The Good Soldier

by L. T. Ryan

  Burnett had apparently masterminded the ring. Why, though? Why would a U.S. Senator get involved in such a thing? Money was the obvious answer, but there had to be more to it than that. Had he fallen in with the wrong people? Wrote checks his ass couldn't cash, as they say? Perhaps someone had information on him, damaging information. Perhaps the kind of thing that could ruin the man's career. In exchange for keeping quiet, he'd been recruited to oversee the group. He had power. He had connections. It still didn't make sense, to me, at least. On the other hand, having the boy kidnapped did, for any number of reasons.

  I felt like a man running a marathon, only I was stuck at the two-mile mark. The answer was right in front of me, but I couldn't see it through the thousands in the crowd that swarmed by me while I took endless step after endless step on a treadmill.

  Finally, what did Burnett want with the boy now? Bait? I figured that's why he had the girl. If not bait, then presumably to escape with him. I knew that escape had to be in the plans. He said to come alone, but he knew all about me, so he said to bring Sarah, too. I presumed as a bargaining chip. He also knew who I worked for. And he had to be prepared for them to show up at some point, which meant he did not intend to stay in Miami after he'd finished with me.

  Sarah's arm brushed against mine. I turned toward her and saw her eyes flutter open. Warm, soft, inviting. She arched her back, dropped her head, moaned. The sound sent a shiver through me.

  "Where are we?" she said.

  "In between Orlando and Tampa."

  "They're kind of across from each other, aren't they?"

  I nodded then smiled. Anyone watching might assume we really were two lovers on vacation. Worst case, they'd think we were two colleagues on a business trip. Not a single person on the plane, not even Sarah, would guess that we were two people on a suicide mission. I was the only one with that distinction.

  "Will we have time to find a hotel?" she asked with a single eyebrow raised curiously.

  I shook my head. "Unfortunately, not with Miami traffic at five p.m. We'll have to wait for the next call at the airport and then figure out where to go."

  Of course, I knew where we'd be going, and it wouldn't be to a hotel. I didn't tell her that, though.

  "Do you think Frank will come through with a contact to meet us and…?"

  I nodded. A gesture betrayed my feelings. Frank would come through, that much was true. But we'd never meet the man. I knew that.

  "We'll have to play it by ear," I said. "If at any time you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me. And I want you to go. Leave."

  She shook her head and placed her hand on mine. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack."

  I smiled while my stomach knotted. I trusted myself to get through this OK. But could I trust myself to get her through it too? Bravery was second nature for her. I wasn't sure if her instincts were right for this job.

  She closed her eyes again, and so did I. Neither of us spoke again until the plane landed.

  Chapter 25

  The airport hummed with activity. People coming and going, and waiting for loved ones with anticipation, and watching them leave with sorrowful eyes. For me, it was another day at work. For Sarah, it was like a shot of adrenaline. I bet if I'd asked, I'd have found out the woman liked to jump out of planes and off bridges and go to one of those places where they let you drive a real race car around a real race track. The thought excited me, and for a second, I let my mind wander to what we'd do together if we survived this situation.

  We picked our way through the crowd that surrounded the arrival's gate. Parts of it felt like scraping through molasses. For some, courtesy had been checked at the door that day. Sarah stayed close as we passed through the thickest spots. Her chest pressed against my side, arm wrapped around my waist. I found myself wishing we were two lovers on vacation. I'd have settled for colleagues on a business trip, that is if she insisted on remaining that close.

  The crowd thinned and Sarah pulled away. Not much, only an inch or two. Her arm slid off my waist and wrapped around my arm. It felt comfortable and natural. Too much so, though. I found myself thinking more of her than paying attention to the crowd and the people that waited by the exit doors fifty yards ahead. Letting them spot us first was a recipe for disaster and something I generally tried to avoid.

  Fortunately, I spotted him before he spotted me. He looked to be my height. His body was thin and athletic looking. He wore a dark blue suit with a conservative tie. His brown hair was cropped close to his head, with sunglasses perched atop. Knock ten years off Frank and he and the man would be spitting images of each other.

