’t understand this.”

  “I’ve been in the business for the best part of fifteen years, and I’ve never seen anything like this. Who the hell is this Nathan Stone? I mean, really, who the fuck is he?”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Watching things from my office here in Miami.”

  “What about your guys? Where are they?”

  “One on a motorbike, two in a car, trailing Stone as we speak.”

  “Fuck!”

  “I know. Complete, utter mess. It’s a full-on clusterfuck. And you guys are rapidly losing control of this situation. Actually, I’ll correct that, you’ve lost control of the situation. And it’s going to head south from here.”

  “That’s what you think?”

  “You’ve lost the head of your operation. Stone has the rest of the team split up between three locations. And no one has a clue where he’s headed or what he’s planning.”

  Hudson closed her eyes. She felt as if she was losing her mind. The Commission—her brilliant idea—was in shambles, and their specially picked assassin, Nathan Stone, had spun so far out of their orbit of control it was beyond belief.

  The more she thought about it, the more she wondered whether it was even possible to take out Stone and the woman without a bloodbath. How was this all going to end?