Jet 04: Reckoning

by Russell Blake

  “When were you hoping to go in, then?”

  “Tomorrow night, at the latest.”

  He slowed, pensive. “That’s aggressive.”

  “Now you know why.”

  Matt picked up his pace again. “I’ll make a call. Where are we headed?”

  “To the motel we’re staying at. Alan’s there, sleeping. We’ve been doing shifts. Six hours.”

  “So I saw. Not a lot of sleeping going on in my neck of the woods.”

  She turned to him and glanced at his profile. “You look like shit. You need some rest. After we’re done, get eight solid hours. Alan and I can keep watch tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on it.”

  “You got a car?”

  “Yes, I bought an Explorer. But it’s parked about a mile away. I don’t want it being a suspect vehicle after this all goes down.”

  “Then we can take mine. I’ll drop you off.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 35

  Jet opened the door to the room, Matt behind her, and found Alan standing by the bathroom door, clad only in a white towel wrapped around his waist. Matt took in his sculpted upper body without comment. Jet flushed. Alan froze, his hair wet, the brush he was about to comb it with stuck in mid-air.

  “Who’s this?” Alan asked, alarmed caution in his tone.

  “He’s a friend. Don’t worry. He’s one of the good guys,” Jet said.

  After a moment of glacial silence, Matt stepped around Jet. “You must be Alan. Jet told me all about your situation. I’m Matt. We go…way back, sort of.” Matt moved towards Alan with his hand outstretched.

  Alan’s face twitched as he registered the words, and then his eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

  “Matt. As in, dead Thailand Matt? Ex-CIA spook?” Alan asked. He didn’t move to shake Matt’s hand for a few moments, and then grudgingly did so. “Congratulations on being alive. I’m sure there’s a story there.”

  “Yeah. You too. Seems to go around whenever she’s involved, doesn’t it?” Matt said, trying to lighten the tension.

  Jet closed the door behind her. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

  “I was in the shower. I have it on vibrate.”

  “Alan, Matt was conducting surveillance on Arthur’s house, too. He’s been collecting data for a week. And he’s got access to the CIA’s servers, in a roundabout way.” She gave him an abbreviated rundown after dropping the backpack on the table. “Looks like we’ll have sound suppressors and some ordnance by tomorrow. He’s got a line on an arms guy.”

  Alan regarded Matt suspiciously. “How convenient. And he just happened to be watching the house at the same time we were?”

  “Actually, the way I look at it, you stumbled into my surveillance setup,” Matt said in a neutral tone. “I was here first. Just to keep the sequence right.”

  Alan ignored him and addressed Jet. “How well do you know him? This just all seems a little, well, too good to be true, doesn’t it?”

  “Matt used to work for Arthur. Arthur’s been trying to kill him for at least a year. Remember, I told you about the beach house burning? That was also Arthur. So the answer to the next question is that I trust Matt implicitly. Without qualification,” Jet said, not liking the direction Alan was going.

  “That’s good for you, I suppose,” Alan said, and then padded to the dresser and grabbed his jeans and underwear. “I’ll be right out. Seeing as we’ve got company, I want to slip into something less comfortable.”

  Matt eyed Jet with a blank expression, but she could tell his mind was working behind his inscrutable gaze. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t what he thought, but that would have been a lie. She silently wished that she could take back the last week and make it different, but that wasn’t in her power, so now she had to suck it up and deal with the fallout.

  “A lot happened, Matt. Alan is David’s brother. Hannah’s uncle,” she started, but Matt held up a hand.

  “You don’t owe me any explanations. Let’s just skip all this head-butting and get down to business, okay? I want Arthur dead as much as you do – maybe more. That’s the priority. So let’s stick with that, shall we?” Matt’s tone was professional, but his eyes betrayed him.

  “Matt…”

  Alan came out of the bathroom and sensed the dynamic, but caught a look at Jet and chose not to say anything. He moved to the little circular table and pulled out one of the two chairs. “So what have we got here?”

