Dead Reckoning

by C. J. Snyder

  “The better to blow you up with, my dear,” Azisi laughed along with Melina while Mykael shuddered, trying to put the pieces together. Except there were too many pieces, too many puzzles spread out in front of her. The colors blended, making it impossible to discern where the pieces fit.

  She felt a heavy hand at her waist and knew he’d found one of her weapons. Cold steel pressed up against her neck a moment later. “You like this better, don’t you?” Melina laughed again. “Carlos will be thrilled. I can’t believe you pulled it off, Ibrajim.” “You can believe it.” Azisi’s voice was dry, like before. He wasn’t laughing, although Melina continued to do so.

  “He wants to listen. While you kill her.” Melina brought a formal cherry wood dining room chair into the living room and patted an arm. “You’ll do that before the bomb, right?” “Melina, wait,” Mykael whispered, even as the pressure of the knife at her throat urged her to sit. “These men, they’re—they—“

  “They’re what, bitch?” Hatred spewed from her sister’s mouth, her eyes, her very being. “One of ‘these men’ is my husband.” Mykael could feel the blood drain from her cheeks.

  “You’ve killed my family!’

  “I—I’m your family—and Sean.”

  “You ceased to be my family years ago. You’ve killed my family one by one. Carlos wanted you dead back then, when I married him, but I told him, no. Told him you would not make a problem if I was dead. I can’t believe how wrong I was. You’re a murdering puta masquerading as a man! My own sister! I couldn’t believe it when Carlos told me it was you. Again, I told him he had to be wrong. And then you killed Jaime. Poor, sweet Jaime. And now, you whore, you sleep with the men who have vowed to destroy my husband?”

  Bile rose in her throat, as ropes were thrown around her wrists and ankles and snugged tight. There would be no escape. Melina lived. She’d killed eight men to avenge her sister, but her sister wasn’t dead. Hadn’t been murdered. Mykael closed her eyes, breath rapid and shallow.

  A vicious slap slammed her head back into the chair. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. I’ve waited too long to tell you what a conniving, dirty bastida you are. You’ll listen to every word.” She kept her eyes open but there were black spots there now, wavering through Melina’s harsh features. Her sister waved a cell phone in front of her features. “My husband wants to hear your death. Wants to listen while your blood gurgles and spurts from your lying throat. Wants to know when his family is avenged. You have hunted his family like helpless animals, leaving them to die while their warm blood stains the ground. Now it is your turn.”

  “Your husband?” she whispered, or thought she did. Everything: the house, the ropes as they cut into her flesh, the knife at her throat, and especially her sister standing in front of her furiously angry—everything felt like a faraway dream. Her sister might be alive, but she was insane. Totally insane, and married to Carlos Caldera?

  Melina Lucano spoke into the cell phone in her hand. “Carlos? Si, mi amor. We have her. She is here. Si. I will watch for you. She will die. Ti amo.” She listened a moment more, then gestured to the man behind her. “He wants to talk to you.” The knife at Maria’s throat lifted away, although she could still feel the man’s presence behind her as he took the phone from Melina. She heard no conversation. The gun she’d glimpsed earlier appeared over her shoulder, next to her ear. She heard only a quiet bark. A bright red rose bloomed on Melina’s white shirt. Her sister’s eyes went wide and a gloved hand silenced Maria’s scream.

  “Hush now. Remember only that your sister died to you many years ago.” Apparently satisfied her initial cry was finished, he took two steps to Melina’s side and fired the gun once more directly into her forehead. Mykael watched the light fade out of Melina’s eyes at that and felt another helpless scream well up in her throat.

  Azisi turned to her and shook his head. “No cries. One phone call” All the aura of a dream disappeared like smoke under a heavy fan. Every nerve ending shrieked with the awful finality of his demand. He flipped open the same cell phone Melina had used to tell her husband she loved him and dialed. “Tell Ghost the address. Only the address.”