  I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. It didn't go unnoticed by Sarah.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Frank came through for us," I replied.

  "Who? Where?"

  "By the front door. Blue suit. Boring tie. Frank minus ten years."

  Her head turned left, then right, then stopped. "I see him." A smile crossed her face. Mine, too. We'd be safe, for a while.

  We walked another twenty-five yards. I deliberately slowed our pace down. I wanted him to see us. I had to see his reaction. Not that I didn't trust Frank to come through for us. That wasn't it at all. I was overly cautious when it came to meeting new people. And his initial reaction would tell me everything I needed to know.

  The man's head inched side to side. He let his eyes do to the bulk of the work. They scanned left to right, corner to corner. No face went unnoticed. Finally, his gaze landed on me. It was judgment time. His lips parted and turned up in a smile. He mouthed, "Jack," and waved both hands above his head.

  I kept moving forward, same pace. I looked to his left and to his right. I checked beside me, then beside Sarah. Everything felt normal. Frank had come through for us. I almost felt bad for doubting him, then I realized he would have doubted me if the tables were turned.

  I lifted my right hand above my head and waved. I nodded, smiled, and kept moving. Fifteen yards away. His smile broadened. Ten yards away. His smile faded. Two more steps. He looked left, then right. A new grin swept across his face, but his eyes were narrow, beady, and dark. I felt a hand on my elbow. I felt Sarah pulled away from me. She gasped, and then went quiet, presumably because she felt the barrel of a gun pressed into her side, poised to rip through her kidney. I knew she felt that because I felt the same thing.

  Frank hadn't come through, not by a long shot. This guy was one of Burnett's men.

  Chapter 26

  The men led us through the steel-rimmed glass exit doors. The hot, muggy Miami air hit me like a sledgehammer. I started sweating within sixty seconds. We crossed the street like a misfit rat pack.

  The man in the suit stopped in front of a white Cadillac Escalade. The vehicle was adorned with gold trim. They shoved Sarah and me in the back row. The men that guided each of us with guns in our backs, respectively, sat in the middle row Captain's chairs. They twisted in their seats to keep weapons trained on me. They didn't view Sarah as a threat. I didn't blame them. She was too easy on the eyes to be a threat. Of course, that could make her more of one. However, Burnett knew who he was dealing with. He had access to my files, classified or not.

  The man in the suit climbed into the passenger seat and nodded at the driver, who adjusted the mirror. The driver's head twisted and turned up. His eyes burned into me. Those eyes, dark and puffy, looked familiar. He twisted at the waist, stuck out his left arm and grabbed a hold of the seat next to him, then turned his head.

  "Hola, Jack."

  It took a fraction of a second for me to recognize the man. Pablo. The guy who had led us to the house. The guy who'd been beaten within an inch of his life by Frank. The guy who'd supposedly had a heart attack at SIS headquarters. Now, the guy who surely wanted to have the first crack at me.

  I nodded without breaking eye contact. Pablo was scared of me before, and I'd do everything to maintain that power over him, no matter my personal predicament.

  "Let's go, Pablo," the man in the sui
t said, dragging out the o in Pablo's name two beats too long. "Too many damn cops around here."

  The men in the car laughed. Inside joke, I figured.

  Pablo looked away and fired up the engine. Put the SUV in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. Every time he looked into the rear view mirror, his eyes shifted between my eyes and the road behind me. I grinned, a little. He narrowed his eyes, a lot.

  Sarah nudged me with her knee. I turned my head and saw pleading in her eyes. Do something, she mouthed. She might as well have said it, as I was sure when I looked, the guys in the middle row did so as well.

  "Any chance we can stop at a diner for something to eat?" I said.

  "Shut up, Noble," the man in the suit said.

  "How about a drive-thru then?"

  "How about you shut up before I have one of them feed the girl a lead lunch?"

