by J. M. LeDuc
“I already did,” Charlie answered. “His crew has rowed up to the wall and is awaiting instructions.”
“Open the mics so they can hear my transmission,” Sin said.
“Done,” Charlie responded.
“Fletcher, I want you and your men on top of the wall and ready to move,” Sin said.
“Moving,” Fletcher responded. “Let’s stop fucking around and get these bastards.”
Sin took a deep breath. “Stay calm, Fletch. This isn’t the jungle of Central America. We stick to the plan.
“On my mark, Garcia, Sin stated, “we take out the gunners first. I’ll count down from five—five, four, three, two, mark.”
Garcia and Sin fired, taking out both gunners in the blink of an eye.
“I have a guard in the front bringing his hand to his mic,” Charlie said.
Another shot rang out.
“Not anymore,” Sin said.
Two more shots echoed as Garcia took out two more of the security force.
“Move it, Fletch,” Sin said. “We rendezvous at point B in five minutes. Garcia, I need you to stay put and sweep up any trash.”
“We’re on the move,” Fletcher answered.
“Gotcha,” Garcia radioed.
46
“Charlie, any new action?” Sin asked.
“Negative, everything is quiet on the outside. All targets on the perimeter have been neutralized.”
Sin eyed the four people crouched around her. All their faces were blacked out, but their eyes said, ‘go.’ Her eyes were in constant motion from one person to the next. “We’ve gone over the previous knowledge of the layout of the studio. Fletcher and I need a ten minute leeway to get in position.” Her eyes stopped on Wilson. “At the ten minute mark, you and Hobson are to blow the front and rear entrances of the church. You are only a decoy, do not engage the enemy unless they engage first. If they do, put them down. Is that understood?”
The men nodded.
She checked her watch. “It’s twelve minutes till show time,” Sin said.
“I’ll lose your visual when you enter the building,” Charlie radioed, “but I’ll still get your audio feed. I’m counting on you to give their viewers something special to watch.”
Sin and Fletcher entered through the same window she’d used the first time she’d broken into the church. Upon ingress, they drew their weapons as they made their way toward the studio.
Making her way, she stepped in something sticky. That’s when she smelled the acrid odor of blood. Shining a penlight toward the floor, she saw a partial footprint. She and Fletcher followed the prints with their eyes, but it wasn’t even necessary. The smell would have taken them to the same destination―Heap’s office. Sin tried the door and surprisingly found it unlocked. Stepping into the office the smell burned her nostrils.
Definitely blood.
“Damn,” Fletcher mouthed with his nose buried in his shirtsleeve.
Sin shined her light about the room and discovered its origin—Heap’s bloodied, dead corpse.
She slumped against the door frame. Everything she thought so clear and true of Heap just became muddied. “We have a problem,” Sin radioed. “Heap has been murdered.” She waited for answer but none came. “Everything we thought was true about this mission just got a bit more screwed up.”
Charlie answered with a steady, calm voice. “Ten-four. It doesn’t change this mission—proceed as directed.”
Sin and Fletcher made their way to the studio and spotted two guards outside the double doors. Both carrying Glock 18s—automatic weapons.
They stayed hidden and waited. They didn’t have to wait long as the sound of both the front and back doors being blown by her unit echoed throughout the building. The guards immediately split and headed toward the detonations. Fletcher dropped them before they made it twenty feet.
The sound of the gun fire was met with equal intensity from inside the studio.
Sin and Fletcher stayed low and out of harm’s way until the shooting paused. With stealth-like speed and silence they made their way toward the doors. On Sin’s count, Fletcher blew the lock with his .357 and kicked open the door. In complete sync with his movements, Sin tossed in two flash-bang grenades. Seconds later, the only sounds were those of whining and whimpering from the occupants of the studio.
Sin and Fletcher dove forward and slid into the studio. Sin taking the left flank and Fletcher sliding to the right.
“Two o’clock, in the rafters,” Fletcher yelled.
Sin’s line of sight instinctively went to the location, where she spotted a sniper. He seemed disoriented from the flash and Sin disposed of him in fast accord.
Fletcher rolled further right to get a better angle on the room. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a red dot―a tell-tale sign of a laser-sighted gun. He aimed straight for the dot, and took out its operator.
The smoke of the flash-bang dissipated and what Sin saw made her skin crawl. The stage that was set up to look like an S/M dungeon and shackled in the middle of it was a frightened, young girl.
Ximena.
With no one else spotted in the studio, Sin sent Fletcher back to check for any other guards that might still be in the building. He moved―low and fast―and soon disappeared from her view.
Sin waited about thirty seconds―although it seemed like forever―to make sure she didn’t see or hear anyone else. She was about to run toward the stage when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Drop the guns, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
York.
“I told you I was better than any Special Forces puke.”
Sin felt the cold steel of the barrel of his gun against her head as he pushed her forward.
“All clear,” he yelled.
A man dressed in skintight black leather, complete with a black leather cowl and gloves, emerged from behind the stage.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sin mumbled.
