Weapons

by Matt Rogers

  ‘I felt the same.’

  ‘Is this smart?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Doing what we do, and talking about this stuff?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  She gently bit his lip and pushed him back on the bed, and with smooth, practiced movements they went through the motions. Their feverish excitement in Tulum had been the result of spending months apart, coupled with the raw aftermath of surviving a violent fight against all odds, but now they’d had the chance to reacquaint themselves with each other it was so much better.

  They slowed down, and stripped naked, and it stretched out for nearly an hour, slow and passionate. Slater held the back of her neck as she gyrated on top of him, and when the natural rhythm started to lift he matched it accordingly. They climaxed together, again, and with a great shuddering gasp she collapsed on top of him, planting soft kisses on the base of his neck.

  It was getting late.

  He said, ‘Are you thinking about tomorrow?’

  ‘I try not to think about jobs,’ she said. ‘What happens, happens. If I worry about it now, it wastes time I might not get back.’

  He said, ‘You know, I never thought I’d meet anyone who understands.’

  She said, ‘Not like you. I don’t understand like you. I’m too young. You’ve been in this game too long.’

  ‘You’ve had enough life experiences for a hundred people.’

  ‘Then you’ve had enough for a thousand.’

  ‘You shouldn’t stick with me,’ he said. ‘I’m … bad for those around me, usually.’

  ‘So am I.’

  He smiled. He wasn’t about to protest. ‘Then it’s a match made in heaven.’

  ‘Or hell.’

  She rolled off him and turned out the light, and despite the fact they were going to war tomorrow, they both plunged into deep and dreamless sleep.

  Like clockwork.

  Just another day.

  75

  In the neighbouring motel room, King lay under the covers with Violetta’s head on his chest.

  And despite his storied history with violent devastation, something about the next day felt different.

  And she could tell.

  She tilted her face toward him and said, ‘Your heart’s pounding.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You’ll get through this. You always do.’

  ‘You haven’t been around in the past. You don’t see me at the end of each operation.’

  ‘Traumatised?’

  ‘Less emotionally, more physically.’

  ‘You get beaten to hell?’

  ‘It’s in the job description.’

  ‘You can do this. You’ve got all the information you need.’

  ‘Let’s go over it one more time. Just to be sure.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  She opened her mouth to say something more, but promptly shut it.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘After this, I need to leave.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I can get away with pulling another all-nighter. I won’t have slept for seventy-two hours. But that’s what we’re all going through right now. This is a massive intelligence gathering operation. We’ve never had to move this fast to unpack such a coordinated attack before.’

  ‘Then I can do the same,’ King said.

  ‘No,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not the one walking into hell tomorrow. If I crash, and fall asleep standing up, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be in an office, or in the back of a car. You can’t afford that.’

  He nodded.

  She said, ‘What do you want to recap?’

  ‘Let me see if I’m getting this right. There’s the warehouse in Dogpatch — that’s my business. There’s the wildlands near Rancho Corral de Tierra where the cartel hitmen are camped out in vans, posing as hikers — that’s Slater’s business. And then there’s the MC clubhouse downtown that’s been paid a fortune to partner up with ex-military guns-for-hire — that’s Ruby’s business. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Each location has an unconfirmed number of hostiles, but it’s estimated that there’s at least a dozen at each.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As far as your intelligence is concerned, those are the three hotspots. However, there might be rogue solo outfits. But the Army can sweep those up when they roll in.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Are you honestly telling me the three of us are your best bet?’

  She looked him dead in the eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t want to get blamed for the fallout if it doesn’t work.’

  ‘You will,’ she said. ‘That’s human nature. But it won’t be your fault, and you’ll know that, and I’ll know that.’

  ‘Love the reassurance.’

  ‘It’s the truth. You want me to sugarcoat it?’

  King shook his head. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Your track record, and those of your colleagues, are near superhuman. The executive decision was made to push ahead with this plan. We trust you.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ King said. ‘I don’t know if you should.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I guess it’s my own issues I need to work through. But I don’t feel like I deserve this. It’s all been sprung on me … on us. I still feel like I’m reacting to external circumstances, instead of going on the offence myself.’

  ‘Sleep on it,’ she said. ‘You’ll be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow. You can get yourself in the right mindset then.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Until then…’

  She slipped out of bed and crossed the room naked, her lithe frame glowing in the weak light. She stepped into her skirt and buttoned her shirt back up and slipped her blazer over her shoulders. Then she slunk back over to King and kissed him on the forehead.

  ‘You’re stronger than you think,’ she said.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘I’ll call if we get any new updates.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Sleep well.’

  She drifted to the door, and as soon as she laid a palm on the handle, King said, ‘I think I know what it is.’

  She turned and looked at him.

  He said, ‘We have no idea who the enemy is. It could be a group of outliers. It could be the whole of China. It’s all shrouded in secrecy, and who’s to say it stops here?’

  She stared.

  He said, ‘Who’s to say it will ever end?’

  Silence.

