by Terry Keys
“Carter? One down. If you tell them to turn back now, maybe they’ll live. If not, I’ll kill them all.”
“Shit!” Carter said.
I laughed. “Abu, leave now and I’ll keep your name out of this. I have no beef with you. I didn’t come here for you.”
I knew making this deal was the only way I could escape the wrath of the entire Dubai police force.
“You fools have created a mess.” Abu’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. “Porter, my business with this man is finished.”
I had shifted the odds and created a chance to make it out of Dubai. I had already taken one of Carter’s bodyguards out and was confident the others would pose the same level of incompetence. Carter apparently didn’t realize his mike was still activated, as I was able to hear his next words.
“Meet me back in the room now!” Carter told his men. “Porter has audio with us and Abu. We must find him. You know the implications if we don’t.”
I made my way to the back of the alley, pulled my phone from my pocket, and called Captain Wilcrest, courtesy of international roaming. I quickly filled him in.
“Cap, they found my bugs,” I informed him. “They gave chase. I took one down already.”
“David, have you gone to the local PD?”
“No. I can’t trust any of them. Abu has too many ties. The cops here are probably all in his back pocket.”
“David—”
“Cap, listen. Carter said Miranda’s dead. I’ll send you the audio file as soon as I get to the airport.” My voice shook with fury. “He’s coming back with me, I promise you that.”
“There’s actually one man there you can trust,” the captain said. “His name is Frank Mitchell. We served together in Vietnam. I’ll send his number to your phone. I’m sure he can help you out.”
“Okay, Cap. Send over a suit to watch my house. I gotta run.”
I ran deeper into an alley and then into what looked like an abandoned store. I needed a mirror and a restroom to clean up some. Couldn’t walk into an airport bleeding without arousing suspicion. I hurried to the back of the long-abandoned store—or at least it seemed that way considering the stink and filth laying about—and found the restroom. I opened my backpack and pulled out my clean pair of socks. They would have to do. I turned on the water and looked in the mirror, only to realize that the blood on my shirt had not been caused by flying glass. I’d been shot. The bleeding came from a through-and-through wound in the meat of my upper arm. My heart had been pumping so fast, I hadn’t even noticed it.
I had just wiped the blood off my arm and wrapped the other sock around the holes, tying a loose knot with one hand and my teeth, when my cell phone rang. I reached into my pocket with my good hand and answered it.
“This David Porter?” a deep voice asked.
“Who’s asking?”
“Must be my guy. Wilcrest gave me your number. Said you were in a heap of trouble here and needed a little help. Any friend of Wilcrest is a friend of mine.”
“You’re Frank Mitchell?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m in an old, abandoned store restroom right now. I took a shot, so I’m trying to clean it up a little.”
“Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“No, I don’t have time for that. I’ve got some cleaning up to do here before I head back to the States.”
“I’m coming to pick you up. I’m able to track your location through your number. Stay put. I know where you are.”
“You sure you want to get involved?” I asked him. “It could get pretty nasty.”
“Son, I served in Nam - if things get nasty, I’m sure I can handle my own.”
I made my way to the front and looked out, careful to keep myself hidden from any passersby.
“Hey, let’s get outta here.”
The voice came from behind me. My heart leapt and I spun around, gun in hand.
“If I was one of them, you’d be dead,” the voice said. “And you were worried about me?”
I cursed under my breath. Mitchell had snuck into the building some other way. He’d had an easy kill shot had he wanted to take one. I couldn’t afford to be so careless.
“David Porter, I presume. The name’s Frank Mitchell. Wilcrest said you were pretty good at what you do.” He smiled. “You don’t look like much to me, though.”
“Yeah, you know you can’t judge a book by its cover. C’mon, let’s go.”
Mitchell had long, dark hair and was pretty muscular for an old guy. He wore dark fatigues and military-issued boots. Did this guy still think he was in Nam?
“Where’d you get your training, kid?”
“After college, I did three years with the Army Rangers. Did a few tours in Saudi. Not exactly Nam, but I know my way around. Didn’t see myself making a career out of the military, so I joined the PD. Didn’t know how that’d work, either, but I’m still there, fifteen years deep.”
“Ranger, huh? I was a Marine - Tiger Force. Most exhilarating job in the military, we did shit you cupcake boys only dreamed about. We came to get you guys when the stuff got too deep. And as fate would have it, I’m saving one of you again.”
“Pretty impressive,” I grunted. “Look, I don’t have much time. I need to take these guys down before they decide to head back to the States, and I don’t mind having a Marine save my ass.”
“Well, you look like shit. Let me get you some food and a few toys, and then you can do what you gotta do. What kind of trouble you in anyways?”
“No trouble I can’t handle, just a couple bodyguards. The trouble will be finding their boss. I don’t want to kill that one. I need him alive.”
We walked four blocks before arriving at a nondescript house. Inside, the place looked as I expected it would—dark, cold, and messy—more like a military barracks than a house. Guns littered the coffee table, and ammo was piled everywhere. As long as he had food and a little firepower for me, I could deal with the mess.
