by J B Black
“Megan, what I’m going to do next is try to put this monumental failure behind me and pretend I never heard of the Butcher of Lashwan. I suggest that you do the same.”
CHAPTER 46
Gulf Coast Hospital
Foley, Alabama
Monday, April 19, 2010
8:35 a.m. Central Time
Reb was sitting in the chair next to Rusty’s hospital bed watching Rusty as he finished eating his breakfast. Reb had brought a change of clothing for Rusty with him so Rusty would have something to wear when he was released from the hospital.
Rusty looked up from the plate of scrambled eggs, sausage patties, and buttermilk pancakes he was eating from and said, “You know, that’s the first time I’ve been shot since I was wounded in that firefight in Vietnam. It hurt like hell then and it hurts like hell now.”
“What the hell were you thinking, you crazy old sonofabitch?” Reb asked. “Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and running out into the breezeway and tackling that terrorist like that? You’re damn lucky you didn’t get yourself killed instead of just getting shot in the leg.”
“Don’t you go giving me any shit about that,” Rusty said. “If I hadn’t run into that damn terrorist, you and—whoever your buddy is—and Honey would all probably be dead now.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware that, if you hadn’t done what you did, my buddy, Jake, and Honey and I would all be dead now,” Reb said. “Rusty, we owe our lives to you.”
“You’d’ve done the same for me,” Rusty said. “You got any idea who the failed terrorist assassin was and why he was trying to kill you?”
“Alright then, let’s bring you up to speed,” Reb said. “First, the guy who was with me when you saved all of our lives is Jake Gant, my old CIA buddy from Afghanistan. Seems there’s some Islamic terrorist, who goes by the name Sinbad of all things, who’s trying to start a Caliphate or something here in America, who’s behind all this trouble I’ve been having.
“Jake got in Saturday night just after we took the Revenge out in the Gulf. He was waiting for me in my condo when we got back from disposing of the three jihadis. Jake told me that the NSA had intercepted a call between this Sinbad fellow and someone he called Imam when my name came up—that’s how Jake came to get involved in this, by the way.
“Anyway, this Sinbad person wanted the Imam person he was talking to send someone—that would be the three jihadist stooges we fed to the sharks—to whack me because of my involvement in the incident that took place in Afghanistan. And that meant the Imam in Pensacola who sent the three jihadist stooges to kill me had to be the same Imam person who spoke with the Sinbad person on the phone call the NSA intercepted.
“So, yesterday, zero-dark-thirty Sunday morning, after we dropped you off, Jake, Honey, and I went over to Pensacola to the mosque where the three jihadist stooges hung out and picked up their Imam—who we’re absolutely certain is the Imam that Sinbad told to send someone to whack me—and we took him to my farm to see what we could learn from him about Sinbad.”
“So, what did you learn?” Rusty asked.
“Not a damn thing. The Imam dropped dead of a heart attack while we were questioning him. Jake was concerned that my interrogation methods would probably kill him and not get us any useful information. So, Jake pumped him full of some drug, and, long story short, he was starting to talk and then bam. He dropped dead,” Reb said.
“What did you do with him?”
“He’s buried on my farm.”
“What’s the deal with the assassin last night at the condo?” Rusty asked.
“We can only assume that Sinbad sent him, too.”
“Reb, do you have any idea why this Sinbad character wants you dead?” Rusty asked.
“Not a clue,” Reb said.
CHAPTER 47
Reb Rogers’ Residence
Seaside Tower Condominium Complex
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Monday, April 19, 2010
12:12 p.m. Central Time
It was a beautiful sunny spring day on the Alabama Gulf Coast and the temperature outdoors was in the mid-eighties. Honey was in the kitchen of Reb’s condo searching the fridge for something cold to drink when someone started ringing the doorbell. She dropped what she was doing and walked down the tiled central hallway to answer the door.
When she got to the front door, Honey looked out the peephole to see who was there. After the two incidents with terrorists trying to assassinate Reb, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Honey saw a touristy-dressed woman wearing a large, floppy sun hat standing in the breezeway outside the door. The woman was wearing big black horn rimmed librarian-style glasses and she had a large handbag slung over her shoulder. Honey thought to herself, Thank God, looks like it’s just someone’s guest who has gotten mixed up on which condo she’s staying at.
Honey opened the door to ask the woman if she could help her and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Back up,” Megan said, menacingly, as she started walking toward Honey, waving her gun in front of her with her right hand, and pulling a wheeled carry on luggage bag behind her with her other hand. Honey was so taken by surprise at what was happening that she didn’t give a second thought to complying with Megan’s command and started backing up.
As soon as she was inside the condo, Megan closed and locked the door behind her keeping her gun pointed at Honey the entire time.
“Damn, you sure you’ve got it cold enough in here?” Megan said with a shiver.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Honey asked.
“My name is Megan and I’m looking for Reb Rogers.”
