GodMode
Page 8
They locked eyes.
Heather gestured to the two men seated in the booth before making a slashing motion across her throat.
The waitress’ eyes flashed with fear, the realization of a plan gone horribly wrong becoming crystal clear. Her on-site team had been made and was now very dead.
I want your shoes—Heather mouthed the words to waitress—pointing down at her feet before going toward the ladies room. To Heather’s surprise, when Jimmy Choo’s finally entered the restroom, she was all by herself.
Already holding Carlton’s gun, Heather was not at all surprised to see that Jimmy Choo’s was equally armed. What was surprising was that neither woman fired their weapons of choice.
“Who are you working for?” asked Heather.
“Does it matter?” the waitress asked.
“Of course it matters. I need to know who I’m going to kill after I am done with you.”
Jimmy Choo’s laughed.
“You find that humorous?” asked Heather.
“I do. You actually think you’re going to get out of this alive.”
“Your buddies outside in the restaurant thought similarly. You remind me of me when I was young. If you tell me who hired you, then I’ll let you walk away.”
“How benevolent of you,” the waitress laughed, “but that’s just not happening. I am not them, and I am certainly not you.”
“You’re right; you aren’t them. They didn’t have shoes that I want. What size are your feet?”
“Same size as your vagina.”
WHAP!
Heather struck her opponent flush in the jaw with the barrel of her weapon and followed up with a front kick to the chest that sent Jimmy Choo’s reeling backwards and slamming hard into the bathroom door.
She had never really intended to shoot the woman. It was bad enough already that an agent of her years and experience was in this position to begin with. She didn’t need to compound the situation by having three corpses to explain to her commanding officers.
Heather kneeled down to place the gun at her opponent’s head when all of sudden Jimmy Choo’s executed a spinning leg sweep that caught Heather’s ankles cleanly, causing her to fall backwards and nearly slam her head against the edge of the marble sink.
Jimmy Choo’s stood and aimed her weapon, but Heather rolled under one of the stall doors to escape. The waitress hesitated, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to the situation, but gave chase and followed Heather inside the stall.
FWOP!
Heather had already gotten to her feet and met her opponent with a strike to the throat. Jimmy Choo’s stumbled back into the stall wall, momentarily unable to breathe. As she gasped for breath, Heather grabbed her wrist and gave it a hard twist, snapping the bone and effectively disarming her.
BANG!
The pistol fell into the toilet and discharged a round in the process. Water began seeping out of the commode onto the floor. In what proved to be a moment of comedy in an otherwise fight to the death, both women sought to protect the pair of shoes from the toilet water and eased out of the stall.
Once free of that danger, Heather executed a hip toss that sent the woman hard into the vanity mirrors near the twin sinks and shattered the glass. Jimmy Choo’s, lying on top of the sinks, managed to collect one of the shards of glass and toss it at Heather, who was a hair’s breath from having it connect with her left eye.
CRACK!
The move proved only to be a distraction. Jimmy Choo’s caught Heather on the side of her neck with the heel of her shoe. She followed up with a front kick that sent Heather falling back-first into the ever growing puddle of toilet water.
“Ugh! It’s in my hair!” Heather moaned as she got to her feet.
There was a moment, albeit brief, where the two women realized that they were evenly matched, and the first to make a mistake was likely going to die there.
Heather pulled her wet hair back, swiped her nose a couple of times à la Bruce Lee, then motioned for Jimmy Choo’s to come at her. Jimmy Choo’s stretched her triceps, did some shoulder rolls and cracked her neck, moving it side to side with her hands. Then, she moved in to engage her worthy adversary.
What followed was a festival of immaculately performed close-quarter combat strikes, counters, blocks, bobs and weaves, with neither woman giving ground.
Suddenly, the door to the ladies room opened.
Someone asked loudly, “What on earth is going on in here?”
The woman was a middle-aged, gray-haired African American in a jogging suit. Jimmy Choo’s would remember her as the last thing she ever saw.
POP!
It only took a split second for Heather to blind her opponent. She used her thumb and middle finger, jamming her nails quickly and effectively into the woman’s eyes, digging in for good measure and then pulling her fingers out with as much of them as her nails would allow.
“AHHH! My eyes! My eyes!”
“Go and get help,” Heather told the older woman casually. She collected the pistol from the toilet and slipped it into her purse along with the other weapon she had stolen from Carlton.
The waitress’ cries could be heard throughout the entirety of the restaurant. It wasn’t long before she fumbled about and eventually stumbled to the ground. Heather stooped down and nonchalantly removed the shoes from the young woman’s feet.
“You crazy whore! I’ll kill you!” she cried.
Heather slid the shoes into her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and then slipped out of the ladies room.
Oddly enough, no one seemed to notice Heather as she coolly exited the restaurant. Not even, it seemed, the two men sitting in the idling car who were supposed to tail her.
