Young Guns Box Set

by Kane, Remington

  “They made it almost to the top when they hit the loose rock I had warned them about. Instead of giving up, they took the risk. I paid a guy to watch them from a boat with a telescope. He told me that they both fell and smashed against the side of the cliff, while still attached to ropes. Before they could climb down, two Citadel guards, who were out on patrol, fired on them from the summit, killing them. The bodies hung there all night until someone cut them loose in the morning. After that, they were tossed into the sea.”

  “Are there any photos of the inside of the Citadel?” Cody asked.

  “Oh, how I wish there were,” Hutchins said. “What little I know about the interior came from a retired Army guy who I tracked down before I made my try at the place. He’s the one that told me about the secret exits and the double gates to get in there. From what he described, the Citadel could house as many as a hundred men.”

  Cody shook his head at that. “There won’t be that many guards. There’s no need for them. Whoever is running the Citadel thinks that no one can get inside, so why keep a huge force on hand? My guess is that there are only a handful of guards.”

  “What do you consider a handful?” Hutchins asked.

  “Less than twenty.”

  “Yeah, then you’re probably right, but that is still a lot of guys to make it past.”

  “How does the Citadel get their clients?” Romeo asked.

  “I don’t know, but they sure as shit can’t advertise. If I had to guess, I would say that they contact the client first. I can think of three dictators who might need their services someday, along with a few criminal types who are on Uncle Sam’s radar.”

  “Has the government ever gone after one of the Citadel’s clients?”

  “Not yet, and they would probably fail too. Knowing those assholes, they would show up with a huge force and give whoever was inside plenty of time to escape.”

  “But the government built the place, wouldn’t they know where all the secret exits are?” Cody asked.

  Hutchins grinned. “The first man to ever try breaking into the Citadel was an ex-army sniper named Ellis Coots. In preparation, Coots paid someone to steal the original blueprints of the Citadel. And now remember, this was before computers. Those blueprints were the only copy in existence. Coots died during his attempt and the blueprints were never found.”

  “He might have been carrying them on him when he was killed,” Romeo said.

  “Yup,” Hutchins said. “And even if the Army could reconstruct those plans somehow, whoever is inside the Citadel must have made new hidden exits.”

  Cody thought for a moment, then asked another question.

  “How are the guards recruited?”

  “That’s unknown,” Hutchins said.

  “And who owns the Citadel?”

  “That’s unknown too, but whoever they are, they must have made a fortune from the place over the years. Word is, it cost a million to become a client.”

  “A million dollars?” Romeo said. “Did I hear you right?”

  “You did.”

  “That’s a load of cash.”

  “Oh yeah, but it buys you instant safety and a ticket to a new life.”

  Cody smiled. “Not always. Whoever the client is when we get in there will have wasted their money. Romeo and I will break into the Citadel, kill their client, and get out in one piece. Count on it.”

  A smile crept over Hutchins’ face again. He had heard similar words numerous times before from men who appeared more formidable than the two young men seated before him. But then, then Hutchins looked into Cody’s intense eyes, and the smile left his face. After shifting his attention over to Romeo and seeing another steely gaze, Hutchins cleared his throat.

  “You know something? I wouldn’t bet against you two.”

  The meeting continued, as Cody and Romeo gathered as much information as they could. The Citadel was do or die, and they had no plans to die.

  33

  Tragedy

  HARLEM, OCTOBER 2018

  Children were playing in front of several red brick townhouses. The weather was cool but sunny, and they were jumping rope and tossing a football around.

  Maurice Biggs left his home and started down the stairs, beside him was his bodyguard/chauffeur, Melvin, who was nicknamed Melon Head. The name was given him in childhood because of his large cranium. The size did not correlate with his brain power, which was minimum.

  Maurice Biggs was black and the leader of a street gang. He was also a vicious thug in his own right. He had killed both men and women and would do so again for any perceived injury to his ego or his business. The business was drugs, and it had made Maurice a rich man.

  Melon Head was about to unlock the passenger door on the black Cadillac Escalade owned by Biggs when the squeal of tires caught their attention. Both men jerked their heads around at the sound and saw an old Pontiac Impala rocket away from the curb down the street. It was headed toward Biggs and its driver was thrusting a gun out the window.

  There wasn’t enough time to unlock the door of the bulletproof Escalade and climb inside, so Melon Head pushed his boss to the pavement while taking out his gun. What he lacked in brain power he made up for in loyalty and guts. Melon Head blocked Biggs’s lanky body with his wide form as he fired at the car rushing toward them.

  The children who had been playing, dove to the ground or ran for cover as a series of shots were exchanged. Some of those shots were fired by Maurice Biggs, who had freed his weapon from beneath his jacket. Then, the car was moving away with a shattered windshield.

  “Maurice, you all right?” Melon Head asked.

  Biggs rose from the ground; his face was a mask of fury. “That was Hakeem. Nigger must be crazy trying to kill me.”

  Melon Head checked himself over and grinned like a fool when he realized he hadn’t been shot.

  “Hakeem can’t shoot for shit.”

