Connections: Conexiones (Mercenaries Book 3)

by Tony Lavely

  As Beckie watched, she saw another figure and then a third. Faintly, she could hear a tussle, so soft that if she hadn’t been watching it, she’d never have noticed. They all disappeared. She rubbed rain from her eyes, and one of the shadows rose and glanced toward the house, then back at the woods.

  What the fuck? Beckie watched as the figure—she thought it was Abby, but what she was doing made no sense—ran across the front of the house. Beckie heard a woman’s scream, no words, just a visceral ululation. God, that’s awful! Beckie pushed up to stand so she could see better. Before she could, Ian grabbed her shirt and yanked her to the ground beside him.

  ThwiPOP!

  She smelled the humus her nose had shoved aside as she recalled the sound of a passing bullet. You never hear the kill-shot, she remembered, and shuddered. Two more POPs, the second so close it could have been an echo, and a scuffle. Ian was up and running. Beckie jumped to follow but she fell; her feet couldn’t find purchase in the leaves and loose soil. Cursing under her breath, she fought her way up and, keeping low, ran after him, scrubbing dirt and leaves from her face.

  “Millie, to me! Quick but quiet!” scratched in her ear as she reached Ian, kneeling beside a figure. “Kevin, check the other person!” He pointed to a darker shadow. “Elena, patrol!” He caught Beckie, keeping himself between her and whoever was on the ground.

  In her ear, Kevin’s voice continued, “This one’s no problem. Lena, watch the drive. I’ll focus on the house.”

  “It is Ms Rochambeau,” Ian said. “I fear we are too late.”

  Beckie forced her way around him to look for herself. The bullet had taken Abby at the base of the throat and the blood puddled under her told Beckie Ian was right. She reached out to touch Abby’s cheek, to wipe the splash of blood away before the rain did.

  Very gently, she leaned down to kiss the woman’s lips. “Goodbye, girl. Safe landings.” She rose and took four or five steps away before the reaction hit; bent over, hands on thighs, she retched, dry heaving for a few seconds before catching her breath. She wiped her mouth, then cried as Ian led her to the treeline.

  Millie made little noise as she ran out of the trees. “Who? Where?”

  Ian took her to Abby’s body. Beckie watched, hoping against hope what she’d seen was not as bad as she knew it was. She watched as Millie touched, listened, lifted and felt some more, but in a minute, the doctor looked up at Ian, shook her head and made the sign of the cross.

  Fuck! Beckie leaned against the nearest tree and cursed steadily for a minute.

  Ten minutes later, all five huddled around Abby’s body.

  “First,” Ian said, “situation report?”

  Elena tipped her head to Kevin, who said, “We went around the house and down the drive. No one moving.”

  “Very well. We shall move Ms Rochambeau’s body to the car. What did you find in your survey?”

  Millie had been walking the grassy field in front of the house. She dropped a dark, wet duffle bag at her feet. “This is Abby’s; it was up near the two bodies, where she started from. There are three more bodies, two there…” She pointed toward a boulder to the left. “… and one up closer to the house. A knife was used for the first two. The other body is the guy she fired on to protect Ian and Beckie, according to Elena.”

  Elena looked in that direction. “I saw her begin to sprint with that ungodly yell. I didn’t see the shooter till then. He was behind that rock till she startled him, so he missed the shot at you guys. He fired at her at the same time she fired on him. Both their shots went home.”

  Beckie fell to her back, letting the rain wash the tears from her face. She felt Ian’s hand grip hers and she held tight until her muscles began to cramp. If I believe in God, this means Ian and I are here to do something.

  “There’s a shed over there,” Kevin said. “And a body behind it; knife again. Except for a few wooden crates, the shed’s empty. There’s blood on the door step and inside on the floor. Not enough for a slit throat. That was outside.”

  Millie bobbed her head. “Abby has a gash down her leg from the hip. Clean, like a knife. If she got in a scrap with that guy, that could explain it and the blood.”

  Kevin nodded. “The house seems to be empty,” he continued. “With three shots fired, I’d think someone would have looked out the window.”

  “The sound wouldn’t carry very well in the rain,” Elena said.

