Jet 04: Reckoning

by Russell Blake

  And a choice she wasn’t prepared to make.

  Chapter 37

  The next day, after breakfast, Alan went to do duty at the house while Matt and Jet drove to a meeting with his weapons source. The sky was partially overcast, clouds blanketing the horizon from a front moving in over the Eastern seaboard. They drove south for an hour until they came to an industrial park and then pulled up to a warehouse that featured a sign advertising wholesale auto parts.

  Matt got out and Jet waited in the car while he went inside to see his contact, a burly man in his fifties named Ed – nickname, Bubba. Matt had known him for decades, from some of his CIA brethren who used him when they needed weapons that weren’t traceable.

  He entered through the filthy front office, filled with desultory employees lounging at battered desks in mediocre light answering phones and tapping at antiquated computers, and approached the rear section, where Bubba’s secretary, a formerly gorgeous blonde in her forties, a few tall boys past her beauty queen days, sat popping gum and texting on her cell phone. She looked up, vaguely annoyed, and gave Matt a clinically efficient once-over with her eyes, and then softened her stance and moistened her lips.

  “Well, hello there, handsome. What can I do with…I mean…for you today?” she asked with a chuckle and a smile.

  Matt returned the smile. “Is Bubba in? I’m supposed to have an appointment,” he explained.

  “You betcha. Who’s asking?”

  “Tom Reynolds.”

  “Like the aluminum foil, right?”

  “Would it surprise you to hear that I get that all the time?” he asked, grinning sheepishly.

  “Hold on a sec. I’ll beep him and see if he’s available.”

  Her intercom squawked at her after she held down the button like she was shocking an ex.

  “What?” a male voice rasped from the tinny speaker.

  “Mr. Reynolds is here to see you. Says he’s from the Sherriff’s office,” she said, winking at Matt as she popped her gum again. Her blouse strained to contain her exuberant chest, and Matt wondered mildly how long she took to get ready and put on her makeup in the morning. He guessed an hour, but might have been short by a mile.

  “Very funny, Linda. Point him back there. I’m expecting him.”

  At the rear of the building, an office had been built out of sheetrock, intruding into the warehouse section. When Matt entered, Bubba rose from behind his desk and moved around it to shake his hand, his massive paw enveloping Matt’s. Bubba’s nickname was fitting – he was a stereotype of rural excess, at least two hundred seventy pounds on his six-foot frame, none of it muscle. He wore a pair of overalls and a plaid flannel shirt, and looked every bit a farmer – except for his eyes, which were cold and calculating.

  “Nice ta see ya. What do you think of Linda? Firecracker, huh?” Bubba asked as he moved to a crate in the corner of his office. A dark green duffle bag sat on top of it, zipped.

  “She seems to like you,” Matt said neutrally.

  “Because I pay her ten bucks an hour over what she’s worth. But she’s got…skills, you know what I’m saying?” Bubba disclosed with a wink, reminding Matt of Linda’s similar gesture moments before.

  “I’m sure you’re getting your money’s worth. Is that the stuff?”

  Bubba unzipped the bag and looked inside. “Had a hell of a time getting the noise suppressors. Harder than the goddamned grenades, believe it or not.”

  “I’m not surprised. And the extra magazines?”

  “Piece of cake.”

  “How about the night-vision goggles?”

  “Three sets. Everything’s there. Six flash bangs, six grenades, goggles, silencers, and magazines. And the cash?” Bubba asked.

  “Right here.” Matt slipped an envelope to him and waited as he counted it.

  “You’re good. Now try not to get into any trouble with that stuff. Especially the grenades.” Bubba knew better than to ask what Matt wanted them for. His policy was definitely based on don’t ask, don’t tell.

  “I’ll remember that,” Matt said, and then left the way he had come in.

  Jet was listening to the radio when he returned to the car. He tossed the bag into the back seat before climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine.

  “All there?” she asked.

  “Yes. He’s always reliable. Expensive, but so are most things in life these days.”

