Harold broke in without asking this time, “I thought I read that the fin technology slows the bullet down faster than the wind resistance of a regular bullet.”
Alice replied, “There’s decreased range. I wouldn’t use one of these rifles for sniping, but at mid-range, they can be devastating, and before you ask, yes, we are working to improve things. In fact, your company is helping us research better propellant and more efficient fin technology.”
Harold wondered why Tom had not mentioned the projectile work. These bullets were essentially miniature missiles, and the ammunition alone could be very lucrative down the road for PDS.
Alice seemed to notice his change in expression. “Mr. Brown, do you care to share your thoughts?”
She is good. “It’s nothing important. I was just wondering what that technology will be worth to PDS in contracts once we help the government perfect the weapon.”
Alice passed a knowing smile, as if amused by an inside joke. “I’m quite sure you’ll find out. Any other questions?”
“I take it you have something more in mind for my company?”
Alice cocked her head to one side. “Well, Mr. Brown, aren’t you observant. Let’s just say the military is looking for a reliable contractor they can trust to produce cutting-edge technology that won’t get our sons and daughters killed in theatre.”
“Understood.”
“Any other questions?”
Everyone remained silent.
“Good.” She pointed her finger at Garcia. “You, with me. The rest of you feel free to look, but don’t touch. I have things set up in a certain way, and I don’t want them changed.”
Alice turned on her heel towards the tent and Garcia fell in line like a puppy behind its master.
Harold leaned over to Darla. “She has him on a short leash. Do you think they’re dating?”
She shoved his large shoulder. “What is it with men? She’s his boss. In case you haven’t noticed, all of us are on her short leash whenever she’s around.”
“Not me,” he said confidently.
Darla let out a short laugh.
Harold turned and the two of them faced each other.
“What?” he asked.
“Really?”
“Really,” retorted Harold smugly.
“When was the last time you raised your hand and asked for permission to speak?”
He crossed his arms with mock indignity. “Fine, you got me.”
She looked around and then grabbed the back of his head with her hand, lifted herself up, and kissed him. Just as quickly, she released him and looked around again.
Harold just stood there for a moment, and finally said, “I don’t understand you sometimes. I thought we’re purely platonic on mission.”
Darla playfully poked him in the chest. “We are, but I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes you’re too cute.”
He shook his head. “Women.”
Darla reached out and grabbed his left arm. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll never understand us. That’s why women secretly run the world. You boys just don’t know it.”
Harold stood there gazing into Darla’s eyes and thinking how he would not mind her as his dictator.
Garcia’s voice broke through their quiet moment. “Okay, you two, game faces only.”
Harold broke away his gaze and turned towards the water. Off in the distance, he noticed a dot coming towards the island. Garcia walked up and stood between him and Darla.
Garcia said, “He’s coming. One boat this time. That’s a good sign. It means he trusts us a little bit.”
“Where’s Alice?” asked Darla.
Garcia maintained eye contact with the tiny vessel quickly coming towards the small island. “She managed to create a hiding place on the side of the island.”
“How?” asked Darla. “There’s nothing on either side but sawgrass, sand, dry coral, and some very nasty sea life.”
“I would tell you if I knew. That’s all she would tell me. I’m not even sure where she is. Alice said to tell you all that, as far as anyone knows, I have a dirty agent working for me nearby, and they are controlling the targets.”
“I’m not sure Chuck will like that,” said Harold.
“Well, none of us have a choice at the moment since she’s the boss. I knew better than to question her directions,” responded Garcia.
Chuck’s boat wasn’t much bigger than the Kodiak, and other than the guns Nigel and Haidar carried, there were no other arms. Harold noticed the craft had several antennas sticking up from the steering column. He assumed Chuck had at least one radio beneath the steering wheel. All three men stayed in the craft after it beached, not saying a word. Chuck moved towards the front of the boat but did not disembark. Haidar and Nigel began to fiddle with something underneath the steering column. Darla and Garcia did not lift a finger or even twitch their faces.
