Fury

by Llewellin Jegels

  Mel laughed, then shook his head, “No, Shelley. There’s no chance. These aren’t connected to us in any way whatsoever. The email accounts were all opened in different parts of the world, courtesy of some friends. I even bought all three phones at different stores, so he wouldn’t be able to see three phones were bought in Beirut at the same shop at the same time. Not that he has access to that kind of information, but it’s good to cover your tracks. We’re nearing the end game now. It’s time to be ever more vigilant.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Shelley agreed, nodding.

  “Not to be a downer, guys,” I said. “But like Mel said, the end game is coming. I think we should probably get going. I’m anxious to meet our guy on the ground. Plan our next moves.”

  “Yeah,” Shelley said, nodding. “You’re right. We have a party to gate-crash, and I certainly don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  “Yes, we don’t want to be rude,” Mel said, putting his coffee down. “Time to go.”

  “Okay then,” I said, putting down my cup.

  “But remind me to take you guys here sometime,” Mel said, getting up and looking around. “When all this is done. It’s magic.”

  I grinned, “I think I will.”

  “Good,” Mel replied. “Coming here with a ramp model every time starts to get old.”

  Shelley gave him a look as she walked past, and I had to grin. He shrugged, and we left the table, Mel leaving a sizable tip for our waiter. The guy did have a big heart.

  So we made our way out of the courtyard, and as I expected, our personal escort waited patiently, a smile on his face. We got into his BMW and hit the road, settling back to enjoy the view.

  The city of Greater Beirut offered an incredible mixture of pumping cosmopolitan and laid back Mediterranean, the buildings we drove past seemingly mixed together from a number of different eras, some sitting side by side appearing very different from each other and in so doing creating an odd kind of beauty.

  Eventually we found ourselves on the road south out of town, and then on our way through the city outskirts, and at last on the open road, headed for Tyre.

  The quiet road and breath-taking scenery all added to our enjoyment of the trip.

  A brief respite, I guess from the coming showdown.

  The ocean stretched out to the horizon, calm and blue in a way that only the Mediterranean Sea could be.

  Mel and Shelley settled down beside me, both finally succumbing to a bit of jet lag, regardless of the invigorating coffee we drank. I looked out to sea, and while admiring the view, succumbed to my thoughts.

  Mel had been exactly right, we were approaching the final stage.

  The end game.

  We knew Don’s exact location. And by proxy we knew where Rachel was. And we were closing in by the second like a laser-guided missile. I tried to play the scene out in my head, what would happen when we confronted Don. What would he do? He loved Rachel, saw her as his own child in fact. And that kind of love would hinder proceedings.

  Perhaps Shelley would be able to talk him into letting Rachel go. But what about Don’s friend, the wild card? I had no idea how things would go down if he were involved in the proceedings.

  I’d read through their correspondence on the Darknet, and it didn’t bode well for things in our immediate future. He held extremely anti-West views, and I highly doubted he would let things go, even if the coward Don would. And this extremist attitude, coupled with the fact he’d been in the military, and therefore knew his way around a firearm, put a significant strain on something that could have gone down without a hitch.

  The man presented a problem, a bomb primed and ready to take out everything around it. We needed to address the situation before we could move forward, by any means necessary.

  I thought things through a bit more, running different scenarios in my head like little plays until finally I too succumbed to the warm embrace of sleep, my mind drifting away into the void even as the last image played out in my head.

  A man with a gun to Shelley’s head, and the will to use it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The inn looked charming from the outside, nestling in amongst the bushes, trees and general greenery. Our cab driver had called ahead to Tyre and checked for rooms available first and booked two for us, in advance. Set right across the road from the expansive sea, and surrounded by a garden of lush tropical vegetation, we could not have asked for anything more exquisite.

  Winding its way through the garden snaked a stone path which the three of us now traversed, backpacks slung casually over our shoulders. Just another few American tourists out in the world to see the sights.

  Yeah. Sure.

  Mel was as good as his word, handing over ten grand to the cab driver and telling him to enjoy his life. The man replied that he certainly would be enjoying his life, and that Mel was some sort of Lebanese word I can only assume meant ‘Savior of all mankind’ or something along those lines.

  At the inn, the proprietor and his wife greeted us at the door, smiling and welcoming us in, offering to take a bags, an offer we gracefully declined. They were both in their mid-sixties, by the looks of them.

  And both were sprightly and full of energy, showing us around their inn with a pride which came from their having owned and operated the place since they were in their twenties.

  They’d opened the inn a short while after getting married, running their own inn, being a dream they had both shared. And I could see the love they’d put into the place. One saw it everywhere, in the look of the place, everything from the furniture to the decor to the little trinkets they’d picked up over the years on holidays and outings. The very air held the smell of beautiful things, happily and gently aged over time. Like the couple themselves, I thought. A nicer couple, in fact, we couldn’t have asked for.

  But I felt anxious to get things rolling. So after the tour, we asked to be shown to our rooms, claiming exhaustion and needing a bit of down time.

  They were happy to oblige, and soon enough the three of us were seated around a coffee table in me and Shelley’s room, our bags just thrown beside us on the floor, forgotten as we got to the priority matter.

