by mike Evans
“So, you lost your family. What if I told you that the group, Allah’s Hand, was responsible for it? Or at least for supplying the idea for it to the two men that set off the main bombs. The bombs that were responsible for taking out your family? Would that make you even the least bit interested?”
Gabriel leaned forward. “You’ve got my attention.”
“We think they have made their way stateside, and we believe that our intel is solid, which I’m sure that you have heard before. I trust that you want revenge and your money back, right? Well, by doing this one job, you will get both. We need you to get back the scientist and we need you to take out their leader, Imad Al-Din. He took over after Hassan died last year. Is that something you think you can do?”
“What’s to stop me from blowing your damn head off? You’ve had me running around for weeks setting up to kill a fucking CPA when you knew that the people who killed my family were in the states and I could have killed them by now? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“We needed to have one hundred percent confirmation before we sent someone like you in. You having to take the man out at the FBI safe house was the only way we saw that would get you here. We were hoping for a smoother transition, but the references in your file show you to being financially motivated. Which wasn't a surprise since you are a contract killer; that was really the shining light. It brought me to the conclusion that we could get you here if we borrow, or let’s say, made your money less available for a short time.”
“Which means?”
“That, as God is my savior, you will get every cent back once you take care of this.”
“God isn’t your savior; I will be. You said there was a scientist that needed to be retrieved. What exactly makes this man so important?”
“The doctor specializes in germs and diseases and the modification of them. Twelve months ago, he and his family disappeared. The only family member of his that wasn’t taken was his wife.”
“What did she have to say when questioned about her husband and family?”
“She didn’t have many answers for us, Gabriel.”
“Because?”
“Because she had a bullet put through her skull.”
“What did they want the scientist for?”
“We think they are modifying different strands of diseases. Once they find the one they think can be a global killer, we think they’ll release it to the public.”
“So, the people responsible for killing my family are now trying to take out everyone in America? Fuck, what a great day! Do you have any other good news for me?”
“They are holding him in a research facility in the states and, needless to say, it is very well armed. It’s going to be a true bitch trying to get into it.
Gabriel said, “If I don’t get this stopped, you’re still paying me, do you realize this? I want every last fucking cent deposited, and that is non-negotiable at this point. Me getting back my money is the only thing that I’m worried about.”
“Yes, I read about what happened to one of your early contracts in California and I’d love to be able to avoid that. But you do realize, if this gets out it’s a global killer and money won’t matter at that point. It will be a ridiculously small number of people that are immune to the drug.”
“It’s easier than thinking that I had a part in unleashing death upon America,” Gabriel said.
“It isn’t your fault if you fail. But we’re at a point where our resources have been so diminished that we can’t do anything but ask you to do what you do. You can go in guns blazing, do whatever you have to do. Nothing is too much, but there is no backup plan. If you fail, that’s it. If they are ready to unleash that hell on the United States, we are all dead.”
“I’m in. I’m starting to wish I would’ve taken that vacation and skipped this job,” Gabriel said.
Frank leaned back in his seat and hit the intercom. “Jonathan, could you come in here please. We are ready for you.”
A man dressed in a black suit came in and sat down. He looked over to Gabriel, smiled nervously, and said, “My name is Jonathan. What’s your name?”
Gabriel stared at the man, and then at Frank. “What the hell is this? I don’t do partners. I never have, never will.”
Jonathan who had not been properly informed about Gabriel cockily said, “You don’t understand I’m the best you’ve ever seen.”
Frank worriedly looked at the two men, realizing he should have had a little more of a conversation with Gabriel before inviting Jonathan in. Gabriel lifted the gun up to the man’s head and cocked the hammer. “Do I look like I need a partner?”
Frank intervened, “He isn’t really so much a partner. He’s a chauffeur of sorts. If you would just read the file a bit more carefully, you will notice that the target is not anywhere close to here and the quickest way to get there is to have a pilot. We assume since you worked with Mr. Forsyth back in the beginning of your career, you aren’t capable of flying your own helicopter or airplane, if the opportunity came to light, right? Well, Jonathan is the best pilot we have and he can get you wherever you need to go before it can get worse.”
Gabriel lowered the pistol and slid it back in its holster, snapping it into place. He stood and started walking for the door. Frank said, “Wait, I thought you were going to take the assignment. I thought you were going to help.”
Gabriel never turned back. He just talked as he walked. “Jonathan, if you're going to fly me somewhere you're going to have to get off your ass to get there. We aren’t going to save anyone if we stay here fucking around, are we?”
Frank whispered, “Good luck, Jonathan; try not to piss him off too much, will you? I’d hate to see him upset.”
Jonathan grabbed the folder that Gabriel was supposed to have read and ran after the man, which he knew nothing about. He looked down at the folder that had his name on it then looked up. He shook his head, defeated, and said, “Gabriel? Like the angel of fucking death! Are you kidding me?”
He ran to catch up with Gabriel. He got through the door and put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. The moment he touched him, he knew it was the mistake of the day. Jonathan said, “We need to get a couple of things straight before we do this.”