  The sky got darker as they moved north, and their conversation was stilted and difficult, the elephant in the room obviously Alan. Eventually Jet couldn’t take it anymore, and shifted the discussion to him.

  “You know, I flew halfway around the world to Ko Samui to spend time with you. I brought my daughter. I’d bought into the idea of living on a beach in paradise.”

  “It’s not a bad idea. But it is a bad idea if you have a squad of killers come for you in the middle of the night.”

  “The point is that I came.”

  Traffic slowed, an accident blocking two of the lanes, and they rolled to a stop among the stalled cars, no exit ramp anywhere near. Matt turned to face her.

  “Why?” Matt demanded quietly.

  Jet was taken aback. “Why, what?”

  “Why did you come?”

  “I promised to return the diamonds, remember?”

  “That’s the only reason?”

  “How hard are you going to make this for me?” she asked.

  “As hard as it needs to be.”

  She exhaled. “Fine. I came to see if there was something more waiting for me. With you. Because I felt something…different. Special. When we kissed. And I wanted to follow up on that and see if it was just indigestion, or something else.”

  “Ah. There. Was that so hard?”

  “Matt, what’s the point of this? Really? What’s going to change? What do we gain by beating this to death?”

  “Enter Alan.”

  “Matt, you were dead. I only kissed you, and you were dead. Give me a break. This isn’t some maudlin romantic drama where I sit watching the sea for years after a kiss. Shit happened.”

  He leaned towards her, and their lips connected. A charge like an electric current ran through her, jolted her, a visceral, powerful sensation unlike anything she’d felt…since David. But different. Very, very different.

  A horn honked behind them, breaking the mood, and Matt held up a hand in apology to the driver and pulled forward ten feet, only to be forced to a stop again.

  “Like that, you mean? Shit just happened. It keeps happening,” Matt said.

  Jet didn’t have a comeback. Her breath was shallow and rapid, and she forced herself to take deep, measured inhalations.

  “If you were married, I’d tell you to get a divorce,” Matt said. “Fortunately, you’re not.”

  “It’s not that easy, Matt.”

  “Why? Why isn’t it exactly that easy? Explain it to me. I don’t understand.”

  “I…I have something good with Alan…and he’s…he’s damaged in the same way I am.”

  Matt regarded her. “That’s the reason? ‘He’s broken?’ Hey, I’m pretty scrambled, too. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “It’s not the same. I’m sleeping with him.”

  “So stop. It’s like quitting smoking. Stop putting cigarettes in your mouth. Easy.”

  “Maybe for you. It’s not so straightforward for me.”

  “You’re right. It is for me. I don’t have any hesitation on this one.”

  She shook her head. “Matt, listen to me carefully. I know we have something here. And yes, I would like nothing better than if you had been there when I went to Thailand. But you weren’t, and this happened, and I can’t take it back or change it. So do me a favor. Let’s get through this with Arthur, and then, when the dust has settled, if there’s something to talk about, I promise I’ll figure out my feelings and won’t leave either of you hanging. But right now, let’s not complicate things, all right? For me? Could you just do that for me, please?”<
br />
  Red lights flashed up ahead, and then they were past the fender-bender and moving again.

  “For you, I will. But I’d be lying if I said I was happy. I’ve been alone for a lot of my life. Never minded it. Never had any desire to change it. But this…it’s crazy, but this makes me want something better. That’s all I’m going to say. We won’t talk about it anymore until this is done. But I’ll hold you to your side of the deal. When it’s over, you need to do some thinking. That’s all I ask. Because I don’t believe for a minute that you’re going to be happy with Alan now that you know I’m here,” Matt finished.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, but it was empty, her voice lacking any conviction.

  He cleared his throat, and they went back to watching the landscape whiz by, the morning’s sunlight replaced by an ominous shadow that perfectly matched their moods.