  “Lassiter.” Maria broke. Just his name. Just one word, yet she could hear all the worry, all his desperation, all for her, a liar. She had to force the words out, but she did it, and they came quickly, tumbled from her throat before Azisi could stop them. “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t come. There’s a bomb. He shot Melina.”

  The phone snapped shut. Azisi stood behind her, the gun’s muzzle in her hair. Maria felt peace sooth her because she’d been able to tell him, to warn him, to apologize. He would play it over. And over. Hear the truth, finally, in her last words. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.

  ***

  Tron had four computers searching within a split second of the phone call’s abrupt end. They weren’t loud, but the whirring as they powered up and searched did impact Greg’s ability

  to hear the replay. He held up his hand and yelled, “Shut up!”, even as he strode with his communicator to the bunker. Sean followed on his heels, silent but determined to hear as well. “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t come. There’s a bomb. He shot Melina.”

  “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t come. There’s a bomb. He shot Melina.”

  “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t come. There’s a bomb. He shot Melina.”

  “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t come. There’s a bomb. He shot Melina.”

  Finally he glanced at Sean. “Melina?”

  “My sister.”

  “The one who died in the plane when it blew up?” Ghost dissolved and then reconstructed Maria’s lies. Sean nodded.

  “Tron?” Ghost hollered and re-entered the main room.

  “Central Virginia, that’s all I can get.”

  “North? South?”

  “No.”

  Tron turned away from the anguish on his boss’ face. “I’ll run it again. The filters are still working, maybe there’ll be something there.” “I’m driving west.” Ghost strode to the door. “Anything at all.”

  “You know it.” Tron glanced at Sean. “Know how to operate this?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Then get the hell out of here and go with him. Take a gun,” he hollered as the kid followed Ghost. Magnum removed one from his pocket and waved it over his head before the door slid shut behind them. “Hope like hell you don’t need it, green bean.”

  Damn but he hated rookies. They got dead so easy. So did men distracted with emotions. “Tron?”

  “Here. You want back up?”

  Ghost’s voice crackled over the communicator then the static died away as his vehicle cleared the building. “No. Com open.”

  “Roger that.”

  *** Mykael felt the muzzle leave her hair and she opened her eyes. Better to die with her eyes open, she decided. Her captor moved in front of her, checked the ropes that held her still before he met her angry gaze.

  He hunkered down in front of her in a squat and flipped open the cell phone with an emotionless, I’m-just-doing-my-job smile. “We’re going to call lover boy again, and you’re going to tell him the address.” Asizi slid the cool steel of his blade down the side of her face in a lethal caress as he continued, “or we’re going to have a wicked bit of fun before you die.”

  Maria roared back to life inside her. “Fuck you.”

  “Not one for orders, are you?” He punched the speaker button, allowed her to hear. “Me either.”

  “Lassiter.” Anger, still raging, but hope too, and Maria shook her head. Azisi pointed the gun at her temple and shoved it hard enough to hurt. “Tell him the address.”

  “No!” She screamed it at him with all the rage she could muster. “Stay the hell away from here Greg!” Asizi chuckled and shook his head, taunting her with the futility of her efforts to save the man she loved, and gave Greg the address. “Harrisberg. Seven twelve Adams Circle. It blows in fifteen. You, the brother, and no one else
or she’s in pieces.”

  She couldn’t stop her muffled cry but Azisi ignored her now to kneel beside Melina’s body, extracting the two bullets with long tweezers he pulled from one of the many pockets in his pants. He dropped the bullets into a tissue, placed the tissue and the tweezers into a plastic bag. Next he retrieved the casings and put everything back in his pocket. Finally, he turned around again to face her, placed a cloth gag around her mouth, tying it behind her head.

  Still in front of her, he touched her cheek, smiling when she jerked away from his surprisingly gentle touch. “Right response, Maria. Good luck.” And Ibrajim Azisi walked out the front door leaving her with her sister’s dead body, a bomb set to go off in fifteen minutes, and the man she loved lured to his death. Another man she couldn’t save.