Gabriel spun on his heel, gripping his arm by the elbow and wrist, and then spun him around, smashing him into the wall. His head cracked against the marble wall. Gabriel smashed his forearm into Johnathan’s jugular and whispered, “Let’s not get confused. If I didn’t need to have a lift, then I would be just as happy throwing you off the roof to save the fucking bullet. You don’t strike me as the type that would be missed.”
He released the pressure and let Jonathan drop to the ground, sitting there with a look of bewilderment on his face. Gabriel continued walking towards the elevator. “Oh, yeah. Don’t ever lay another hand on me again.”
*****
Frank watched this transpiring from his office over the video monitor feed and shook his head. “I hope this guy is as good as his resume.”
Tony slid out of the closet, red faced, as soon as Jonathan had shut the door a couple minutes before. “I don’t know what it takes to impress you, Frank, but if Gabriel doesn’t have it, you aren’t ever going to find it.”
“Well, if he fucks it up we’re going to have to find a way to spin this so that there’s no shit rolling down the hill on us.”
“We need to find a way to explain this when he succeeds. We aren’t going to have any good excuses for why we hired an assassin who is no longer employed by the CIA.”
Frank pointed to the seat across from his desk. “Let’s get started, then, either way. I want to have quick answers ready to roll out to whoever is asking.”
*****
Gabriel and Jonathan pushed through to the hallway, taken back for a second at all the medics who were shooting daggers at Gabriel. The men who were conscious couldn’t help but stare at the mysterious man. They eyed their pistols as Gabriel passed. Gabriel said, “You touch
it and all bets are off.”
One of them, knowing it’d most likely be his only chance to ask the stranger something, said, “Who in the hell are you? What makes you such hot shit?”
Gabriel stopped walking and looked at the numerous downed men. He watched the medics working away on their wounds. “The difference between you and me is that I’m not lying on the floor, being tended to like a bitch… and you are.”
Gabriel walked backwards the rest of the distance to the elevator. He hit the button with his elbow and waited patiently with his hand gripping his pistol until the silver doors parted and he stepped in. Jonathan went in slowly and stood on the opposite side, trying to regain some composure and get his suit straight again. Gabriel let Jonathan hit the appropriate button to go straight to the top of the large building; the silence between the two men was deafening. Gabriel was a man used to sitting somewhere for days, not saying anything aloud. Jonathan started thinking of different things to say and wasn't sure anything was going to be receptive to Gabriel. Finally, he said, “Want to hear a joke?”
Gabriel smiled and said, “Oh, do I.”
“Knock knock.” Gabriel stood there silently, so he tried again, “Knock knock.” Silence “You do know you’re supposed to say ‘who’s there’, right?”
Gabriel was silent then said, “Knock knock.”
Jonathan, hopeful, said, “Who’s there?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
He reached over close to Jonathan, invading his personal space and took the folder. He saw his name on it and ripped it off and slid it into his pocket. He started examining the materials in the folder as he walked across the top of the building to the helicopter.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Can you imagine the piece of shit who thought setting a global killer loose was a good idea? God, I hope he rots in hell.”
Gabriel shook his head, smiling. There didn’t seem to be anything that Jonathan could say that would remotely begin to make him be liked. He nodded to Jonathan saying, “That’s only if hell will take him.”
Jonathan smiled nervously, staring at the helicopter pad and the chopper that sat on it, realizing that he was going to be in close quarters with this very scary man for the foreseeable future. Jonathan asked, “You got a plan figured out for what you want to do?”
Gabriel nodded at Jonathan. He was still staring at the folder and was looking over all of the details given to him by Frank. Jonathan sat there for a moment waiting for the engine to warm up and doing final system checks on the helicopter, hoping that, given enough time, Gabriel would come around and break that tough shell. Unfortunately for Jonathan, it wasn’t a shell; it was a rock-hard exterior and he didn’t know the first thing about Gabriel. After another ten minutes, they had been approved for a flight plan and were on their way into hell’s mouth.
Gabriel looked through the materials he’d been given, reading the history of the group stemming back to the early nineties. Hassan had been the original leader and founder of the group. The leadership role was then passed down to the hands of his western-educated son, Imad. He read deeper into the file and actually started to worry for the country if he failed. He saw that the men were poorly educated, with the exception of Imad, and believed in Hassan’s view Allah and in the group’s mission. He looked over at his pilot, who looked like he had a brick squeezed tight in his ass. He said, “Hey take it easy. You’re my pilot, right?”
Jonathan nodded his head. “Yeah, that seems to be the case, currently.”
Gabriel said, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never shot one of my pilots mid-mission.”
Jonathan nodded, looking a bit easier about things until the word “mid” hit him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘mid’?”
Gabriel laid his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think for a moment about getting some type of plan together. “Do me a favor, kid. Shut up and let me think. We’re going into a foreign-run factory, probably filled to the brink with all kinds of mass-produced, dangerous chemicals and shit, and we have to worry about every man and woman in there wanting to put a bullet through our skulls.”