  I turned to Sarah, shrugged, and mouthed the word sorry. She rolled her eyes, shook her head. I reached out and grabbed her hand.

  "None of that, man," the guy sitting in front of her said.

  She tried to pull away. I wouldn't let go.

  The guy in front of her lifted his arm and aimed the gun at her forehead, leaving about four inches between barrel and flesh. It'd be impossible to miss at that distance.

  "Let go," he said.

  "Do it," I said. "Go ahead. You're going to do it later, anyway. Get it over with now."

  I saw the light glint off the barrel of the gun a half second before the man in front of me slammed it into my forehead. My head snapped back like it was attached to a swivel on my neck. It rebounded forward violently. Warm blood flooded over my brow, into and around my eye, and down my cheek. It dripped onto my shirt and pants.

  "Jack!" Sarah said.

  I held my left arm out, across her chest like we had hit the brakes and were skidding and I wanted to prevent her from flying through the window.

  "It's OK," I said. "Only a cut."

  It wasn't OK. The head wound I suffered the week before made any blow to the head that much more severe. I knew that. She knew that. But I couldn't let these men know that.

  One of them threw me a towel. I figured it was dirty, but couldn't tell. One eye was flooded with blood, the other with salty tears. It was like I was underwater and nothing looked clear. Sarah grabbed the towel from my hand and wrapped it around my head, cinching it tight so it slowed down the flow of the blood through the wound.

  "Gonna shut up now, Jack?" the man in the suit said.

  I said nothing. Stared straight ahead and settled in for the ride. I tried to pay attention to the streets we followed, but everything passed in a blur. Had my brain begun to swell? Or was it the effects of sleep deprivation? How long had it been since I had more than a few hours of sleep? Two days or three? I couldn't remember. Wasn't sure what day it was anymore.

  The localized ache at the site of the wound expanded, at first across my forehead. Then it wrapped around both sides, and then toward the middle. My brain hurt and felt like it had split into two. I saw stars in front of me, literally. I never believed anyone when they said that, but at that moment, I knew it to be true. The stars faded away into pinpricks of light punched into fabric.

  Sarah whispered my name, perhaps sensing or more likely realizing that something was wrong.

  I responded in kind, I think. I felt the hum of her name in my throat but couldn't tell if my lips parted.

  "Jack!" Sarah's voice was loud, but muffled, like we were under water. The pleasant tone of her voice replaced by a thundering clap containing four letters, J-A-C-K.

  "What the hell is going on back there?" A man's voice. The man in the suit, I assumed, only because there was no accent. It sounded garbled, not like it was underwater, but speaking through a mouthful of water.

  The sensation of fire spread through my head, while ice filled my veins and froze my body in place. I tried moving my arms and couldn't. Tried to kick with my legs, but they remained rooted to the floor.

  Delicate hands grabbed my arms. Sarah, I figured, although I couldn't see to verify it was her touch. I felt the weight of her body over mine.

  "We need…" Her voice faded into the depths. "…hospital…" Gone again.

  Then the sensation in my hands and feet and legs and arms disappeared. A black curtain hung before my eyes. The pain in my head retreated. I thought that perhaps I'd died.

  Chapter 27

  I hadn't died. It didn't take me long to come to this conclusion, although I did determine it while still passed out. Wherever I was at that moment, the place stood empty. Silent. When my time came, there'd be the souls of all those who'd perished at my hand. They'd be standing around waiting for me in an effort to be the one to capture my soul. Of all things in life, I was sure of that.

  Slowly, the sensation returned to my hands, feet, legs, and arms. The pain started in the center of my brain and expanded outward, swelling and encompassing my head, and then retreating toward the spot of the gash on my forehead. The black curtain covering my eyes lifted. I stared ahead, unfocused, through a watery veil.

  A thunderclap exploded to my left. "Jack!"

  I blinked hard and looked to the right, out the window. The Escalade had stopped and high hedges, dark green through the tinted window, blocked any further view.

  "Jack," Sarah said. "Can you hear me?"