  “Matt will give you the rundown. He’s actually gathered quite a bit,” Jet said, and then moved to the computer and began typing at lightning speed. Matt moved to the corner of the bed and sat on it, facing them both.

  Ten minutes later, Matt was done with his information dump. Alan said nothing, then leaned back in his chair.

  “That’s a lot of information, but to my ear it sounds mostly useless. Without knowing what countermeasures they have in place, we’re still dead in the water,” he said, a hint of derision in his voice.

  “I just saved you a week of camping in the woods. ‘You’re welcome’ would be more appropriate,” Matt responded, an edge in his voice.

  “Big deal. So you have the guard shifts memorized and got Arthur’s recent history, and know the players – this Standish character, among others. Am I missing the part where that translates into any kind of a strategy?” Alan fired back.

  “Gee, Alan, I’m sorry I didn’t come up with your whole assault plan while you were busy sudsing up. Maybe you can go back into the bathroom for a nice soak while I work on it? Then when I’m done, I can clean your guns for you while I’m at it.” Matt stood and regarded Jet. “This isn’t going to work.”

  Alan pushed his chair back and stood as well, his hands balling into fists. “Listen to the geriatric. What were you going to do, slip in and gum the guards to death? Beat them senseless with your cane?”

  “I’m not all that much older than you, and could kick your ass any day of the week, pipsqueak,” Matt warned, his voice almost inaudible.

  “Did they have electric lights when you were growing up? Or did you read by firelight? Assuming you know how to read,” Alan snarled.

  Jet looked up from the computer. “Boys. Play nice. I got into the Nordhaver servers, and the company does run the security for Arthur’s house. I’ve got a complete layout. The bad news is that it’s pretty foolproof on first blush,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Now, stop it with the testosterone-fest and let’s figure out how to take the target out, shall we? Our chances are far better working together than trying to do this separately. Get with the program. The attitudes aren’t helping.”

  Both men stood, facing each other, seemingly unsure how to respond to being dressed down by Jet. Matt sat down first and looked at the screen. Alan followed a second later.

  Their concentration quickly focused on the schematic for the electronics.

  “Look. Motion detectors,” Alan said. “Lasers in the house. Thermal sensors. This is crazy level security – as in, art museum level. Just what I was afraid of.”

  “There’s always a way,” Matt said.

  “Okay, Mister Viagra, what’s your idea?”

  “Do you want to continue this juvenile behavior?” Jet said forcefully, throwing Alan a warning look. “Want to go beat each other up outside? Will you please grow up? I’m not going to say it again. Cut this shit out, now.”

  Both men visibly relaxed.

  “There are backup generators in case of a power outage, so knocking out the power won’t have any effect,” Jet said, studying the symbols. “They’ve thought of everything.”

  “What about if we disconnected the fuel supply for the generators and then killed the power? They wouldn’t run. That could work,” Alan said.

  “They’re diesel. He’s right. They could be disabled,” Matt agreed.

  “Mmm, maybe, but look at the sensors around them. They’ve already thought ab
out it, and positioned the devices to take that into account,” Jet said, pointing at the screen.

  For another hour, the discussion continued unabated, in a surprisingly civil manner given Matt and Alan’s earlier interactions, and then Matt pulled a piece of paper from his bag and made a diagram of the exterior sensors. He stared at it for a few moments, then put his draftsman’s pencil down.

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  Chapter 36

  “Absolutely not.” Alan slammed his hand down on the table after Matt was finished. Both Matt and Jet regarded him curiously.

  “What’s wrong with it? I think it’s a good plan. Maybe needs some refinement,” Jet began.

  “The problem is that he wants to run the first pass, and he’s not the fittest member of this group to do it,” Alan said heatedly. “He doesn’t have the experience or the physical fitness to pull it off. Look at him,” Alan countered.