  “Okay, to business,” I said, as Mel came back with a cup of coffee for each of us.

  “Yeah,” Shelley replied. “What are we still doing here? We should be ringing that doorbell right now.”

  Mel shook his head, “Not just yet, Shel.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I said.

  “What’s complicated? Why don’t I just meet with Don?” Shelley said. “I could just, you know, explain things. You guys could sit at the next table, looking unfriendly. The guy’s a coward. You two would scare the shit out of him.”

  Mel looked at me.

  “What?” Shelley said, getting irate.

  “We have a small issue to contend with,” I said.

  “Don’s friend,” Mel added. “The guy he’s staying with here.”

  “What about him?” she snapped. “Why do I care about some criminal who’s harboring a kidnapper and my daughter? Fuck him, to be quite honest.”

  “He could pose a bit of a problem for us,” Mel said. “If we want this to go smoothly, we need to deal with his involvement.”

  “The guy is ex-military,” I agreed, nodding grimly. “And he’s an unknown entity, which is always a problem. A wild card could throw everything out of whack. If we go there and start throwing around our demands, Don will probably back down. But this other guy could just as easily pull a gun on us. And we have Rachel’s safety to consider here.”

  “So what do we do?” Shelley asked, clearly distraught now, and making no attempt to hide it.

  “Mel is going to have a drink with a friend of his from the old days,” I said, smiling reassuringly, trying to let her know things would be ok because we were here. “The SEAL we’ve had on the ground here since this all began. He’s in Tyre, and he’s got
a few items of interest. Stuff we may need.”

  “What kind of things?” she asked slowly, probably already knowing the answer.

  “The kind that go bang,” Mel said softly.

  Shelley shook her head, “But Rachel…”

  “Her safety comes first, Shel,” Mel replied. “It’s just a pre-cautionary measure.”

  “In case what?” Shelley snapped. “In case we get into the middle of a fire fight?”

  Mel didn’t reply.

  “In case they’re less than cooperative,” I replied, a grim tone to my voice which I struggled to hide.

  Shelley and I didn’t say much. She seemed lost to the world, no doubt worried about the pending showdown, having spent so long getting to this point, and suddenly being right here. The convergence of our intention and the reality awaiting us reflected itself in her furrowed brow and tightly clasped hands. I understood completely.

  As a SEAL, all the planning in the world couldn’t prepare you for when you hit the ground. So I left her to her thoughts. She clearly needed some time alone.

  Eventually, she lay down. Nervous exhaustion can have that effect on the best of us. I’ve seen big, strong Marines collapse in exactly the same way. It didn’t matter who you were, or how much training you’ve had, eventually your emotions and your body make a mutual decision to shut down for a while.

  Eventually, Mel returned as evening fell, knocking softly on the door. I let him in and went through to the bedroom to wake Shelley as he lay down a military style carryall on the coffee table.

  Shelley and I emerged from the room, Shelley rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Enjoy your nap?” Mel asked.

  “I suppose,” Shelley muttered.

  “Good, good. Got us a few toys for just in case,” he replied, looking at me as he removed the equipment from the bag. “Let’s hope we won’t have to use them.”

  I nodded, making us all a cup of coffee. “Good. So, what have we got?”

  “Three bulletproof vests. Goldflex type IIIA. Lightweight and fully concealable.”

  “Nice,” I remarked. “Very nice.”

  Shelley took hers, and felt the thin material, her fingers running lightly over the cross-laid fibers of the suit. “You sure this thing can stop a bullet?” she asked, a look of doubt on her face.

  “It has more protection than a Kevlar vest, Shel,” Mel replied. “This is pretty much the best. And it’s comfier.”

  Shelley nodded appreciatively. “Well that’s all right then.”

  “And fire power?” I asked.

  Mel pulled two firearms from the carryall. “Of course.”

  “And they are?”

  “Two silenced Beretta 92FS pistols,” he replied. “We don’t want to wake the neighbors after all.”

  “No, that we don’t,” I said. “Extra ammo?”

  “Enough to start a war,” Mel said with a grin. “And win one.”

  “Excellent,” I said, nodding as I put the cups down on the table. “Now, all we need is a plan.”

  “Yes, we do,” Shelley said softly, waking up slowly, but becoming more alert now as she took a sip of the coffee and let the caffeine work its magic.

  I didn’t say anything. I knew Mel, and I knew he wouldn’t have left his contact without an idea of what would unfold. Professionals and perfectionists have much in common.

  He had something up his sleeve.

  “Okay, I’ve been working on this, so hear me out, ok?” Mel replied. “Firstly, we cannot tip Don off to our presence here, under any circumstances. Not until we have a solid, watertight way forward.”

  “Let’s just do this!” Shelley barked. “To hell with all this damn planning.”

  I looked at Shelley, “Mel is right, Shel. Think about it. He gets one whiff that something is amiss here and he’s gone. And so is Rachel. And then we’re completely screwed and there won’t be a thing we can do about it. He’ll disappear somewhere so far away he may as well be on another planet. So we need to work something out, and properly. No, no way are we going in with guns half-cocked.”