The dungeon master walked—strutted—to the middle of the stage where Ximena was quivering and wrapped an arm around her neck. He reached for and grabbed a red hot branding iron with his other. He turned his attention from Sin to the camera. “Well, looky who’s here,” came the voice under the mask. He turned his attention to the camera and continued, “We got us a special treat for you tonight.”
Sin glanced from him to where the camera was set up. It was unmanned. Behind the camera were twelve video monitors.
“So,” Sin said, “Do I finally get to meet the sick fucks who paid to see innocent girls tortured and killed?”
The man in leather laughed. “You don’t get to meet no one, O’Malley.” He held the branding iron a little higher, just inches from the trembling girl’s face. “I was just about to brand this little cow before I butcher her. Want to watch before I kill you?”
Sin was led to the stage, York’s gun pressed against the back of her head and forced to stand next to Miller.
“Ooh, she’s sexy,” a modulated voice rang out.
“A little old for my taste,” echoed another.
“What would you pay, ladies and gentlemen, to see this whore scream for mercy?” Miller said.
Number signs started showing up on the monitors. In seconds, the total was up to forty thousand.
“But first, the girl.” This voice seemed more authoritative to Sin. “Then the bitch, and then the wedding ceremony.”
Electronic laughter could be heard coming from the speakers.
“You heard the requests,” Miller screamed. “Strip or I burn the girl!”
Sin glared at the monitors, quickly scanned the room for other gunmen and then moved her hands to her belt. “Is this what turns you perverts on?” she said as she began to loosen her belt. “Are you all so inept as human beings that the only way you can get your rocks off is seeing someone being tortured?”
Sin saw a red light blink on and off on one of the monitors.
Sin figured one of the guests w
as about to speak since Miller clammed up at the sight of the light. She stared in Miller’s eyes and waited to hear what was said. Instead, Sin heard a gunshot.
She half expected to feel the searing pain that comes with being shot. Instead, she heard a gun and a body drop. Sin watched as Miller’s eyes opened wide as he seemed to look through her and not at her. She used that distraction and brought her hand from her belt, which now held her pearl-handled razor and sliced Miller’s wrist, forcing him to drop the hot iron and release Ximena.
Sin whipped around to see York lying on the ground bleeding from the gut. In her peripheral vision, she saw Fletcher standing in the doorway, pistol still aimed at the stage. She nodded her thanks as his shadowy figure ran behind the stage.
“Help me!” York’s eyes bellowed the fear that comes with death. His breathing was labored and garbled.
Sin walked over, picked up her revolvers, and without looking at him, put a bullet in his head. “No problem,” she said, “I’m glad to be of assistance.” Keeping one gun aimed at Miller, she placed the other in her holster. Taking her free hand, she reached for Ximena.
She fell into Sin’s arms.
“Unlock the cuffs, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Sin ordered.
Miller pulled a chain off his neck and threw the keys toward Sin.
Her eyes never left his―not even for a nanosecond―while she caught the keychain in midflight. She kept her gun and eyes on Miller as she bent down and unlocked the shackles from Tia’s ankles.
“Where are the other girls?” Sin said, standing back up.
“I don’t got to tell you shit!” Miller taunted.
Sin lowered her gun and blew out his left ankle. He crumbled to the ground in a slab of leather and screams.
“The next one blows your nuts off. Where are the girls?”
Miller held up a bloody hand. “They’re in the storage closet behind the stage.” His other hand went to his crotch for protection.
“Did you hear that?” Sin yelled out.
“I have them,” Fletcher yelled back. “They’re all accounted for.”
“Who else is in the room?” an electronic voice said.
“This isn’t the show I paid for,” said another.
“But it is exciting,” came another. The voice sounded labored and excited.
Sin’s head snapped towards the monitors. “Are you jacking off to this? You sick fuck!” She faced the camera and addressed those on the other side of the camera. “What gives you—any of you—the right to exploit and ultimately murder another human being? Why don’t you all get together and burn, cut, sodomize, and kill each other in one big circle jerk. That way, we’ll all be happy.” She paused to take a breath. “Money,” she yelled, “does not give you the right to treat others with indignity and disrespect.”
“Oh, but it does, Ms. O’Malley,” a voice fired back. “With money comes power and with power, we can do and live as we please, and nothing you do will change that. You think your little ‘show’ today has stopped us? You’re wrong, you haven’t stopped anything. We will regroup, change our modus operandi and continue doing what we do with whomever we wish to do it to or with!”
The other electronic voices rose in agreement.
Beside her, Miller laughed in accord with the speakers words.
Sin bent down and pulled the black cowl off the sweaty, red-faced police chief, keeping her gun aimed at him. Holding the hood high in the air, she once again addressed the ‘guests.’ “I can’t stop all the perversion in this world, but . . .” she squeezed the trigger of her revolver. Miller screamed, bringing his hands to his now bloody crotch. Sin then looked at the camera and fired off a series of shots, destroying the video feed.
“What just happened,” a voice yelled. “I can’t see what’s happening.”
“She took out the video feed,” another hollered.
