Deadly Paths

by Jack Parker

  "Who are these assholes?"

  They couldn't kill her out here. That much was obvious. There were too many cameras. So what were they after? What could they possibly hope to accomplish? She was glad she was able to get a bike of her own from them and leave Jake out of whatever nasty business these attackers had in mind, but the idiot had probably just earned himself severe penalties, or worse, gotten himself kicked off the show—especially if there were any lawsuits as a result of his little stunt.

  That's when the thought occurred to her.

  They want me off the show.

  But surely they had to suspect that the CIA would have the game rigged so that she could make it as far as she needed to get the job done? There was a very remote chance that if she were properly assassinated in a hit that there might be nothing Langley could do to keep her on the show. Victoria had never been the least bit worried about that possibility. For her to be marked with the MANTA tracking device would have been a true embarrassment to her profession.

  No, there was more to it than that. They needed to stop her on this particular mission. They needed to keep her away from Benedetto, which meant these were either the gun runner's men or someone working on his behalf. Either way, it was probably safe to assume the bastard knew what she was.

  Just as well, Victoria thought. I want that son of a bitch knowing exactly who finally brought him in. Maybe he would even give her a reason to kill him. The man deserved it, after what he took from her. She swallowed painful memories and stuffed them back down deep inside her as the S-turns ended and she gunned the accelerator. The sweet high hum of the bike and the wind whipping her hair back made her feel she could outrun even her past at that moment.

  The barriers disappeared as she crossed under the Bellagio sign, setting off a pyrotechnic display as if someone was shooting at her and causing nearby oil drums to explode in flame. It was obvious now that the course was designed specifically to slow contestants down enough to get the most dramatic camera shot possible. She rolled her eyes at the theatrics of it all, but found she was grateful the cover the smoke gave her. Unfortunately, it also gave her attackers cover.

  She heard the high pitched whine of a bike to her right as a figure in a black helmet slammed his body into hers in an attempt to knock her over. Victoria fought back, leaning her body into the rider. He made a grab for her wrist, catching her in an iron grip as he veered his bike away from her and tried to tug her off. Victoria squeezed her brakes and kicked him in the knee, causing the assailant to curse and release her.

  She let her bike drift behind his as they sped through a slight right turn taking them into the Bellagio private parking lots. He glanced behind him, trying to block her way. The struggle allowed the second rider to catch up, and Victoria realized as the turn sharpened that unless she could figure out how to pull ahead again she would soon be grappling with both attackers.

  She could see the lights of Flamingo Road ahead. Cheering pedestrians lined the overpass and the street above. Ahead of her the course continued to veer to the right, where Victoria guessed it would continue to take her through the parking lots of the Bellagio until she was parallel with Flamingo. Soon after that, she would have to merge onto Flamingo and in a few blocks she would be at the entrances to Ceasar's Palace. She was almost there. If she could just hold them off for a few more minutes . . .

  She veered left. The cycle in front of her matched her move. She veered left and then right again, but she could not get the burst of speed she needed to pass without giving him the chance to grab her again. She glanced behind her hearing the whine of a third motorcycle engine draw close. She saw the gleam of a knife just before the rider slashed at her rear brake lines. She heard the faint cling of metal on metal—a miss.

  She placed one knee on her seat and mule kicked with the other, her kick caught the man in the head, snapping his head back. Unfortunately, he kept his balance and retreated, falling back about two meters. The move cost Victoria speed and attention, and she fought her handlebars to regain control as the long turn at last ended.

  "Yeeeehoooo!"

  Victoria saw him coming, jumping his bike like a madman off Flamingo road and down the steep concrete gradient back onto the course. Sparks flew from the back of the sidecar as it scraped along. The rider in front of her was too preoccupied with blocking Victoria's escape, when Jake intercepted his front tire full force with his side car. The sudden crashing halt sent the rider flying in a summersault through the air to land on his back.

  "Hey honey!" Jake called. "Did ya miss me?"

  Victoria winked at him, then glanced back at the remaining rider, daring him to come after her. Realizing he was now outnumbered, he turned his bike is a swift U-turn, retreating back to Sinatra and escaping north under the overpass. Victoria hoped authorities would be able to apprehend at least one of the riders, but she could not worry about that right now.

  Flamingo Road was lined with the usual Vegas denizens, but anything out of the ordinary always drew onlookers, and many waved and cheered at the finish line to the course. Jake ate it up, waving to them all and blowing kisses as they approached the finish line just shy of Caesars palace. Victoria knew some people would have heard that a show was being filmed, and indeed many people were trying to place themselves in front of a camera. A chubby woman wearing a headset flagged them down at the finish line with glowing rods like those used by airport ground crew and directed them to a small parking lot. She shuffled over to them in a funny little run as if she had bad knees.

  "Keep yer helmets on, till you get inside," she said loudly as she made her way over. She caught her breath as Victoria and Jake both shut down their bikes. The little woman stared at Victoria's gleaming red Honda for a moment before shaking her head and speaking the soft musical accent of the north. "Yer the first ones to come by motorcycle, don't cha know! An I hear ya had a fun time of it, eh?"

