by Jeb Bohn
“They’re preparing for their strike.”
“But you told him about the message?”
“I did tell him, he said it’s under control.”
“They could be rolling into a trap!”
“I told him, Herman. What would you have me do?”
“Okay, where does that leave us?”
“We’re going to Pennsylvania, that’s the next target. Whoever is tracking them seems convinced that they’re going to Levelland, Texas. The Pennsylvania site is the farthest one from there and it gives Schultz’s team a nine hour head start.”
Herman waved his hands at the carnage in the workshop. “What about all this?”
“I’ll get there, Herman. What I need to know is where you were going.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your dog isn’t here. I’m guessing that you took him somewhere the night you tried to off yourself. I’m also guessing that you came up with a cover story because most people don’t drop their pets off and say thank you, I’m off to commit suicide.”
“DC, I said I was going to meet a source in DC for a story.”
“Perfect, that puts you out of town. We’ll load this equipment into my rental and then load these asshole back into their car. We stop to pick up your car, lighting theirs up on our way out.”
“What about”—Herman paused, swallowing over a lump in his throat—“what about Ray?”
“Once we’re out of town, we’ll make an anonymous call to the police.” The Tall Man nodded towards the driver. “We’ll use his phone to do it.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Herman, this entire situation is fucked. There’s nothing we can do to help Ray right now, but we can sure as hell make the people responsible pay for it.” He paused, carefully watching Herman’s face, trying to gauge where he was at mentally. “If you’re not up for this, I understand.”
“Fuck ‘em. Fuck every last goddamned one of ‘em.”
“Okay, now that’s what I was hoping to hear. Let’s get our ducks in a row.”
The pair set off to get everything together, loading the electronic equipment and moving the two dead men from the workshop to the wrecked car. The Tall Man returned the operator to his place in the backseat, going as far as refastening the man’s seatbelt before sending Herman to bring the rental car up to the road. During this time, he staged the driver’s body a few feet from the car, returning the man’s gun to his hand.
Just as he finished, Herman arrived with the car and noticed the scene that had been laid out.
“Why’d you do it that way?”
“Because that’s the gun that killed Ray and I want to make sure that the cops find it and ID the shooter.”
Herman shot him a doubtful look.
“He’s as dead as a doornail, Herman.” He nudged the corpse with a boot. “He’s not going anywhere. Pop the trunk.”
Herman pressed the trunk release and watched as the Tall Man removed a red plastic gas can. As Herman observed, he doused the car inside and out before making a trail that stopped a few feet from the driver’s body. He returned the gas can and pulled a lighter from one of his pocket, kneeling as he flicked it. “It’s a real shame I didn’t keep you assholes alive for this.”
Serving Notice
The shadows in Laplace, Louisiana had grown long when Greg’s team made final preparations to strike their next target, an agri-chem facility in the nearby town of Metairie.
While the rest of the team busied themselves ensuring that everything was good to go, Melanie Stroud stepped into Greg’s makeshift office.
“What’s wrong?”
“Greg, this shit is getting way too dangerous. We need to pull out now, take a breather, and regroup.”
“Take a breath Mel, there’s no need for us to throw away everything that we’ve been working towards.”
“How many more people need to die before this ends?”
“You’d rather run and hide? You think that they’ll just accept their losses and move on? Melanie, these people killed your brother.”
“Don’t you dare use that against me, don’t you ever think you’re allowed to do that.”
“Fine.” Greg threw his hands up violently. “They also killed my family.”
“Greg, don’t.”
“No, goddamnit!” He slammed his fists down on the card table that was serving as his desk. “You don’t want me to mention your brother, fine, but don’t presume to tell me when I may or may not discuss my family.”
Melanie stepped back, clutching a hand over her heart. She wanted to respond but the words had been stolen from her lips.
Jesus Christ, he’s coming unglued. I mean I knew that he was hell-bent on all of this, but he’s going to get us killed.
“Is there something you want to say?”
Tell him! Tell him to give it another day, to get some rest and make sure that things are safe. Tell him anything to keep him from going through with this, if only for tonight.
“No? Then if you’re done I need to finish up. The scout team will be in contact any minute to let us know if we’re clear and I want to be ready to move.”
You coward! You had better pray that nothing bad happens, because that’s just about all that you’re good for. He’s losing his mind and you’re standing on the sidelines with a bucket of popcorn.
Ignoring her intuition, Melanie nodded silently and left to take her place with the rest of the team. She reached the first floor landing when she bumped into Ambroise.
“You okay, Mel? You look tout cagou.”
Tell him to talk to Greg. Ambroise is the most perceptive person on the team, he has to feel that something is off.
“I’m just tired, stressed. I’ll be fine.”
Ambroise smiled, his face radiating kindness and sympathy. She marveled at how such a caring man had been driven to the point where blowing up buildings was deemed an appropriate outlet.
“You sure? You’re positively green, girl. No shame if you need to sit this one out.”
Melanie turned her head, not wanting her friend to see her tears.
