by L. T. Ryan
“Hell of a mess, huh, partner?”
Bear groaned.
“Didn’t think we’d be doing battle together again, did you?”
Bear groaned again.
“Bet you never knew about that time I hooked up with your cousin.”
“What?” The big man had a hand on Noble’s throat in record time.
Jack’s smile stretched ear to ear. “Just making sure you’re not over there hemorrhaging into your skull.”
“Asshole.”
“Present and accounted for.”
Bear adjusted his vents and leaned in closer. The steady stream of air made his hair dance. He closed his eyes and shook his face side-to-side. “This is a disaster, man.”
“Ain’t gotta tell me.”
“These people know our every move. Going back to the hospital. And you in Luxembourg. Who in the hell would ever look for you there?”
“Everything was backchannel, taken from one hand and delivered to the other. There was nothing digital, nothing to be intercepted. The response came back with the same courier. Someone you know and trust, by the way.”
“Who?”
“You know that’s not a good idea.”
“Kamel?”
“Shit no.”
“Larry?”
They both yelled “Larry” in unison and then broke into laughter.
“It’s always like not a day has passed with you.” Jack slapped the steering wheel and gripped it tighter than before. “These moments, man, they’re effortless.”
Bear nodded as his gaze dropped to his knees. “Lots of days are gonna have to pass, Jack. I can’t do this anymore.” He held up his hand and shoved it open-palmed to Noble’s face. “And I know I’ve said that plenty the past decade. But look at me.” He turned to face his friend. “I can’t do this anymore. Arms don’t work right. Legs don’t work right. I wanna say shit and I say piss. I wanna say piss and I say giraffe. I wanna say giraffe and I say shit.”
“Circle of life.”
This time Bear did put his hand in Jack’s face, forcing his skull to the window. “Ain’t funny. This is serious.”
“There’s physical therapy, right? Takes time.”
Bear let his hand drop. He took a deep breath, sighed it out. “My progress was stunted following the procedure.”
“Stunted? So, you mean, slowed down, right?”
“As in not happening. They say it sometimes takes a while, but, this one doctor, he said this might be as good as it gets.” Bear made a sweeping gesture from his neck to his knees.
Jack couldn’t look Bear in the eye. For men like them, an unworking body was their death sentence.
“And I think I can manage this if, you know, I’m an insurance salesman, or whatever.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about money.”
“I know, man. I control half the accounts. We’re set and all. But I’m not gonna be able to sit there all damn day.”
“So, travel, then.”
“Ain’t getting on a plane again unless I’m forced to.”
“In an RV.”
Bear snickered. That was low. Even for Jack. “Screw you and your damn RVs.”
Jack joined in the laughter. It ended when he saw Sadie step out of the store, her face drawn tight.
She opened the rear passenger door and hopped in. Realizing the lack of legroom, she slid across the seat. Her hands gripped Jack’s seat and pulled him back an inch.
“What’d she say?” Jack asked.
“I got two words out of her.” She closed her eyes, shook her head. “‘I’m sorry’.”
“For?” Jack said.
“Didn’t you hear me say two words? I swear, it’s like dealing with a toddler. Anyway, it doesn’t matter about what. All those men are dead and with them, any secrets Calabase told them.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Jack turned in his seat and they were eye to eye.
“There was a shooting at a little resort town in Croatia.”
Chapter 32
Clarissa waited at the loading dock for what felt like hours but, spanned fewer than sixty seconds. The sirens rose and fell and dissipated entirely as they switched off one at a time. The silence that overtook her left a hum in her ears and a pit in her stomach.
How did they know her exact location?
She eased into the gap between the thick plastic drapes that served as doors wide enough and tall enough to allow a box truck to back up.
A truck had been idling on the other side for five minutes. The driver, she presumed, had ventured around the corner of the building to check out what was happening out front.
Clarissa lowered herself and slid underneath the exterior flap and eased down to the ground, unable to prevent the loading dock from scraping her back. She grimaced against the pain, which was soon forgotten.
The driver had been so preoccupied with the situation that he had forgotten to secure the lift gate. Clarissa opened it wide enough to slide under, then, before lowering it down, jammed a wood shim into the locking mechanism to keep it from latching.
She waited for several minutes. The space grew hotter. The tiny sliver of light that had penetrated when she first closed the gate now felt like knives sent directly from the sun to penetrate her soul. But she had to look. She had to watch for shadows. She had to be ready to pull the hand cannon she had taken from the man and use it on whoever confronted her.
The cabin door opening and closing reverberated throughout the cargo area. Clarissa flinched at each echo. But relief took anxiety’s place, at least momentarily, as the driver shifted into gear and the idle turned into a low rumble and the truck eased away from the loading dock.
Her body rolled with the movements.
He turned left.
Good. That took them toward the coast.
One more left.
They came to a stop, and she prayed he was going left again. The driver had an exchange she couldn’t follow even if she knew the language. The barrier between the cabin and her was too thick.
The door opened. Closed. Reverberated. Echoed. Anxiety overtook relief.
