Show No Mercy

by Brian Drake

  Dane rode in the back seat with Nina beside him. The driver and passenger up front said nothing to them. The second BMW stayed a few car lengths behind. They weren’t bound, nobody held a gun on them, and there was no indication they were in enemy hands.

  Dane and Nina raised eyebrows at each other.

  “Where are we going?” he said.

  “No talking.”

  “Either you tell me or I can’t promise my lady friend won’t vomit all over this plush leather back seat.”

  “I get car sick,” Nina said. “My Dramamine is in my suitcase.”

  The passenger turned around, his sunglasses preventing them from seeing his eyes but there was no doubt he was less than pleased.

  “Stop. Talking. We’re taking you to Kader.”

  “Who?”

  “Malek Kader. The man you came to see.”

  “How in the world--”

  “We have people everywhere, Mr. Dane. You may not know him, but he knows you.” The man faced forward again.

  Dane and Nina exchanged another eyebrow raise.

  “I think I can keep from vomiting for a while,” she said.

  He patted her leg.

  Dane checked behind them. The other BMW with Stone and McConn remained only a few cars back.

  The driver turned off the highway and onto a two-lane road leading to what looked like an unfinished hotel. The Alrays Suites, a tall cream-white building with some side structures to one side resembling office space. A dirt lot surrounded the structure, and the driver turned off the pavement onto the dirt. The car rocked side-to-side, the dust cloud billowing around the windows.

  The BMW circled the side buildings and aimed for a covered parking area near the rear entrance. The second BMW pulled up alongside. Everybody climbed out before the dust cleared. Nina coughed, waved a hand in front of her face and brushed the front of her shirt and jeans.

  “These were clean clothes when the day started,” she said.

  “Tell me about it,” Dane said, noting the dust clinging to his blazer.

  “Inside,” Sunglasses said. The four men flanked Dane, Nina and Stone and McConn as they walked toward the back entrance.

  Dane looked over his shoulder at his compatriots. “You two all right?”

  “Maybe a battered ego,” Stone said.

  “Or two,” McConn added.

  “We’ll live,” Dane said.

  “Says you,” Nina said.

  Sunglasses scowled.

  “Should we stop talking?” Dane said.

  Sunglasses made no reply.

  The inside of the structure only confirmed Dane’s opinion the building wasn’t finished. The walls were up but wiring stuck out of spots in the wall for fixtures. There was no sign of continued construction. No workbenches, scaffolding, or anything else associated with such activity. Everything was swept clean and spotless.

  Sunglasses stopped them at an elevator and dismissed the two men who had brought McConn and Stone. Sunglasses and his partner pushed Dane, Nina, McConn and Stone into the elevator and joined them. The doors slid shut.

  Sunglasses pressed the button for the 24th floor and the elevator car rumbled upward. The walls of the car were gray, scratched and unremarkable. Dane couldn’t help but wonder where they were going. He glanced at McConn and Stone. Their stoic faces betrayed nothing, but he knew they were imagining possible scenarios and how to overcome them. He should have been doing the same but preferred to improvise. The ghosts of battles past also whispered reassurance.

  The doors opened on the living room of a well-furnished penthouse suite.

  A tall man with a thick chest, graying goatee and full head of black hair stood before them.

  “Welcome, Mr. Dane, Miss Talikova. Who are your associates?”

  “Mr. Kader, I presume?” Dane said as they exited. The doors whispered closed.

  “Yes, yes, I’ve been eager to see you since my people spotted you at the airport.”

  Kader offered an enthusiastic handshake to Dane and his people. Dane introduced McConn and Stone. Kader told Sunglasses and his partner to stay by the elevator. Kader brought his four guests deeper into the living room; the suite was the exact opposite of everything downstairs.

  “I own the building,” Kader explained. “Once the trouble with Graypoole started I had everyone clear out.”

  The furnishings were top-notch, the carpet very soft, silk curtains, paintings. Dane recognized what looked like an original Rembrandt. The perfect inner sanctum. A vinyl record player and hi-fi system occupied one wall. Dane eyed it with interest.