  Victoria laughed. "You could say that."

  Jake surprised her by speaking sternly.

  "Did anyone call the cops? Those guys did some dangerous things! I think they were really after Nova. She could have been hurt!"

  "Calm down, calm down. All part of the show!" said the woman cheerfully.

  Jake's eyes widened, looking stunned.

  "I crashed into one!" he declared, punching his fist into his palm. "Nova kicked another guy off his bike and took it! I thought we were in real danger!"

  "Well dear that's what the producers want, don't cha know? Don't worry they are trained stunt men. I'm sure they'll be fine and have a big ol' laugh about it."

  This lady is either very good or very gullible. Victoria mused. Either way, whoever ran the show was covering their tracks very well. That took some talent, and Victoria wondered if there might be an opportunity for recruitment once this whole operation was over.

  Jake gave a small laugh as two motorcycle cops flashed by back down the course, sirens blazing. He shot Nova a skeptical look.

  "Well, someone is getting reckless in my opinion. Come on Nova, let's get inside and get back into party clothes before we miss the window."

  All the players on the show understood that there were three windows of opportunity to completing a mission in the final event. Each window was based on the number of players left in the game. With fourteen people left, the first window would most likely allow six contestants, while the other two allowed four each. They were almost to the doors when Jake grabbed her by the arm and stopped her.

  "Do you want to tell me what's really going on?' He said sternly. "That was some crazy shit you pulled back there. Why did those guys only chase after you when you pulled your Jackie Chan bullshit?"

  She gently placed a hand on his chest, pulling her arm free. She could tell by his face that she wasn't going to be able to flirt her way out of this one. Best to stroke his ego, she decided.

  "Jake, I have no idea. I think you're right. It was obvious to me too those guys meant business. I don't know what they wanted from me. Who know
s, maybe they thought I was prime rape material or something, knowing I'll be famous soon. I hope the assholes are being arrested as we speak."

  "But why would the Spy Games people insist it was a stunt? Why not put your mind at ease by telling you they called the police?"

  Now Victoria felt at ease flirting again. She patted his cheek.

  "Jake, c'mon ya big bonza of a man, you know they don't need the press. Besides, they know I got you to protect me. Now come on, we lose half the possible mission points if we don't make the first window, and I don't even want to think about settling for the third."

  "I'm sure you could win us some style points," Jake teased, offering his arm. "What's bonza? Is bonza good?"

  Victoria nodded and laughed, but for her it really didn't matter how many points they were awarded at all. All she needed was some quality time alone with Carlo Benedetto. Only, when that happened, it would no longer be a game.

  Chapter Six

  "And now, ladies and gentleman," an energetic MC declared, "Here to kick off our celebration of the Chinese Lunar New Year, please welcome the hotel kingpin that will soon be bringing you the Grande Chapel Hotel and Casino behind you, Mr. Carlooooo Benedettoooooo!"

  Carlo walked up onto the small stage to an ovation that was forced, if not nonexistent. This was alright with him. Nobody was really expected to know who he was, but there were enough people gathered for the festivities that even a polite clap made some noise. Carlo watched as in front of him the three great fountains stretching out in front of Caesar's Palace erupted to life, as if the geysers had been summoned to welcome him. He waved to those members of the crowd that were watching and smiled warmly.

  About half the people present were actually just transiting between casinos as they worked their way through Caesar's outdoor pavilion square. Some people lingered in the gift shops or stood in line at concessions trying to find some junk food to eat or to purchase giant fruit cocktails in plastic replicas of the hotels. Carlo had to admit all the Chinese themed decorations hanging about were quite impressive, from the rows of hanging red paper balls to the giant Asian style dragon statue dominating the square, lit up like a frightful Christmas tree.

  These decorations, when combined with some of the permanent structures and statues of the ancient Rome-themed Caesars palace gave everything a strange cultural feel, as if all the ancient traditions of the world could be celebrated at once. Not that Carlo had any interest in either culture or history, but he could at least appreciate the need for people to escape their own dreary reality and inter worlds of fantasy. A great deal of his business endeavors, in markets both legitimate and black, relied on this phenomenon. Unfortunately, Carlo had to act right now as if he cared about culture too. At least he was being given the chance to promote the grand opening of the Grande Chapel across the street, but he had to get through all of this boring stuff first.

  Everything he was supposed to say were on a few plastic cards before him on the podium. They helped to jog his memory, but Carlo knew the presentation well enough by heart by now. He began to speak pleasantly, and made it through all the nonsense without stumbling or stuttering. This was the year of the tiger, blah, blah, blah. Ancient Chinese traditions are awesome, yadda, yadda. Fireworks date back to such and such dynasty—was anybody even listening? In a few moments, Caesar's palace was proud to present fireworks would be set off according to tradition in a program designed by famous fireworks artist, some guy whose name Carlo could not pronounce . . .

  All the while Carlo surveyed the crowd looking for people that looked like they wanted to shoot him with plastic balls filled with paint. Even though he might never get such stains out of his suit, Carlo actually much preferred this to being forced to spend ten or fifteen minutes in a fake interrogation, especially if the interrogation was with one woman in particular. Victoria Kingsly.