Chuck finally looked up. “What gives? I was all set for a fun day of shooting down targets, but now…” He pointed towards the group, and Nigel and Haidar stepped up to the bow of the shallow craft and leveled their weapons at them.
Harold noticed Haidar’s two black eyes and the tan tape across the bridge of his nose. Dark blotches and circles could be barely seen around his bare arms.
Garcia raised his voice in reply, “Please, we’re all friends here. What has you so spooked?”
“I’m detecting a drone signal.”
Garcia started laughing, and Darla quickly followed suit. Harold stood there focused on all three men, wondering what they could possibly find funny.
Chuck hollered back, “Harold, why aren’t you laughing, boy?”
“Evidently, I’m not in on their joke,” Harold responded truthfully.
Garcia stopped his chortling, and his face became somber. “Forgive me, Chuck. Harold isn’t in on a lot of what we’re doing. He only needs to know his part. I’m sure you can understand. You have your lackeys too.”
Lackey?
“I have an agent who has been helping me, but she can be trusted,” Garcia said. “She’s a bitter but great woman. Her name is Alice. She’s somewhere on the island and will be handling our targets today.”
“Somewhere on the island? What the heck does that even mean? I deal with people I know, and now you bring in somebody new that I can’t even see? Speaking of not seeing, where is the good Dr. Joshua Zeev?”
Harold interrupted before Garcia could speak, “He had to leave, family business.”
Chuck mockingly stuck out his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.” Chuck’s serious expression returned, and he stared at Garcia. “You better have a darn good reason for losing the doctor.”
“It’s actually like Harold says. Family business. His new bride is not one to sit around and sip out of coconuts all day. They needed some time away to work on their new marriage.”
“Young love. Well, young-ish anyway.” Chuck laughed at his own joke.
Harold noticed Darla’s hands ball into a fist and then release.
Chuck continued, “I’m not stepping off this boat unless Miss Alice agrees to show herself at some point.”
Garcia talked into his poorly concealed microphone that was wired into a wristband, paused, and said something else while nodding. He hollered back at Chuck. “She will join us after the demonstration.”
“No tricks,” responded Chuck.
“Please, I’m Garcia.”
Harold found Garcia’s ability to change his words around with ease a little disconcerting. Was there anything Agent Garcia had said to him that was the truth? Harold certainly was unable to tell by his demeanor or speech. If he found Garcia hard to trust, what was Chuck thinking?
Chuck’s crew disembarked. Garcia motioned with a quick finger wiggle and flick of his wrist to the table. Everyone made their way across the white sandy surface to the weapons.
“I see Haidar is armed. I take it his confusion from the other day is cleared up,” quipped Darla to Chuck when h
e got near.
“We had a talk, and I believe Haidar knows what I’m expecting of him. There won’t be any more miscommunications, will there, my friend?” Chuck shot a glance at Haidar and then back to Darla.
Haidar’s dead eyes remained locked in a distant stare. “No.”
Harold thought Haidar looked and sounded like a wounded, angry child, and the dark blotches were clearly bruising and burn marks on his arms. There was a part of him that pitied the unfortunate man, but something inside Harold’s gut felt a mix of fear and anger every time he looked into Haidar’s eyes.
Garcia reached over to pick up the rifle Alice had demonstrated with earlier. He spoke into his mic. “Send me two.”
Harold heard a distant hum that quickly grew louder. Everyone except Garcia looked up to see two small drones dropping from the sky. Their gray paint made them barely visible even in the clear sky. The small devices buzzed fifty feet above the group and looped out from the beach and over the sea. Garcia lifted the rifle and aimed at the drone on the left. He followed as it began tracking to the right. Harold noticed the drone on the right began tracking left.
A moment before the two would meet, Garcia fired, and then fired a second time and gave a slight twitch to the left. Both drones exploded in respective order. Everyone applauded. Harold noticed even Haidar seemed amazed at the marksmanship demonstration.
“Very impressive,” said Chuck, “but how does it work for an inexperienced old horse like me?”
“Come find out,” said Garcia.
Chuck walked over and spit out the cigar butt he had been ruminating on. Garcia handed him the weapon.