  “I collect old jazz records,” Kader said. “No CDs or MP3s for me.”

  He took them to a table filled with food. Chicken and beef kebabs, grilled vegetables, rice, pitchers of ice water with lemon slices. Kader sat everybody, took the head of the table with Dane to his right. A dark-haired waiter in a white mess jacket began distributing the food and pouring water. His jacket fell open as he filled Dane’s glass. Dane spotted a Beretta pistol hanging under the man’s right arm.

  Dane said, “We’re glad you’re still alive.”

  “So am I,” Kader said. “Please, start eating, don’t wait for me. Mr. Dane, I had to drop out of sight. You can explain to the CIA. I’m sure they will understand.”

  “You’ve been expecting somebody to come find you.”

  “My security people had the airport covered 24/7, as you saw. You were photographed coming off the plane.”

  “Uh-huh. This beef is delightful,” Dane said, chewing some more. It wasn’t overcooked; perfectly juicy; with the right amount of seasoning.

  “You have questions for me,” Kader said.

  “The Graypoole kid has Langley stumped and we lost a lead in Germany,” Dane said. “What do you know?”

  Kader shrugged and ate part of a bell pepper. “I’m as surprised as Langley. Mason Graypoole was never a consideration. His father had no contact with him. His mother forbade contact. His father always knew where he was, had people checking on him. He called the boy his secret weapon and hoped he might someday join the cause.”

  “He’s reached out to his father’s old operatives,” Dane said.

  Kader nodded.

  “What do you have on them we might be able to use?”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Kader said. “I put all of the information on the computer so I wouldn’t have to remember.”

  “Then we can have that?”

  “Yes. But it’s not here. I don’t mean at this safe house, but in Bahrain. My daughter has the thumb drive everything is stored on.”

  “She’s still in London?”

  “Exactly. She’s under guard. I own a flower shop on Bedfordbury and Bedford. She’s there.”

  “I sent two of my best men to keep her safe,” Kader continued. “She is not happy, complains like her mother, but she’s waiting for you. When you arrive, tell the clerk ‘Crash Dive’.”

  “We’ll stay long enough to get you out of the country.”

  Kader held up a hand. “I’m safe here, Mr. Dane. Nobody knows about this place. It’s why I built it.”

  “I don’t think it’s wise.”

  “This is my home, Mr. Dane.”

  Nina put down her kebab. “Spare us the whining,” she said. “Once Graypoole is dead you can come back. All you’ll have to do is dust the place.”

  Kader looked at Nina with wide eyes and then frowned at Dane.

  “She is your--”

  “Better half,” Dane said.

  Kader sipped some water and eased back in the chair. A few moments ticked by.

  21

  “I think you’re right,” Kader said. “How long will it take to arrange transport?”

  Dane wiped his mouth and stood up. “We have a plane waiting.”

  Dane took out his cell and wandered over to the hi-fi. Three leather chairs and a coffee table sat before the five-foot high speakers. He flipped through the record collection as he waited for Lukavin
a to answer.

  “I hope you have good news,” Lukavina said.

  “Kader’s alive,” Dane began, and started to fill him in. He turned. Nina, McConn, and Stone still sat at the table while Kader had left to stand in front of a wide window looking out over the city.

  Tall steel-and-glass buildings reflected the glare of the sun; the ocean in the distance quietly shimmered.

  It would be hard for Dane to leave a place like this, too.

  He finished the update.

  Lukavina said, “When can you be in the air?”

  “Within the hour,” Dane said. “The fuse is getting short.”

  “Keep me updated,” Lukavina said. He hung up.

  Dane started to put his phone away when the whipping rotor blades of a chopper broke through the quiet. The noise got louder.

  “Kader--” Dane began.

  The chopper dropped down and hovered in front of the window where Kader stood. A glare flashed off the canopy. The chopper rotated to reveal the open side door. A young man, grinning, sat behind a machine gun. The weapon spat flame, the window shattering, Kader crying out and falling as shards of glass coated the carpet.

