On The Black: (A CIA Thriller)

by Theo Cage

  With four armed men defending themselves, placing the first shot was critical. Rice punched a bullet into the lead capo’s forehead. It was the first handgun shot he had fired in years and he guessed he would be wide. The bullet smashed into the man's brow about two inches to the right of center, just above his eyebrow. Not a very satisfying shot for Rice, but effective.

  At this point, one of the younger guys had decided to wave caution and fire, despite the fact that most of Rice was fully shielded by the chunky Sergio, who yelped when the bullet struck him in the upper chest.

  Rice shot the two younger men in quick succession, both head shots. Risky, but at twenty-yards, far from impossible. They both crumpled into the pavement like puppets whose strings had been snipped.

  That left one survivor, now huddled somewhere at the front of the truck. Rice let Sergio drop to the ground, then walked quickly in a wide arc to his right, focused on the front bumper. Down on his haunches was enforcer number four. Rice didn't have time to waste with him. The police would be here in a matter of minutes. He raced back to Sergio, grabbed the phone he had dropped on the blacktop, and ran to the open driver's door of the Avalanche. He jumped in knowing enforcer number four's most likely move was to stand up and fire into the windshield. Rice didn't want that. He needed a vehicle he could drive away without attracting too much attention. He hunkered down behind the dash, slipped the lever into drive and punched the gas. He felt the impact on the front of the vehicle and saw a gun skitter across the pavement. He slammed the massive door shut and backed up, then drove around the man who was moaning on the ground. He intentionally didn't kill him. He just wanted him disarmed.

  Before Rice left the parking lot, he had the cell phone up to his ear. “Mr. Ruffino. Are you still there?” he asked.

  . . . . .

  ENZO HAD TAKEN THE PHONE from Snake and sighed. He now had four soldiers on the ground in Chicago, a junior loan shark on the phone, and yet he didn't feel one inch closer to securing the Blum girl.

  “Where is she?” was all he said to Sergio. There was a pause. Enzo could hear street noises in the background, a car honking. Sergio was standing in the middle of a parking lot in South Chicago, a thug circus. What could possibly go wrong with that? Then he heard a grunt and the phone sounded like it hit the pavement. Enzo heard shots fired next. One. Two.

  Then, a third and fourth in quick succession. Then he heard nothing for several seconds, scuffling sounds.

  Someone eventually picked up the cell phone and closed a car door, gunned a substantial V8. He couldn't put the whole scenario together from the few sounds he had heard, but something told him he wasn't going to be pleased with the outcome. And Sergio was clearly out of the picture now - exactly what he feared.

  CHAPTER 65

  Scottsdale, Arizona

  ENZO ORDERED TONY TO TURN THE LEXUS around and head back to his home in Holmby Hills. His wife made him a special lunch every day of the week and if he missed it, she would be angry for days.

  “Ruffino. Are you still there?” said the voice on the phone.

  Enzo waited for a few seconds. He hated not knowing the situation and he was irritated that this guy on the phone knew who he was.

  “Tell me who you are or I hang up.”

  “You hang up, you’ll never see her again.”

  “Let me talk to Sergio.”

  “If you want to help Sergio, I suggest you call 911. He's bleeding out in the parking lot of the Fashion Outlet mall.”

  “Then give me Danny.”

  “Is Danny the captain?”

  “A cousin on my wife's side.”

  “That means you are going to have a difficult call to make. He tried to shoot me. That was his mistake.”

  “Make your peace with God, whoever you are. You have only a few hours left to live.”

  “That's a very dramatic speech, Ruffino. So, indulge a dying man and tell me why you want this girl so badly.”

  “She has valuable information I need. I am willing to pay generously for her capture. If you have her, we can make a deal.”

  “If you want her, I need more detail,” said Rice.

  “What does it matter? You hand her over. I pay you. What could be simpler?”

  “I have a better idea. I don't need money, but I do need a miracle.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There are two men after me. Professionals. If you can look after that minor matter for me, the girl is yours. No questions asked.”

  Enzo laughed. “Now you are sounding like a cop. What do you take me for? These kinds of arrangements have to be made like men. Face to face over wine.”

  “Where?”

  “We are a thousand miles apart. If you want to complete a transaction with my organization, you need to come to me.”

  “That doesn't work. But I have your number. I'll call you back.”

  Enzo handed the phone back to Snake, who looked like he had a dozen questions about the conversation, but reluctant to ask any of them. Enzo leaned back. The man on the phone fascinated him. He sounded educated - he wasn't some street-jockey, not with that kind of attitude. And five of his men couldn't take him down. Enzo was certain he wasn't a cop though. Cops don't work alone and cops don't kill suspects on the street in broad daylight. This guy was different. And someone who thought he was pretty tough. Enzo couldn't wait to meet him. And then show him his gun collection - up close and personal.

  CHAPTER 66

  Los Angeles, California

  GRACE WAS SITTING in a swivel chair inconveniently mounted to the floor of their surveillance van, which was about two hundred feet from Scott Rice's house. The reason she hated the chair was she couldn't make adjustments. Someone had designed this ergonometrically for an average nerd, some pot-bellied geek who was five foot-nine. She was over six feet and she felt like she had borrowed her kid sister’s play chair.

