by J. M. LeDuc
Sin motioned with her arm telling him to talk faster. “I know all that. Veloz told me all about it before I killed the son of a bitch.”
Everyone in the room suddenly shifted their attention to Sin.
“You killed Veloz?” Charlie blinked away his own exhaustion and rubbed his open palm across his face. “With everything that happened tonight, I forgot to ask what happened in Puerto Cabezas.”
“I’ll gladly give you a blow by blow later,” Sin said. “For now, it’s enough to know that the mother fucker will never hurt anyone ever again.”
“That’s good enough for us,” Fletcher stated.
She pointed to the monitor. “What else did you find out? What was on the hard drives?”
“There was email correspondence between someone known as―”
“El Presidente,” Sin interjected.
Charlie nodded. “I should have known you would milk Veloz for every bit of information.”
“Not every,” Sin said. “He didn’t know his real identity. Could you tell who he was corresponding with?”
“Someone he calls the Black Widow,” Charlie said.
Sin stared at and read the emails that Charlie put on the monitor. “Fuck,” she mouthed. “No name.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Sin dropped her head in her lap. “Any luck figuring out who Marilyn is?” Her words had the sound of a defeatist.
“No, but my money is on them being one and the same.”
“Why?” she said. “Why do you think they are the same?”
“She signs her emails, M.”
Sin stood and paced. “Back on the boat, you said the girls would be safe,” she said, “but how does any of this tell you that the girls are safe?”
“Ah,” Charlie held up a finger and switched to another page. “Troy managed to bug Bubba’s phone. Last night, Bubba spoke to someone who told him that the merchandise—the girls—had to be delivered to the studio and that the final show was going live at one a.m. tomorrow. His contact went on to say that it was vital that the ‘gift’ arrived safely.” Charlie eyed Sin. “I assume you’re the gift?”
Sin shook her head. “It’s Tia.”
“What?” Troy said, sitting up a bit straighter.
“I found Alejandra’s daughter in Puerto Cabezas. She was with Veloz. He said she was to be a gift for El Presidente.” Sin slumped down into an overstuffed chair and buried her head in her hands. “It’s my fault she’s in this predicament. I told her to trust me. All that changed when Humberto hit me with a fucking shovel and knocked me unconscious.”
“That explains the discoloration of your face,” Charlie said. “We’ll have Dr. O’Rourke check you out. It looks like you may have a busted eye socket.”
Sin brought her hand up to her face. The touch brought tears to her eye. “With everything that’s been happening, I wasn’t paying any attention to it,” she grimaced. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’ve never looked better.”
Sin looked in the direction of the voice—Thomas was standing in the doorway. The biggest smile plastered on his face.
She hugged her father and told him how much she loved him. She saw Charlie give her the look from the side of the room.
“Dad, can you give us a few more minutes and then we can talk?”
He looked at Charlie, who nodded. “Sure,” he smiled. “I’ll go tell Carmelita and Maria you’re all safe.”
“So,” Sin said. “We’ve gone over the plan to extract the girls from the studio, but there is something you’re not telling me. What is it?”
“I was able to pin down the location where the emails are originating from.”
Sin swallowed hard. It felt like she was trying to swallow a ball of cotton. “Where?”
“935 Pennsylvania Ave.”
Sin closed her eyes and dropped her head―not in disbelief, but more in affirmation.
“D.C.?” Troy was stunned.
“Not just D.C.,” Sin said, “FBI headquarters.” She could barely speak. “Is it Frank?”
Charlie shrugged. “Not necessarily, Westcott keeps his office there as well.”
“He’s Homeland Security, why—”
“He was bureau before he was HS. He has always kept his private office at 935 Pennsylvania Ave.”
Sin sucked on her lower lip. “Either way,” she said, “it can only be one of two people.”
42
“You found the microchip in a UPS truck!” a high pitched voice screamed.
“No shipping or return address. The driver doesn’t even know how it got on his truck. He only makes one round trip every four days, that’s why it took us a while to track.”
“How the hell did that bitch remove her chip without you knowing it?”
“I don’t know,” the voice on the other end of the phone line answered.
“It was probably that doctor.”
“What doctor?”
“The one from the Naval hospital. My men told me she and O’Malley had been seen together eating in the hospital cafeteria. Now, she has taken an unexplained leave of absence.”
“Are you shitting me!” screamed the deeper voice.
“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me. You’re the one with all the connections―you’re the one with all the big plans. I can disappear right now and leave you to mop up this fucking mess.”
A loud exhale came through the phone. “I’m sorry, all right? We need this ‘show’ to go off without a hitch tonight and then you can disappear for a while.”
“I’ll take care of my end, you just worry about finding and killing O’Malley.”
“I’m taking care of it as we speak.”
“My contact tells me Heap is getting nervous―real nervous. I think his helpfulness has run its course.”
“I’m up to my eyeballs in shit pouring down from all sides here in D.C. Tell our friend to take care of Heap tonight before the show. An extra ten grand should be enough incentive.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good, then I will meet you as planned when this all blows over.”
The line went dead.