  He said, ‘What if this is just the beginning? What if it goes on forever, until we’re forced to crumble? How many will die?’

  You could hear a pin drop.

  ‘I mean, if we’re going to be honest, what’s the point?’

  She said, ‘Because we don’t know. You said it yourself. We have no idea.’

  He nodded.

  She said, ‘What the hell else are we going to do? Roll over and give up?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Then it’s self-explanatory, isn’t it?’

  He nodded again.

  She said, ‘You’re going to crush them tomorrow. The hawkish marshals and generals have been planning this for months, but you’re going to rip out the throats of anyone they’ve paid to shoot up a festival. They’re going to go back and regroup and realise they’re in way over their heads. The Chinese rely on deception and manipulation and espionage. That’s how they destroyed our economy — because they came at it from every angle, and they planned it for months, and they planted the seeds early and rode them through to the inevitable conclusion. They’re doing the same here, but that’s where we have an opportunity to crush them. You know why? Because they have everything banking on this. They’ve been plotting the right time to strike for years, and they’ve elected this their opportunity. What will they do when it doesn’t pay off? They’ll crumble.’

  King looked up at her, and
smiled.

  ‘You’d make a fine motivational speaker.’

  ‘Damn right I would.’

  She left him there.

  King rolled over in bed and turned the light out, but a kaleidoscope of potentialities played across the darkness of his vision. He saw himself failing — mortally wounded in the fight, left bleeding out on the pavement to watch the massacre take place.

  And, of course, it wouldn’t end there.

  That would simply be the catalyst for the greater demise of the United States. The ordinary folk would have it the worst, of course. Those at the top of the food chain would be insulated by a cushy layer of savings, but if the financial crisis deepened and China overtook them as the global powerhouse — economically, militarily, and politically — then they would never regain the status they used to have.

  It was still salvageable, though. The market crashing was disastrous, but without the momentum of more disaster, it would recover eventually. China weren’t that close. But if Chinese New Year celebrants were massacred in the streets of San Francisco, the reputation of the United States would be tarnished on a global scale, possibly forever. King couldn’t imagine a situation where it would be reversible anytime soon.

  And we’re used to our place at the top, King thought.

  People aren’t ready for drastic change.

  There would be bloodshed. Riots in the streets. Looting.

  You name it.

  He closed his eyes, and dreamt of anarchy on the streets.

  When he opened them again, it was four in the morning, and his phone was buzzing.

  Go time.

  76

  They met out the front of the motel in the pre-dawn darkness.

  Five silhouettes, materialising out of the gloom.

  Jason King.

  Will Slater.

  Ruby Nazarian.

  Violetta.

  And a fifth individual — a wizened grey-haired man with a chin like granite and hard, cold eyes. King stared at him for a long time, and the silence drew out. Suddenly he recognised the look. He hadn’t been able to place it because of the civilian clothing — the black windbreaker, the dark khakis, and the Gore-Tex boots. He was used to seeing their type in full military getup.

  He was a general.

  King said, ‘Sir.’

  The man smiled. ‘You recognise me?’

  ‘I think we’ve met before.’

  ‘I know we have. That was years ago, though. Back when you were unofficially employed.’

  Slater said, ‘I’m out of the loop.’

  ‘This man’s a four-star general,’ King murmured.

  Slater said, ‘Oh, shit.’

  The general didn’t bat an eyelid. King knew their interactions in the past hadn’t exactly been by the book. He was used to not following procedure around Black Force operatives. He certainly didn’t expect courtesy at a time like this.

  Ruby said, ‘What’s he doing here?’

  Blunt.

  Straight to the point.

  Borderline offensive to a man of his ranking.

  Like a woman raised and trained out of the official military structure.

  Which was exactly what she was.

  Violetta said, ‘General Scachi is here to provide you with reassurances. He flew in discreetly, off all records, so he can be here if shit hits the fan. He’s coordinating the forces we’ve managed to smuggle into the Bay.’

  ‘How many?’ King said.

  Scachi said, ‘We have nearly fifty soldiers on standby, but I assume Ms. LaFleur has enlightened you as to why I’m hesitant to send them into the three locations on simultaneous raids.’

  King thought, LaFleur.

  Violetta LaFleur.

  It rolled off the tongue well.

  He liked it.

  Then he said, ‘We understand. There’s too many hostiles to batter the doors down and go in guns blazing. It’ll turn into a war, which will quickly spill out onto the streets. Something along those lines?’

  ‘Precisely. And, as much as I respect my men and have faith in their abilities, they’re not bred like the three of you. Half of them are grunts. We need stone-cold killers for a job like this.’

  King saw Slater visibly twitch out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘We won’t take that as an insult,’ Slater said.

  Scachi stared at him. ‘You certainly shouldn’t.’

  ‘My friend here doesn’t like being seen as an assassin,’ Ruby said.

  ‘That’s exactly what you are,’ Scachi said. ‘Anyone in the mood for a debate about that?’

  They all kept their mouths firmly shut.

