Villains and Vixens

by Charles Dougherty

  29

  It was a little after midnight as Mary and I sat in the dinghy, watching for the guard to come around the corner of Dogfish Cay.

  When we called Aaron after our nap earlier in the afternoon, we discussed our plan with him. After a little back and forth, we agreed that he should expect our call for the pickup of our captives sometime between one and three a.m. Aaron reported that the research vessel was holding steady just over the horizon to the northeast — a few minutes' flying time for the helicopter that was aboard.

  Finished with the call, we went through the equipment that was now in our waterproof belt packs. For several minutes, we tested the earwig radios, subvocalizing to take advantage of the throat microphones. With a bit of practice, we learned to communicate without speaking aloud, letting the little gadgets relay our thoughts almost without audible speech.

  We alternated between resting and refining our plans until midnight, then we got in the dinghy and came out here. Now Mary was watching Dogfish Cay with a thermal imaging scope as we drifted slowly over the coral heads where we hunted lobster earlier.

  Our night-vision goggles were in our belt packs, along with Glock 19s and two extra, fully loaded magazines each. We also had suppressors for the pistols, but we would affix them once we were ashore on Dogfish Cay. We each had two flash/bang grenades in our belt packs, and razor-sharp commando knives with knuckle-guard grips were strapped to our calves.

  "Here comes the guard," Mary said. "You ready?"

  "Ready. See you at the servants' quarters."

  I put on my flippers and mask and slipped into the water as she started the outboard and headed for Whelk Cay. The surface of the water was calm with the barrier islands between me and Exuma Sound, so I made good time. I stopped often and raised my head to make sure I was on course.

  Reaching the outside of the pier that enclosed the little boat basin, I found a handhold and checked my watch. I was ahead of schedule. The guard would only be about halfway between the point and the pier; I had time to kill.

  Done with my mask and flippers, I took them off and clipped them to my belt for the moment. Feeling around with my free hand, I found a few loose, fist-sized rocks. I used them to weight the mask and flippers, ensuring that they would sink right away.

  Freed of the snorkeling gear, I worked my way to the corner of the pier. I found a shallow shelf and crouched there. With my knees on the shelf, I took out the night-vision goggles and put them on, watching for the guard.

  I no sooner spotted him than he stopped. He was opposite my position, staring out across the basin as he fumbled to open a pocket on his cargo shorts. I turned off the NVGs and let them hang around my neck. Now that I knew he was there, I could see him without the NVGs; he was a darker shadow against the backdrop of the island. Then he lit a cigarette.

  Hoping he wasn't planning to stand there until he finished it, I settled in to wait. Luck was with me. He put his lighter and the cigarette pack in his pocket and resumed walking. I gave him ten minutes, and then I swam into the basin. The boat we saw earlier was the only one in there. It was a ski-boat about 16 feet long with two big outboard engines.

  I climbed aboard and removed the shroud from the first engine. Feeling my way, I found the high voltage wire from the ignition coil to the distributor and yanked it out, tossing it over the side. I put the shroud back on that engine and repeated the process with the other one. Nobody would leave the island in this boat. Not tonight, anyway,

  Checking my watch, I saw that the guard had been gone from the basin for 15 minutes. He should be rounding the southeast corner of the island now. I called Mary on the radio, subvocalizing, letting the throat microphone do its work.

  "Vixen," Mary answered.

  "Boat is disabled. Waiting on my target."

  "Copy that. Me, too."

  "Soon, Vixen. Villain out."

  "Copy, Villain. Vixen out."

  We were fortunate with our timing. We wouldn't have to wait for the guards to make another round. I put the night-vision goggles on again and crept along the side of the pier, staying low. As we guessed, there was a footpath running along the shoreline. I crossed it and found a rocky outcropping big enough to hide behind. I dropped into a crouch, putting the mass of the rock between me and the guard's approach. Taking my commando knife from its sheath, I threaded the fingers of my right hand through the knuckle guard and relaxed.