  Even the name was sexy. It was a pity he could not afford to let her near him. He had to admit it was an ingenious plan by the CIA. A woman would have never had made it far enough in his organizations to be privy to anything as sensitive as this arms deal, and any man would have had to have been undercover for years, and done some pretty bad things. Putting her on the show got her close to his operations and even gave her the chance to interview him and perhaps seduce him. Any interview with a trained spy was dangerous, but especially in this case since his scripted diabolical plan was so close to his real one. The seduction angle probably would have worked too, and if she had gotten him alone she probably could have done some pretty nasty things to him to get him to talk.

  As it was, now that he knew about her she was not nearly as big as a threat to him as she had been, but she still was far too dangerous to have around. On this point, he agreed with the so called Black Fire Dragon completely. He scanned even more closely for her. Jameson stood behind him while he made the presentation, and three more guys were stationed in the square looking for this Victoria should she appear. Shane had taken two guys to try and intercept her in the streets, but there was no word yet on how that had went. Shane had yet to report in, which was unlike him. It was his hope that the intercept would be seen as nothing more than a bunch of hooligans trying to get themselves onto television by causing trouble or even to sexually assault a prized sexy game show contestant. Carlo had told Shane to have fun with her if he wanted.

  The whole situation stank. It was too delicate. What happened to the good old days when you could just take a nuisance like this out back and shoot her in the head? Carlo didn't like having his options so limited. The Black Fire Dragon were the least of his worries if he handled this wrong. Carlo could not afford to let her know her cover was blown. Even if they had nothing on him yet but suspicion, the CIA was likely to try something more drastic if they knew their plan had failed. Carlo knew from experience that things got messy when the CIA got aggressive. In fact, there was something familiar about Victoria, but he couldn't quite place it.

  In the best case scenario, they would get some warrant and have the FBI detain him. If this happened, they would never get anything from him overtly, but Carlo would have to deal with the annoyance of getting his team of lawyers involved while one of his Lieutenants ran the arms deal. That was asking for trouble, as this kind of deal was high caliber enough that the likes of someone like Shane might be able to usurp control of most of the business. Carlo had worked too hard, had to meticulously put together all the pieces that even made acquiring the weapons possible, to have that happen. Making sure everything went smoothly meant he had to avoid her, get her off the show, and then take care of her quietly. If she did make it to him tonight, he would have to act like he knew nothing—a dangerous game with a professional that you couldn't just kidnap and kill because she was part of a television cast. It was a game Carlo had no intention of playing.

  A dark haired woman strolled by arm in arm with a taller man in a white polo shirt, and Carlo lost his place for the first time. He relaxed as he realized it wasn't her. It didn't matter. Nobody was paying any attention to him anyway, but he could feel the anticipation in the air as he approached the push down handle which would kick off the fireworks. All heads turned toward the front of the hotel, as everyone knew the fireworks would be launched from the roof.

  "And without further ado," Carlo said as he prepared to push down the handle. "Welcome to the year of the Tiger!"

  As soon as he pushed the handle, hundreds of firecrackers began to go off in the square as larger fireworks were launched into the air from the roof. A group of small children dressed in shimmering silk clothes began to wander by in a cute little parade walking inside a large dragon they had made. Carlo had not even stood all the way back up when he was tackled to the ground my someone huge, probably Jameson. The brute gave a sharp cry of pain as the paintballs began to splatter around the podium.

  "Jameson," Carlo groaned, his voice muffled. "Did you have to take it all so seriously?"

  "I'm sorry if I was too rough," said a voice Carlo didn't recognize. "
But I couldn't let them shoot you or I don't get the points."

  "Butch, whoever shot is gone," said an impatient female voice.

  Fuck is it her already? Carlo thought. So what if it is? Just be cool.

  The man called Butch got up, and Carlo looked up at a very large man in a tuxedo. The shirt was torn in a few places, and he was breathing heavily through a large flat nose.

  "Butch, huh?" Carlo said flatly as he struggled with his anger at having some stranger accost him. "I suppose it fits."

  He offered Carlo his hand. Before taking it Carlo gave his best crooked smile to the woman behind him as he mentally undressed the cute little redhead. Carlo ignored the offered hand as he stood and smoothed out his suit, looking for Jameson. His body guard had some fool in an arm bar and was escorting him from the stage. Carlo could see more of his men rushing toward him but he waved them back with a gesture. Women gasped, children pointed, some men pushed forward to get a better view of the commotion, ignoring the fireworks.

  Carlo felt a meaty paw rest on his shoulder, but before he could advise the brute of his mistake, the redhead walked forward and gave a menacing glare to another couple at the base of the stage, a rather homely looking blond woman who was do-able if you put a bag over her head, and a short stalky man with huge harry arms.

  "Sorry, Tora," said the redhead. "We got to him first."

  "I want to know everything he says Rain!" the homely woman said. "Don't forget our alliance!"

  "Fine, fine, I'll find you later at the hotel," Rain said. Then she turned to Carlo and smiled sweetly. "Well Mr. Benedetto, I guess we get you for fifteen minutes now. Would you be so kind as to come with us?"