  I shifted my eyes to the left and turned my head until I saw her, then said, "Yeah."

  She wrapped her arms around my neck. I felt her cheek against mine, her breath, hot and rapid, floating across my lips. I looked straight ahead and saw all four men staring at me, their brows furrowed, expressions of horror and confusion on their faces.

  "What?" I said.

  "Pull through, Pablo," the man in the suit said, turning in his seat to face forward once again. He took a final look at me and shook his head.

  "You sure you're OK?" Sarah said.

  "Yeah, I think," I said. "What the hell happened?"

  She touched my forehead with a gentle hand, wiping blood from my brow. "You started convulsing, shaking. I thought you'd had an aneurysm and were dying on me."

  I forced a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "Good. Don't."

  I strained to look past Pablo and the man in the suit. A black iron gate with twists and curls at the top and the bottom opened up and we pulled through. The artificial light faded and it was hard to make out the landscape beyond the edges of the driveway. I glanced down at my watch. Seven p.m. I looked back up. The house stood off in the distance another hundred yards or so. Pools of light adorned the facade, cast from garden lights spaced precisely across the front of the house. The calming pinkish orange hue of the stucco instilled a sense of relaxation in me. I knew it wouldn't last long, though. This was the last stop before whatever was to come next. And I was certain that the next stop wouldn't be any more pleasant than the seizure I'd experienced.

  Pablo pulled up to the three-car garage and idled while a wide white garage door lifted open. Then he pulled the vehicle in and stopped. He stepped out. The man in the blue suit remained and turned to face us. Pulled out his sidearm and aimed it in my direction. The men in the middle seats got out on their sides of the car, respectively, then Sarah, and finally me and the man in the suit at the same time.

  Pablo led the way into the house. We walked through a mudroom connected to the laundry room, then down a short hall, maybe ten feet long. It deposited us into the kitchen.

  A man stood in front of an open refrigerator. He had on khaki cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt. He looked over his shoulder, revealing half his face. He recognized me instantly, as I did him. Senator Vernon Burnett.

  "Hello, Jack," he said. "And this lovely lady is…?"

  "Sarah," she said.

  Burnett crossed the floor and stopped six feet away. "I might bring you with me, young lady." He smiled at her. His eyes traveled to me. The smile broadened. "Not you, though, Jack. I'm about through with you."

  "Then get it ove
r with," I said. "Shoot me now."

  Burnett's smile faded a little. The corners of his mouth withdrew, but he kept his lips parted. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. Something about it got to him, so I figured best thing to do was keep at it.

  "You don't have the guts," I said. "Do you?"

  He chuckled and looked me up and down. "I don't have to, Jack. Any of these guys'll do it." He tossed a hand up with his thumb extended and pointed behind himself. "Especially Pablo. Man, was he pissed when he got down here."

  "You got him out," I said, referring to Pablo while keeping my stare fixed on Burnett. No one had wanted to question him, I realized. It had been someone who worked for someone who worked for Burnett. They fed us that line and we bought it hook, line and sinker. The thought crossed my mind that maybe someone else high up in the government worked with Burnett on this.

  He nodded. "When you've got the power and connections I've got, it's easy to make things like that happen."

  "Who're the other guys?" I said.

  Burnett took a deep breath and eyed me for a few seconds, then said, "They work for me. That's all you need to know."

  "What about him?" I gestured with my head toward the man in the blue suit. "He doesn't seem like the others."

  "You gotta have someone to watch the hens," Burnett said. "Reece is his name. He's a," he paused a beat and squished his lips to the side, like he was biting the inside of his cheek. "He's in some kind of law enforcement. We'll leave it at that."

  "Corrupt," I said, looking Reece in the eye.

  He smiled back at me. "The things we'll do for money, eh?"

  "Yeah," I said, focusing on Burnett. "Why the kids, Senator? For the money?"

  He took a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled loud enough for the sound to echo in the hallway behind me. "Frankly, Jack, that's none of your concern."