  I smelled the guard before I heard him. Another smoker. I loosened up my muscles as best I could, waiting. About a minute later, he strolled past me, cigarette in hand, his face turned toward the water. I lurched to my feet, lunging toward him from behind, my left hand catching his left shoulder as I smashed the knuckle guard into the side of his head. That may have killed him, but I wouldn't chance it.

  Reaching over his shoulder, I caught his chin with my left hand before he collapsed. I pulled him back against me and drove the point of the knife into the right side of his neck, the blade passing behind his jugular vein and his throat. Holding the knife rigid in my hand, I thrust it forward, letting the cutting edge do its job. The knife sliced through muscle, veins, and cartilage. I wiped it on the right shoulder of his shirt and let him fall as I returned the knife to its sheath.

  "Vixen," I subvocalized, planning to update Mary.

  She didn't answer. I began walking, remembering the satellite image of the island with its paths that Aaron sent us earlier. I would be at the servants' quarters in a few minutes. Mary was either dead, or her target was too close for her to risk answering me. I would know soon, one way or the other.

  I began counting off the seconds to keep myself focused as I followed a footpath up the rocky hill. One minute and 50 seconds later, I heard Mary.

  "Villain, Vixen."

  "Copy. On my way to the rendezvous. Villain out."

  "Copy. Me too. Vixen out."

  I sighed with relief and kept moving. As I walked, I took the pistol from my waterproof belt pack and attached the suppressor. I slipped the pistol into the empty holster at my waist.

  Our plan was to dispatch as many of our targets as we could without using the pistols. Even with a suppressor, the sound of a shot from a nine-millimeter pistol could wake a light sleeper. Still, it was best to be ready for a gunfight if one came our way.

  Soon, the slope of the hill became less steep. I could make out the top of the roof on the big house, just coming into view over the rocks as I neared the crest of the hill. Once on level ground, I dropped to a crouch and got my bearings. The back of the big house was a hundred yards in front of me. To the left and a little closer to me, I saw the servants' quarters with the covered walkway connecting it to the big house. There were no lights showing in either of the buildings. As I began to creep toward the servants' quarters, I saw Mary coming up the slope from the opposite side.

  "Vixen," I subvocalized.

  "Got you in sight, Villain."

  30

  We met at the wall on the northeast end of the servants' quarters, as we had planned earlier. I noticed that Mary's pistol was in her holster with the suppressor attached. We nodded at each other and turned away, Mary to work her way along the front wall of the low building while I went around the back wall. Meeting her at the entrance under the covered walkway, I took the lead.

  Peering into the open doorway, I saw a large open area to the right that was the original kitchen. It still served that purpose; there were modern gas appliances against one wall. To the immediate left of the entrance, there was a wall that must separate living quarters from the work space. About halfway along the wall, roughly 20 feet from me, there was a dark, shadowy area, an archway leading into the living quarters.

  I pointed at it, and Mary nodded and moved to a position on this side of the opening with her back against the wall. Right behind her, I dropped to the floor and slithered to a spot that allowed me to peer through the opening. There was a single, large room, like a dormitory or a barracks. Six single beds were aligned along the back wall.
Four of them were occupied.

  Although we thought we might find an arrangement like this, it was our worst-case scenario. When we made our plans, we hoped that we would find the guards in individual or double-occupancy rooms. With four men sleeping in the same small space, it was unlikely that we could kill all of them before at least one woke up.

  Creeping across the opening with my belly an inch or two off the floor, I reached the other side. Standing with my back to the wall, I looked across the opening at Mary. She nodded, and I raised four fingers on my right hand, closed my fist, and then raised one finger. That was our prearranged signal to indicate four men in one room. She nodded again.

  Closing my fist and holding it at eye level, I raised one finger at a time at one-second intervals. When I raised the third finger, we squeezed through the opening. She went left and I went right.

  My first target was asleep on his right side, his back to me. I drove my commando knife into his left kidney. He gasped, and I pulled his pillow over his head, muffling his moan. Twisting the knife vigorously to do maximum damage, I held him still until I was sure he was gone.

