Liberation Day
Page 28
“You’ve got two there with you now?” Turner asked, his voice rising several decibels.
“Yep.”
“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Tense silence hung in the air as Gold stared at the bank of monitors. Behind him, Jasper and Ling stood a few feet apart, each of them studying the images in silence. Off to one side was a young man with thick black hair, on standby to bring champagne at a moment’s notice. He stood fidgeting with his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and avoiding eye contact.
On the monitors were news feeds from every major provider in the country. CNN. Fox News. ABC. Gold had even turned one of the monitors to ESPN. If it could cover 9/11 and the capture of Bin Laden, surely it would cover him as well.
Time ticked by, the room silent as they waited for the call to say things were in place, Liberation Day could commence.
“Are you sure they have the right number for this residence?” the young man asked, unable to bear the tension any longer.
Gold did not bother to respond as his eyes slid shut. Instead he coughed once, a tiny throat clearing. At the signal, Ling sidestepped and shot his heel hard into the man’s throat. A small stream of blood seeped over his lips as he fell to his knees and then his chest without a sound.
Just as fast Ling resumed his post, neither Jasper nor Gold acting like they’d even seen what happened.
Two more minutes of staring at the televisions ensued, all three men watching images from around the world, none of which had the slightest thing to do with them. In frustration Gold cut away the feeds, the screens going black. Snatching up his phone he dialed the number, squeezing the head of his cane with the opposite hand so tight his knuckles showed white beneath the skin.
The phone rang seven times before it was picked up, the din of a boat engine mixed with the low sounds of the ocean filtering over the line.
“What happened?” Gold snapped, not waiting for any acknowledgement on the other side of the line. When more silence ensued he leaned forward in his seat, bellowing the question again, spittle flying from his mouth and down his chin.
A long moment passed before anybody spoke.
“Bad news, boss,” a man said. “We lost two men.”
“You think I give a damn about two men?! What happened to my weapons?!”
“They were waiting for us,” the man said. “They got Sykes and Benson. We were lucky to escape.”
Gold’s face grew hot as he leaned towards the speaker phone. “I would not call that lucky at all. Getting shot would be preferable to what I’m going to do to you.”
The man said nothing as background noise again came in over the line.
Gold exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Where are my Vaporizers now?”
This time any response was cut off by the line going dead, though if it just lost signal or was disconnected Gold couldn’t be certain. Not that it mattered one bit either way, the men just two more that would be eradicated as part of his plan.
“Idiots,” he muttered, gripping the cane and stamping the base of it hard against the floor. “Right now my Vaporizers are at the bottom of Boston Harbor. I guarantee it.”
Spinning in his chair, Gold turned to stare at Ling. “These are your best men? These idiots that can’t do a simple job and run at the first sign of gunfire?”
Remaining rooted in place, Ling’s eyes narrowed at the attack. “None of these are my men. My men were killed in China many years ago. These are your men.”
Malevolence burned on Gold’s face. “I hired you to train them into your men.”
“You hired me to watch your back,” Ling countered. “Many have died in the last week. You have not been touched.”
Gold leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He was not a man used to employees talking back to him, or of his plans not going as directed. Things were beginning to tug at the seams. “You know who is responsible for this, don’t you?”
The brim of Ling’s fedora dropped so he could just see out beneath it. “Yes.”
“You’re right, I did hire you to watch my back. But right now, I want you to leave. I want you to go Boston and get rid of that son of a bitch. Go after his friends, his family, anybody he owes money to. Teach him what happens when he meddles in my affairs.”
“I will find him.”
For the first time all evening, Jasper spoke. “Actually, I don’t think you’ll have to.”
“Why not?” Gold asked, glancing in his direction.
Raising a floral clad arm, Jasper pointed to a monitor on the opposite wall. “He’s come to us.”
Rotating his chair around, Gold focused on what Jasper was pointing toward. “He’s come to us. You know what this means Ling.”
His words were met by silence.
Ling was already gone.
Chapter Sixty-Three
The front end of the Explorer crumpled inward on contact as it rammed into the gate. The front hood tented upward several inches, the headlights both blacking out. The impact rocked Thorn and Nio forward, the rear of the SUV fishtailing as they moved forward. On either side they could hear the angry scream of metal being sheered away as the gate fell away, the cobbled driveway extended like a gray ribbon through the lawn in front of them.
Steam rose from either side of the pinched hood, appearing in soft white billows before dissipated into the night. A low grinding noise sounded out from the engine, a small lurch occurring every few seconds as they moved forward. Beneath them the driveway sped by, moving in a straight line that wrapped them around to the right of the enormous house and on towards the back.
“What are we doing here, Thorn?” Nio called, his voice raised to a yell as he braced himself in the passenger seat.
Seated behind the wheel Thorn remained silent, assessing the grounds. Since leaving the docks he had been operating at a breakneck pace, fueled only by the knowledge that he had precious little time before Gold initiated his global chemical strike. Finding him and Ling both, ending their plans, had to happen tonight.
The front of the house vaguely resembled the mansion on the water, a wide front porch interspersed with columns. The odds of making it up the stairwell to the front door weren’t good, especially with the condition the Explorer was in.