“I can stop this prick,” Sin said, finishing her thought. She raised her pistol slightly and put the next bullet through Miller’s head, “and I promise you,” she growled, “I will stop each and every one of you!”
Fletcher came around to the front of the stage with the girls. He told them to stay put and then disabled the audio feed.
While he was getting instructions from Charlie on how to dismantle and remove the hard drive from the computer system, Sin was entwined in an emotional, tearful embrace with the girls, slathering them with hugs and kisses.
Tia held on to her longer than the rest and whispered in her ear, “Perla Angel de la Muerte.”
Sin swallowed her tears and huffed. “Si, Tia, yo soy la Perla Angel.”
For possibly the first time, Sin believed the words as she repeated them.
Letting go of Tia, she looked around the room at all the implements of torture that were planned for Tia and the other girls.
I am the ‘Pearl Angel of Death,’ she thought, and I will hunt and find each and every one of those people.
47
Sin sat on the beach and watched as Maria splashed in the water with Tia. Alejandra was nearby, laughing.
Ten days had passed since everything went down at the church. Unknown to everyone but her, Charlie had recovered the hard drive from the studio and discovered the addresses of all the participants or ‘guests’ as they were called. He used NSA software as well as the computer IP addresses to help nail down their locations.
All but one―El Presidente.
Using the information found on the hard drive, Charlie had been able to trace the internet feed back to a computer somewhere in D.C. but no further. Every time he had a bead on its whereabouts, it seemed to move. What was evident was the fact that the identity of El Presidente and the mole were one and the same.
“How’s Thomas?”
Sin smiled weakly at Charlie’s voice. Her demeanor saddened by the question. “He’s fading. Hospice is at the house on twenty-four hour crisis care. Carmelita and her rosary beads haven’t left his side.”
“I’m sorry, Sinclair.” Charlie sat beside her. “He is a tough old bird. It seems he was just waiting to make peace with you before succumbing to the inevitable.”
Sin scooped up a handful of sand and let it slide through her fingers like water through a sieve. “I know. I should be there with Carmelita, but I needed to clear my head.”
“Are you up to discussing some business?”
Sin nodded. “Even that shit will be a distraction. What do you have?”
“A couple of things. First,” Charlie said, “we need to hit the ‘guests’ before they catch wind that they have been identified. If the mole figures out that I’ve identified them and tracked down their physical addresses, they will scatter like roaches to light.”
Sin leaned back on her elbows and took a deep breath; her attention still on the girls. “Do you think it’s possible for them to recover their innocence?”
Charlie looked out at the water. “They’re young. They’ll be all right.” His attention turned to Sin. She seemed miles away. “Sinclair, I need you to listen to me, this mission isn’t over.”
She turned to Charlie, her hair blowing across her face with a gust of wind.
“What is the second thing you needed to talk about?”
“Has Graham tried to reach you?”
“Yeah, he’s lighting up my phone like it’s the freakin’ Fourth of July. He even came down here looking for me.”
“And?”
“And Carmelita told him she hadn’t seen me since I left Tumbleboat seven years ago. My bike is in your hangar, so he had no way of disputing her words.”
“Yeah, well, he’s been pretty persistent. He keeps calling me, also.”
“Hit ignore, he’ll get the drift, eventually.”
“It’s not that simple,” Charlie said. “Frank personally came down here to conduct the investigation on the hit at the church. He was like my shadow the entire time he was here.”
“How is my old ‘buddy’?” Sin said staring out at the water.
“Confused. He―the bureau―is trying to piece it all together, but without the hard drives and video footage, all they have is one big mess. He’s worried about you,” Charlie said. “He’s asking if there is any evidence connecting the dead agents to any of this.”
“Did you tell him we found evidence on the computers mentioning Miller’s involvement?”
“No, I didn’t. I thought it should come from you.” Charlie gripped Sin’s hand in a fatherly embrace. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
Sin’s eyes narrowed and her expression darkened. “I can and will until we figure out who El Presidente and Marilyn are. Until then I don’t want him to know anything.” Her words came out in a staccato rhythm. “I don’t want him to know if I’m alive or dead until this mission is complete.”
Charlie nodded. “That brings us back to point one. How do you propose we take care of the guests without the bureau’s involvement? We need to strike while they are still secure that their identities haven’t been compromised―before they scatter.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Sin said. “I spoke to my unit and they are willing to get involved. Are you tracking the movement of the perverts?”
Charlie nodded. “I have some old buddies on their trails.”
“With my unit’s help, we can strike them all in a short time frame.”
“I realize they have an allegiance to you, but I also realize that they are mercenaries. How do you plan on paying them?”
“They’re patriots first, mercenaries second. When they saw the shit that was happening at the church, they jumped at my request. Besides, I had already offered them another form of payment.”
“Which is?”
“None of the guests will be taken into custody. We know at least two of the people you identified in this ring are federal judges, with their connections being so high up in the government, the only way to make sure we end this is to take them out.”
Charlie took in a deep breath and sighed. “You realize what this means?”
“Yeah,” Sin closed her eyes, a tired smile painted her face, “I will be public enemy number one again with the Bureau.”