  Mary's man was asleep on his back, snoring softly. Just as I drove my knife into my man's kidney, she put the heel of her left hand against her victim's chin, forcing his head back. She put her weight behind a thrust that drove her blade in under his chin and up through his soft palate into his brain. It was a good choice, given his position, but it caused him to convulse. His thrashing woke the other two.

  I vaulted over the first man I killed. The next one was just getting out of bed when I smashed the knuckle guard of my knife into the side of his head. He fell back, unconscious, and I cut his throat. Mary's second man pulled a pistol from under his pillow before she was within striking distance of him. Holding the pistol in his right hand, he racked the slide with his left, chambering a round.

  She tugged at her knife, but she couldn't free it from her first victim. It cost her a second or two to get her fingers free of the knuckle guard, giving the man with the pistol time to point it at her. With her hand free of the knuckle guard, she turned to face him. Her eyes wide, she raised her hands in surrender and stuck her tongue out at him.

  While he was distracted by her antics, I struck him from behind, going for his right kidney with my commando knife. He gasped and whirled before I could drive my knife home. I cut him, but not badly enough to slow him down. Stepping back, I grabbed his pistol with my left hand.

  By forcing the slide back, I rendered it incapable of firing as long as I could hold on. He was quick and strong, grabbing my right wrist in a vice-like grip with his left hand. That kept me from using the knife. He struggled to yank the pistol free so he could shoot me.

  I was barely holding my own, wrestling with him. Then he yelped and collapsed against me. His weight drove me back against my previous victim's bed. I shoved my assailant away and realized that Mary had her left arm around his throat. She lowered him to the floor and pulled a folding combat knife from his right kidney.

  I nodded my thanks, but she was already focused on retrieving her commando knife from her first victim's corpse. She succeeded and wiped it on his bedding. Putting it down for a moment, she folded her other knife and returned it to a sheath on her belt. She picked up the commando knife, laced her fingers through the knuckle guard again, and looked at me. Gesturing toward the opening to the kitchen, she shrugged. I nodded, and she led the way back outside.

  "Ready for round two?" she asked, her voice soft.

  "Ready."

  We followed the walkway into the big house and went through an open doorway into what was once the dining room. There were four good-sized folding tables pushed together to serve as a conference table. Six comfortable-looking chairs were arranged around the table, with several more against one wall. A large, roll-around whiteboard with several dry-erase markers and an eraser in the tray stood against the other wall. The only exit besides the door from the kitchen walkway was through a wide archway.

  We went around opposite sides of the table, one of us stopping on each side of the archway and scanning the space beyond. I was thankful for the night-vision goggles as I studied the large center hallway. To my left was the main entrance to the house, which once featured a pair of oversized doors but now was open to the outside. Opposite where we stood, there was another archway that opened into a living room furnished with patio furniture.

  About halfway down the hall, there was a wide staircase that led up to a balcony. The balcony was U-shaped, wrapping around three sides of the entrance hall.

  I could make out three doors opening onto the opposite side of the balcony. Bedrooms, most likely, and probably replicated on the side of the balcony above our heads.

  To my right, toward the back of the house and behind the staircase, there were two more doorways in the opposite wall. These were the first doorways we saw that were equipped with doors, and they were closed. In the back wall of the center hall was another double doorway without doors. It led outside onto a veranda.

  I motioned for Mary to cover me. She nodded, and I crept into the hall, facing the back of the house. As I suspected, there were two doorways in the wall on my right, mirroring the two under the staircase. These were hung with doors, as well, and they were closed.

  Still careful to move silently, I turned and went into the living room, but only far enough to see that the only access was through the archway behind me. Going back into the hallway, I motioned for Mary to join me.

  31

  Together, we went to the first doorway in the left wall and took up positions on either side of it. I still gripped my commando knife, but I gestured for Mary to sheath hers and draw her pistol. When she nodded to say she was ready, I reached for the knob on the door and turned it slowly.