  Matt smiled humorlessly. “Ah, the arrogance of youth. Alan, my boy, I have more field experience than you’ve got, by at least a decade. That means when you were still playing with plastic cars, making vroom noises, I was in combat, and later, running ops for the CIA. Now, regardless of your opinion of the CIA, believe it or not, they don’t allow just anyone to work up from a field operative to running an entire country. So with all due respect – I’ve got more experience than you, it’s my plan, and I was here before you even showed up. That means I go in first. That’s not negotiable.”

  Jet’s face struggled to hide the trace of a smile that threatened to light it up, and chose an opportune cough instead.

  “Nice how you ducked the physical fitness part of the objection, which is what will be the deciding factor between success and failure,” Alan sniped.

  Matt looked at Jet and then back to Alan.

  “I don’t have to justify myself to you, do you read me? You may think you’re all that, but I’m here to tell you that you’re not. You need to learn to share your toys. You may think that having a nano-second-better reaction time because of age makes you superior, but having been there, I can also tell you that experience will usually trump any genetic or chronological advantage. And the fact is, I have easily twice the experience that you do,” Matt seethed.

  “CIA experience, huh? ’Nough said,” Alan replied.

  Jet glared at them both. “What am I going to do with you two? What’s with the pissing contests? The real truth is that I should be going in first. And you both know it. I’m younger than Alan, so using his argument, I’m fitter. And I’m willing to bet that for all your experience, I’ve done more of these sorts of missions than either of you, making me the most seasoned at it. So now what do you have to say?” Jet demanded. She was getting tired of the bickering and wanted to put a stop to it. Besides which, she was right, dammit.

  Both men stared at her, and then spoke in unison.

  “No.”

  They looked at one another, and the tension finally broke as Matt smiled.

  “I guess we agree on something,” Alan said.

  “You can’t do it. It’s too danger…you’re more valuable going in after, handling the second phase,” Matt said, correcting himself too late.

  Jet frowned. “Were you going to say it’s too dangerous? Was that it? Poor little girl could get hurt? What is this bullshit? You don’t have to throw your coat over a puddle for me, buddy. I can take care of myself. And just to prove it, I’m going in first. I’ll take that part of the op. No arguments.”

  “Matt’s right. You’re better in the second phase. That’s more critical, anyway. Let’s not waste your talents on the first phase,” Alan said.

  “Again, bullshit. I don’t know why you’re both suddenly so protective of me, but I don’t need your chivalry. So get used to the idea that I’ll handle the first phase. At least that way it’ll get done right. And you two can slap fight or have a hair pulling contest while I’m dealing with the target. You’ll probably like that. Maybe punch each other unconscious so I have to handle everything myself,” Jet spat, and then stood up and walked to the bathroom to get a glass of water and calm down. Both of them were being infuriating.

  “Sweetie, I–” Alan began.

  “Sweetie? Sweetie? Oh, I’m sorry. Why don’t you just call me ‘little darlin’’ and tell me to go make you boys something to eat while you talk business? You’re both really starting to piss me off now.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Matt said softly, having registered the term of endearment.

  “You were thinking it,” Jet said, and then took several deep breaths. “Look. I’m doing the first bit. So no more arguments. We’re wasting time. We should be figuring out the second part.”

  “It’s too bad we can’t come up with some kind of cell-jamming equipment on short notice,” Matt mused. “That’s one of the hitches in this idea. It means we’ll have to work much faster.”

  “Fortunately, we’ll be in a better position once the security sensors are knocked out,” Jet said. “We keep the guards tied up with red herrings while one of us sets fire to the place. Arthur will have to show himself in order to escape the blaze, and then we can pick him off. Either that or he’ll burn alive. I don’t think he’ll choose that option. So really, phase one is the most important part. Can your arms guy get his hands on an incendiary grenade launcher? Can you find out?”