  On the screen was a feed from both the front and back lawns of the Rice residence. Currently in the pool, fighting over an inflatable, were the two Rice children. The mother was pacing by the barbecue. Normally she would be in a recliner reading a novel. But since the kidnapping incident, Jeannie was unable to relax. The process was aging her by the minute. Grace could swear she could see crow's feet on the monitor that weren't there a week before.

  Then Grace watched as Scott opened the front door of their home, walked down the curved front walk, crossed the street, and knocked on the back door of her van.

  Grace sighed. She didn't really like Scott. He seemed spoiled and passive-aggressive and never really got what his brother had lived through. He could also be spoiling their stakeout.

  She opened the side door. “How can I help you?” she said, not able to hide her sarcasm.

  “Come inside for a lemonade,” he said.

  “Sorry, can't leave my post.”

  “What better way to watch us than in the very house your surveiling?” he asked, impatience in his voice.

  Grace looked at him. He looked sincere. Her back was sore from sitting in the baby chair. She shrugged.

  “For fifteen minutes,” she said. Scott nodded. She locked the van and they walked back to the house side-by-side.

  “How's it going?” he asked.

  “Nothing eventful,” she said.

  “I never got a chance to thank you for saving us from that gang of kidnappers.”

  “It's all part of the job.”

  They arrived at the front door. Grace seemed reluctant to enter - something didn't feel right. Scott waved her in. “You look suspicious. I see you've brought your gun. If my wife or kids make a move, just shoot us,” he said, straight-faced.

  Grace stepped inside, Scott behind her, thinking about how useless she was at small talk, wondering how she was going to get through the next twenty minutes without screaming out loud - when Scott shoved a gun barrel into the lower curve of her back.

  “Sorry Grace. It's you or my family. I have no choice.”

  CHAPTER 67

  Chic
ago

  RICE DITCHED THE AVALANCHE in the first mall parking lot he could find and walked away quickly. He didn't expect a tail, but his radar was up, and that meant every single person he came across required careful scrutiny. That made it hard to concentrate on what he needed to say to Addie.

  He walked as casually as he could back to his truck, drove out of the mall lot and turned onto Technology Boulevard. He was back at their hotel twenty minutes later. He knocked on the door to the room next to his, hoping Addie was there. She opened the door and hugged him when he stepped inside.

  “I had a feeling I was never going to see you again,” she said.

  “I had the same feeling,” said Rice.

  “So who was that guy?”

  “Addie. We need to talk. Why are those people after you?” She gave him a quick look, then turned to the window overlooking Chevalier woods and the Chicago airport beyond.

  “How did you get mixed up with the mob?” he asked, moving up behind her.

  She crossed her arms, her back turned to him. “I didn't get mixed up with them,” she said, then turned. “Unless by mixed up you mean having them kill my dad, my mother and my kid brother.” She was on the verge of tears, but holding back, her teeth locked and her jaw working. Rice had an impulse to hold her, but felt that would push her over the edge and embarrass her. He kept his voice calm.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “My father was an accountant. In Phoenix. It wasn’t a huge business. Just four employees. One day they got this new client, a construction company. Sierra Developments. After a year or two he figured out that the company was a front for something. But he was making good money so I guess he decided to just ignore the red flags. His company grew and so did Sierra. One day we moved into a mansion. Some weekends we had a backyard full of these guys with slicked-back hair and their wives and kids running around. Every family party was like an Italian wedding.

  “Then one day the FBI walked into my dad's office and they made a deal. No charges in return for State's evidence. It turned into the biggest arrest record in organized crime history in Arizona. Over a dozen top mobsters went to prison. Including the big dog himself, Rolo Ruffino. We ended up in the Witness Security Program.”

  “Rolo? Who’s Enzo?” asked Rice.

  Addie looked up. “Enzo is the son. How do you know about Enzo?”

  “I surf the Net occasionally. I'm not totally out of the loop.”

  Addie didn't look convinced. “Rolo decided he wasn't going to let this embarrassment go unpunished. A kid who was working for the FBI took a bribe from the Ruffinos and handed over our location.”

  Rice shook his head. He knew where this was going.

  “So they tracked us down to Orange County and one night Enzo’s soldiers killed my dad, my mom and my brother Todd. They were making a statement. Witnesses can't hide.”

  “How did you escape?”

  Addie hesitated and swallowed hard. “These two guys drove by me on the way home from school that afternoon. They didn't look like locals or like cops. Something wasn't right. So I phoned my mom and told her to get out of the house. But I was just a teenager with a bad grade in Chemistry who was grounded. My parents figured I was just looking for a way to stay out late on a Friday night.”

  “I'm sorry, Addie.” She waved that away.

  “My father knew. At some point, he understood he was partnered with killers. And he let it slide. The second he did that - looked away - we were all dead. I'm on bonus time now. These guys will never give up until they find me. Then they can tweet out to their goon buddies Got her. Join the party! But when I go down, I'm taking as many as I can with me.”

  “Four died today,” said Rice.

