Hunting for Caracas

by Anthony Fox

  Grandad straightened up at this point and spoke in a deep voice.

  ‘“The boy is gentle and mentally stable enough”, I heard Rudy say. “He’s also blind in one eye and deaf in one ear. So he can’t fight and he can’t shoot, can he?” Then he said something like, “As much as I respect you, I must ask you never again to waste my time”. I didn’t stay around to hear the rest. I just walked off to my room to wait for the day they’d kick me out onto the streets. Somehow I knew Rudy was my last chance.’

  They reached the apartment door and went straight into the kitchen, where Grandad finished his story.

  ‘Anyway, next morning I was told I had a surprise visitor. I walked around the corner and there’s Matthews. I remember looking around for Rudy, but Matthews was standing all on his own. He told me he enjoyed our talk yesterday and was in need of an errand boy to help him with his work. I remember thinking he had a strange way about him at the time. Like he wasn’t comfortable talking to people. He said it was up to me, but would I like a job, a paid job, working for him? That was it.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘He said, “There’s no promise of a happy life. It’s only a different life to this”.’

  ‘What did Rudy say when you joined them?’

  ‘Nothing really. He kind of acted like it was his idea, but I know it was all Matthews’.’ Grandad looked down at the ground, scratched something on his head, then seemed to come to a decision. ‘Assia, you need to know. Matthews’ focus is only on catching Caracas.’

  ‘Isn’t he also trying to save some doctor? I thought his job was protecting people.’

  ‘That’s who he was, when he was with Rudy. But Matthews decided to leave Rudy and all that behind. Then when Rudy died, it’s like he thinks there was some higher power punishing him for going off on his own. All that guilt’s changed Matthews; he’s not like he used to be. He’s uncovered the plot to assassinate Doctor Silva for one reason only: because he knows it’s right where Caracas will be. That’s why knowing the target wasn’t enough. He needed to know what Caracas was planning. When he has the information he needs, he’s going out there to avenge Rudy and kill Caracas.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is, as much as I care about Matthews, I think you need to watch your back. When Rudy initially went after Caracas, he was more interested in finding out who was hiring him. I think usually hired assassins kill for anyone as long as the price is right. I got the impression from Rudy he thought Caracas was perhaps working for only one employer. The idea seemed to trouble Rudy. It was only after Caracas escaped the first time that it became as much about taking Caracas down as finding out who the top dog is.’

  He paused, then continued. ‘What I’m trying to say is, Matthews isn’t thinking straight, and you need to focus on keeping yourself safe.’

  ‘OK,’ replied Assia. She was genuinely touched by Grandad’s concern for her.

  ‘So I guess now you know just about everything there is to know,’ he said.

  ‘I still don’t know your name,’ said Assia.

  Grandad smiled and his smooth brown cheeks caught the light. ‘It’s Yussef,’ he said.

  ‘Yussef,’ repeated Assia softly, nodding to herself. ‘I like that.’

  Then Grandad leaned forward and kissed Assia.

  It wasn’t for long. Their lips connected and she felt the weight of his mouth; there was a pause, and then she quickly pulled back.

  ‘What the hell?’ Assia said, taken completely by surprise.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just wanted to steal a kiss,’ said the boy opposite her. He was holding up his hands and sounded apologetic, but he couldn’t help smiling, like the cat that’d just stolen the cream. ‘It won’t happen again. I just wanted to do it once. Please don’t be mad.’

  Assia turned her head away, but she watched him from the corner of her eyes. ‘You did steal that. But, I guess as long as you don’t return to the scene of the crime, then maybe you’ll get away with it just this once, Yussef.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the boy gleefully, still smiling, and not caring at all how foolishly he was acting.

  75

  Washington Dulles International Airport, USA.

  It was dark when the private jet, a Cessna 510 Mustang, touched its wheels on to the tarmac and began to decelerate. A polished black sedan waited as the plane began to turn in a slow curve towards her position. Jill climbed out of the car and fastened her expensive coat.