  Dane dropped, Nina and the others hitting the floor, as the machine gun hammered some more. Bullets zipped through the suite, wreaking havoc, destroying the hi-fi, and then the chopper pulled away.

  Sunglasses and his partner had their pistols out.

  “Get help!” Dane shouted.

  Sunglasses turned and shot his partner through the head and swung his pistol to Dane.

  Dane dived in front of the nearest chair. Two pistols shots smashed into the wall behind him. He looked up. Sunglasses aimed at the table. Nina and McConn pushed it over, the food and water spilling with a loud crash. Sunglasses sent his next two rounds into the tabletop, splintering the polished wood.

  Dane grabbed one of the jazz records and flung it like a Frisbee. The record closed the distance, Sunglasses turning to Dane as the record caught him in the neck. He let out a yell, recoiling back a step.

  Dane launched himself off the back of the chair and collided with Sunglasses in a flying tackle.

  They smashed against the wall, hot breath from Sunglasses scraping Dane’s neck. Dane pounded a one-two combo into the man’s torso. Sunglasses grunted, shoving at Dane with his free hand. He brought the butt of his gun down hard against the side of Dane’s head.

  Dane’s vision spun. He collapsed mid-swing, Sunglasses delivering a solid kick to his stomach. Dane stifled a yell and grabbed the other man’s ankle as he readied another kick and as he lost his balance, Sunglasses pointed the gun at Dane’s face.

  A shot crackled. Dane blinked. Something warm and wet splattered on his chest and neck but it wasn’t his blood. A bullet had gone through Sunglasses’ left eye, the lens gone, the gaping red hole left behind hemorrhaging blood down his jaw to the front of his suit. The exit wound on the side of his head painted the white wall behind with more blood and tissue fragments. Sunglasses teetered a moment and then fell hard.

  The waiter, in a basic isosceles stance, lowered his smoking Beretta.

  Dane ran to the others, who were clustered around Kader’s body.

  “He’s hurt but still alive,” Stone reported. They were on their knees around the man, trying to plug his wounds with cloth napkins, all of which were soaked red.

  The waiter exchanged his gun for a cell phone and called for help. He put the phone away and grabbed Dane.

  “Get to London,” he said. “We’ll handle this.”

  “Nice shooting,” Dane said.

  Dane and his team ran out of there, stepping over the traitor’s body. McConn paused to dig through Sunglasses’ pockets and found his phone. Nina grabbed the keys to the BMW from the guard Sunglasses had killed.

  The elevator doors shut and the car began its descent.

  Dane removed his blazer, pulling a handkerchief from the inside pockets. He wiped his face and neck. He regarded the blazer with a sigh and dropped it on the floor.

  “Anybody hurt?”

  “We’re cool,” Stone said.

  Nina hugged Dane tight.

  Downstairs they piled into the first BMW. Dane peeled out of there leaving a billowing dust cloud in their wake.

  “So that was Junior,” Nina said.

  McConn, in the back with Stone, scrolled through the captured cell.

  “He sent a text before the shooting, Steve. They know about London.”

  “How did you crack his password?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Doesn’t matter if they know,” Nina said. “I’d like a chance to even the score.”

  “Get in line,” Dane said.

  “Ladies first,” she told him.

  “You missed.”

  Mason Graypoole froze as the flight attendant pulled the fuselage door shut. He glanced at her. The look on his face made her quickly pivot and leave the cabin.

  The engines spooled up as the pilots prepared to taxi.

  Graypoole faced Behnam Rostami as the Iranian lawyer lounged comfortable in a chair.

  “What do you mean?”

  The plane started to roll.

  “You better sit down before you fall over.”

  “Dammit, Ben—” Graypoole took a seat across from the lawyer. He sat on the edge, leaning toward Rostami, his expression intense.

  “Our spotters say Kader survived. Our man inside did not. Killed by an American.”