  “Yeah,” Shelley said with a sigh, shaking her head. “You’re right, I know. I’m sorry, guys. It’s just killing me, you know? Being so close to my little girl at last and still sitting around here drinking coffee like this is some fucking holiday.”

  “We understand, Shel,” I replied, hoping the softness of my voice would soothe her. “But it’s just for tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll have her back. I promise you. You’ll have your little girl back.”

  She nodded slowly, trying to fight back tears and succeeding. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

  “You’re a soldier, Shel,” I said, rubbing her shoulder. “You should’ve been a SEAL.”

  “Then give me a gun.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll use it,” I said. “And you’ll be smiling when you do.”

  “True.”

  “Ok, so to the plan,” Mel said, and Shelley nodded for him to continue. “Don is keeping low, which is why it’s taken us so damn long to find the bastard. He isn’t leaving the house he’s holed up in. I’m sure of it. Not for anything. So his friend must be going out alone to pick up whatever they need.”

  “How do we know?” Shelley asked.

  “Let’s call it an educated guess,” he replied.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Our guy has eyes on the place where Don finds himself at the moment,” Mel said. “And he’s going to keep in position until he gets a feel for the place, and Don’s friend. He’ll be there all night and believe me when I say he won’t move. In the morning, as soon as the friend stepped out, whatever time that may be, our guy is going to call us to let us know, and then he’s going to tail him, to make sure he stays out of our way. When that happens, we make our move.”

  “Our move?” Shelly asked, leaning forward intently.

  “Yes,” Mel replied. “The waiting will be over.”

  “And what’s our move?” she asked.

  “You’re going to walk up to the front door and ring the bell,” Mel said, smiling.

  “What, by myself? Are you mad?” she said, her voice changing in pitch upon the realization she would be playing the opening gambit in a very dangerous game of cat and mouse. “What about you guys? What if he runs?”

  “Let him try, Shel,” Mel replied with a grin. “He won’t get very far.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The call came at just after nine the following morning. Don’s friend, unaware of developments, was on his way toward the town district, apparently without a care in the world. Our man watched his every move, gun at the ready.

  Mel and I checked and rechecked our firearms, and installed the sound suppressors on the Berettas, our weapon of choice, in anticipation of the day ahead, and the knowledge that our role in this could potentially be a bit more action orientated than we had led Shelley to believe. Things didn’t always pan out the way one hoped, a lesson we had both learnt the hard way in our time with the SEALs.

  “Ok, this is it,” Shelley said, fidgeting with the Goldflex vest under her clothing.

  “Yup,” Mel replied. “Game time.”

  “You said these things were comfy, Mel,” she said, her voice full of reproach.

  “No,” he said with a smile. “I said they were comfier than Kevlar. It’s not made of silk, you know. Sorry. I’ll get Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency on the line.”

  She laughed.

  “Trust me, Shel,” I said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Shelley said. “Just bitching because I’d rather bitch than think about what’s coming.”

  “Things will work out fine,” I replied, hoping I sounded confident enough.

  “Yeah, I know,” she replied with a tired smile, trying to hide her anxiety at the idea of just brazenly walking right up to the front door and ringing the bell like she was popping around for tea.

  “So,” Mel replied, shrugging i
nto the shoulder rig he’d gotten for our Berettas, something he’d left until last because he hated shoulder rigs, and had since the SEALs. “This is the home run, people. Everything we’ve been working for.”

  “In an hour,” I added. “You’ll be reunited with Rachel.”

  Shelley smiled, and the smile seemed to light up the room.

  “Thanks, Tom.”

  “Thanks?” I said, looking offended. “For what? I love that little girl as much as you do.”

  “And when we get her back, you can show her how much.”

  Mel’s eyebrows shot up. “Did I miss something?”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking at the window instead of his face. “We’re kind of seeing each other again, Mel.”

  He roared with laughter. “What the hell took you two so long?”

  Silence.

  Mel shook his head, “Never mind, you’re an idiot. Congratulations, Shelley. Good luck putting up with this loser.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m standing right here, guys,” I mumbled.

  “He can be a bit of a kid sometimes,” Mel continued. “I’m sure you remember.”

  “I know, and I already have Rachel…”

  “You sure you’ll be able to handle two?”

  “Guys, seriously. I’m standing right here!”

  The both laughed, “Don’t worry, Tom. It’ll be fine.”

  “Let’s just hope he makes a better husband than a boyfriend,” Shelley said, and when I looked at her she stuck out her tongue, an incredibly sexy gesture I have to admit.

  “You kids planning on getting married?” Mel exclaimed.

  I had a sheepish grin on my face. “Yeah, that’s the plan,” I replied by way of explanation.

  “We spent some time together at a very romantic inn,” Shelley added. “And Tom said a few things he should have said to me a long time ago. Well… not that long ago. But you get what I mean.”

  “Ah, he finally got around to it, did he?” Mel said. “Good. He loves you. And he loves Rachel. And he’s left the SEALs behind forever, something he planned on doing for you two anyway. You’ll be fine. You’ll be better than fine.”