“It’s just point and click?” asked Chuck.
“Yes. Just trust the optics. Aim your laser, fire, and keep the laser on target.”
Chuck looked the weapon up and down, gave an approving nod, and shoved the rifle butt into his shoulder.
“Send one,” said Garcia into the microphone.
The familiar buzz fell from the sky, but this time headed straight for the water instead of flying over the team. Chuck raised the weapon and tracked the drone for several seconds. He squeezed the trigger, and the drone continued flying its course.
“What gives?” asked Chuck. “I thought it was point and click.”
Garcia let a knowing smile slip from his lips.
“I know how to shoot,” said Chuck, anticipating Garcia’s words.
“I completely agree, and that’s part of the problem. You’re leading the target, aren’t you?”
A grin broke across Chuck’s face. “Of course, you said keep the laser on the target.”
“Let the tech do the work, my friend.” He spoke once more into the mic.
Chuck raised the rifle, and the drone zipped across from left to right. Chuck raised the weapon and almost immediately fired. The drone exploded over the sea. Chuck caressed the weapon’s casing and rifle butt like an intimate girlfriend. “This is the most beautiful weapon I’ve ever had the pleasure of shooting.” Chuck handed the weapon back to Garcia. “I was going to try and negotiate the price down again with Harold, but after getting to fire it, I think the price is fair.”
Garcia carefully placed the rifle on the table. “I have more good news. Harold’s company is working to improve the ammo. You’ll soon be able to effectively take out any target within a mile as long as you have clear line of site.”
Chuck slapped Garcia’s back. “Aren’t you full of good news.”
Darla finally spoke up, “Gentlemen, we’ve arranged rum and fruit juice in the tent to celebrate. That is if we’re moving forward as planned.”
“Absolutely,” said Chuck. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh stogie.
Nigel was by his side with a lighter already lit before anyone else could think to offer him a light.
Chuck took three long puffs, turned, and spit out a couple of tobacco flakes before turning his attention to Haidar. “You stay down here and watch over the weapons.”
Haidar bristled. “Why? There is nothing here but sand.”
“Baby steps,” shot back Chuck.
Chuck turned around and slapped Garcia’s back again. “You, my friend, are a great ally. Never betray me. I’d hate to have to kill you.”
Garcia returned the gesture. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Harold caught a quick sideways glance from Darla. He wondered if she was concerned about Chuck, Garcia, or both.
The group sat in the shade of the tent. Garcia poured a dark and light rum into the bottom of their cups, added ice and some tropical fruit juice, and swirled the mixture around in each cup.
Harold volunteered to take the first sip. His pursed his lips. “I think you may be doing that wrong.”
Garcia smirked. “It’s a desert island. We’re roughing it.”
Everyone looked back at Harold at the sound of him swirling the mixing straw inside the cup a few more times. He looked back at everyone as he took a sip, and then finished the contents of the cup.
With a smile on his lips, Harold said, “It grows on you.”
Garcia served the rest of the team. He tried to refill Harold’s cup, but Harold held up his hand and grabbed a nearby water bottle. “One is my limit at work.”
Chuck lifted his red Solo cup, and everyone joined in. There was something about this that reminded Harold of his childhood and playing pirates with Tom down by the sea in Malibu.
Chuck’s voice was deeper and louder than normal, “To successful contracts, more money, and the violence that makes it all possible.”
“Here, here,” said everyone.
Harold looked over his cup at Darla. Love and sadness met his eyes. Neither stopped drinking until their containers were empty.
“Chuck! Chuck!” Haidar yelled from the beach.
The entire group jumped to their feet, but Chuck put up his hand. “I think he just feels left out.”
“Chuck, come quick!” Haidar screamed.
“I’ll check it out,” said Chuck.
“Darla, go with him,” said Garcia.
The two walked out of the tent and began their way down the short path. Harold started to follow a few steps behind.
“Stay here,” demanded Garcia.
Harold glared at him and continued to follow Chuck and Darla.
Chuck stopped halfway to the beach. Harold remained a few yards behind, but he could see Haidar with his rifle held across his body. Everything appeared in order.