  When the private jet finally came to a stop the passenger door dropped smoothly open. Jill looked on as a fragile-looking Nina Arrow descended the three steps on to American soil. She was followed out of the jet by her escort, Roger Clayton.

  Jill stood and waited for them to come to her. She may have looked calm, relaxed, in control, but inside butterflies were doing circuits of her stomach, and the projector in her mind kept continuously looping through the plan that was in place.

  As they reached her, Jill turned and walked to the waiting sedan. She opened the rear door and Nina climbed in. No luggage, only the small purse provided on the way to the private airfield in Vienna, along with the cheap clothes she was wearing. A thin white bandage was wrapped tightly around her head, covering most of her distinctively long, auburn hair. She also had a bandage around her left wrist and her left leg was lightly strapped.

  Clayton climbed in alongside Nina, and Jill got in the driver’s seat.

  ***

  They pulled up near Pershing Square metro station.

  ‘I need to grab some things from my apartment. Then we’ll take you to a safe house. One minute. Don’t move.’

  ‘Yes, boss,’ replied Clayton as Nina remained silent next to him.

  Jill grabbed her handbag. She took one last look before climbing out.

  In her apartment Jill quickly gathered her things. She moved into the minimalist lounge. The space was like a showroom, with all the essential modern-day items but lacking any personal touches.

  She thought she heard something at the door and stopped, but no other noises came to her, and she gathered her laptop.

  Then Jill spun as she heard another noise. Then heavy footsteps.

  ‘I told you to wait in the car,’ she called.

  A huge man appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light to her entire lounge.

  Jill gasped and moved forward. She reached for her handbag that was resting on the coffee table. Inside was her licenced compact handgun, a Smith & Wesson M&P Shield, fully loaded. The intruder saw her intentions and got there first, grabbing the corner of the table and flipping it over. The handbag was buried underneath.

  Jill retreated into the room, knocking over an oak footstool. The water glass resting on it smashed.

  ‘There’s no point thinking about running,’ said the man in a heavily accented voice. ‘You are trapped. I checked your apartment and outside – no one else is here. You know who I am?’ He stepped forward into the room.

  ‘I know who you are,’ said Jill in a shaky voice.

  ‘Then you know why I am about to kill you,’ said Luque.

  He took another step forward. Jill had to crane her neck to look up at him.

  ‘I’ll scream,’ she said shakily.

  ‘It won’t save you.’

  The giant bull of a man moved towards her.

  ‘Get away from me.’ Jill picked up the oak footstool.

  Luque smiled a vicious smile. Then Jill turned and hurled the stool at the apartment window with all her strength. The glass shattered, jagged shards rained onto the floor, and the stool vanished into the night.

  Luque lunged forward and Jill tried to circle around to Luque’s side, but he cut her off. ‘If you’re going to shoot me, then at least do it from over there.’

  ‘Guns are too messy. I didn’t even bring one.’

  Luque roared and gathered the front of Jill’s blouse in one huge paw. Jill gasped as she was pulled helplessly forward until she
was close enough to smell Luque’s aftershave. She stamped on Luque’s ankle and kneed him hard in the groin. Luque buckled in pain but didn’t let go. Jill’s elbow connected with the side of Luque’s head. Then Luque cracked one huge fist into Jill’s face, and she was blinded by pain.

  ***

  Two minutes after Jill had left, Nina looked across at him.

  ‘I need to use the bathroom.’

  ‘You’ll have to hold it,’ Clayton replied.

  ‘Not an option. I was dizzy on the flight. Drank too much water.’

  ‘Well, you’re old enough to know better.’

  ‘Are you being a dick because I got the better of you at the hospital?’

  ‘No. I’m just a dick.’

  The sudden sound of glass smashing tore through the quiet of the street outside. Clayton jumped and looked up to see a stool sailing through the air. A gaping hole in the window behind indicating where it’d come from.

  ‘Is that Jill’s apartment?’ Nina asked.