Instead Thorn pressed down harder on the gas, swinging wide towards the back. Negotiating the corner of the house he aimed for the back patio, looking up just in time to see twin muzzle flashes spark before them. A moment later a pair of bullets punctured the front windshield, the holes no more than four inches apart, passing right between them. Nio dove behind the dash as a third shattered the windshield into a thousand tiny shards of glass, each one with jagged edges ripping at them as they swirled about the interior of the car.
Three more bullets slammed into the passenger side of the car, the rear tire rupturing as Thorn raised his forearm over his head, trying in vain to protect himself. The Explorer lurched hard as the rubber tire shredded away, sparks erupting from the wheel. Rising up behind the steering column, Thorn pressed his full weight down on the brakes, the entirety of the Explorer shaking, tossing them about the front cab.
“Hold on!” Thorn yelled, the SUV listing badly to the side. The steering wheel jerked in his hands as the front end pulled from the driveway, the tires catching the corner of the rock wall encasing the flower beds on either side of the drive. Just low enough to act as a ramp, it lifted them into the air, the automobile rotating as the passenger side rose perpendicular to the ground.
For a few long moments the SUV hung suspended before crashing down on its hood, ripping dirt and sod away in great clumps. Soil spilled through the open windshield as the Explorer slid to a stop, a mound of displaced turf bunched around it.
When they finally stopped moving the only sound was a low hissing from the radiator, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air.
“You all right?” Thorn asked, shaking his head
and checking to make sure he was still intact.
The plan was terrible at the time of conception, a fact that seemed even more apparent now. Given his limited numbers and dwindling time frame though, there weren’t a lot of options. Culling together a force like the night before would take too long, especially given the technological reach Gold had proven himself to have.
Already they had burned time by waiting for Turner to show up and for an address to be extracted. Once the information was free Thorn had no choice but to act on it, even though it meant being stuck with Nio for the duration.
Ramming the front gate was just one more in a series of unfortunate realities, Thorn being forced to react more so than plan ahead.
“Yeah,” Nio said, a low groan rolling out before and after the word as he worked to free himself from the tangle of the car.
Unfastening his seatbelt, Thorn twisted himself from beneath the steering wheel and out through the open windshield. Flecks of glass had chewed into his forearms and shoulders, blood and dirt streaking his body. Rising to full height he extended a hand down to help Nio, stopping short at the sight of a single figure in black striding towards him.
As the man walked forward, he shrugged off his heavy black jacket off, letting it drop to the ground. In short order he pulled the fedora from his head and tossed it to the side.
“Nio, do you see my gun anywhere?” Thorn asked, lowering his hands by his side as he watched the man approach.
From where he was lying, Nio shot a glance around him. “No, it must have flown out when we went airborne.”
Thorn nodded, turning towards the man and taking a few steps away from the wreckage. “Ling, I presume?”
A thin smile grew across the man’s face. “So you do know who I am. And you are?”
Already Thorn’s adrenaline was spiked from the crash, his heart rate now increasing to match. “Does it matter?”
“Not really. I just wanted to have a name to give my boss when I tell him you are dead.”
Thorn smirked. “I’m not an easy man to kill. You should know that by now.”
The thin smile disintegrated from the man’s face, his features growing hard. He remained stationary a moment before transitioning into a fighting stance, snapping a kick towards Thorn’s throat. Using his left forearm, Thorn deflected the blow and stepped out to the side. Ling pivoted hard on his left foot and swung his right hand in a hard chop towards Thorn’s head.
Thorn ducked as the chop glanced off and shot a jab to Ling’s ribs. The blow landed with solid impact and Thorn heard the air rush from Ling’s lips.
Ling stepped back for a moment as Thorn rose to full height, the two staring at each other before beginning to circle again. In Thorn’s periphery he could see Nio had managed to free himself from the car, the entire left side of his face covered in blood as he stood motionless to the side, watching the fight.
Again Ling moved first, feigning a straight kick to elicit a reaction. The moment Thorn raised his left arm to block Ling sent a snap kick into his ribs, the clear snap of a bone breaking sounding out.
Paint shot through Thorn, stars igniting before his eyes, as he used the force of the blow and pivoted on his right foot, firing a spinning blow at Ling’s head. A millisecond before contact Ling slid beyond the range of the shot, stepping in behind it and firing a jab to Thorn’s mouth.
On contacts the wounds from their previous encounter reopened, the metallic taste of blood rolling across his tongue.
Seeing the blood, knowing his opponent was injured, Ling moved in for another shot to the base of Thorn’s skull. Dropping down beneath the attack, Thorn swung his leg in a fast arc, aiming for a leg sweep.
An instant too slow, Ling jumped the attempt and shot a snap kick into Thorn’s chest. The blow was enough to knock Thorn off balance, scrambling from his backside to his hands and knees as he hit the ground. Less than a moment later another kick came in, connecting with Thorn’s cheek, sending him sprawling across the grass.
The lights returned before his vision as he lay face down on the ground, acutely aware of every last injury he had incurred in the previous days.