  Scachi said, ‘Let me rephrase, in case I hurt anyone’s feelings. The three of you have been trained your entire careers as solo operatives. You’ve been taught to present yourself as unassuming civilians until it’s time to get the job done, which is precisely what we need right now. My men look like Army from a mile away. So, as far as I can tell, our best bet is to send you in individually with concealed weapons and let you raise hell. Is that clear?’

  ‘Crystal,’ King said.

  ‘That’s what we do best,’ Slater said.

  Ruby stayed silent, her eyes piercing through the darkness.

  Scachi said, ‘Best of luck. If it all goes to hell, we’ll be waiting in cordons. But there’s no guarantee they won’t get through. I couldn’t think of a place that’s more of a fucking nightmare to lay bottlenecks in than San Francisco. Believe me.’

  ‘We believe you,’ King said.

  ‘What do you know about who’s behind this?’ Slater said.

  Scachi stared at him. ‘That shouldn’t be on your mind right now.’

  ‘But it is,’ Slater said. ‘I like to know who I’m bringing the fight to.’

  ‘You’re bringing the fight to real bad motherfuckers from the Mexican cartels, and to a certain faction of our ex-soldiers, most of whom were dishonourably discharged and willing to enact human suffering on a colossal scale for a few extra bucks in the bank. That’s who you’re bringing the fight to.’

  ‘But who’s paying them specifically? Who are these hardliners?’

  Violetta said, ‘We’re narrowing in on that.’

  ‘Does that mean—?’

  Scachi stepped forward, right in Slater’s face. ‘Son, you are damn good with a weapon, and damn good with your fists. But right now you need to leave the planning to us. In four hours time this festival is going to begin, and there’ll be early birds on the streets well before that. Do you understand how important this morning is to the future of our nation?’

  Slater stepped in too, so they were even closer.

  His face was inches away from the general’s.

  ‘I understand perfectly,’ Slater said. ‘You know why? Because I’ve been doing this shit my whole life. I bet you look real good in that military getup with the colours on your breast pocket, but how do you look with blood on your hands? You ever had blood on your hands like the three of us have?’

  Scachi stood there, unable to respond, in disbelief that an operative would not only talk back to him but insult his legitimacy.

  Slater said, ‘Is this the part where you discipline me? Make me do push-ups? Run a few miles? I don’t think it’s going to work in this case. Because as soon as I do this job for you, I’m gone. No matter how badly you need me. Because I’m sick of getting left in the dark. If this little relationship is going to move forward, between you and your government and King and myself, then shit’s going to have to change. I want to know what I’m walking into. I want to know who I’m fighting.’

  Scachi bristled with pent-up frustration.

  Then King said, ‘I’m with him.’

  Ruby said, ‘I was never not with him.’

  ‘Look,’ Violetta said. ‘You want the truth?’

  All three of them continued their tense stand-off with Scachi.

  Violetta snapped her fingers. ‘Look at me — right now. He’s the general. I’m the intelli
gence analyst. I’m the one who tells you what you can and can’t know. And understand this — as soon as we finish piecing this together, you’ll know. But we don’t have the whole picture yet. We don’t know how bad it’s going to be. Right now, we’d rather not speculate. Is that too much to ask?’

  Slater paused for thought, then nodded.

  ‘We’re not cogs in a machine,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’

  ‘We always have,’ Violetta said.

  Scachi managed to compose himself. ‘Best of luck, soldiers.’

  King said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Slater and Ruby said nothing at all.

  General Scachi nodded once to Violetta, said, ‘I’ll be in touch regarding logistics,’ and melted back into the shadows.

  King watched his silhouette cross the street and get into a plain nondescript sedan. He fired it up and drove away.

  Violetta said, ‘That went well.’

  Slater said, ‘I don’t take shit from anyone.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  Violetta took a deep breath, looked at them all once each, and said, ‘Let’s get down to business, then, shall we?’

  77

  King sat behind the wheel of a rented Toyota hatchback as the sky lightened from black to dark blue.

  He weaved through the streets of downtown San Francisco, passing through the suburbs of Balboa Park, Excelsior, and College Hill, respectively. He passed suburban cul-de-sacs and quiet leafy residential apartment complexes. The sidewalks were neat and orderly, and the trees on each street were carefully manicured and tended to by the local council.

  All was quiet at five in the morning.

  King had pored over the intel Violetta had shown him the night before, and come away with a barebones plan of attack. Most of it would rely on improvisation, though — something he was extraordinarily adept at. It had formed the foundation of his entire black operations career. What most would call rash recklessness, he called coming up with the best solution. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. It was the advantage of his genetic predisposition.

  Being able to react faster than anyone he came up against had its perks.

  There was a loaded Glock 17 strapped to an appendix holster at the front of his waistband, and spare magazines inserted into small storage slots on his belt. He wore a U.S. Armour Enforcer 6000 bulletproof vest — one of the thinnest and lightest on the market — underneath a thick brown sweater to disguise its inevitable bulk. There was a Ka-Bar combat knife resting in a sheath connected to the other side of the appendix holster.