by Mike Ryan
She tried to clear her mind, but she was having trouble doing so. Porter scrunched her face together, trying to will the thoughts out of her mind, but she was having no luck. Killing the men was such a powerful notion, she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to do it. Something was tugging at her inside that she was supposed to do this.
Porter looked confused and worried at the same time. Why would she have such powerful urges to kill people she didn’t even know? She got up and walked over to the kitchen table and put her elbows on top of it, letting her head fall into her hands. Maybe this was why she was being followed, she thought. Maybe she was supposed to kill these men and didn’t, so they thought she was going off the reservation and was a loose end. Maybe she worked for the police, or the government, or any government.
Porter immediately grabbed her phone and started searching the internet for everything she could find on the men. She put the piece of paper with their names on it down on the table. One by one, she typed the names in. As she started reading some of the information, her eyes started dilating, and her head started shaking, though very mildly. Though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, for some reason, the information was familiar. She’d seen it before. She knew she had. The urge to kill was slowly overtaking her body again. She was supposed to take these men out. Porter tried to fight the feeling, unsure and concerned about having such a powerful idea, but she couldn’t get rid of it. It was what she was supposed to do. She knew it.
She got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, drinking it by the sink, hoping that not looking at her phone and the information would bring her back down to what she considered normal. It didn’t, though. No matter how many times Porter’s eyes looked away, they kept glancing back to her phone, and what she knew she had to do. She was scared and frightened, not knowing why she was feeling this way. It was one thing to kill in self-defense, which she had been doing, but it was another to kill without provocation.
But what if she had provocation? What if they were bad people, and she was the one tasked with stopping them? Unable to stay away from her phone any longer, Porter sprang to the table, lunging for her phone, eager to consume more information. She tried to read everything she could about the three men, everything that was available to her anyway, so she could try to determine what kind of people they were.
The more she read, the more convinced Porter became that there was a reason she wasn’t able to shake the feelings she was having. The three men appeared to be the leaders of some far-out political faction, hell-bent on changing South Africa’s government, and not for the better. They seemed to be very vocal about gathering up support in order to overthrow the government and take it down, installing themselves as the new rulers, giving themselves endless amounts of power, in what would almost certainly turn into a dictatorship over time, if not immediately.
As Porter continued to read, and there didn’t seem to be any shortage of documents and articles about them, the feelings she was having only intensified. She really started believing that she was meant to stop these people. It had to be. Why else would she be having these extreme notions? That’s why the one man told her they’d keep coming for her, she thought. She was supposed to kill these people. She must have been part of some kind of organization, and when she didn’t kill them, they thought she turned and ran, failing in her mission. And now they were coming for her. That’s the only thing that made sense to her. There would be no other reason she could think of for having a list of names with her and the urge to kill those on the list.
Porter continued reading, eventually stumbling across an intriguing note on a local blog. It appeared that the rebel men were having some kind of rally at noon today outside of a hotel in Kempton Park, which was only half an hour from downtown Johannesburg. It seemed like it might be a large event. Porter looked at the time. It was just after five in the morning. She had plenty of time to get there if that’s what she wanted.
She spent the next hour debating what she wanted to do. The men on her list didn’t appear to be what was considered good people. They were extremists. If she was right, and she was tasked with killing them to begin with, and she succeeded, then maybe that would buy her some time, and goodwill, with whoever had been coming after them. If she killed them, maybe they’d be satisfied and stop coming for her. It was a gamble. One, that she was right in everything she was thinking, and two, that she could actually get close enough to kill them, anyway.
Porter grabbed her phone again and called Nails. Nobody picked up at first. It didn’t even go to voicemail. It just kept ringing. If he gave her a bad number, she’d go over to that hardware store and wrap a two-by-four around his head, she thought. After what seemed like forever, she hung up, but only for the moment. A minute later, she tried again. This time, after about ten rings, Nails finally answered.
“Hey, you know what time it is?” Nails asked, his eyes barely open, his voice straining to wake up, not yet realizing who was on the other end of the line.
“Uh, after five.”
“Yeah, after five.”
“Oh, sorry, were you sleeping?”
“Yeah, that’s what most people are still doing at this time of the morning.”
“Oh, sorry again,” Porter said, not really that sympathetic about waking him up. “But since you’re up anyway, I need a few things, and I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction.”
“What kind of things? Who is this, anyway?”
“Oh, you don’t know me?”
“Well, I could probably tell if I weren’t so tired that I could open my eyes and look at my phone, but I’m kind of struggling with that.”
“It’s Porter.”
“Oh. Oh, it’s you,” Nails said, sounding even less enthusiastic than he was before, if that were possible. If she was calling, he knew it must be bad news. Especially for him. He knew she wasn’t calling just to chitchat.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Listen, I need a few things.”