“Come on in. Get some of this grub in you.”
Mitchell slapped a bowl of hardened oatmeal in front of me. I was hungry, but when the aroma of the food hit my nose, my stomach churned.
“Thanks, but I’m going to have to pass.”
Mitchell shrugged and handed me a military issued assault rifle and some ammo.
“You can set these down and make you a perimeter if you need to,” Mitchell said.
“You preparing for war in here or what?”
“I stay ready, son. That way I don’t have to get ready.”
“Well, thanks for all this.” I picked up the equipment. “I have to get going.”
“Good luck, Ranger. Here, take this too.”
I caught the grenade he tossed my way.
“Never know when one of these little puppies will come in handy,” he said with a grin.
I left Mitchell’s and headed back in the direction of the hotel to see if Carter and his men still lingered there. To my surprise, they did. I saw one of Carter’s men standing guard on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and, unfortunately, he also spotted me.
I dashed into the street, dodging cars as they honked and swerved around me. One crashed into a compact car waiting at the stoplight. It was only a fender bender, so I made my move. I ran to the dented vehicle and tapped on the driver’s-side window with the butt of my pistol.
“Get out now!”
I don’t know if the driver understood my words, but he took one look at me and scrambled out of the car.
I hopped in and ran the red light, barely avoiding being T-boned by a car crossing the intersection, and sped down the street. I glanced in the rearview mirror and swore. Two of Carter’s men reappeared on black racing bikes. Where the hell had they gotten bikes? It appeared Carter had found some toys of his own while I hooked up with Mitchell.
I pushed the little foreign car as fast as it would go. Could I have stolen a slower car? The bikes closed the distance in a hurry. I slammed on the brakes
and turned down a back street. The bikers behind me gave chase. Looking ahead, I saw another bike headed straight toward me from the opposite direction.
I swerved toward the sidewalk, jumped the curb, and took out a row of trash cans, hoping the cans would roll into the street and into the path of the trailing bikers. At the next intersection, I would make my move. I revved the engine and waited until the last second. I pulled up the hand brake, sending the back end of the car spinning around.
The back fender smacked into the oncoming motorcycle. I heard a cry and the crunch of metal as the bike and rider flipped into the air.
I quickly released the brake and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. I fumbled for the walkie-talkie still in my jacket pocket. I tabbed the switch.
“Two down, Carter. I told you I was going to kill them all.”
The two men trailing me opened fire with automatic weapons. At that moment, I realized Carter might try to ditch his men here while he headed back to the States. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, and with one eye on the street and one on my display panel, I thumbed through my call log.
“Mitchell, Porter here. You want some action?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Mitchell drawled. “Sounds like you got plenty of it going on right now.”
“Just some minor gunfire and a high speed chase. That’s a little out of your realm, huh, Marine? I got a recon mission for you, though. The Ritz-Carlton, room 202. A man named John Carter.” I described him. “I need him alive. I’m picking his men off one by one. I’m sure you’ll have a chase on your hands when he realizes I’m coming after him next. Try not to make too much of a mess, okay?”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Mitchell laughed. “I’ll get your man. You stay alive, Ranger.”
20
I needed to plan my next move. I still had two of Carter’s bodyguards giving chase and bullets whizzing around me. Then, an idea popped into my head. I knew it would be risky, but I had no choice. I decided to use the grenade to take out one of them. If I timed it just right, it would blow right on top of the man. I would have to set him up, though.
I made a sharp right turn on the next street I came to, and the bikes closed in on me. I quickly pulled the hand brake, and the car skidded to a near halt, burning rubber along the way. Both bikes swerved crazily to avoid rear-ending the car and flew by. I disengaged the hand brake and slammed the car in reverse, my foot pressed down on the accelerator. The narrow street I found myself on was relatively empty. I dodged a few parked cars and upended some trash cans, but otherwise my plan to avoid busy streets was paying off. I didn’t want to involve innocent pedestrians or occupied vehicles in my ploy.
I knew the bikers would be doing everything they could to catch me, and their guard would be down. I reached into the bag on the passenger seat and pulled out the grenade. I watched closely in my rearview mirror, rolled down the window, pulled the pin, and waited. Just as the bikes drew near, I tossed the grenade at the biker on the driver’s side. I watched in my side mirror as it detonated just in front of the bike and rider and sent both flying twenty feet into the air.
I keyed the button on the walkie-talkie. “And then there was one, Carter.”
My phone rang. While keeping an eye on the street ahead of me and glancing repeatedly in the rearview mirror to keep track of my lone pursuer, I turned on my phone and cradled it between my shoulder and my ear.
“Porter.”
“Porter, I got your guy. “ Mitchell laughed. “He came running out of the hotel without any baggage or anything. I almost passed him by while walking up the hotel steps. I did a double-take, and he ran for a cab. No use . . . I yanked him into the alley next to the hotel and Tasered him right in the back. He squirmed like all get-out while I handcuffed him. Then we made our way back to my car and off we went. Why didn’t you tell me he was the soft, office type? I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands.”
“Good going, Mitchell. I’m almost done here. I’ll meet you back at your place.”