43
“I don’t care how much money they’re paying us, I spent the better part of my life saving girls from this kind of life. I will not be part of this. I’m terminating the lease!”
“Prophet,” Chief Miller stammered, “it’s not that simple. We have no way of contacting the production company and we also don’t have any proof that there is any wrong doing going on.”
“No proof? You heard what the authorities are saying.” Heap stood up and moved to the side of the chief. “Ezekiel,” he placed his hand on Miller’s shoulder and poured on the compassion and the southern drawl, “your own son might have been killed in the boat explosion early this morning. Enough is enough.”
Miller took in a deep breath and pushed his girth from the chair. “You’re right, Prophet,” he nodded, “you’re always right. We’ll get the deacons together and make a stand against the production crew when they show up.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear.” Heap slapped Miller on the back.
“Would you mind praying for my son, Prophet?”
Heap jutted out his chin like a proud daddy. “Not at all, let’s bow our heads and close our eyes.”
As Heap began praying, Miller dropped his head. Heap was blabbing some long, self-indulgent soliloquy when the first bullet tore through his gut. The force of the .357 caliber bullet knocked him off his feet and onto the couch behind him.
He stared―eyes wide in disbelief―as the crimson stain spread out across his white linen shirt.
“You dumb sombitch,” Miller’s lips barely moved as he spoke. He grabbed the other chair and spun it backwards, straddling it while keeping his revolver aimed at Heap. “I could sit here and let you bleed out, but I got better things to do with my time.”
“Why?” Heap gurgled.
Miller stood and moved t
oward the door. “Why! For the same reason you run this carnival show, you call a church. Money and power―that’s why.”
With the final word spilling from his mouth, he squeezed the trigger blowing Jeremiah Heap’s brains all over the bright, white wall of his office.
44
“The ‘show’ is scheduled for one a.m.,” Charlie said. “While you were out of the country, I was able to hook up to the traffic cameras on U.S. 1 by the church as well as Heap’s security camera feed. There are cameras placed on the four corners of the property.
“I was also able to set a camera on the roof of the funeral home to the south and the storage warehouse to the north so we can get a scanning view of the perimeter. From the feed, we’ll be able to get a good layout of the security and see if any last minute changes were made.”
Sin and her unit eyed the monitors. Each one showed a different angle on the church. “Has Heap beefed up security since our ‘visit’?”
“Heap has added security walking the perimeter,” Charlie answered.
“Just one?”
Charlie nodded. “I’ve seen only one extra guard in the last few days.”
“How did you check without being spotted?”
Charlie shot a quick glance at the computer monitors. “The cameras, obviously.”
“Wise ass.”
Charlie smirked. “I also did a bit of ground reconnaissance. The church borders the cemetery. I just went to visit some ‘old’ friends.”
Sin didn’t respond. She was so intent on what she was seeing that she didn’t even hear Charlie. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” she said pointing to the monitor.
“What do you see?”
“Can you zoom in on the corners of the roof? Right where Heap had those gargoyles placed.” Sin shook her head. “What the fuck did he think he was building,” she mumbled, “Notre Dame?”
Charlie zoomed in the cameras for a closer shot, already knowing what Sin would find.
“I’ll be damned,” Sin blurted, “machine gun turrets hidden by the statues.” She pointed at the video as her eyes darted from the monitor to Charlie and back again. “If this isn’t the proof we needed to show he’s involved, I don’t know what is.” Sin said. “We need to drag his fat ass in for questioning.”
“If he’s involved, he won’t miss the final show. We’ll catch up to him tonight.”
Sin agreed and pointed to the surveillance footage. “What do we do about the machine guns?” Sin asked. “That’s some serious firepower.”
Charlie looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We take them out.”
“How—”
“Hold that thought,” Charlie said opening a file cabinet.
Sin watched as he placed his hand inside the top draw and depressed a button. To her amazement, the side wall of the room slid open and revealed an ammunitions bunker.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed.
“You never know what you’ll need or when,” Charlie said.
“If we ever decide to take down the U.S. government, I think we’ll be okay,” Fletcher said sarcastically.
Charlie pulled two M40A5 sniper rifles off the wall along with two full magazines. “I have a feeling you’ve fired one of these before,” he said, handing one to Sin.
“Not officially, but it feels familiar.” Sin placed the rifle and the magazine in a duffel bag and pulled a box of .45 caliber bullets from the shelf. “You mind?”
“Mi casa, su casa,” Charlie replied.
Sin looked over at Troy. “Did you understand that ‘Spaneesh,’ or should I translate?”
“Screw you, O’Malley,” he smiled.
“Later, big boy.”
Charlie glanced at his wrist watch and said, “Come on, we have a lot to cover before we leave for the cemetery.”
“Yeah, about the cemetery,” Sin hedged. “Now that my unit is here, I want them to make the hit with me.” She put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I need your expertise here to guide this mission.” Charlie went to object, but Sin stopped him. “These eleven people have been with me for every mission I’ve conducted in the past six years. We know each others’ moves before we know them ourselves. If this gets messy―and I have a feeling it will―it’s our best chance.”