“I told you the stuff would be ready later. I mean, I was working all night on it, at least let me get a little sleep.”
“No, it’s not about that,” Porter said. “I need some guns. I figured you’d be a guy who would either have some or know someone I could get them from.”
“What do I look like? The neighborhood convenience store where you get all your supplies from?”
“Kinda.”
Nails just sighed, not having anything else to say. Porter was going to be the death of him. He just knew it.
“So, can you help me?” Porter asked.
Nails let out another audible sigh, hating getting roped into doing more business with her. “Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess I can help you.”
“Awesome. I could use another handgun, semiautomatic, and a sniper rifle with a scope.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Sure you don’t need a tank or something thrown in there?”
“What would I need a tank for?”
“Nothing,” Nails replied. “Just a little five a.m. humor.”
“So can you get it?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I’ll have it ready for you when you pick up your stuff.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. That’s gonna be a little bit of a problem.”
“How’s that?”
“Because I need the sniper rifle by nine o’clock, ten at the latest.”
Nails just wanted to start beating his head with the phone. His shoulders slumped, wishing this woman had never walked into his life. “Ten o’clock?”
“Preferably nine if you can swing it.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone.”
“Can you do it?”
“Why the rush?”
“I just need to do some things.”
“Like what? Take out the tenth legion?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Just some more five a.m. humor.”
“Well, stop fooling around,” Porter said. “Time is short. Can you get it by that time or not?”
Nails had started to doze off again, but was woken up by the sound of her voice. “You really need it by that time?”
“Yes, I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Fine. I can get it by nine. But I can’t guarantee top-of-the-line quality stuff on short notice. You just get what you get.”
“Make it good. It better not be some antique that falls apart as soon as you hold it or something that blows up on me as soon as I pull the trigger.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it good.”
“What time can you have it ready?”
“Let’s split the difference and call it nine thirty.”
“Fine,” Porter replied. “I’ll be there at nine thirty. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t be late.”
After they hung up, Nails just let the phone slip out of his hand and onto the floor. “It’s my own store, man, how am I gonna be late?” He then plopped himself back down on the bed, needing a few more hours of sleep. As he lay there, his thoughts turned to the conversation he’d just had.
“I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the phone.”
14
For the next several hours, Porter studied the layout of The Grand Illusion Hotel, along with everything in the immediate area. She was looking for spots she could set up, as well as exit points. Luckily, there was no shortage of either. There were stores and restaurants across the street from the hotel, and there were several roads going in every direction. The rebels certainly didn’t pick the spot with security in mind. Though using a sniper rifle was more difficult than movies sometimes made it appear, as the shooter had to account for the wind, curvature of the earth, among other things, Porter had no doubts she could hit her targets with ease. Much like everything else she’d been doing since she woke up in that motel room, she didn’t know how or why, only that she could.
Porter studied the faces of the men that were on her list, as well as the satellite images of the area, figuring out her first, second, and third choices, in case any of them were blocked when she actually got to the scene. Once eight thirty rolled around, she called a taxi to take her to the hardware store. One thing she knew was that she was going to have to find another ride to get to the hotel. She couldn’t take a taxi, having a bag of weapons along with her, then take out a couple of people. Police would question everyone in the area, and she knew it would eventually get back to her. She needed to rent a car.
Once the taxi came and took Porter to the hardware store, it was a little after nine o’clock. She still noticed the car sitting on the side of the store, in the same spot as always. With the backpack slung over her shoulder, Porter walked into the store. Nails wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so she walked over to the counter, hitting the bell to let him know he had company. Nails immediately came out of the back room, though he had a slight look of disappointment on his face to see it was Porter there so soon. She was early. The less he saw of her, the better off he was, in his mind.
“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t show up,” Nails said.
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
Nails went back inside the room he just came from, bringing out a big black bag with him. He set it on the counter and unzipped it so she could inspect the merchandise.
“There it is,” Nails said. “It’s a Barrett M107.”
“Good. Thought you said you couldn’t guarantee quality, though?”
“I can’t. I just so happened to have one lying around.”
“Oh. Just so happened to.”
Porter stuck her hand in the bag and touched the weapon, then moved it to the side a little as she rummaged around in the bag. There was also a Glock pistol on the side.
“Ammo?” Porter asked.
Nails reached into the bag and removed a couple of boxes before putting them back in. “Should be enough to start whatever war you’re planning.”
“Nice.” Porter zipped the bag back up, then put her backpack down, taking money out of it and handing it over for payment of the weapons.
Nails smiled. As much as he figured Porter was a pain in the ass, he sure didn’t mind taking money from her. That made it all worthwhile for him.