  He counted up from the ground-floor window. ‘It’s the right floor.’

  He thought for a second.

  ‘Shit.’

  Clayton grabbed hold of Nina’s wrist and stepped out of the car. Pulling Nina out into the cool night air.

  ***

  They ran to the apartment door.

  Clayton quickly tested the door handle and found the door unlocked.

  Still holding Nina’s wrist, Clayton moved through the entrance to the doorway of the lounge and for some reason wasn’t completely surprised to see Jill being gripped around the throat by a man. What did surprise him, however, was the size of the man. Clayton’s eyes drank in the colossus.

  Luque.

  The huge man reached his hands up and clasped his palms each side of Jill’s head. Jill grabbed Luque’s wrists as he increased the pressure and she was lifted clean off the ground and hoisted into the air as if by a crane. She tried to scream but it came out as more of a deep gurgle. Her head was so small between Luque’s hands that the giant’s fingers were close to connecting at the top.

  Clayton’s mind immediately went to the spare bedroom.

  He pushed Nina into the corridor, her eyes wide with terror. To his left was a door. They went through it. There was a cracking, popping noise from the lounge that sounded like a walnut being crushed.

  Quickly.

  Clayton pushed Nina to the corner of the room. The first time Jill brought him here, Clayton had inspected the rooms before talking with her. He’d seen the Browning A-Bolt shotgun on the wall in its display case.

  QUICKLY.

  Clayton wasted no time. He smashed the glass with his elbow, grabbed the shotgun, raced back into the other room and planted his feet behind Luque.

  Jill’s head was still wedged between Luque’s hands, her feet dangling a metre off the floor, and her head and neck had gone a deep red. She was making a faint choking noise.

  ‘Put her down.’

  Clayton raised the shotgun, aimed it at the back of Luque’s knee, and fired.

  Luque turned his head. The giant spotted Clayton holding the shotgun and he tossed the woman to the side as if she were a worthless garment. Jill’s body crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.

  Clayton couldn’t understand what’d happened. This time he aimed directly at Luque’s chest and pulled the trigger again.

  Then he understood, and his heart sank.

  ‘As if she doesn’t keep it loaded,’ he groaned.

  Luque moved quicker than expected. Clayton tried to hit Luque with the shotgun but the giant swatted it out of his hands, grabbed Clayton and gathered him in.

  Clayton hit Luque hard with a punch that did absolutely nothing, then Luque returned the favour to Clayton’s chest and hit him so hard he bent in half like a snapped cracker and vomited blood onto Luque’s knees.

  Clayton was on the floor and Luque climbed on top of him. The arms dealer clamped his shovel-hands around Clayton’s head and immediately began to exert the most enormous pressure. Clayton’s scream was so high-pitched he thought someone else had made the sound. But Jill was still, and Nina was gone.

  There was no one else left.

  Clayton lost the world around him as he tried in vain to block out the overwhelming pain that engulfed his head and told him his life was fading.

  I’m dying.

  It felt like his teeth were breaking off and his skull was cracking inside his skin, because that was probably exactly what was happening. Clayton imagined he was punching and kicking Luque with everything he had; perhaps he was.

  Suddenly Luque let him go, the release of pressure both euphoric but also just as painful, in a different way.

  Luque was distracted by the sound of Nina loading the shotgun.

  The arms dealer reached an enormous hand out to grab her.

  A second later an explosion of sound and light overwhelmed Clayton.

  His body went numb.

  He felt as if he was floating.

  Then his senses started to kick back in.

  Nina was curled up against the wall, less than a metre from Luque’s headless body, the shotgun in both her hands. The shotgun cartridges had been in a box next to the gun in the display cabinet. The single shell Nina fired from inches away completely obliterated what was once Luque’s head. Bits flew in all directions, covering the ceiling, the walls, the sofa, and Nina herself. Although she’d turned away, gobbets of blood and tissue hung from her hair, neck and chest.

  She dropped the shotgun and put her hands over her ringing ears.