“So again I ask, what is your name?” Ling said, standing back a few feet and waiting for Thorn to rise so he could finish him off.
One inch at a time, Thorn willed himself to move, his hands running over the cool grass and sliding inward to push himself up.
Halfway to his torso, his right hand touched metal.
Forcing his eyes into focus he looked over to see the big .44 lying not a foot from his head.
Sliding his right hand across the grass, he wrapped his fingers around the base of it, leaving it lying flat on the ground as he pulled it close. Keeping his body between it and Ling he rose up onto his knees, turning to glare back at his opponent.
“And again I ask, does it matter?”
The smile returned to Ling’s face. “You don’t have to tell me. After I kill you, I’ll get it from your friend here before I kill him. Hell, I may even ask that little bitch in the bikini before I finish her too.”
At the mention of Iggy, a guttural cry rose from Nio, the words snapping him to action as he rushed forward. Stepping to the side Ling curled his leg inward, lining up another thrust kick as a force jerked him backwards.
Nio pulled up at the sight of the spastic movement, the thundering register of the .44 rolling across the grounds. Rising from his knees Thorn walked forward, firing a second time as he took a step closer.
On impact Ling’s opposite shoulder jerked to the side, his body moving in contorted bursts, an oversized marionette dancing above the grass.
Balanced on uneven legs, Ling stared with hatred at Thorn. Blood coated his teeth and dripped down over his bottom lip. “You won’t do it. You’re not a killer.”
Thorn drew back the hammer of the gun. “Aren’t I?”
“No,” Ling said, staring out from beneath heavily lidded eyes. “You don’t think I see how you use the gun as a club and never fire it? Killing isn’t for people like you.”
“You’re right,” Thorn said, “but this isn’t for me. This is for Kenny Schiff and Cyrus Cooper. For the people in that container. For Jorge Garcia.”
Thorn didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead he emptied the rest of his clip into Ling’s chest, the massive rounds finding center mass, ripping away chunks of flesh. The combined force of them sent Ling sprawling backwards, his body landing in a crumpled mound.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Thorn left Ling where he lay. Feeling the full effect of the last few days he strode straight for the house, intent to finish things before the adrenaline within subsided, the sum total of his injuries caught up with him. Streaked with blood and soil he walked forward, carrying the empty .44 in his hand. As a gun it was now no longer useful, but as a bludgeon it still carried a great deal of value.
For several long moments Nio stood and watched him walk away before snapping to life and jogging after him. He caught up just shy of the front steps and whispered, “Where the hell is everybody?”
“I don’t think there is anybody else,” Thorn said without glancing over. “I’m guessing they figured Ling was protection enough.”
Nio offered a half smile at the mention of Ling, following Thorn up the front steps.
“Ling was right, you know,” Nio said. “I didn’t think you’d shoot him. I took you for the fight-it-out-to-the-death sort.”
Thorn moved to the far side of the stairwell, pausing as he looked through the front windows lining the porch. Many of the lights were on inside the house, though nobody seemed to be moving about. “Just win. That’s all that matters.”
Moving back to the front door, Thorn gave a quick glance over the hinges for signs of traps before trying the handle.
To his surprise, it turned easily in his hand.
“They must not have planned on anybody making it this far,” Nio muttered.
“Or they figured if someone did, what good would a dead
bolt do?” Thorn replied, raising the .44 and easing sideways through the door. Instantly his feet sank down into a plush rug lying atop hardwood flooring, an elegant staircase rising upward. Over two dozen stairs in height it went to the second floor before stretching wide to either side
“Where to?” Nio whispered.
Thorn surveyed the foyer. “The man’s in a wheelchair, I’m guessing he didn’t go up.”
The night before his office had been on the second floor, though that was at a primary residence that had been carefully cultivated to serve as a lair. If the guards Turner had interrogated earlier were to be believed, this home was a recent acquisition, free from the personal touches someone like Gold would require.
“Let’s start to the right,” Thorn said. “Closer to the garage for a quick escape.”
Leaving the foyer behind, they stepped into a wide hallway with dark wood floors and crown molded ceilings. High-backed chairs and expensive tables were positioned along either side, landscape paintings hanging from the walls.
Every few feet the wall was punctuated by a heavy oak door, all of them standing open with light streaming out into the hallway. One at a time they made their way through them, Thorn entering with his empty weapon, Nio standing at the doorway to cover the rear.
This pattern continued through over a half dozen rooms before encountering two consecutive doors standing closed. Light threw itself out from beneath them both, though no sound could be heard from within.
Thorn stood back and examined them for a moment, his rear pressed against the opposite wall. “One room, two doors.”
“Yeah,” Nio said, his voice low as he ran his tongue over dry lips.
“Trade me guns,” Thorn said, extending the handle of his weapon by his side. Nio took it and thrust the Glock into his hand, Thorn never once looking over.
Out of pure habit Thorn checked the slide and made sure the safety was off, his hands operating without visual assistance. Staring at the heavy wooden door, he didn’t trust that a kick would be enough to get him inside, most likely only leaving him with further injury. The thought of lowering his shoulder and slamming his broken ribs into it didn’t seem appealing, though he had no further options.