“I’ll be back later for the rest,” Porter said, starting to walk toward the door.
“Can hardly wait.”
Porter then thought about the car parked outside and went back to the counter.
“Is it later already?” Nails asked.
“There’s a car parked outside. It’s gray.”
“Yeah?”
“Who’s it belong to?”
“It’s mine, why?”
“I wanna borrow it,” Porter answered.
“What? No! You’re not borrowing my car.”
“Why not?”
Nails brought his head back, feigning a look of surprise, as if he couldn’t believe she actually asked the question. “Why not? Because I just gave you a sniper rifle and a gun, that’s why not. You wanna take my car after I give you all that?”
“You’ll get it back. Just for a couple hours.”
Nails laughed, thinking it was funny. “I’ll get it back? In one piece? Shot full of holes?”
Porter rolled her eyes, thinking he was being overly dramatic. “Nothing’s gonna happen to it. I just need to drive somewhere, then I’ll be back.”
Nails thought about it for a moment, then quickly leaned forward. “Where you going?”
“You don’t need to know. The less you know about me, the better you are. I told you that.”
“But here you are asking to borrow my things. So shouldn’t I know where you’re taking it? What if you go out and kill someone, not that I got any problem with that, but what if my car is seen in the area and someone writes down the license plate? Then the police come knocking down my door accusing me of murder or something.”
“So will you let me borrow it or not?”
“No, you can’t have my car. I have my limits, you know. Guns, passports, fine, but not my car. Nope. I put my foot down on that.”
Porter was sure she could convince him to let her borrow it if she just used the proper motivation. She reached into her bag again, removing another stack of money. She put it down on the counter.
“Car rental fee?” Porter said.
Nails hated how he was such a sucker for money. He just couldn’t resist, no matter what the circumstances were. He glanced at the money, sighed, then looked away, knowing the more he looked at it, the more he’d want it. Porter could see she was enticing him and reached back into her bag, taking out a little more money, putting it on top of the other stack.
“Here, that should be enough,” Porter said.
Nails took a deep breath, then reached into his pocket, taking out the key to the car. “Here. Take it.”
Porter took it and was about to leave when Nails stopped her.
“Wait a minute,” Nails said, rushing back into the other room. He came back out, holding a license plate in his hand.
“What’s that?”
“A new license plate. I’ll put it on the car in case you get into trouble, that way it won’t come back to me.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“Ahh, doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.”
“You mean you had that all along, and you could’ve easily slapped it on, but you instead whined all that time about how it might come back to you?”
Nails let out a devilish smile. “Yeah.”
Porter just shook her head, thinking he was such a conman and shady character. In her previous life, she probably took out guys like him. And if she didn’t need him, she might even think about doing it again. They went outside so Nails could put on the new license plate. Once he was finished, Porter got in the car and started it up.
“Just try to bring it back in one piece,” Nails said.
Porter backed the car up and rolled down th
e window. “I make no promises.”
Nails watched as the car drove away, just shaking his head. “I never should’ve answered that phone.” Then he reached into his pocket and removed the money she gave him so he could look at it. It instantly made him feel better about everything.
As Porter drove down the road, traveling to the destination of the hotel rally, she actually felt more at peace with everything. For the first time since she woke up in that motel room, she actually felt like she had a purpose. She felt like she was actually being proactive in trying to improve her situation instead of being on the defensive. It was a shame, she thought, that it had to come at the expense of three men. And if there was even the slightest doubt in her mind about the men, about their intentions, she wouldn’t have done it. But there was no doubt they were intent on driving the country down to new depths that would set them back a long time. It could take them decades to recover from some of their ideas and plans.
Stephenson was sitting in his office again when Myers burst through the door. There were a quick couple of knocks on the door first, but Myers didn’t wait to be let in. That was Stephenson’s first clue that something big was happening. That was the only time that Myers would charge into his office without asking. Stephenson was working on his laptop at his L-shaped mahogany desk and quickly spun to his left to greet his lieutenant head on.
“You got her?” Stephenson hopefully asked.
“Not Porter, no. It’s something else.”
Myers put a paper down on the desk for Stephenson to look at. He picked it up, not quite sure what he was looking at. “What’s this?”
“It’s a flyer that we downloaded from the South African Patriotic Party website. They’re holding a rally today at noon in front of The Grand Illusion Hotel.”
“Why is this the first we’re hearing about this?”
Myers shrugged and threw his arms up. “I dunno. It wasn’t there two days ago. They must have just put it up yesterday. You know they don’t like to give a lot of advance warning for their events so they don’t give their enemies a lot of time to prepare for them. And with us searching for Porter, we kind of pushed them to the back burner the last couple days.”