  “Yeah, but still. The two back there…” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder as he pulled a miniature radio out of his pocket. “… had walkie-talkies. No one’s hollering for them.”

  “Hmm. Very well. Rebecca, you have Ms Rochambeau’s weapon?” When Beckie held it up, he continued, “Millie, please bring the car. Kevin, please stay with Rebecca, guarding the area she does not. Elena, with me. We will investigate the house.” He looked around. “Millie, please operate without lights once you leave the paved road.”

  Millie returned in a half hour. Nothing had challenged either Beckie or Kevin; they had set up one on either side of Abby looking across her at the hemisphere before them. Kevin stood when they heard the car and Beckie used her small flash to signal.

  Millie got out and pushed the key fob to open the rear hatch. She rummaged for a few seconds, then walked over carrying a large flat piece of plastic. “I hate to use a body bag, but there’s no other way to get her to the plane without ruining the car in a way the police will want to understand.”

  Beckie was glad to have physical activity to occupy her mind. They worked Abby’s body into the bag and then into the Escalade’s cargo area.

  “That really sucks,” Beckie said.

  Both Millie and Kevin simply nodded.

  Beckie’s phone reported midnight before Elena and Ian walked down the slight hill to them. He looked in the rear of the SUV and inclined his head. No smiles tonight, Beckie thought. “Kevin, if you will assist me? We discovered two gold bars in the shed. Ms Rochambeau may have smeared her blood on their container; whether or not, her initials are scratched into both of them.

  “Millie, there will be no difficulty in moving closer.” He rubbed his eyes. “Once the gold is aboard, we will return to the airport and then the Nest.”

  “We’re going to take it?” Beckie said.

  “Indeed. Until we understand better what has happened. I am interested due to Ms Rochambeau marking her claim. Also, the markings on the container suggest it originated in Peru. With the bodies here, the police will soon be involved; they will have sufficient confusion to sort through.”

  While Ian, Kevin and Millie collected the “machine tools” in their wooden case, Beckie caught Elena’s arm and together, they did one more survey of the grounds. “Didn’t Kev say there was another body back of the shed?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Three of these guys were in the video… raping Amy.”

  When they returned to the SUV, Beckie’d confirmed the four dead bodies were four of the five men she’d watched. The man they found alive and bound; he hadn’t been the fifth man in the show. Elena updated the others as Millie drove off the property.

  On the plane, Millie had finally succumbed to her emotions. Beckie wanted to huddle in Ian’s arms, but sitting with Millie seemed to be… “It’s what I should do,” she told him. He kissed her in agreement.

  During their conversation, Millie had exclaimed, “Amy! How am I…”

  Beckie rolled her head back for a second, then wondered who was speaking the next words she heard, “I’ll talk to her, Millie.” And the voice was familiar. It was hers, she realized. Why did I say that?

  At Customs, Ian declared the gold, which he valued as ballast, and since the inspector knew them all, the examination was cursory; Abby could have been sleeping with the covers pulled up.

  A Conversation with Amy

  At six in the morning, Jean-Luc flared the Gulfstream and landed at the Nest. Beckie was standing behind Jean-Luc and saw Amy and Shalin standing at the pad where they expected
Jean-Luc to park the plane.

  “Wait here,” she told the others. “I’ll take Amy away. Millie, are you going to call for the ambulance?”

  Still white-faced, Millie nodded. “When it’s clear.”

  Beckie walked forward to the stairs and when the plane stopped, she released the latch and let them drop. God, this will really suck.

  She ran down the steps and over to hug Amy in a crash. She guessed Shalin could tell from looking at her face; the woman’s face was stark and pale. “Kevin’s waiting aboard,” she said softly, pleased at the change in Shalin’s expression. “Amy, come walk with me.”

  Amy fought Beckie’s arm, but Beckie’d been expecting something. She was better trained at restraining prisoners and such; holding Amy wasn’t easy, but she could do it.

  “What happened? Is Mom okay? Is Abby aboard, too?” She pushed her face into Beckie’s. “What the fuck happened!”