“Wait. What am I going to be doing while you are inside of this facility? I mean, I don’t have shit for tactical experience. You don’t want me going in there with you, do you? I will if you need me to, but I’d probably be a better shield than helper.”
Gabriel looked at the skinny young man. “You wearing a vest, kid?”
The young man shook his head no and said, “Why’s that?”
“Well, if you’re going to be a shield you’d do a hell of a lot better if you had a bulletproof vest. I mean, if they shoot you in the chest, those bullets are just going to go straight through you, man. Hell, you probably couldn’t even stop a small caliber handgun. If you had a vest and were in front of me, at least you’d stand a chance. Hell, I never leave home without one and I at least know what I’m doing in the field. How the fuck are you the best that they got at the CIA?”
Jonathan just gaped. “You know, absolutely none of that made me feel one damn bit better.”
They flew in silence for the next few hours. Gabriel shrugged, looking through binoculars at the countryside in front of the building they were about to try to break into. He scanned the area, seeing it was desolate for miles around; they didn’t want any chance at letting someone sneak up on them. He said, “You know, this set up is damn smart. If I wanted to make sure I didn’t have any visitors, I’d put my place out in the middle of nowhere as well; that way, anyone who shows up uninvited, wouldn’t belong there, and I would deem them hostile.
“So, what are you going to do?”
Gabriel kept staring into the distance, knowing it would be impossible to get in there without some sort of distraction. “Well, I was thinking that if a pilot tried landing in there without permission, they would go apeshit, and all their attention would be on that poor bastard.”
Jonathan looked over, shaking his head. Gabriel said, “Did you want to call Frank and let him know that you aren’t able to help complete the mission? You want the epidemic to be unleashed… to spread?”
“Well, no, but it seems like a damn death trap.”
“I could always just kill you now, jump out of the chopper, and let you crash on the other side of the building and then run up while they are none the wiser.”
Jonathan looked around the copter, realizing there was no way to stop Gabriel from doing whatever he decided to do. “So, you want me to drop you off somewhere before I go land the chopper? You’d better live up to your name, sir.”
Gabriel gave him the most serious look that he could and said, “No one has ever regretted putting their trust in me, Jonathan. I always come through.”
“And they all, you know, uh… they lived, right?”
Gabriel nodded, pointing to a strip of land to bring the helicopter down.
Chapter 9
Allah’s Hand
Iran, Terror Cell Headquarters (twelve months prior)
October 14, 2023
The leaders, Imad Al-Din and his father, Hassan, the founder of the group, sat around the table. Hassan held up his hands in frustration, looking up to the ceiling and praying for Allah to give him the answers that he needed. To his son, he screamed, “Why do your plans have to be so damn complicated? What is wrong with my plan? Why must you disrespect me at all times, Imad?
“It is not that I am trying to disrespect you, sir. I would never do that to you, Father. I respect you very, very much.”
Hassan snapped back with what he always relied on and yelled, “You spent too long at the University in England. You act like one of them now.” He pointed to what Imad was wearing, a light-tan suit, and then motioned at himself wearing his army fatigues. “You dress like one of those of those pieces of shit. If it was not for my blood moving through your veins, I would happily slit your throat as a sacrifice to Allah.”
“Father, it is what I have learned speaking with the scientists who believe in our cause.
They call it biological warfare. They say we can change a virus. We can modify it and make it something that cannot be cured or stopped. It will be the greatest accomplishment of Allah’s Hand to date, Father.”
“That is stupid. Americans cure everything but the fucking debt. They can always save others as long as you are one of their precious citizens.”
“Father, not this one. They told me that we need a scientist whose profession is researching drugs and diseases. We need a strand as well, like a sample of the strain’s disease. We need a place for him to work at and then—”
Hassan was losing his mind with what he felt was disrespectful behavior from his only son. He slammed both hands on the table. “We do all this work for a few thousand people to die maybe? Why does this leave hundreds of millions still alive to infect the world?”
Imad smiled, showing off very white teeth in contrast to his dark-amber skin. “No, Father, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but you do not understand what I mean or what I’m talking about. The applications of this would not just lead to a few thousand deaths, you see; it would bring America to her knees. They would not be able to bury the bodies fast enough. They would run out of room before they were done… or even out of people to bury them.”
“You never make any sense. You know this, right? I blame your whore of a mother. You would still be on her tit if I had not taken care of her.”
“Father, what I speak is the truth. I do not mean like a Nine-Eleven or the Oklahoma bombing.”
“Why don’t you save us both time and say what you mean.”
Imad shook his head, past the point of trying to explain what he felt was stupidly simple to comprehend. “Sorry, Father, but I can’t be led by a fool any longer.”
“Good! I am glad that we are done talking about this foolish…” It hit him what he had just been told, the disrespect slapping him in the face. He pulled a knife from his belt and waved it in the air. “You call me a fool? You son of a whore. I will cut your tongue out! I will slit you from top to bottom! Your new way of thinking is more than my old ears can handle!”