  Clayton rolled over on the floor and moved onto all fours. His ears were filled with a vibrating sound like nothing he’d ever heard before. With a blurred vision he saw Jill’s body still where it landed, blood dribbling from her eyes and ears.

  ‘Always check it’s loaded. Always,’ Nina panted.

  Clayton wanted to tell her that he hadn’t used a gun since army training, and had panicked. But Clayton was screaming loudly when the blast went off, and some of Luque’s head flew directly into his mouth.

  ‘UURRGGGHHH…UUUHHH...UUUURRGGGHHHBBBLLFFFAAA!!!’ he screamed, coughing and choking and spluttering, spitting gunk loudly onto the floor as Nina wiped blood from her own shoulder.

  ‘Oh my God. That was disgusting!’ Nina announced to the room.

  76

  Zevio, Italy.

  ‘They were going to use him as a decoy,’ Matthews told them.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Grandad and Assia asked the question together.

  ‘That’s why they hired Jenkins when they didn’t even need him, why it seemed he couldn’t do the job. Because the assassination was never his job; he was always meant to get caught.’

  ‘I don’t understand, why would anyone agree to that job?’

  ‘No,’ said Matthews, already frustrated. ‘You’re not listening. Jenkins was hired to carry out the hit, and everything was set up for him. But a straight assassination is impossible in this case. Doctor Silva is too well protected. And they’re ready for it. They probably hired Jenkins because he’s too dumb to know how impossible it is. So he’d go in, one of the lines of protection would flag up, and the net closes on Jenkins like it’s designed to do.’ Matthews looked up at the two blank faces in front of him. ‘Jenkins is arrested or killed, and the target is moved to a safe place. Get it?’

  ‘Wasn’t there something in Rudy’s recording? A message he’d intercepted? “When you think you are safest is when you are at your most vulnerable”,’ said Assia.

  Matthews pointed at her. His relief made it clear that someone was finally catching on. Assia had never seen him so animated. ‘That’s it. How d’you get to a target that’s impossible to get to? Make him think you’ve tried and failed. They’d see Jenkins coming, stop him, move the target somewhere they thought was safe, then when you think the danger’s over and everyone’s relaxed, that’s when the real assassin strikes. It’s perfect. You’ve already lost some of your guard that’s gone to deal with J
enkins, plus you’ve shown your hand.’

  ‘OK, if that’s right then the next question would be, is this still useful info?’ Grandad asked. ‘The fact we all know Jenkins is gone, what does that change?’

  ‘Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean their plan is ruined. They can replace Jenkins with another decoy. No reason for them to assume we know how they plan to do the job. Not forgetting Caracas sees himself as the best of the best. Pulling out of something this big is a slight to his reputation his ego won’t accept,’ he said, calming down a little now.

  When Matthews had read the file he discovered that Blanc needed an inventive way to expose his adversary.

  In 1996 Blanc’s rival left the Meridian Hotel in Kuwait heavily guarded one hot afternoon, and was ambushed by Blanc’s men at the first military checkpoint. The ambush was serious, with a large portion of Blanc’s force present, but they never had any real chance of being successful. The attack was considered a final act of desperation by Blanc. So whilst many men from both sides were caught up in a bloody gunfight, Blanc’s rival got away clean with just his core group of bodyguards, and Blanc’s strike failed.

  The rival hadn’t intended to return to his hotel room again, but now it was the only logical place of safety. It seemed they were gone just long enough for an unnamed assassin to slip into the room unnoticed. Usually the rival was surrounded by dozens of armed men at all times, but because of the incident at the checkpoint he returned to the safety of his hotel with just six of his best, along with more guarding the perimeter. Twenty minutes after returning four of the six men were dead, no doubt killed whilst busy congratulating each other on just how swiftly they’d managed to get their boss out of harm’s way. The other two men were casually stood guard right outside the room and hadn’t heard a thing. As for Blanc’s rival, he was found with a metre of razor wire wrapped around his head and embedded deep into his neck.