  Chapter 38

  Matt relieved Alan at four, the three of them having agreed on eight-hour shifts, with the assault scheduled for midnight. Alan and Jet returned to the room and went over the plan, which had shaped up to be a decent one. Jet would dodge the sensors and knock out the communications center, which was in the rear of the house. One of the weak spots in the sensor deployment was that it was intended to protect entrances to the house, and the power. But the communications hub, which connected Arthur to the outside world, and therefore to the police and the security company, was vulnerable.

  Without access to the electronics schematic, the house would have been more than adequately protected; but with it, she would be able to vault the rear wall and then dart in a specific pattern, first from the wall near the rear service cottage, then south to the junction boxes that had been installed in the basement, accessed by a root cellar door – no doubt because Arthur hadn’t wanted the unsightly metal cabinets where they would be visible.

  The root cellar didn’t have any direct access to the house, so the sensors weren’t as densely deployed around it. She’d get in and cut the com lines, which fed the twenty-four hour remote surveillance at headquarters, and buy them a few minutes to breach the security, take out some of the exterior guards at the rear of the complex, and set fire to the house using one-and-a-half-liter water bottles filled with gasoline and the flash bangs. Both she and Matt had three bottles apiece and would soak the siding with gas, forcing the guards to switch from security to fire fighting.

  If they failed to contain the fire, the next logical move for the security team would be to get Arthur out of the house and transported to safety – and that would be their opportunity to rid the world of him once and for all. He would be vulnerable for a few moments as he exited the house to a vehicle, and at that point, a few carefully placed shells fired by Alan would finish it: He was a sharpshooter-level marksman more than capable of placing a grouping from one of the M4s in an area the size of a tangerine at three hundred yards. By the time the police and the fire department made it, they would be miles away, their mission completed.

  It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a workable one. The most dangerous point in the entire operation would be the initial breach and knocking out the com hub. Jet had studied the layout over and over, and felt more than ready.

  When Alan returned to the hotel Jet was out on a run, burning off any accumulated tension in preparation for the night’s operation. Upon her return, she showered while Alan watched the news, and then they went to dinner, this time choosing a seafood restaurant that had looked good.

  Once fed, Jet methodically packed her backpack with gasoline, the grenades, one of the silenced pistols, one of the Desert Eagles she’d grabbed from Sloan’s, and spare magazines for the MP7. She’d already packed the submachine gun in her trunk, and Alan had done the same with his M4. They were each going to take their vehicles, to increase their chances of a clean getaway in the event they were pursued – a slim likelihood, but one worth planning for nonetheless.

  By ten o’clock they were ready. In two more hours they would execute, and it would all go down in a few minutes.

  “I’m going to try to get a little rest,” Jet said, and lay on the bed fully clothed in her black long-sleeved shirt and cargo pants.

  “Good idea. I’m going to stow my gear and hit the market. Do you want anything?” Alan asked.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks, though,” Jet replied.

  Alan lifted his bag and moved towards the door, and then stopped and set it down, and approached the bed.

  Jet, sensing his proximity, opened her eyes. “Oh, Alan…no, I’m–”

  “Shh.” He leaned over and kissed her, tenderly, more so than ever before, and then brushed her hair out of her face with his hand. “Have a good rest,” he said, and then he was through the door and gone.

  She closed her eyes, any chance of rest dashed as her mind worried over the Alan and Matt dilemma, and after half an hour tossing and turning, she flipped on the television, switching between stations until she found a program that she liked – Animal Planet, with a feature on the honey badger. When the program ended she looked at her watch and saw it was already eleven o’clock. Alan should have been back a while ago. He’d probably gone for a walk, she reasoned. Everyone prepared themselves for action differently, she knew from experience – some prayed, some exercised to calm their nerves, others compulsively cleaned and rechecked their weapons.

  She switched to the news, and the top story chilled her blood.

  “A wealthy security firm CEO was found dead this evening in a gruesome murder that’s shocked the residents of an upscale residential neighborhood. The reclusive executive was discovered in the exclusive community of Lake Barcroft.”