I flipped off my lights, made a hard turn into the lane the last gunmen was in and slammed on the brakes. The biker slid in an attempt to avoid me and ended up laying his bike down in the street. He flew off his bike and rolled several times until the curb stopped him. I slammed the car in park, leapt out, and ran toward him. He was still alive, but not for long. I stood over him and put one in his head. That quickly, it was done.
I left the newly beat up Mazda where it was and hot-wired a car parked a short distance down the street—another skill I’d learned long ago. In less than ten minutes, I was pounding on Mitchell’s front door.
“Where is he?” I said to Mitchell, shouldering my way inside minus any type of formal greeting.
“Took you long enough. C’mon, I’ll take you down to him.”
I hurried down a narrow set of stairs to Mitchell’s basement. There I found a shirtless, bound and gagged John Carter.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” I said.
My blood surged as I stared at the man I believed responsible for the disappearance and probable death of my wife. Without hesitation, I punched Carter in the face, knocking him and the chair over. Mitchell picked them back up, and I hit him again. I didn’t like the look in Carter’s eyes, so I released a barrage of punches at his face. One of his eyes had swelled shut and his entire face was a bloody mess before I stopped. Mitchell looked way too calm; he just sat there, popping sunflower seeds into his mouth like he was watching a baseball game.
“I guess you know by now that I heard you tell Abu my wife is . . . how did you put it? Out of the way?”
Carter didn’t respond.
“Okay, Carter. If that’s the way you want to play it. Wanna help me out here, Mitchell?”
“Oh yeah,” Mitchell said, popping in another handful of seeds. “I got just the thing to make this asshole squeal like a pig.”
I ripped the tape off Carter’s mouth while Mitchell reached for a set of jumper cables. He attached them to a charger.
“Wait!” Carter exclaimed, his bravado gone now. “Porter, I didn’t have nothing to do with your wife, I swear!”
“Why the hell would I believe that?” I asked him. “You needed her gone to protect your disgusting sex slave business!”
“No! Well . . . I did, but I didn’t kill her! I hadn’t even talked to my guys about it. I might have needed her gone eventually, yes, but somebody beat me to it. I didn’t even know about her report. I didn’t know she was on to me before all this went down.”
“Shut up!” I snapped. “Now, I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only, so listen carefully.” I stood over him. “What did you do to my wife?”
“Porter, think about what you’re doing,” Carter blubbered, eyes wide. “Think about your girls.”
I shrugged. “Who’s here to see? I know exactly what I’m doing. It’s you who should have thought about what you were doing before you killed my wife!”
I took the cables and attached the leads, one for each of Carter’s nipples. I looked over at Mitchell and nodded. Mitchell flipped the unit on and gave Carter a jolt of electricity.
Carter screamed as his body convulsed. The outer layer of skin burned where the cables were attached. The smell of burned hair and fried skin was both disgusting and gratifying. I gave it a second more for good measure and gestured for Mitchell to stop.
“Porter, I’m warning you. You’re playing with fire here!” Carter yelled.
“You’re tied to a chair with an electric device strapped to your nipples, in a foreign country, with the man whose wife you killed, and you’re threatening me?”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s—”
I nodded to Mitchell to hit him again.
Carter slumped over in the chair. The last hit had definitely weakened him. He tried to speak, but nothing but spittle came out. I walked over and lifted his head.
“You got something you need to say?”
“Porter, there’s nothing else I can say,” he stammered. “After I found out your wife might be onto us, I needed her out of the picture. But I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“There’s no one else on this planet who would want to harm Miranda. You see, Carter, there’s this little thing called motive, and you’re the only one who had one. I can do this all night; I nod, you get hit. Haven’t you figured that out yet? If my wife is dead, tell me as much so I can find her body and start putting the pieces of my life back together. Either way, I’m going to kill you here tonight. You decide if you want to go out with any dignity.”
I signaled to Mitchell. Carter screamed as the current shot through him. Seconds later he slumped in the chair again.
The look on Mitchell’s face told me he had done this before, probably more than once. He was way too comfortable with it. I acted tough, but this was out of character for me. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, but my anger told me to keep pushing.
“Take the cables off him,” I instructed. “What else you got?”
Mitchell walked over to a box in a corner of the room and came back with a blindfold and a bucket. We put the blindfold over Carter’s eyes and lay his chair down onto the floor. Mitchell went over to the sink and filled the bucket with cold water.
“Listen, asshole. Thanks to you, I got no wife waiting up for me at home. No curfew, nowhere to be. You’re the only thing on my mind right now.”
I took the bucket and slowly poured water over Carter’s face. Nothing like a little makeshift waterboarding. When Carter stopped flailing, I stopped pouring.
“I killed her!” the mayor yelled.
“What did you say?” I choked out the words from between clenched teeth. “Don’t whisper, speak up! Say it loud and proud, you piece of shit!”
“I killed her! I killed her, damn you! They forced her off the road. She flew through the windshield into the river and they left. I had to get rid of her! That what you wanted to hear?” Carter wailed, tears streaming down his face.