“Hey, now.” Ambroise’s voice was soft and soothing. “He’ll be fine.”
She looked back to Ambroise, a wan smile creeping across her lips. “How do you know that?”
“Lucky guess. We’ve all seen him slip, every one of us without exception.”
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
“Everything about this scares me, that’s how I know we’re doing what we’re meant to do. We all lost something, but he lost more than any of us. He’s given me hope and purpose, two things that I had run out of.”
“I’m just worried that he’s going to slip up and get somebody killed.”
“We’re never more than a few steps away from death at any given moment; that’s a fact of life. Me, I’d rather go out fighting for something I believe in.”
“You’re a good man Ambroise.”
“No better than anyone else here. We’ve all been dealt losses and we’ve all decided to do something about it, simple as that. I’m not gonna stop until it’s done or until I’m dead.”
Melanie opened her mouth to respond when Greg appeared at the top of the stairway. “Are we set?”
“Good to go,” Ambroise said. “You get word from the site?”
“All clear, not even a guard at the gate.”
Melanie frowned. “That doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”
“A little out of the ordinary, but we’ve had eyes on that place for 36 straight hours. No one has come or gone, no signs of movement.”
Greg turned to face Melanie before continuing. “Also, I have to say that while I appreciate the concern, I’m not crazy about the insinuation that I would put any of you in undue danger.”
Ambroise began to speak only to have Greg cut him off.
“Let her speak. If she doesn’t trust me I want to hear it from her.”
“Greg,” Melanie said with a trembling voice
, “it’s not like that at all.”
“Then what is it? A premonition? Guilt? Magic 8 Ball?”
She stammered, only able to speak her piece on her third attempt. “I’m afraid.”
“You knew the dangers inherent in this project when you came on board.”
“Of you.”
Greg laughed, a small chuckle that quickly escalated into a howling fit that lasted for half a minute. When he had himself under control again, his face went blank. “You’re benched tonight. Have a drink, get some rest, but you’re out.”
“Fine.” She turned to Ambroise, her face softening. “Please be careful out there.”
She shot Greg an angry look before heading upstairs to her room.
“I’ll stay with her.”
Greg shook his head. “We need you.”
“It’s not safe for her to be here alone, not with what we’re into.”
“We’ll be gone an hour, tops. She’ll be fine.”
“You know this is wrong, Greg.”
“I know that you want to see this place burned to the ground more than anyone else. Our window to get that done is very small and we can’t afford to piss it away.”
Sensing that his message wasn’t landing, Greg softened his tone. “You know the work that has gone into this, the preparation, the due diligence. I’m not playing games, not with the mission and certainly not with your lives.”
“Okay, Greg, I trust you. I don’t like this, but I trust you.”
Greg placed a hand gently on Ambroise’s shoulder. “Good, now let’s get moving.”
The two men walked outside and conducted a brief rundown of the plan of execution. With the Colorado job successfully under their belts, the team’s confidence had reached a high water mark. While there were specks of concern scattered throughout the group, they had momentum on their side. Each of them believed in the cause and believed in each other. They had grown closer since the start of this journey. Where each of them had joined to avenge a loved one of their own, they now made an effort to do it for all the people who had been chewed under by the QNI monolith.
Greg had done an excellent job in choosing his team. While it was true that there was no shortage of potential candidates, the percentage that were able to focus their grief constructively was very small. That number shrank further once you factored in the illicit nature of Greg’s mission. The flip side was that those who filtered through were ready to take any means necessary to ensure that justice was served.
Then there was Melanie Stroud.
Melanie was always rational, no matter how dire the situation. That commonsense approach was something that Greg appreciated, though recently it seemed to be more of a hindrance than a benefit. In reality, her apprehension was grounded by a genuine concern for everyone on the team. To Greg, it was a mirror which reflected something much darker.
He sensed that his mental health had been wobbly but, given the losses he had suffered, he failed to realize just how bad things were. Melanie’s growing unease forced him to face the cold the truth of his slipping sanity instead of simply pushing it to the side.
As he and his crew rolled out and headed for I-10, he wondered if she might be right.
From her upstairs window, Melanie watched as everyone departed, leaving her alone in the old house. Her stomach was roiling, twisted by a volatile combination of fear and anger. In that moment she hated Greg, cursing him for not listening, for being so goddamned bullheaded. The death of her brother had made her susceptible to Greg’s initial pitch but what sealed it for her was his loss, his story. He had drawn her in and she had allowed herself to be drawn in by him.
Compounding the situation was the idea that Greg’s derangement was rubbing off on her. Spells would strike where she felt like she was in another body, living someone else’s life. Memories would seem like forced downloads and then—boom—everything snapped back to normal. There were occasionally lost periods of time, though she typically wrote that off as caused by her lack of sleep.
She had avoided dwelling on any of her own issues, choosing to focus on her work instead. That work also included babysitting Greg when he hit the skids. Now she was worried that his single-mindedness would seal all of their fates.
She was so consumed by her misgivings that she didn’t notice the man standing in the doorway ten feet behind her.