“This better be important,” said Chuck, clearly annoyed.
“I said come here!” demanded Haidar.
“Nobody orders me around, boy. Especially not you!”
By the time Chuck had finished his sentence, Haidar already had his Kalashnikov leveled at Chuck. A quick three-round burst exploded from the weapon. Harold heard the bullets whistle by, and he instinctively dove to the ground. Another round exploded before the first echoes had subsided, and Harold watched as a pink mist exploded from Chuck’s right thigh. Chuck yelled and collapsed. Darla dove on top of Chuck to give him cover, and a pink mist shot out from her shoulder.
Harold did not hesitate. Anger and rage began to fill his body. His whole soul felt as though it wanted to burst forth and destroy Haidar. He welcomed the battle. His mind prayed he could feel the pain of a bullet. He wanted to envelop and destroy everyone around him. Everything and everyone will learn to fear me, resonated inside his mind.
Harold rose to his feet. The world took on a reddish hue. Harold felt his heart beating and his blood coursing through his veins. He wanted to burst forth into the chaos, and a roar exploded from his very soul and across his lips. He could see the people around him. Fear filled their eyes, and he felt energized by their terror. He began his deliberate walk towards Haidar. Haidar shook and let off another burst. The rifle recoiled wildly, and bullets whistled in all directions through the air. Harold let out a deep reverberating laugh that carried far out towards the sea. He stopped and slapped his chest. He dared Haidar to shoot hi
m. He wanted to feel the joy of burning flesh.
A gunshot just behind him rang out, and Haidar fell to the ground. He was crying out and holding his leg. Harold turned and saw Garcia lowering his weapon. Harold growled at Garcia who raised his weapon at him.
“No,” came Chuck’s voice.
Harold could see Chuck’s reddish body lying on the ground. He held his pistol directly at Garcia. “Let him be.”
Garcia lowered his weapon. Electricity and power flowed through his veins—so much fear, so much panic. It felt good, exciting, pleasurable. Chuck averted his eyes when Harold glared at him. Then Haidar’s whimpering caught his attention. Harold turned and bounded down to the beach. Haidar’s leg was bleeding into the sand, and he was already too weak to lift his rifle. Harold’s large hand grabbed nearly all of Haidar’s hair and lifted him up and off the ground.
Haidar screamed, cried, and twitched in agony. Harold loved watching his enemy suffer. How dare he harm Darla? Then it dawned on him. He looked over his shoulder. Garcia’s reddish hue was pressing a bandage onto Darla’s shoulder. She looked Harold in the eyes with no fear or terror, only sadness and love.
“Please,” she said only with her lips.
Harold looked back at Haidar’s twitching body. His convulsions sent electric pulses of pleasure through Harold. He loved the power and had to finish what he started. Darla would understand. With Haidar dangling, Harold began to walk back up the trail. Haidar convulsed with each step. As he passed by the tent, he saw Nigel cowering behind a chair.
Harold knew where to take Haidar. His two friends in the sea would finish what he had started. Two-thirds of the way to the back of the island, a woman he barely remembered appeared. She stood two feet in front of him. Her pistol shook as she aimed at his chest. He swung Haidar’s limp body in between them. She instinctively shot into Haidar’s motionless body. Harold grabbed the pistol’s hot barrel from the woman and threw the gun towards the sea. The woman took a deliberate step back and let him pass.
When he arrived at the rear beach, he waded knee-deep into the water. He could see the dark shadows of the bull sharks patrolling the water nearby. Harold roared. The sea vibrated, and the shadows darted away. He reached over and bit into Haidar’s neck and swallowed. Blood barely trickled out of Haidar’s artery. Harold tossed the body over his shoulder then spun around against the shallow waters like a macabre shot putter. Haidar’s body flew end over end in the air and landed nearly ten yards out in the sea. His blood mixed with the water. Within moments, the familiar shadows of the bull sharks returned. Harold turned to walk back to the beach. Behind him, he could hear the sea roil with hungry fish devouring the empty shell that had been Haidar.
Harold and the Angel of Death Page 21