Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Ted lifted an eyebrow. "Your guys need an attitude adjustment, Gee. You should train 'em to snap to attention and do what ya say without the looks."

  "They're civilians, Ted, what'd ya expect? So you get a crew together?"

  "Yeah, Gee, I got 'em. Thanks for the info on the little Cuban ex-Ranger; he worked out."

  "No sweat. Too bad about the boys you lost. I'm sorry, buddy."

  "Thanks, Gee . . . but you didn't want to see me just to give me your condolences. What's up?"

  Genesse gestured to the cushioned seats. "Sit down, Teddy; we have to talk about the op. Some things have happened recently . . . the situation has changed."

  Ted's face hardened. "What d'ya mean, changed?"

  "Relax, Teddy, my boss isn't going to back out on you. In fact he wants to make you a better offer. Sit down, will ya?"

  Ted took a seat but kept a hard stare on his friend. "He don't make 'better offers' unless he wants somethin' in return."

  Genesse took a sip of beer and leaned back in his seat.

  "Look, Teddy, you came to me six months ago wantin' help to get Mendez. I told you then what you wanted was impossible and--"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know what ya said," Ted said impatiently.

  "Ya told me you guys had an agreement with the Latinos and ya couldn't do anything."

  "But I did help you, didn't I, Teddy? I wanted that bastard as much as you for what he did to us.. .. I talked to the boss for you. He let me use some people to do some checking, and I found out about Mendez's laundering operation in Georgia.

  I knew it wasn't what you really wanted, but takin' a big score off Mendez was the next best thing ... until now."

  The hair on the back of Ted's neck stood up. "What are you sayin', Gee? Your boss goin' to help me get him now?"

  Genesse leaned forward. "Teddy, we got real lucky last week. Call it fate, call it luck, but it looks like you're gonna get what ya want after all--a chance at Mendez."

  "Keep talkin'; I'm listenin'."

  "Look, Teddy, what I'm about to tell you will get us both popped if word gets out, you understand?"

  "Come on, Gee, you're talkin' to me, here."

  "Teddy, Mendez had him a honey on the side, a real looker. He played house with her on his yacht, and when his ol' lady was away he'd even take this babe to his estate to keep his bed warm. It was a nice arrangement for almost a year. Then last week Mendez tells her next time they meet he's goin' to have another babe join them to double the fun.

  Problem is, the looker isn't into that and says no way. Big mistake. Mendez tells her if she wants to keep her benefits she better play and love it. She sees she's in big trouble and tells him she'll love it. She lied. To make a long story short, the looker gets real scared and takes off. And guess what?"

  Ted set down his beer bottle. "You got her."

  "Yeah, it was a pure luck thing, but we got her. She went to the cops for protection. . . . Lucky for us it was a couple of guys we help out now and then."

  "So because you got Mendez's broad, your boss changed his mind?"

  "Ted, we've got the mother lode in this babe. She's no dummy; she kept her ears open when with Mendez. We now know Mendez goes to his yacht like clockwork to get his jollies off every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening.

  We also now know how many security people he has with him and where they're stationed. What I'm sayin' is, with this info we can get the bastard, and Ted, you're the man who can do it."

  "Me? Wait a minute. We had a deal that I was going to score three million off Mendez. Are you tellin' me that's off and now you're goin' to help me pop him?"

  Genesse smiled. "Teddy, I'm sayin' you can do both .. . score the money and take him out. The broad is going to help you."

  "The broad? Are you shittin' me?"

  "If you want Mendez you're goin' to need her."

  "What is this, Gee? You're not tellin' me everything. Six months ago ya told me there was no way your boss would help me whack the bastard. Now all of a sudden he gives me a green light just because you got his bimbo? Uh-uh, I don't think so--you guys been watchin' Mendez and know his schedule. What's really going on here?"

  Genesse sighed. "Okay, Teddy, I'll level with you. You're right, there is something else. Mendez is expanding his legit business here in town. Pretty soon the bastard will be steppin' on our toes. He's crossin' the line, Teddy. He's goin' to be usin' Latino construction and labor crews and keepin' our unions out. The boss can't let him do that. Mendez has to go. The problem is, we can't be involved in it. If the Latinos found out we contracted the hit on one of their big players, there'd be a war. And Teddy, you know we can't have that. We have to stay out of it. . . . You'll be on your own."

  Ted shook his head in disbelief. "Wait a minute . . . ya want me to take him out but you guys aren't goin' to help?"

  "Teddy, you'll have the woman, who will tell you everything you need to know to get him, and I've already arranged through third parties all the weapons and equipment you'll need. It's the best, but that's it; I can't do any more. The boss has put me in charge of this--nobody else in the organization knows. When you make the score and the hit, we've got to be clean. Nothing can be traced back to us. Not even a rumor."

  "What about the money?" Ted asked. "You guys wanted half the take, remember?"