  “Hold on, please.” They reached the rocks making up the seawall, protecting the runway. Beckie picked out a big one and dragged Amy there. Once they were sitting, she made sure both her arms were around the girl. “Your mom’s aboard. She’s ok. Abby… Abby’s ab… aboard too,” she managed to choke out. She looked at Amy. The girl wasn’t breathing, her mouth and eyes wide open. “Abby… didn’t—”

  “Didn’t what, damn it?”

  “She didn’t make it, Amy. She’s dead.”

  She grabbed Amy hard as the girl convulsed, trying to get away. For minutes, they struggled, Amy trying to get free, crying great wracking sobs Beckie was sure were audible over the whole Nest. Even after Amy gave up fighting, Beckie clutched her, wanting her to know someone was there for her.

  Fifteen minutes after she’d given up fighting with Beckie, Amy turned back. “Okay. I’m okay now.” The skittish look in her eye and the tinny sound of her voice gave Beckie some doubt, but she was communicating. “Can I see her?”

  “In a little while. She’s being taken to the hospital, but yeah, once that’s settled…”

  “What happened?”

  Beckie spent the next half hour describing the trip and everything she’d seen and heard. “She died instantly. No pain. Attacking.”

  “She said she was afraid of being caught and shot in the back of the head.” She shuddered for the tenth or twelfth time Beckie remembered. “God, Beckie, what do I do? How do I remember her? How do I honor the feelings I have for her?”

  Beckie crushed Amy’s head to her chest. “You live the best life you can. She removed all the… those… men, so—”

  Amy sat straight up. “She was after them?”

  Beckie nodded. “If she hadn’t been, I would have.”

  Amy grabbed Beckie’s black shirt and pulled her up to her face as she shouted, “Fuck! You know better than that! You told me better than that! If she’d just left it, come back here… Fuck!” She let go the shirt, grabbed her hair and pulled. “If she’d just come home…” She collapsed.

  I’ve got nothing to say to that, since she’s right. Beckie stroked Amy’s hair and allowed her to cry.

  This time when she said, “I’m okay, really,” Amy sounded better. While her voice was hoarse, the tinny note was gone and the eyes were still, not roving like they had been. She looked up into Beckie’s eyes. “So, I guess that’s what they mean by ‘two graves.’”

  “Huh?”

  “‘When you seek revenge, first dig two graves.’”

  “Uh. No. Well, yeah, that’s what it says, but no… We think Abby had gotten that… the revenge part, done and over. Protecting the team… protecting Ian, that’s what she was doing. I told you I heard the bullet go over our heads.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Amy looked back down, at her hands, twisting like they wanted to get away, too. “What’s gonna happen?”

  Maybe we can keep her sane after all. “We talked about that coming back. None of us were sure if she was religious at all, so…”

  Amy shook her head. “Nope. Confirmed atheist. She’d be really upset at a service.”

  “We’ll have a little memorial, then, before or after we bu… the funeral.”

  “That would work. Make sure there’s wine. She liked wine, white wine or Champagne; we should have it for everyone.”

  “And Eilís O’Bannon, her lawyer, when we talked to her, she wants to come, too, since Abby had no family anyone knows about.”

  “Her lawyer?”

  “They spent the weekend before Abby… went to New York. I guess they’ve been friends since forever. Since Abby was like five, anyway. Same schools, everything. So, really close.”

  “Oh.” Amy put her head back down. “Well, I didn’t think I was… her only…” She choked back sobs; Beckie squeezed her shoulders until the girl regained control “Anyway… Will Derek, Mr. Hamilton come, too?”

  “I think he and Emily are already on their way. Why?”

  Amy looked up, then stood and walked to the next stone to look out over the blue water. “I want to ask him what it was Abby was going to bring to the team… Maybe I could… learn that… take that…”

  Beckie nodded. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk with you.”

  Amy stepped back to offer her hand. “Let’s go. I want to see Abby before…”

  Beckie took Amy’s hand and stood. As they started toward the dock, she used her phone to warn Millie.

  Chapter Nine

  Sailing, Dinner and Secrets

  BECKIE RAN DOWN THE DOCK to Guppy. Amy had been given time off her studies and permitted to go for a sail—if accompanied. Beckie’d answered her call instantly.