  The door moved slightly as the bolt was drawn from the strike plate in the door frame. Glad it wasn't locked and praying that the hinges were freshly oiled, I swung the door open and stepped back. Mary and I scanned the parts of the room that we each could see as I took a roll of duct tape from my belt pack.

  We gave each other a thumbs-up. There was one person asleep in a single bed. We moved into position, one on each side of the bed, Mary with her pistol trained on the sleeper's head. I reached across him and plastered duct tape over his mouth.

  He woke with a start, trying to sit up, but I held him down. Mary put the end of her pistol's suppressor against the bridge of his nose. She shined a keychain flashlight on the pistol. Watching his eyes as he realized what was happening, she said in a soft voice, "Struggle and you die. Cooperate and you live. Blink once if you understand."

  He blinked.

  "Good boy," she said. "Now we're going to roll you over on your stomach and cuff your wrists and ankles."

  I grabbed his right shoulder, and he let me roll him over. I cinched his wrists together behind his back with plasticuffs, pulling them up tight. Moving to the foot of the bed, I cuffed his ankles. Passing a precut, six-foot length of parachute cord through the plasticuffs at his wrists and ankles, I drew it up tight. Having pulled his wrists and ankles together behind his back, I tied the cord. Then I picked up the duct tape and took two wraps around his head, covering his mouth to secure the single piece of tape I used to gag him at first.

  We repeated the same steps with the occupants of the other three rooms on the ground floor. It took us no more than five minutes to secure the four men. I led Mary back into the dining/conference room. We needed to regroup. When we made our plans, we didn't consider that some of our targets might be on the second floor of this decrepit old house.

  "Recognize them?" I asked.

  "Grissom, Stringfellow, Theroux, and Cruz," she said. "You agree?"

  "Yes. That leaves our two unknowns upstairs. I hope the stairs don't squeak."

  "They're almost 300 years old, Finn. They're bound to squeak. How do you want to do this?"

  "The floor upstairs will be noisy, too. Probably worse than the stairs. If we make it up
the stairs without waking them, we'll take them the same way we took the others. If one of them wakes up and surprises us, we may have a gunfight on our hands. All we can do is try to keep them alive if that happens."

  I paused, but Mary didn't say anything.

  "Here's how I see it, then," I said. "I'll go up a couple of steps ahead of you and if one of them hears us and shows his face, I'll punch him out if I can. If not, you shoot him, but try for a non-lethal wound. Then while I deal with the first one, you go after the second. Okay so far?"

  "Yes."

  "We've got another problem. There are six rooms, but only two people. Even if the stairs don't squeak and we catch the first one by surprise, there's a good chance the second one will hear something."

  "Yes. What else are you thinking?" she asked.

  "If we're lucky enough to get the first one before one of them wakes up, leave him to me. You go after the second one and hold him at gunpoint until I get there to tie him up. Make sense? Or do you have a different idea?"

  "No. Let's go get 'em."

  I nodded. "Follow me."

  Our worry about the stairs proved to be well-founded. I was a little over halfway up when a man came through one of the doors, a pistol in his right hand. I took the rest of the stairs in two jumps.

  "Who's there?" he called, a split second before I was on him.

  Grabbing for his pistol with my left hand as I swung for his jaw with the knuckle guard, I missed the pistol and got his right wrist. Mary squeezed past us as he lurched into me. He was stepping inside my punch as he tried to head-butt me.

  Letting his momentum push me backward, I avoided the head-butt and lifted my knee into his groin. He grunted, but kept his focus, jerking his gun hand around, trying to break my grip as he kept pushing me backward. He hooked his foot behind one of my ankles.

  I let him trip me, twisting as we fell to avoid ending up underneath him. Trapping the foot he used to trip me between my ankles, I rolled on top of him. I felt his left hand grasp my neck, his thumb going for my larynx. I smashed the knuckle guard of my knife into his left elbow and heard a satisfying crack. His left arm fell away, and I put the point of my knife into his throat just far enough to draw blood.