“Well, Reb’s not here, Megan,” Honey replied. “He’s at the hospital with our friend, Rusty, who has a gunshot wound to his leg.”
“And you are?”
“I’m Honey Brown.”
“All right then Honey, not that I don’t believe you about Reb Rogers not being here,” Megan said, sarcastically, “but why don’t we take a quick tour of this place just to make sure?”
With Megan waving the gun at her indicating for her to lead on, Honey turned and headed down the tiled central hallway a short distance to the first door.
Megan nodded her head at the doorway that Honey was standing in front of. “What’s in this room?”
“It’s a guest bedroom,” Honey replied.
“Let’s take a look.”
Megan followed Honey into the room, parked her carry on luggage bag next to the door, then motioned for Honey to walk ahead of her and they quickly walked through the bedroom into the bathroom and back out into the bedroom again.
“All right, this room’s empty. Let’s check the next one,” Megan said, waving the gun and motioning for Honey to lead on.
As they were walking down the hallway to the next room, Honey asked, “What do you want with Reb?”
“I want him dead.”
Honey stopped in front of the door to the next bedroom, turned back to face Megan, and said, “What did Reb do that would make you want to kill him?”
Megan considered Honey’s question for a moment before answering. “I had a brother. His name was Denis. Denis was a wild one and had a bit of the devil in him. He ran with the wrong crowd and was always just one step away from getting caught by the cops. We were very close. It was Denis who taught me how to use a gun. He was my best friend until Reb Rogers killed him. That’s why I’m going to kill Reb Rogers. Now, let’s check out this room.”
Honey and Megan went into the second bedroom where Reb and Honey kept all of their exercise gear. Honey and Megan repeated the process of walking through the bedroom and the bathroom to make sure no one was hiding out in there.
Finding the rooms empty, they went back into the hallway and proceeded down the hallway to the utility/laundry room. Honey opened the door and turned on the light switch and Megan stuck her head in the door just long enough to make sure that no one was hiding in there either.
A forty-five degree dog-leg shaped eating counter separated the kitchen from the dining area.
The dining room area was furnished with an ornate round oak table surrounded by six comfortable looking leather upholstered chairs.
On the right wall of the living room area there was a large leather recliner couch with end tables on each side of the couch. A couple of leather reclining easy chairs were parked next to the end tables, and a large ornate glass top coffee table was stationed in front of the couch. On the opposite wall facing the couch and chairs there was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall and, going back toward the kitchen, there was the doorway to the master bedroom.
Megan could easily see that there was no one in the kitchen, the dining room area, or the living room area. She waved her gun motioning for Honey to go to the master bedroom.
This was the last place inside the condo where someone could be hiding, and Megan entered the room with extreme caution.
Megan saw that the beachside wall of the master bedroom was floor to ceiling glass and it too had a sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony, the same as the living room. The motorized vertical blind system in the master bedroom was opened enough for someone to go out the sliding glass door. Megan motioned for Honey to walk over to the balcony side of the bed and Megan followed. Megan glanced out the glass door and could see the bluish-green water of the Gulf of Mexico out past the balcony railing.
Satisfied no one was hiding behind the bed, Megan motioned for Honey to go back through the bedroom and into the bathroom area. There was a double vanity on the right and a large walk-in closet on the left. Megan told Honey to open the door to the walk-in closet and turn on the lights. After a quick look inside, Megan and Honey went into the back part of the bathroom and inspected the shower, tub, and toilet area and found no one hiding there either.
The two women walked back into the master bedroom and Megan pointed at the sliding door with her gun. “What’s out there on the balcony?”
“There’s a storage closet on this side and there’s a hot tub and some chairs and a table and a gas grill on the other side,” Honey said.
Megan motioned at the door with her gun.
“Let’s go out on the balcony and take a look,” Megan said. “You lead the way.”
Honey pulled the door open on its track and went out onto the balcony. Megan stepped out right behind her and looked to her right and saw the hot tub and the two men who were lounging in it.
“What the fuck,” Megan said in surprise.
Honey swung around to her left to face Megan and, just as she expected, found that Megan was reaching up with both of her hands to take off her glasses which had completely fogged up when she had stepped outside into the warm air after being inside the ice cold condo.
Honey grabbed Megan’s gun hand with her left hand and then hit Megan in the jaw with her right fist as hard as she could. Megan’s knees buckled and she went down on her back with Honey on top of her.
Still holding onto Megan’s gun hand, Honey grabbed a handful of hair on the crown of Megan’s head, pulled up, and then pushed down hard slamming the back of Megan’s head onto the hard concrete floor of the balcony, knocking her out.
Megan’s body went slack and Honey carefully removed the gun from Megan’s hand before standing up.
CHAPTER 48
Reb Rogers’ Residence
Seaside Tower Condominium Complex
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Monday, April 19, 2010
12:37 p.m. Central Time
When Megan regained consciousness, her immediate sensation was pain. The back of her head was pounding and the left side of her jaw was sore. She realized that she was on her back and staring up at the ceiling, but something was wrong. When she tried to move her arms or her legs—she couldn’t.