As Heather slipped down the street, her cell phone chirped. She smiled as she checked the incoming message.
Officer Walker sat in the home of Tanya Spade, now widow of Mike Spade. The last time he was in this house had been at least 12 years ago when he picked Mike up for his first ride-along.
Walker had trained him, fought with him, watched him grow up from a rookie, and now, unfortunately, he had the unenviable task of consoling the man’s widow.
They sat on comfortable, brown, leather chairs amongst the throng of chaos that four children can wreak on any living room. Standing in their wake, pretending to look at family photos was Cole, who had insisted on coming along. Walker only agreed to this if Cole let him do the talking. So far that had proceeded as advertised, but he could sense Cole getting fidgety. At long last he could no longer contain himself.
“Ma’am, there is no easy way for me to do this,” Cole began.
Walker gave him a look.
“Well if not now, then when, Walker?” Cole answered the question Walker never actually asked him.
“This woman just found out that her husband is dead. Do you understand the concept of dead, Cole? The last thing she needs right now is to answer your questions,” Walker tried to respond as calmly as his building anger would allow.
Tanya interjected.
“It’s all right, Detective Walker. I’ll answer his questions. I want to catch the guys who did this to Mike. His brother wasn’t with him, was he?”
Walker and Cole exchanged glances.
“We were going to get to that, ma’am,” Cole started.
“Is he all right? I can’t have lost my husband and my brother-in-law in the same day.”
“Jaysiel appears to be okay,” Walker assured her.
“What do you by mean appears?”
“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that, ma’am. That’s actually why we’ve come here, that and of course your husband,” said Cole.
“Why would I know where my brother-in-law is if you don’t?”
“We know for a fact that Officer Mike picked Spade up from the airport. We know that he flew in from Africa, had a single item of luggage that held his tablet, laptop, toiletries…”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Tanya cut hi
m off.
Walker smiled and took a breath before continuing.
“When Officer Mike responded to the threat at the foster home, we believe Jaysiel was with him. Jaysiel fled the scene with the only other survivor.”
“Well you’ve got to help him. He might be running from someone, or maybe he saw who did this?”
“Ma’am, your brother-in-law is one of the suspects as far as I’m concerned,” Cole stated flatly, seeming unburdened the moment he spoke the words.
Walker looked at Tanya but was unable to completely deny Cole’s statement.
“Are you telling me that Mike’s own brother had him killed?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” said Cole. “Jaysiel might not have been a suspect before he entered that house, but he became one the second he left.”
Cole paced as he explained further.
“Now, just because a man runs, that don’t make him guilty, but it sure makes it a lot harder to believe he’s innocent.”
“Why is he running?” Tanya asked the obvious.
“We were hoping you could tell us?” Walker said as calmly as he could, attempting to ease the sudden tension in the room.
“Jay is a decorated veteran with multiple tours in Iraq. Apart from my husband, there is not a more honorable man that I know. If he is running, then he has to have a good reason. Maybe he doesn’t trust you all, and given these questions, I can’t say that I blame him. You two are the ones with the golden badges, Walker, not me,” Tanya said.
Austin Cole’s eyes suddenly became as wide as plates.
“Badges! Earle, that’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“Her husband’s badge. It wasn’t at the scene, right?”
“No, Cole. It was missing. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
Cole smiled as he activated his radio to contact Asha.
“Asha, this is Cole. What’s your 20?”
“At the precinct. Go ahead, sir.”
“Asha, did forensics ever come across Officer Mike’s badge?”
“No, sir, they didn’t.”
“Check with the boys down in inventory and find out if his badge was RFID enabled,” Cole grinned at Walker as he said the words.
“Before you get your hopes up, the range on those radio frequency identification badges is pretty short, maybe a city block, if that. Those are for inventory purposes within the building so that we don’t lose them,” said Walker, anticipating where Cole might be going with this.
“Step out of the boat and walk on some agua for once in your miserable life, Peter,” Cole quipped before Asha responded on the radio.
“Sir, the badge is RFID enabled, but the range on our tracking system is limited to about a block or two.”
Walker raised his hands as if to say, “What did I tell you?”
“But we can boost the signal range if needed. Let me see what I can do,” said Asha.
Cole grinned.
Walker sighed, shook his head and then walked over to Tanya to give her a hug.
“Look out for Jay, Earle. I can’t lose both of them in the same day,” Tanya said, drying her eyes as she came out of the embrace.
Walker nodded and stepped out the door with Cole.
7: Quitter
Marshall Pike’s phone chirped with a notification of a new text message.
>>> We may have discovered a way to track the girl.
>>> Will send coordinates shortly.
He smiled and responded with a single word, “Understood.”