She reached behind her and retrieved the pistol from the small of her back. Eleven shots. She had dropped the magazine and checked. Ten in the magazine, one in the chamber. If she needed more than eleven rounds, she deserved to die.
The floor beneath her vibrated as someone pounded on the side of the cargo area. They walked around, talking the entire time, rapping on the exterior. With a hand? A baton? A baseball bat?
She pictured the driver and cop moving around the truck until they stopped behind her.
The men had a back-and-forth exchange. One spoke better than the other. The conversation dipped into English for a moment.
“Nothing. I brought the produce. Now I am going home. Here’s my manifest.”
Two other men spoke in their native tongue. The driver cursed in English.
Then several seconds of silence. It washed over her in waves that never retreated, each piling onto the last, suffocating Clarissa with panic.
Footsteps faded. The front door opened and closed. The driver shifted back into gear. Idling turned into a low grumble. The truck inched forward, then turned right. It picked up speed quickly enough for Clarissa to know the driver meant to go this way.
She had to act. Fast. But they were still within sight of the hotel. She got to a crouching position and reached for the door. The truck dipped and bucked and knocked her back on her butt. It sent a jolt up her spine. She clung to the pistol. Thank God, the thing could’ve gone off and who knows where the bullet would have come to rest.
By the time she realized what had happened, the cargo area went dark. The wood shim had dislodged. The gate had shut. The lock had latched.
Clarissa rose to her hands and knees and crawled forward. She bumped into the door and felt along the floor to the right. There was nothing to grab hold of. She moved to the left, inch-by-inch, fingers grating along the shredded sheet metal
. She reached the corner.
“Where is it?” She heard the panic in her voice. “Phone. Flashlight.” She recalled the phones she had taken off the man in her room. Pulled one out. It was dead. She grabbed the other and flipped it open. A dull blue screen welcomed her. She shone it outward and could barely make out the door. But she went back to the right and then left again. The shim was nowhere.
Defeated, she dropped back and draped her arms over her knees. She’d have to wait until the guy stopped, and even then, there were no guarantees she could escape until his next destination if he opened the gate.
What had he said? Fresh produce.
Couldn’t be that far, then. She clawed at the base of the door, found the handle and tugged. It gave only enough for light to filter inside. She grabbed the handle and yanked it up, pushed it down until it freed.
Fifteen seconds later she hit the asphalt hard and rolled in the street after jumping out of the back of the moving truck. She scrambled to avoid an oncoming car, feeling a gust of wind as it missed her head by two inches.
Her arms were covered in scrapes. She felt the road rash down her side from her chest to her knees. Blood trickled across her skin like baby snakes. She ignored the searing pain and staggered to the sidewalk. A few people came up to her offering help. They backed off, one turning to run, after seeing the large pistol in her hand.
Clarissa took a moment and let the sea breeze wash over her, inhaling the salty air, centering herself. Focus and determination won out, and a plan formed. She had to get to the parking lot, back to the Vespa. Could her legs carry her there?
The path to the marina hadn’t changed, but it would be a tougher run than earlier. More people. More obstacles. More cops. Damn, the cops were everywhere. How did this little town support so many cops?
She relaxed her gaze, turned in a half-circle. Something had to exist in this location to help her.
And it appeared in the form of a bicycle. Two sizes too small, but unlocked, resting against the war-torn facade of a building.
She limped across the street. The pain in her bones had subsided while the scrapes had intensified. Every gust of wind felt like added salt and lemon to her wounds.
The owner of the bicycle was nowhere to be found. She took one last glance, spotting a few onlookers who still watched her. One had a cell phone to his head. Probably calling the cops. Were there more who could respond? There wasn’t time to wait and find out.
Biting down hard, she rushed forward, grabbed the handlebars, and jumped on the bicycle. The route would be looping, but the destination was set.
The marina.
But she had to make one stop first.
Chapter 33
The jet touched down at a private airstrip outside of Pula, Croatia. What would have been a seven-hour drive took a mere seventy minutes. Going direct over the Adriatic helped.
They were an hour and a half removed from the shooting. Close enough that the corpse might still be warm. The cops would be all over the site collecting evidence that could lead them to who was behind this. None of that mattered to Jack. Only Clarissa.
Their intel indicated she had escaped, but the last footage of her was from inside the hotel. She hadn’t been found by local law enforcement or the hotel staff even though the place had been on lockdown since the shot was fired.
Clive’s team worked to get access to any and all CCTV available, but so far, cooperation had been nonexistent.
They had to be careful on the ground. They would stand out, no doubt. Sadie offered to do the bulk of the heavy lifting. There was less concern over her being detained since she had nothing of note against her in Croatia. Jack and Bear painted a different picture. The government might use them as pawns to get something in return. And they wouldn’t care who made the highest offer. And if the highest bidder happened to be the US government, they wouldn’t throw the kind of welcome home party Noble would find entertaining.