It hurt to move her head, but she did. She looked to her left and saw a large man with blue eyes and black hair looking down at her. He had on a white T-shirt and blue jeans. The look on his face was not sympathetic.
She looked to her right and saw another large man. This one had sandy brown hair and green eyes and the look on his face made her afraid. It took her a second, but she recognized the man. He was Reb Rogers.
* * *
After Honey had cold cocked Megan on the balcony, Reb and Jake carried Megan inside the condo and into the master bathroom.
They found an ironing board inside the walk-in closet and, using duct tape, secured Megan to it. They placed the end of the ironing board with Megan’s head on the edge of the bathtub and used a stepladder to support the other end of the ironing board. The end of the ironing board where Megan’s feet were was slightly more elevated than the end where her head was. This was the predicament that Megan found herself in when she regained consciousness.
* * *
“Who are you?” Reb asked.
“My name is Megan Gallagher.”
“I understand that you came here to kill me,” Reb said. “Why?”
“You killed my brother.”
Reb looked at her with a blank look on his face. “Who the hell is your brother?”
“Maybe this will jog your memory. February 14, 2009, you and another man killed a room full of Taliban in Lashwan, Afghanistan. When it was over you picked up a satphone. There was a woman on the other end asking about Denis. I was the woman you spoke to. Denis was my brother.”
“What do you know about some other people trying to kill Reb the last couple of days?” Jake asked.
Megan looked over at Jake. “I asked a friend to have him killed.”
“Sinbad?”
Megan shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I’m confused,” Reb said. “You say you asked your friend to have me killed because I killed your brother in Afghanistan. Your friend sends people to kill me twice and they fail to kill me and now you show up. The other people who showed up to kill me said they wanted to kill me because I was the Butcher of Lashwan. I have it on good authority that Sinbad sent those other people to kill me. You know what I think? I think you work for Sinbad, too.”
“Goddammit, I told you I don’t know anyone by the name of Sinbad,” Megan said. “My friend sent the others because I wanted you killed in retaliation for you killing my brother, Denis. I convinced him that killing you would be a propaganda bonanza for jihadists everywhere. I’m here now because they failed and my friend wasn’t willing to send anyone else to try to kill you. As he put it to me, he was unwilling to waste any more of his resources on what he called a monumental failure. At that point, I realized that if I wanted you dead, I was going to have to do it myself.”
“So, you’re telling me that I killed your brother that day in Lashwan,” Reb said. “That’s bullshit lady. The only people I killed that day were Taliban and they damn well deserved to die for what they had done to a bunch of little girls. Are you saying your brother was Taliban?”
“No,” Megan said shaking her head. “Denis wasn’t Taliban.”
“Then, what the hell was he doing with a bunch of Taliban in Lashwan that day, if he wasn’t Taliban himself?”
“He was there to buy opium and heroin as a representative for one of the Mexican drug cartels. When he was in the military, Denis did a tour in Afghanistan and, while he was there, he made a few contacts in the drug trade with the Taliban.
“Before the military, Denis had been involved with the mob in Boston. So, when he came home, he used his knowledge of Afghanistan’s drug trade to cut some deals
with the Boston mob and that led to his getting involved with the Mexican drug cartels.”
“This just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” Reb said. He looked at Jake. “Are you buying any of this shit?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Jake asked.
* * *
Reb followed Jake out of the master bathroom through the master bedroom and out onto the balcony to the hot tub where Honey was soaking. She had a bag of ice wrapped around her right hand.
“How’s your hand feel?” Reb asked.
“The swelling’s gone down somewhat,” Honey replied. “How’s it going with Megan, the female terrorist?”
“It’s not what I expected,” Reb said.
Reb looked at Jake. “You wanted to talk.”
“This is how I see it. Megan is the woman you talked to on the satphone that day in Lashwan. We did kill her brother, Denis. She did talk her friend into sending those other people to kill you, and, whereas she may not know that her friend is Sinbad, we damn well know that her friend is Sinbad.
“Agreed. Now let’s go back in there and get her to tell us who her friend is and where we can find him,” Reb said.
* * *
Reb and Jake went back into the master bathroom and took up positions next to the bathtub on either side of Megan as they had earlier. Megan looked first at Reb and then at Jake wondering what was coming next.
“Megan, what’s the name of this friend of yours?” Jake asked.
“I don’t think I want to answer that question,” Megan said, looking up at Jake.
“Megan we need you to tell us your friend’s name and where we can find him. Where he lives,” Reb said.
Megan turned her head toward Reb and shook it. “No, I won’t tell you that.”
“It would be easier on you if you would just answer the question, Megan,” Jake said. “We don’t want to hurt you if we don’t have to.”
Megan recognized the underlying menace in what Jake had said to her but, nevertheless, clamped her jaw shut and shook her head.