  “Unbend the bow line,” Amy called from the cockpit aft. “I’ve got the stern line ready when you are.”

  Beckie glanced at Amy, then guessed ‘unbend’ meant untie; she looked for a rope. In another second, she had untied it.

  “Throw it aboard and run down here to hop on.”

  After Beckie had clambered aboard, she caught the PFD Amy tossed her. “Okay, first, put that on,” Amy instructed in a firm tone.

  “We hav’ta use life jackets?”

  “Uh… Yeah. Why would you not?”

  “No reason, I guess. I never thought about it. Makes sense.”

  “Even more if the boom comes around and knocks you overboard, believe me. Ask me how I know.” Beckie snickered as she struggled into the PFD—she still thought of it as a life jacket—then watched as Amy started the engine and took Guppy out of the anchorage.

  “We’ve got light winds today, out of the east, as usual. So… We’ll sail northwest a little, then tack back and circle the island. You ever sail before?”

  “Never. I hope I’m not gonna hav’ta do that hanging off the mast thing.”

  Amy laughed so hard she fell back against the rail. When she could talk again, she shook her head. “No, that’s for heavy weather or racing.” She shut the engine off. “Stay back there for a second while I get the sails up and we can be…” She sang, “Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main.”

  Beckie stayed clear and watched as Amy ran the sails up, first the jib, and then the mainsail. She set them to catch the air and then dropped onto the cushioned seat next to the tiller.

  Beckie watched as Amy set a course of 310; the two girls carried on a conversation while observing the boat sail itself single-handedly.

  “So this is what you did, sailing to Providenciales?”

  “Yeah, except I was headed east instead of northwest. And the wind was heavier, so I was going faster. Guppy is great, but she’s not so good beating to windward. Heading into the wind,” she answered Beckie’s confused look. She raised herself to sweep the horizon. “We’ll be able to see that in a bit.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause the wind is keeping out of the east, and we’ll have to go back to get home.”

  Beckie nodded. The explanation made sense, though she hadn’t figured how Amy could sail back into the wind. More to learn, she thought. She inched up to eventually sit on the rail on the right side of the
cockpit. The additional height gave her an impression of solitude she hadn’t felt since sitting in the 737 flying to Egypt. The water here replaced the clouds there in limiting her worldview.

  “Mom finally remembered Abby’s duffle she brought back… with her.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember. We looked through it. Decided you should have it.”

  Amy nodded. After a moment of silence, she said, “There was a note to me, in there.”

  Beckie froze. She remembered the four-inch-square cream-colored envelope. She wasn’t sure she wanted to continue this conversation by asking what Abby had said to Amy in the hours before she ran into a speeding bullet.

  Amy decided for her, reaching under her preserver and shirt and withdrawing an oft-folded piece of paper. “You can read it…”

  Beckie dropped off the boat’s rail to sit on the bench. I do not want to drop this overboard! She was even more sure of that when she took the note; it was damp and warm. She’s been keeping it against her skin. Maybe we’d be better off framing it and putting it in her room? Amy’s eyes followed the paper as Beckie unfolded it. I won’t suggest that just yet.

  She scanned the single page, written in the same clear hand the envelope and Ian’s note had been. Okay. Nothing new here, except Abby feeling, what’s the word? Prescient, I guess. She read it again, more closely.

  When she looked up, Amy was staring at her. “Did you see her?”

  “Huh?”

  “When she was shot? Did you see her?”

  “Not when she was hit. Ian slammed me down before… just as she started to run.”

  “Did she look like… like…”

  Beckie couldn’t guess what the girl was trying to force out. “Like what? She was taking an offensive stance. She was advancing; doing what she had to to draw the shooter’s attention to her.”

  “That. Drawing his attention. Did she look like she thought she… she would die? Like she was suiciding?”

  Beckie lolled for a second in shock, glad she had dropped off the rail. Then she sat up and swung her legs under the tiller so she faced Amy. She focused on the girl while she lined the words up in her head. “No,” she began carefully, quiet while strong. “Abby was not running to get herself killed. She was putting herself in danger, yes, but survival was her intent.”