  The story went on to report that the death was being treated as a homicide, but that few details were currently available.

  She went to her purse and found her phone, then pressed the speed dial number for Alan’s. He answered on the second ring.

  “Where are you? They discovered Sloan’s body. All hell’s going to break loose sooner rather than later. We need to accelerate the plan. I’m leaving right now.”

  “Okay. Listen, you’re going to be really pissed at me, but I’m already in position. I’m going to do the breach on the house, and you can handle the shot to Arthur’s head.”

  “NO! That wasn’t the deal. Stick to the plan. Wait for me. I’ll be in position in fifteen minutes,” Jet protested.

  “Sorry. I’m going in. I was going to call in a few minutes and tell you to be here early, but I’m bringing it forward now, and heading out in ten, so you’ll be five behind me. I told Matt that we’d discussed it, and you’d seen reason. He’ll follow me in once you’re here. I’ll wait ten minutes from the time I go over the wall, and then I cut the communications.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m doing it,” she seethed, feeling helpless and blindsided by his duplicity. He must have been planning to double-cross her for a while. He sounded completely calm and confident.

  “I’m afraid not. Now get your butt over here so you’re ready to put a bullet in Arthur when they cart him out of this mausoleum. I gotta go. You have fifteen minutes,” Alan said, and then hung up.

  Jet stared at the phone, furious, and then grabbed her backpack and ran for her car. The engine started with a whine, and she tore out of the driveway, anxious to trim the fifteen minutes down to ten. Maybe, just maybe, she could make it and cut him off before he did something stupid. She knew the danger involved, and she was better capable of pulling off the first phase than he was.

  She ditched the car on the far side of the park and hopped the fence, then ran as fast as her legs would carry her through the brush, pushing herself. When she arrived at the agreed-upon spot beneath Matt’s tree, her watch revealed that twelve minutes had passed. Matt looked down at her from his perch in the tree, and then dropped gracefully via a black knotted rope, alighting next to her.

  “So, you ready?” he asked.

  “Where’s Alan?” she hissed in an angry whisper.

  “He took o
ff for the target a few minutes ago. I have to admit, he’s a fast runner. I’m ready to go in. The rifle is up–”

  “Shit. And you didn’t stop him?” she demanded, peering through the brush at the house.

  “Stop him? Why would I do…wait. He told me you’d switched. Does this mean…?” He didn’t finish the sentence. “Guess so. Alan just filled me in on Sloan’s being found. It’s too late now to stop him, so let’s do our best to support him. I’m game on,” Matt assured her, and reached into his backpack and pulled out night vision goggles, slipping them over his head before flipping the screen down over his eyes.

  “There. Works beautifully. I’m going to go get into position.”

  “I’m going with you,” Jet said.

  “No, you’re not. You need to be up in the tree so you can plug this shitbag once and for all. Don’t deviate from the plan. We need to be calm and collected. Something you aren’t right now.”

  He was right. It was too late to stop Alan.

  “Fine. I’ll get up in the tree. But I’m not happy.”

  “I got that. Now give me your gun and the magazines. I left the M4 up there with two extra clips. Not that you’ll need them.”

  She handed him the MP7 and her spares. He examined the weapon and slipped the magazines into his pants.

  “You ever fired one of those?” she asked.

  “Actually, it’s one of my favorites. I know it well. Good choice.”

  She hesitated, and then turned away. “Be careful,” she whispered, and then he was gone.

  Jet scaled the trunk and found the rifle, then peered through the night vision scope at the house. She chambered a round, checked to verify that it was set to single fire and not burst, and then swept the perimeter wall, looking for Alan.

  The security men were patrolling in their now familiar pattern, and she watched them move from the back of the house to the front, pausing to talk for a few minutes near the guardhouse before they moved slowly back.

  She bit back her anger at Alan pulling this stunt and slowly willed it away. He was just doing what he thought he should – honoring his promise to his brother to keep her out of danger and protect her. In his mind, this was the right thing to do.