  “I saw four others with Kader.”

  “Americans. Looking for you.”

  Rostami needed to be careful. He didn’t want the younger man to end up screaming and pacing around; he needed to deliver the lesson the younger man needed to hear calmly. A line had been crossed and there was no turning back.

  Graypoole didn’t respond. He sat back in the seat, crossed his legs and stared ahead. Rostami did not press him to say anything. As the jet finally took off, the lawyer knew Graypoole would need a few moments to process what he had said.

  “And the Americans probably saw my face,” Graypoole said.

  Rostami raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected the realization to arrive so quickly.

  “They can match you with file photographs and confirm you exist.”

  Graypoole cleared his throat. He didn’t look at Rostami.

  “What is this cause all about, Mason?”

  Graypoole turned sharply. Now he looked at the lawyer. “Say that again.”

  “Your cause. What is it about?”

  “Revenge. I told you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they killed my father. It’s up to me to avenge him.”

  “Where was this sense of devotion when your father was alive?”

  Graypoole flinched.

  “Tell me, Mason.”

  Graypoole’s shoulders sank. “Maybe that’s the reason. You don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. My mother—”

  “Kept you from your father, I remember. It hurt him a great deal. She didn’t agree with what he was doing and she didn’t want you corrupted by him.”

  “It wasn’t her choice. I wanted to see him. She refused. Then the Americans truly took him from me when they put a bullet in his back. I didn’t get the chance to know him as I should have, so now I will keep his memory alive, one way or another.”

  “Your father wasn’t the man to take you to baseball games, Mason. He might have shown you how to field strip an AK-47 instead.”

  Graypoole didn’t smile.

  “There were certain security protocols in place,” Rostami continued, “where such visits would have been difficult anyway. One thing he was glad about was nobody could use you and your mother to get to him. In a way, his gift to you was to keep you safe and out of the line of fire. He’d made his choices. He hoped you’d join him someday, but he didn’t think it right to involve you at a young age.”

  “I learned weapons on my own. I had to.”

  “Of course. And you’ve do
ne well. Your goal has been achieved. The Americans will indeed always remember the Graypoole name, but there is something you must understand.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve begun a journey you cannot return from. Had you kept your identity a secret, used your father’s forces as a means to accomplish your goals, you might have survived much longer.”

  “Why are you speaking in past tense?”

  “Because it’s only a matter of time now, Mason. They are going to find you and you, as I, will meet our destiny.”

  “So be it,” Graypoole said.

  Rostami sat back with nothing more to say.

  The jet flew on.

  McConn and Stone dozed as the jet soared toward London. Dane and Nina occupied the same seat but it was a tight fit, with Nina wedged in between Dane and the left side armrest. She sipped from a glass of vodka.

  “We’re crossing so many time zones,” she said, “I don't know what year it is.”

  Dane smiled and rubbed her leg.

  “What’s bothering you?” she said.

  Dane stared ahead with his jaw tight. “We’re one step behind.”

  “You’re getting too involved. Emotionally, I mean.”

  “You didn’t see that girl’s face, Nina.”

  “You’re no good to her or any of us if you get killed too.”

  “I want to shoot the little punk. You didn’t see him grin before he shot Kader. He thinks this is a game.”

  “We’ve faced worse.”

  “We have, haven’t we?”

  “Don’t forget the girl,” Nina said, “but stay detached. Too much emotion breeds mistakes.”

  “We’ve made enough of those already,” Dane said.

  22

  Another airport. Busy Heathrow. Another customs check. Another car rental—a small SUV. The four piled into the vehicle. Stone drove. And this time they pulled over off the airport property to get their weapons from the luggage.

  Stone steered along the narrow streets with Dane navigating in the passenger seat via cell phone map. Clouds were thick but only held the threat of rain. The buildings they passed as they entered the neighborhood were either made of brick or stone and wore weathered patina.

  “I could go for some shepherd’s pie while we’re here,” McConn said.