  A plaintive cry came from inside the home Biggs had just left. It was the townhouse of his girlfriend, Wanda, and of his daughter, Shanita. One of the front windows of the home had been shattered by a round fired by Hakeem.

  Biggs and Melon Head were rushing toward the townhouse when the door opened. Wanda came out carrying Shanita, or rather, she was holding her body.

  A large exit wound was visible on the left side of Shanita’s small body. Biggs knew right away that his daughter was dead. He had fathered eight children during his life, but he had loved none of them the way he had loved Shanita. Rage, not tears, filled Maurice Biggs’s eyes. He vowed to himself that he would make Hakeem pay in kind for his loss.

  “Before I kill that muthafucka Hakeem, I’m going to destroy anything and everything he cares about.”

  Hakeem’s real name was Jerold Washington. He was James Washington’s older brother.

  34

  The Citadel

  OUTSIDE PORTLAND, OREGON, DECEMBER 2002

  Richard Abadandi managed the Citadel. Abadandi was sixty-one, tall, and always wore a suit. His manner was abrupt, and he brooked no disrespect from those working under him.

  Abadandi was in the Citadel’s conference room, which was oval-shaped and windowless. All rooms inside the Citadel were windowless, as the facility was underground. The oak conference table was rectangular and Abadandi was seated at the head of it.

  There were several others present, including the Citadel’s doctor, George Calavechi. Calavechi was fifty-eight and looked distinguished with his stark white wavy hair. The doctor was the only one Abadandi confided in. Unknown to the others, he was Abadandi’s cousin.

  The doctor sat at Abadandi’s right while his nurse, Irina Devoe, sat on Abadandi’s left. The twenty-one-year-old Devoe was an exotic beauty and Abadandi’s lover. The lovemaking was more a form of prostitution than passion and she was compensated for it.

  Irina felt passion, but not for Abadandi, no, her desire was directed toward the Citadel’s Captain of the Guard, Jack Begley.

  Begley was thirty-one, had dar
k hair, blue eyes and was ambitious. A former prison guard, Begley loved the Citadel, the very idea of the Citadel, and he hoped to run it someday. What Begley didn’t realize is that Abadandi wasn’t an employee like himself. Richard Abadandi actually started the Citadel back in the seventies, although he pretended to have an unnamed superior who owned it. Begley disliked Abadandi and he thought the Citadel could be run much better and serve more clients than it currently did.

  Begley was full of ideas that he felt could make things better, and they had all been shot down by Abadandi. Begley was in charge of the Citadel’s guards, and as Cody suspected, they numbered less than twenty. In fact, the actual number was only seventeen.

  That total included the two supervisory guards who worked directly under Jack Begley. Their names were Mike and Serge. Serge was also Begley’s best friend. The two supervisory guards sat toward the middle of the table with their boss as Abadandi ran the meeting.

  “Begley, has there been any odd activity that I should be made aware of?”

  “One of the guards spotted three men off in the distance wearing backpacks. They could be doing reconnaissance or might have just been hikers. I’m assuming the worst and beefed up patrols along the edge of the cliff face and the perimeter wall.”

  “That sounds prudent. We’re about due for an attack. No one has tried to breach our security in over a year.”

  “We’re a target all right, which is why I’d like to recruit more men.”

  Abadandi released a sigh.

  “You’ve asked me for more guards before and I’ll give you the same answer I always give you, no. We don’t need more men, because no one will ever breach our defenses and make it inside.”

  “I like to think that too, but the reality is that sooner or later someone will make it in here. When that inevitably happens, I’d like to be prepared.”

  Doctor Calavechi laughed. “Isn’t it your job to see that no one ever gets inside here, Jack?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Then what are you telling us, that you can’t do your job?”

  Begley gritted his teeth before answering from a face that had reddened a shade.

  “I know how to do my job, Doctor. Part of my responsibility is risk assessment. Yes, the Citadel is a fortress, but fortresses can be breached. I just want to be ready if that ever happens.”

  Abadandi stabbed a finger in Begley’s direction.

  “The answer is no. No more guards. And stop asking me for them. Now, is there anything else?”

  “Yes, what about new clients?”

  “No nibbles yet,” Abadandi said. “But of course, that could change at any second.”

  * * *

  “The old man shot you down again,” Serge told Begley as they left the conference room. Serge was thirty-three and had dark hair and eyes. He spoke with a Spanish accent and often daydreamed about taking the Citadel over. He had mentioned it to Begley, although only in a kidding manner.

  “I’ll keep working on him,” Begley said.

  “I guess that means you’ve decided to stay on for another term?”

  “Oh yeah? Did you ever doubt it?”

  “How’s Ann feel about that?”

  Ann was Begley’s wife. She had come to the Citadel with the understanding that they wouldn’t be allowed to leave it for two years. An ex-army brat, Ann understood the concept of taking an assignment and making the best of it. However, after two years inside the Citadel she was going stir crazy with boredom and missed being free to come and go as she pleased.

  “I haven’t told Ann yet.”

  Serge’s face twisted into a pained expression.

  “The woman will not be happy, Jack. She wants out of here and you know it.”

  “I know, but Ann also wants to buy a house with land around it. That takes money, and nothing on the outside would pay me as much as I’m making working here. Once I explain that to her and make her see the advantages of saving more money, she’ll agree to stick it out.”