  "You get it all, Teddy. We can't risk taking his cash. Once you make the score, Mendez will go ballistic: to a player like him, stealin' his money is worse than catchin' you screwin' his wife in his bed; it's the ultimate insult. All his people will be on the street, willing to pay big bucks to anyone who will rat out the crew that did it. We'll be suspected first. He'll find nothing because there's nobody who knows about this."

  Ted studied his friend's face a moment. "You guys were the ones who were settin' up the score for me. How am I goin' to do it if I don't know how it's goin' to go down?"

  "The broad, Teddy. Like I told you, she's smart, and the important thing is, she knows computers. I have a computer geek who briefed her on all the details of the score. The geek says she's good to go."

  "Christ'a'mighty, Gee, you told the bimbo about our score? You trust her that much?"

  "Ted, she knows she'd be dead if we hadn't stepped in and helped her. This op is her only chance to live a normal life. With her split of the take, she can disappear for a long time. Anyway, it's the only way it can be done to keep us out of it. The setup of the score is complicated, and you gotta have her to do it."

  "Give me the geek, Gee."

  "Can't do that. He runs our sport-book spreadsheets-- we're modernizing, Ted. The guy is a genius and we can't afford to lose him. Hey, trust me, the broad knows what she's doin'."

  Ted lowered his head. "Looks like I don't have any choice . . . but I got a problem. I hired the new guys for a score, not a hit. I gotta find out if they want in--and if they do, I got to get 'em trained and up to speed."

  Genesse smiled. "Ted, you were the best platoon leader the SEALs ever had--you'll get them up to speed. And remember, the score is now six million; they'll want in."

  Raising his head, Ted frowned. "I'll talk to 'em and see.

  What else I need to know, Gee?"

  Genesse picked up a thick manila folder from a side table.

  "In here are pictures of his yacht and blueprints we got from the company that made it. You also got maps and directions to two safe houses for when you come to town to do Mendez. The keys to the houses are in here, and there's a hundred grand for expenses, plus there's a new ID in there for you with the name Ted Wilson. Weapons and gear have already been shipped in care of the broad."

  Genesse handed Ted the folder and took out an envelope from his pocket. "This is the address where the woman is.

  We got her out of here a couple of days ago and put her in a house near Lake Lanier, only about twenty minutes from your place. Third parties set it up, Ted, so you've got to stic to a cover. The story is, she's hiding out from her husband till the divorce comes through. Her name is
Bonita Rogers, but the name she's using is Linda Stone. She's got a live-in maid and a local security guy who keeps her protected.

  You're a P. I. by the name of Ted Wilson and you've been hired by her to keep tabs on her soon-to-be ex. Use the new ID and buy yourself a car to look the part. She's expecting to see you as soon as you fly back into Atlanta."

  Ted accepted the envelope but shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Gee, you sound like the CIA."

  "I'm tryin' to keep her alive, Ted. Mendez has his people out searching for her. Look, this is it. After you leave, we don't see each other again for a long, long time. It's begun--I don't know you and I don't know about anything that's going on; we're out of it. If something happens and the op goes sour, you're on your own. If you get caught and gotta talk, tell 'em the broad is the one who hired you. She's the fall guy in this, you understand?"

  "She know she's the one whose goin' to take the heat?"

  "She knows if it goes bad she's dead anyway. She can't hurt us if she sings . . . she can only give up the two cops and two of my boys that I've already moved to Vegas."

  "What about the geek? She could give him up."

  "We keep him away from us . . . he's too weird. They can't make the connection to us, so we're covered."

  Ted walked to the railing and looked out at swells. A long moment passed before he faced his friend again. "I want him, Gee. I've dreamed of nothin' else . . . the money doesn't matter to me; it's him I want."

  Genesse set his beer bottle down and stood. "Teddy, I made you the offer because the boss wanted me to. I love you like a brother. I don't want you to accept the deal unless you think you can do it and get out in one piece. Mendez has to go one way or another. If you don't do it, we'll find an independent who's dumb enough to try. I want that son of a bitch as much as you do. I still dream of that fuckin' night. I can't get the screams out of my head, Teddy. I still hear the screams."

  Ted put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know, Gee; I still hear them, too. I'm in. Like I said, I have to talk to my crew, but I don't think it'll be a problem. Glenn wants him as bad as we do, and the new guys won't be able to turn down the big money."

  Genesse lowered his head. "Teddy, I wanted to be there and help you put him away but I--"

  "You've done enough, Gee. You've stuck your neck way out for me. You'll be there. The whole team will be there with me when I even the score. The screams will end, Gee. I promise."

  Genesse hugged the bigger man to his chest. "Do it and get out safe, Teddy. I don't wanna be the last of Team Twotwo. You hear me? Get out safe."

  "He's goin' down, Gee." Ted stepped back, forcing a smile. "I guess I'd better get to the airport; I got a plane to catch. You take care, Gee."

  Genesse waited until his former teammate made his way down to the cigarette boat before speaking. "Teddy, we were somethin', weren't we? We were the best, huh?"

  Ted nodded. "Yeah, Gee, we was the best."

  Key West, Florida Seated in the shade of a banyan tree, Dr. Reese warily looked across the plastic table at the newly arrived doctor who was looking through his patient's medical records.