  “I’ll call him, but don’t bet on it. That’s more specialized. My take is that he mostly sells to collectors, and probably some of the gangs in the area. Those are the only people that want fully-automatic weapons and silencers. Maybe a few paramilitary groups in the boonies. But I can’t see him touching anything that could crank anti-terrorism scrutiny up. Nobody wants to invite that upon himself. And even the most hardened gun enthusiast isn’t going to have any call for firebomb rockets.”

  “Then where did he get the grenades and flash bangs?”

  “Probably stolen from an army base. I’m just telling you, don’t expect miracles,” Matt said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m kind of beat. How about we take tonight off, or you two watch the place, and as she suggested” – he motioned with his head towards Jet – “I get some sleep? I don’t see us getting this any more detailed tonight, and we’ll have all day tomorrow to fine-tune it. Then we go in tomorrow night. Agreed?”

  Alan and Jet exchanged glances, and Alan shrugged.

  “Agreed,” they both mumbled.

  Matt gave Jet one final glance and moved to the door. “I’ll be back here at seven tomorrow morning, if that works for you.” He waited for any protest, then opened the door and exited into the dusk, without looking back.

  Alan stretched, rolling his head to loosen his bunched neck muscles, and then winced at Jet as he reached up and rubbed his left shoulder.

  “How about we skip the useless all-night vigil and grab dinner, then get some serious sleep? If we’re doing this tomorrow night, I’d just as soon be rested,” he suggested.

  Jet was quick to agree. “He’s already done all the work, regardless of your disagreements. What was that all about, anyway, Alan? Matt’s really not a bad guy, and he’s on our side.”

  “He’s on your side. I saw the way he looked at you.”

  Alan didn’t mention that he’d seen the way she had looked at him, too. Maybe he’d been imagining it. He was still sleep-deprived, and his perceptions might be unreliable.

  “Nonsense. This is a marriage of convenience. We have the same objective. It makes perfect sense for us to join forces.” Even to her own ear, the protest sounded slightly hollow. “Anyway, I don’t want to argue about water under the bridge. Let’s find someplace, eat something that will stick to our ribs, and then hit the sack. I’m not caught up on my rest, either, and I need to be sharp,” Jet said, and then walked to the bathroom. “I want to get cleaned up, and then we can hit it. Why don’t you switch on the news and see if any new disasters have struck?”

  Alan thumbed the remote as she shut the door and channel-surfed unt
il he found the local news. Fifteen minutes later, Jet emerged from her shower, smelling like a million dollars and looking like two. She grabbed her purse and jacket.

  “I’m ready. What do you have a hankering for? Anything special?” she asked.

  He bit his tongue. “How about Italian? I saw a place a few blocks away that looked convincing.”

  They drove to the restaurant and pored over the menu before ordering pasta and fish, making small talk that deliberately avoided the mission and Matt. Alan could sense that Jet was preoccupied through dinner, distant, and knew he should give her the space to do the thinking she needed. Her responses were distracted, but she put on a brave face, finally apologizing for being lousy company because she was tired.

  When they returned to the hotel, they took turns brushing their teeth and preparing for bed, and by the time Alan crawled into bed next to Jet, she was lying on her side, with her back towards him, asleep. He reached over and switched off the bedside lamp and then lay back with a quiet sigh, eyes still open, staring at the ceiling, his brain unwilling to relinquish itself to the night.

  Jet’s eyes were open, too, thin streams of tears working their way onto the pillow. For the first time in forever she didn’t know what to do, and felt like a leaf on a roiling rapid, tossed randomly in every direction, powerless to control her emotions. Matt’s abrupt and unexpected return had thrown her. Alan was a good man, attractive, strong, honest, and he’d been more than fair with her. Whereas Matt was an unknown, her total attraction based on a few kisses, and perhaps too much time to think during a turbulent time in her life.

  She didn’t want to hurt either one of them, and yet she knew that whatever happened, one of them would forever feel like he had lost. And perhaps she would, too.

  It was a bad situation all around.