◆◆◆
An hour after they left, Greg and his team returned to the city limits of Laplace. Their burgeoning confidence had received a huge boost; they had managed to take out two QNI facilities and they had a leader who appeared to have an effective plan. The jubilation remained but it was now matched by the feeling that they could pull this off. The slaughter of Hayward and Irbe had not been forgotten; if anything, it served as another rallying cry for this demolition army.
Greg felt vindicated in putting his foot down with Melanie. Another target had been reduced to rubble and no life had been lost. He knew that her concerns were well-intentioned but he was the head of this outfit; he couldn’t afford to have his guidance questioned in front of his team. All the same, his first order of business once back at the house would be to sit down with her and clear the air. She was the glue of this group and Greg knew it. He wanted to make sure that she knew he wasn’t blind to that fact.
He felt a clarity that had eluded him since the loss of his family. As they turned onto the road that led to the house, that lucidity evaporated.
“Speed up.” He leaned forward, nearly pressing his face against the windshield. “What the hell is that?"
An orange glow illuminated the sky. As the vehicles reached a clearing, he could see that the house was completely engulfed in flames. The SUV had barely turned onto the driveway when he jumped out of the door and sprinted towards the pyre.
“Greg, wait!” It was Ambroise, hot on his boss’ heels. He reached out and laid a hand on Greg’s shoulder only to have it shrugged off. Ambroise again tried to stop him for fear that the distraught man would walk straight into the burning house.
Greg began shouting, his voice breaking as its pitch rose. “Elizabeth! Evan! Amanda!”
Ambroise finally managed to get in front of Greg and issue a final plea. Before he could speak, Greg grabbed him by the throat. While Ambroise was a much larger man and could easily have fended this maneuver off, he found himself transfixed. No, there was a much more apt description for what he felt: terror.
Greg’s eyes were wide, soulless windows that opened into total darkness. To Ambroise, looking into them was akin to looking at some mythical force. The man that had recruited him, the man who had offered him the chance to avenge his brother, was gone. Standing before him now was a crazed psychopath, a demon clothed in human skin. There was no compassion left, no humanity, and in that instant Ambroise realized that Melanie was right. He was willing to gamble that it was even worse than she thought.
“Keep your goddamned hands off me!” A fine mist of saliva blew out of Greg’s mouth as he screamed. Behind them, the portico collapsed onto the porch as the entire house creaked and leaned. Releasing his grip, Greg began to turn towards the house when something caught his eye. Spellbound, he stumbled off into the backyard.
“No”—he repeated the word as though it had the power to undo what was happening—“no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
Bound to a tree some thirty feet from the backdoor was Melanie’s burning body. Greg dropped to his knees and clutched her legs. He placed his head against her midsection and sobbed.
The other men started to walk over, eager to find out what was going on. Ambroise held a hand up to stop them, his own tears beginning to fall. He intended to wait until Greg had collected himself before he approached, but when it seemed that wasn’t going to happen, he decided to move.
“You guys check the yard, make sure we don’t have any unexpected guests. Go in pairs.”
With each step that he took, he realized that he was in shock. He had no doubt that it was Melanie strung up to the tree th
at had supported a tire swing when he was a child. A rat was gnawing at his guts, hollowing him out and leaving a shit-filled void. Shock or not, he hated Greg. He hated him for leaving Melanie behind to be slaughtered. No, he couldn’t have known that this would happen but he should have known that something could.
Closing to within ten feet of Greg, he noticed something stuck to the tree. Biting back his anger, he stepped to the side of the tree and found a hunting knife stabbed through a sheet of paper. Checking to make sure that it wasn’t a trap, Ambroise removed the knife and read the note:
Looks like I win this round, boys.
Be seeing you soon.
Hubris
Michael Conacher was driving west along Interstate 20 when his cell phone disrupted the calm. He sneered at it, knowing exactly who it was and what they were going to say. He also knew that the calls would persist until he answered.
“Goddamned bureaucrat wannabe assholes, always have to feel like they’re managing something.”
Deciding that it was best to get it out of the way, he pressed the call button on the steering wheel.
“Looks like you rolled snake eyes, Mister Conacher.”
What a little fucking weasel.
“The war’s not over yet. Besides, I claimed some trophies for you.”
“Really? Such as?”
“Well, that journalist that stuck it to you won’t be making any appearances anytime soon, ‘cept maybe in the obituaries.”
“Ingram?”
“That’s the one. I had a squad hit him at his house. Just got confirmation not more than a half-hour ago. I have them heading to Pennsylvania to watch over that installation.”
“That’s all good and well, but the flaming wreckage of our Metairie location is currently plastered all over the fucking news. I feel the need to ask you this yet again: you do remember what it is you were hired for, don’t you?”
“Settle down, insurance will cover those losses. I’m seeing to it that this little vigilante army gets stopped, permanently.”
“Insurance, Mister Conacher, does not replace the samples and specimens that disappear with every facility that’s lost. You were hired to protect our assets, not to engage in some psychotic war.”