  “What?”

  “The guy who made you in the mall was cut down by friendly fire. Three other enforcers who were there to take delivery of you were terminated.”

  Addie stared at Rice. She had a sense that he was responsible, she just couldn't believe it. Her suspicions were confirmed when Rice removed a handgun from his jacket pocket, cleared the chamber, and laid it on the coffee table.

  “Terminated? Who are you? Really!” she asked, looking at the gun.

  Rice went over to the hotel minibar and removed a bottled water. “I know this is almost as expensive as Chanel Number Five, but I feel like I deserve it.” He popped the bottle cap and drank. “Do you want one?”

  Addie shook her head and watched him move around the room. He was like a wolf in a cage. She'd never noticed that before. He wasn't bored. He was more like a performer ready to go on stage.

  “Are you the hunter or the hunted?” she asked, still looking at the gun, wanting to pick it up, feel its weight in her hands. Visualize Enzo Ruffino in its sights.

  “Both,” said Rice, emptying the entire bottle.

  “We make a great pair,” said Addie.

  “Never a boring moment with you, that's for sure,” said Rice, pacing.

  “I should have told you earlier,” Addie said. “I've risked your life now at least... well, I've lost count.”

  “Four times,” replied Rice, grinning slightly.

  “You think that's funny?”

  “I don't believe in destiny, Addie. Nothing is written in a big ledger somewhere. Most people like to think that life makes more sense than it really does. But the second you stepped up into my rig in Yakima both of our lives changed. Now I’ve got a reason to keep going.”

  Addie moved up to Rice and put her hands around his neck. “You should have just left me at the truck stop. Think where you’d be right now.”

  “I’d be lost.” Addie looked into his eyes and kissed him briefly on the lips before Rice pushed her back with both arms.

  “I’ll take that as a thank you kiss,” he said.

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  “It won’t work, Addie.” Rice held her by the shoulders, feeling a quiver move through her.

  “Why?”

  “You said it yourself. You’re attracted to the wrong men.”

  “I thought I was your reason…”

  “To get you your life back.”

  Her eyes went wide. “That's a big order.”

  “Maybe. But I know the first step now.”

  “Which is?”

  “I'm going to go and have a heart to heart with Mr. Enzo Ruffino.”

  CHAPTER 68

  Los Angeles

  GRACE KNEW SCOTT WAS A CAR SALESMAN, not a gunslinger. She had a simple move in mind to disarm him, designed to deal with amateurs who weren't trained in close-up combat. But she hesitated. She guessed it was the look on his face as he opened the door to his house. His eyes went down for a fraction of a second, like he was feeling a momentary pang of regret - or maybe it was just guilt. The look your dog gives you when you walk into a room where he peed on your favorite rug. So she didn't hurt him - didn't take the opportunity to break his forearm - maybe permanently ruin his golf game.

  “You're on camera,” he said, pointing with his left arm at a security device mounted above the foyer. Grace looked up, unsurprised. What had Burroughs done to these people that made them so desperate? One day she’d love to find out.

  “They're watching us. They'll call shortly,” said Scott, his voice shaking slightly.

  “You don't have to do this. We have your family covered,” said Grace.

  “These guys are obviously outspending Burroughs ten to one. They'll never stop. I don't know what to do. But if you resist or use your martial arts voodoo on me, they say they'll kill us all. So please just go along.”

  Grace looked straight ahead. She couldn't blame Scott, but he was acting like a fool. You can't make deals with these people. And killing the family would be stupid too. Scott and his domestic nuclear family was a perfect bargaining chip for Kreegar. He wasn't going to do anything to risk that.

  “They planted a bomb the night they kidnapped us. In the house as insurance. I've seen it.”

  “They're lying to you, Sco
tt. But I'm not going to change your mind. All I can tell you is if you give up Burroughs, none of us will be worth anything and he'll just kill everyone. He's done it before.”

  “I'm open to ideas, Grace. Just don't put my wife and kids at risk.”

  The phone rang in the family room, which was directly ahead of the foyer. Jeannie jumped, then picked up the call. She turned away from the windows and then looked up at Scott. He led Grace into the next room and pushed her down on the couch, facing another security camera. He took the phone, the barrel of his gun inches from Grace's head. Too close, she thought. One second of distraction and she would have the gun in her hands. But Scott wasn't going to shoot anyway. The only weapon he had ever used was a sniper’s rifle in Call of Duty, multiplayer edition. She’d seen him play. He wasn’t a natural.

  “I've got her,” Scott said, which was completely redundant if Kreegar actually had video access. Grace rolled her eyes, hoping whoever was watching could see her utter disdain for this amateur hour event.

  Scott continued to listen nervously. Jeannie had brought her two kids inside, who were now sitting on the floor, eyeing Grace with suspicion. Their quiet suburban bubble was clearly burst; Jeannie looked like she was ready to sweep up her kids and run at a moment’s notice. Grace realized she should probably smile at the kids, ease their tension. She just didn't have it in her. Besides, she was busy working out options. Once Kreegar and his thugs knew that security was down, they would waste no time to rush the house and lock everyone down.