Fletcher took a step forward and stood next to Sin. “Kinda hard to fight that logic, mate.”
Charlie took a deep breath, exhaled, and nodded agreement. “In that case, let me show you the plan I came up with and get your opinion on it.”
45
By eight p.m., everyone was in place. Garcia―a trained sniper―was located on the roof of the mortuary to the south of the church. Sin had located herself on the roof of a storage facility to the north and Fletcher and three of the unit were aboard a skiff―in the gulf―‘fishing.’ The rest of Sin’s unit were located at an all-night diner a couple miles away in case they were needed.
Troy, due to his injuries, was back at the Johnson place with Charlie who was manning the control room. Charlie’s computer monitors were each focused on a different perspective of the church: two on the roof, one was on the front gate, and the other scanned from the front door to the rest of the grounds.
All was quiet.
“Can I get an audio that everyone can read me?” Charlie radioed.
“Loud and clear. No action,” Garcia answered.
“Same here,” Sin acknowledged.
“Nothing biting, not even the fish,” Fletcher responded.
“Radio silence will commence immediately unless you have a visual. Over,” Charlie said.
No one responded.
A black pick-up truck drove up to and through the gate at eleven p.m. without even stopping at the guardhouse. The guard just waved as the truck drove through.
“That’s Miller’s truck,” Troy said.
“Everybody, stand down and be on alert,” Charlie radioed. “The party is about to heat up.”
At eleven thirty, a box truck labeled ‘commercial cleaning’ pulled up to the gate.
“We have more company,” Charlie radioed. “Commercial cleaners, but the box truck looks too big to hold vacuums and mops. There are two men in the cab, but I can’t I.D. either from this angle. I’ll follow it and keep you informed.”
“Ten-four,” Sin answered. “Garcia, be ready.”
“Always.”
Sin peered through the scope of her rifle to see if there was any unusual activity on the roof. Up till now, the machine gunners had been pretty lax. As the truck drove through the gates of the church, all that changed. She watched as the gunners pulled night vision glasses onto their eyes and took their positions in their respective turrets.
“The truck is backing into the loading dock.” Charlie said as he stared—bug-eyed—at the monitor.
“My view is blocked,” Garcia said.
“Same here,” Sin echoed.
Charlie gave a blow-by-blow. “Truck doors opening and the two men getting out. I don’t recognize the driver, but the passenger is York.”
“Prick,” Sin snarled.
“Both heavily armed,” Charlie continued. “Driver standing guard at the front and York is going around back to open the cargo door.
“The loading door of the church is rising,” Charlie continued. “I don’t see anyone, but it’s evident that York is speaking to someone on the inside.”
Probably Miller, Sin thought, or maybe the mysterious Marilyn.
“York is opening the rear of the truck.” Charlie was talking faster as his excitement grew. “He’s waving his gun and it looks like he is saying something to whoever is in—”
“What’s wrong?” Sin asked.
“Six girls, all in cuffs and shackles are being led off the truck into the church.” Charlie’s words were choked with anger. “Wait, there is one more coming out. She . . .” Charlie stopped and stared at the screen in disbelief. “She is dressed in what looks like a wedding dress.”
“That’s got to be Ti
a,” Sin huffed.
“The driver is getting back in the truck and pulling away from the dock,” Charlie said. “No sign of York. He must still be in the church.”
“Garcia, if the truck pulls out and heads north take out the tires and the driver, if it turns south, I’ll do the same,” Sin radioed. “Diner crew, get ready to act.”
“Ten-four.”
The truck turned south, back towards Tumbleboat.
A half mile up the road, Garcia radioed that had the vehicle in his site, and with quick trigger pulls, both of the right side tires blew out in succession. He followed the driver as he got out to check the damage. It was the last thing the driver would ever do.
“Target extinguished,” Garcia radioed.
Charlie radioed the diner crew to make a pick up.
Sin was getting antsy and eyed her watch. Twelve fifteen. “It’s getting late.” She sounded nervous. “If they start early, those girls are going to be tortured or worse. We can’t wait any longer.”
“Easy, Agent,” Charlie responded. “They broadcast live, so the ‘show’ won’t begin until one a.m.”
“I don’t give a damn.” Sin punctuated each word for emphasis. “I’m not taking any chances with the lives of these girls.”
“I hate to interrupt your rant,” Garcia said, “but the guard at the front gate is packing up and leaving.”
“No need to dispose of this one, Sinclair,” Charlie said, “He’s just a rent-a-cop.”
“Ten-four.”
“I have a white Ford F150 turning north toward Marathon,” Garcia said. “This one is all yours, boss lady.”
Sin aimed her rifle toward the north. “I’m on it. I’ll wait until he pulls off U.S. 1 before I disable him.”
A few minutes later, the truck was on the side of the road with its hazard lights blinking. A blown tire.
“Bird’s wings are clipped,” Sin radioed.
“I’ll send the diner crew to assist,” Charlie responded.
“It’s go time,” Sin radioed. “Charlie radio Fletcher to start moving in.”