Mr. Silas had been anxious from the moment Pike had left his office. It was rare that a man of his extreme wealth and equally abundant sway found himself in the uncomfortable position of not being in complete control. He had given Pike autonomy to operate without interference, and while he certainly kept his own council on exactly what “complete autonomy” actually meant, it did nothing to change the facts. He was waiting for word from Pike, and Damien Silas was anything but a patient man.
At the moment he did not even know where Pike was. He was not accustomed to this, nor did he like this feeling.
It wasn’t long before Arata arrived at his side holding a smartphone.
“Speak,” barked Silas.
“The girl is being tracked, sir. I will be able to provide a location for extraction within the hour,” the voice said.
“Good. When the girl has been detained, complete your work and report to me here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you mean my father?”
Spade could not hide the incredulous expression currently masquerading as his face. The last place he needed to go right now was wherever his father was residing.
“Your dad has a safe house in Gainesville. Not Florida, that’s a common mistake, it’s actually…”
“I’m aware of Gainesville, Virginia, Bear,” Spade cut him off.
“Are you also aware that your manners have gone missing?”
Spade calmed himself. He was still a little annoyed that Bear had accused him of quitting the Corps. The last thing he felt like dealing with was the human embodiment of that very sentiment: his father. He responded to Bear in slow, measured tones.
“Forgive me. I have had a long day, and I am not ready to see my father.”
While texting on his phone, Bear continued to spar with Spade.
“I assume that you didn’t fly all the way home from Africa to not see the man,” Bear stated more than he asked.
“You sound like Mike earlier today.”
“How so?”
“He was trying to convince me to go to my father’s birthday party this weekend. I actually flew home because Mike told me that my father is ill and doesn’t have long to live. I wanted to be here for the funeral. You know, pay my respects and all.”
“Check the proverbial box,” said Bear.
“A little warmer and a little fuzzier than that, but not by much I’ll admit,” Spade chuckled.
“You want my advice?” asked Bear.
Spade rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say, like I actually have a choice.
“When you see him, own your crap. He thinks you quit the Corps? That’s what the beef is about, right? Own it. Then it’s on him to let it go, not you.”
“I wish it were that simple, Bear. A lot of people think I quit; heck, you just accused me of as much a little bit ago. I’m fine with my decision and whatever interpretation people have of it. It’s deeper than that with my father.”
“I understand.”
“I need to hit the head before we take off,” Spade said to change the subject. Turning to Brynn, he added, “Do you need to go to the restroom too?”
She smiled and gave him the thumbs up.
“You should probably go in separately,” Bear warned.
“I’m not letting her out of my sight, bro.”
Spade had a valid point, the larger risk wasn’t so much the two of them being seen together, but more so the two of them being seen at all. Better that at least one of them be within reach of Brynn, regardless of the prying eyes around them, rather than leaving her unprotected. Consequently, Spade and Brynn left the Jeep together.
Hearing his customized ringtone blare out, Bear picked up his phone.
“Heather Wolfe, as I live and breathe.”
“Bear Bowden, how the hell are you?”
“Excellent, thank you, and I can bump that up to fantastic if you tell me that you haven’t found a man yet and I still have a snowball’s chance?”
“Ha ha ha ha, funny, you should mention that. I’m leaving a pretty bad lunch date as we speak. I did get some cute shoes out of it though,” Heather cooed.
“Lunch date? It’s almost 3 pm.”
“Early dinner, late lunch, does it matter, Bear?”
“Probably matters to the guy. There is a fine line separating a second date from the dreaded ‘friendship zone,’ sis.”
They laughed in concurrence.
“Quite the contrary, actually; I need to ask you in.”
“Last time I checked the words ‘Semper Fidelis’ still meant, ‘Always Loyal.’ What have you got, Marine?” Heather asked.
“Is your line secure?”
“I’m CIA, and you’re SOCOM.”
“And I’m still asking,” replied Bear.
“Sounds pretty serious, whatever it is that you haven’t actually asked me yet.”
“It is. Eyes only. I can’t even get into it on a secure line. I need you to meet me at a safe house within the hour. I will send you three encoded sets of coordinates, one of them being the correct set.”
“I’ll be there. I have a favor to ask of you as well,” said Heather.
“Yeah?”
“Just had an attempt on my life.”
“At lunch?”
“By my date, no less, the nerve,” Heather laughed.
“We can certainly dig into that along with everything else. See you shortly.”
Sharon Blake opened the passenger door of Pike’s white Porsche 9-11 Targa, flopped into the seat, then slammed the door. Pike’s expression, upon seeing her slam his precious car door for what was probably the “eleven-teenth” time, was the equivalent of a man being repeatedly kicked in the groin.
“Oh … sorry,” Sharon said again.
Pike responded through clenched teeth, “Did you fall in?”
“Fall into what?”
“The toilet. That was the longest bathroom break in human history,” said Pike.
“Were you timing me, Marshall?”
If he actually had been timing her, she would never know. His smartphone chirped, and his glare immediately shifted from Sharon’s face to his phone.