  “I hope you’re right, brother, otherwise, you’re going to be looking at two very bad years.”

  The men separated when they reached the corridor where Serge had his quarters. Moments later, Irina appeared at Begley’s side, to smile up at him.

  Irina Devoe was a petite woman with a body that made men stare. She filled out her white nurses’ uniform and her breasts strained at the zipper that held them bound. Begley was not immune to her charms, but he was in love with his wife and fought the temptation.

  Irina made that difficult, as she let Begley know that she was his whenever he wanted her.

  “Abadandi is too cheap to hire those extra guards you need, but why not train me to shoot? That way I could act as sort of a backup guard.”

  “You want to learn to use a gun?”

  Irina grabbed Begley’s hand and halted him in mid-stride, then guided him into an alcove that was the small space under a set of concrete stairs. There were few cameras inside the Citadel and none in the hallways, which was another bone of contention between Abadandi and Begley. Begley wanted cameras everywhere, while Abadandi deemed them a waste of money.

  With the two of them hidden from sight of anyone walking along the main corridor, Irina moved in close and tilted her head up, as if she were waiting to be kissed.

  “If you taught me how to use a gun it would give us an excuse to spend time together.”

  “Irina, I’m married to Ann and I don’t fool around. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “How many times does Abadandi have to tell you that he won’t hire any more guards? Like you, I don’t take no for an answer.”

  Irina released Begley’s hand, only to slide her palm across his cheek.

  “I can be discreet, Jack. No one will ever know about us.”

  Begley swallowed hard as he felt his heart racing. He could imagine what being with Irina might be like. They were thoughts that a happily-married man shouldn’t entertain.

  “Nothing will happen between us, Irina,” Begley said, while walking swiftly away. Behind him, Irina laughed.

  “You’re weakening. I could see it in your eyes.”

  * * *

  Begley reached his quarters moments later and went inside. Ann was seated in the living room area and reading a book. The apartment wasn’t large but was bigger than the quarters any of Begley’s guards had. It consisted of a living room/dining room, a kitchen, bedroom, and a single bathroom. Heat was provided by a boiler in the bowels of the Citadel but supplemented by electric heaters at times.

  The living quarters and the operation sectors of the Citadel were located eighty feet below the summit of its cliff but twenty feet above sea-level. If needed, the Citadel could give shelter to over a hundred for a month if fully-stocked.

  Ann Begley was a green-eyed blonde with a contagious smile. Like her husband, Ann also worked at the Citadel. She was a talented diesel mechanic who kept the Citadel’s four trucks running well, while also being given the task of helping out the engineer who kept the plumbing and electrical systems humming along.

  The responsibilities took up little of her time as the trucks were used only on supply runs and the engineer was a perfectionist who lived for his work. The wealth of leisure Ann enjoyed came with the downside that it left her bored while confined inside the Citadel. Ann sat her book down while smiling, then walked over to greet her husband with a kiss.

  “How did the security meeting go?”

  “Same as usual, only shorter, since things have been so quiet around here.”

  “And Abadandi? How did he take the news that we’ve decided to leave next month?”

  Begley took Ann’s hand and led her back over to the sofa. He wasn’t a man who liked to hem and haw and so he just spat it out.

  “I’ve decided to stay, Ann. Honey, just two more years and we’ll be able to get any house you want.”

  Ann was shaking her head before Begley had even stopped speaking.

  “You can’t be serio
us, Jack. We discussed this for weeks and you agreed that we would head back to town and buy a house.”

  “We’ll buy a bigger house after we save up two more years of Citadel pay. I make more here in a year than I would make in two anywhere else, and so do you.”

  “I don’t want a bigger house two years from now. I want to get the hell out of this tomb and start enjoying life again. I hate it here and you know it. How can you consider staying on for two more years?”

  “Yes, you hate it here, but I don’t. Ann, Abadandi is not a young man. When it’s time for him to retire the Citadel’s owners will need a replacement. Honey, I could be that man. I could someday run the Citadel; don’t you see that?”

  Ann backed away from her husband with a look of horror on her face.

  “You’re planning on staying here forever?”

  “I like it here. The outside world is chaotic. In here… well in here, you always know where you stand, and if I could someday run it, it would be like having our own little world.”

  Ann wiped at tears as fast as they fell.

  “I couldn’t live here forever, Jack. I hate each and every day here as it is. I’m going to tell Abadandi that I want out when my contract ends.”

  Begley gasped. “You would leave me?”

  “I can’t stay here, but no, I wouldn’t leave you. I’d wait for you, for another two years… and after that, I’ll assume that you no longer want me.”

  Begley stepped forward and took his wife in his arms.

  “I don’t want to live without you. Baby, please, just two more years. I promise.”

  Ann broke free of his embrace and stared up at Begley with wet eyes.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  As Ann headed into their bedroom, Begley slumped onto the sofa and released a moan. He had a decision to make. Where did his future lie, with the Citadel, or with his wife?

  When he realized that he wanted the Citadel more than Ann, Begley wondered if that meant he was obsessed, or perhaps, even insane.