  Dr. Sarah Laski set the documents down and took off her reading glasses. "So, the bottom line is you believe he should be released?"

  "As I told your people three days ago, we've run every test and had numerous sessions with him. We found nothing abnormal."

  "And his wounds?" Sarah asked.

  "The head wound was superficial and has healed quite nicely. The arm wound will take a little more time because of muscle damage, but he is working very hard in physical therapy and should be almost a hundred percent by next week. As you will see shortly, he is not your average forty-seven-year-old male. He's in excellent physical condition, which I believe accounts for his rapid recovery."

  Sarah picked up the folder again. "What about the depression you say he is suffering?"

  Reese studied his hands a moment before looking at her.

  We are the reason for his depression, Doctor. Since coming here, he has not been allowed to communicate with anyone outside the compound. For all intents and purposes, he is a prisoner, and prisoners tend to get depressed."

  Sarah nodded as if in understanding. "The orders were necessary. The press made extraordinary efforts to find him, so we had to ensure the story did not get out."

  "I don't like being involved in a cover-up, Doctor," Reese said with a glare.

  Sarah met his glare with one of her own. "You were briefed on the sensitivity of the situation, Doctor. Public knowledge of the actual events that took place would have served no one's interests, especially not the patient's. The congressional oversight committee was briefed thoroughly, and they agreed unanimously with our decision to keep the case permanently closed to the public."

  Reese relaxed his taut shoulders and lowered his head.

  "I'm sorry, Doctor. I fear I've grown too close to the patient to be objective anymore. I understand the concerns the Bureau had on this, but as you can see, our examinations lay those fears to rest. Special Agent Eli Tanner is physically and mentally fit for duty."

  Sarah motioned to the file. "I was provided only his test and evaluation results. Could you fill me in on his past before I speak to him?"

  Reese's face tightened. "It was communicated to me you were going to review our findings. Nothing was said about your interviewing my patient."

  "You want him released, don't you, Doctor?" Sarah asked with a condescending smile. "I was sent here to make a final evaluation and I--"

  "Don't play word games with me, Doctor. You doubt our findings. Fine. Talk to him. I ask only that out of professional courtesy you tell me your conclusions after your talk. You asked about his past. I'll summarize for you. Our patient joined the military out of high school and attended the Army's Airborne and Ranger courses before going to Vietnam in 1972. In Vietnam he was a sergeant in the 101st Airborne Division and saw very heavy action. He was wounded badly and took quite some time to recover. Once released from the hospital, he was discharged from the Army and attended the University of Georgia, where he obtained a degree in criminal justice. Upon graduation he applied for and was accepted into the Bureau. I must point out here that he followed in his brother's footsteps. His older brother was in the Bureau at the time. Our patient graduated from the FBI Academy, and because of his military training and combat experience, he was assigned to the Bureau's then-new Special Operations unit.

  He was sent to many schools and became highly specialized in his field. His follow-on assignments kept him principally in special-operations assignments throughout the states. He was wounded while working on the drug task force in Miami in 1990 but fully recovered and continued his duties in special operations. Three months ago he was assigned as the resident special agent in charge of the Columbus, Georgia, office, and you know the rest--he began working the case that he closed a little over a month ago."

  Sarah looked past the doctor toward the ocean. "I assume he's not married?"

  "He was once. Divorced in 1988. The former wife is remarried and has a restraining order in place to keep him from seeing his son. He doesn't like talking about it."

  "What else doesn't he like talking about?" Sarah asked.

  Reese motioned toward the beach. "You'll find out very soon. That's him running toward us now." Reese rose and dipped his chin. "Please excuse me, Doctor. I'll leave you to your evaluation."

  Sarah nodded in shocked silence as she kept her eyes on the approaching tanned, gleaming runner. Eli Tanner was not what she'd expected. For some reason, she had assumed he would be taller and look older. Instead he was short, not over five-nine, and had the body of a thirty-year-old athlete.

  He was wearing only nylon shorts and running shoes, so she could see that his chest was heavily developed, as were his legs. Reese was right, she thought, he was certainly not your typical forty-seven-year-old male. Prematurely gray hair contrasted sharply with a rugged, tanned face that reminded her of TV newsman Tom Brokaw; i
t was a friendly face.

  Eli Tanner told himself to ignore the pain and push harder.

  Just another fifty yards, push, push, go man, pump your legs fasten push it!

  In a full sprint, he crossed the imaginary line in the sand, then slowed to a wobbly walk. Every muscle in his legs was screaming. He bent over and held his knees to steady himself. Taking in several deep breaths, he felt the high coming on. Yeaaaah baby!

  "How far did you run, Agent Tanner?"

  Eli glanced up. One look told him all he needed to know: a shrink. He lowered his head again and spoke between breaths. "Th-Three . . . miles."

  "I'm Dr. Sarah Laski."

  Eli stood erect, put his hands on his hips, and began slowly walking back down the beach. "You the final inspector?" he asked without looking at her.