They crammed into a smaller sedan and sped toward the resort town. Sitting in the back seat, Jack pulled out his cell phone and connected to a private server he hadn’t had the audacity to use in months.
He sent a message, using codewords for the request.
If anyone could perform the operation without others noticing, it was Brandon. The tech God had never let Noble down, though Jack had failed Brandon plenty.
He redirected his attention to the conversation in the front seat. The witty banter between two old friends eased his mind and allowed him to rest for the remainder of the drive. Nothing he could do at this moment, no point in stressing about it.
It took twenty minutes to reach Medulin. The contrast between older war-torn buildings with large bullet holes riddling their facade and newer developments meant to lure the tourists in was striking and a harsh reminder of the civil war that pulled the region apart for years.
He imagined the resort town operated at a slower pace and always felt tranquil. Not today. Police cars cruised the roads in pairs, with officers paired up inside. The entire block surrounding the hotel was barricaded and taped off.
They pulled into a nearby parking lot and waited for Clive to feed them the latest intel. He piped in a couple minutes later.
“You’re not alone,” he said.
“Who else is here?” Sadie asked.
“Can’t tell you that, but there’s plenty of chatter. I will assume it is whoever sent the hitman.”
“Can you confirm his status?”
“Dead.”
Sadie looked at the guys, her features relaxed, an audible sigh escaped her lips. They all felt it.
“Any chance we can get in there?” Sadie asked.
“None,” Clive said. “The hotel is on lockdown. We have no friendlies anywhere in this area. Not exactly a hotbed of espionage.”
“We might need to split up,” Jack said.
“It is best you three stay together. We’re working on CCTV feeds, and, in fact, Isa just told me she’s got three, and one is near the hotel.”
“Where are the other two?” Sadie asked.
“Hold on.” Clive’s voice became muffled as he called out to his team. He came back on the line. “One is at the far end of town. Another about a mile away, looks to be overlooking a marina.”
Jack tried to ignore the tingle traveling down his spine.
“Hold on again,” Clive murmured.
A few more minutes passed, and the trio grew antsy.
“Don’t like this,” Bear said. “What’s going on?”
Jack mirrored the big man’s sentiment. He judged each person who passed or stopped nearby, every car, every passenger. He wanted out. They were wasting time now. Every minute that passed, Clarissa could be further away, or closer to being caught by the other team.
“We’ve got a location for you,” Clive said.
“Clarissa?” Bear asked.
“No, whoever is looking for her.” He said something off mic again, then returned. “West from your location, past the hotel, about half a mile, so almost exactly in-between that marina and the hotel. You’ll need to drive around back to get there.”
“Already on it.” Sadie slipped the transmission into gear and worked her way through a side street and alleyway until they were on another larger road. She pulled to the curb and cut the engine. “This’ll do.”
“There’s at least three of them,” Clive said. “I’m sending you images, pretty detailed, so you’ll pick them out, I hope, before they realize who you are.”
Sadie held her phone out and navigated to their private app. The photos downloaded. Nondescript faces Noble had seen thousands of times. These guys were all the same to him now. If they needed to die, he felt no guilt over expediting the end of their lives.
“We need to go dark now,” Clive said. “Check in when you can.”
“You guys ready?” Sadie opened her door before either man replied.
They joined her on the sidewalk and wound their way back to the coast, past the other team’s locati
on. Stopping at the corner where a building concealed them, Jack pulled his phone out and checked the server for a response from Brandon.
Nothing had come through, not even a confirmation.
“What’s that?” Bear looked down at the phone.
“Tell you soon.”
Bear chuckled. “I’m sure you will.”
Sadie was on her phone, too. She tucked it away. “I’m going first.”
“Not a good idea,” Bear said.
“Chances are these guys are more aware of you than they are me.” She reached behind her back and felt for her pistol, seemingly relieved when her hand grazed the butt. “And I’m a great shot. I’ll get at least two before I’m hit.”
Neither man returned her smile.
“Lighten up, guys.” She laughed as she rounded the corner.
Jack took a moment to watch her. She didn’t go far before stepping inside the building.
“Trust her,” Bear said. “She ain’t led us astray yet.”
Jack paced the length of the building. His mind raced, anticipating gunshots at any moment. Approaching the team was the wrong way to go about it. They had numbers. One person could watch, and the obvious choice was Bear. The big man would be against it, but the reality of the situation was he was the biggest liability in the group.
Jack made his way back to Bear, who tried to engage him in conversation. Jack ignored him. He couldn’t focus on a single word the man was saying. Not after the phone buzzed in his pocket.
The other end of the building couldn’t be reached any quicker. He glanced over his shoulder at Bear, who stood there with one arm against the facade like he was holding the entire town up.
Jack fished the phone out and fumbled with the unlock screen. “Easy, man,” he muttered as he punched in the code incorrectly. His heart was in his throat as he connected to the server, passing each security check. He could only error once. Then his IP address would be locked forever, or at least until Brandon fixed it.
“On it.”
The best two words Noble had heard all day. Followed by the worst four.
“We gotta go now!”