  She hoped the bomb would go off early. Her life, her lies were over, but she could still save Greg. She was Los Cochillos, The Knife, an assassin who killed in cold blood over, and over. He wanted Maria, made love to Maria, raced toward death in a vain attempt to rescue a woman who didn’t exist.

  If she could get the box, drop it to the floor…maybe there was a chance.

  ***

  Greg yanked up on the emergency brake and didn’t take the time to turn off the key. “Stay here,” he ordered Magnum.

  Maria's brother frowned. "Respectfully, no." He jumped out of the car to join Ghost on the sidewalk.

  "Stay behind me, then. No heroics, understand?" Ghost stayed to the trees. Why did rush jobs always have to take place in the daytime? "Be nice to have dark for cover once, just once," he whispered, and thought he heard Tron's answering chuckle before it was cut off. Sean followed so close he ran into him when Ghost stopped, then Sean raised his hands in a silent apology.

  The garage doors were closed, the entrance to the tri-level house up a flight of concrete steps.

  Tron spoke in his ear. "Sliding door around back you could pop pretty easily. Did you see into the garage?" "Closed," Ghost whispered. "What’s in front?"

  "Living room. Wish you had the infrared kit."

  Ghost didn't reply to that. Wishes wouldn't help. He crept up to the front window, sneaking a look. His view was limited by the curtains draped over the window, but he could see a body on the floor and that was enough to put the hesitation aside.

  “Magnum, stay outside and cover me.” He didn’t give the kid a chance to argue with him. The screen wasn’t locked. Leery of sparks, he tested the knob of the front door. It turned easily in his hand.

  “Going in,” he whispered for Tron’s benefit, flipping his communicator on his belt so it would capture the next minutes, in case he couldn’t testify. Maria sat on a chair, bound and gagged, but seemingly unhurt. He couldn’t help a sudden exhalation that released the agonizing fear he’d tamped down for the last hour. She gave a cry when she saw him, and shook her head, but didn’t give any other indication that they weren’t alone.

  Eyes still on Maria, he dropped to one knee and pressed two fingers to the neck of the woman on the floor, noting the tattoo on the wrist flung over her head. “He got Calla,” he muttered, reaching Maria’s side at last. “And I’ve got Mykael.” Tears filled her eyes as he loosened first the gag and then the ropes so he could haul her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him, shoving her body as close to his as she could, eyes shut to avoid the sight of Melina, who stared up at them but was unable to see.

  “We’re at one minute,” Tron reminded, and Ghost backed toward the door. “Exit,” he murmured and then bumped into Sean. “That’s Caldera’s wife,” Sean muttered, staring at Melina.

  “Caldera’s wife is Calla?” Ghost questioned.

  “It’s Melina, our sister,” Maria whispered.

  “Hellooo, bomb,” Tron reminded, and Ghost, still carrying Maria, gave Sean a shove out the front door. They raced down the cement steps, over the walkway, across the driveway, and down the street. When they’d reached five hundred feet, Ghost felt the percussion blast at his back and turned, his fall to the ground hard. Faster than seemed possible, he pulled Maria off his chest and tucked her under him to shield her from debris.

  The fireball was intense and immediate. Heat flashed over them, far enough above to prevent injury, but close enough they could feel the destruction it carried. Debris rained down in the space between them and the house, but nothing fell immediately around them. Under him, Maria shuddered. One foot away, Sean sat up to stare.

  “Report,” Tron requested.

  “Three safe,” Ghost confirmed. “Calla was in there. Get the feebies in here to clean this up. We’re not staying. See you in twenty.”

  “Roger that.”

  Ghost sat up cautiously, with a quick check of Maria to make sure she was okay, surveying their surroundings at the same time. The neighborhood looked quiet, serene and completely void of people. The whole scenario burned his gut. The yards they’d run before the blast. The debris between them and the house, but not on them. Too coincidental. He didn’t do coincidences. Azisi, if it was Azisi, had fed him the address, lured him in, then let them walk. Why?

  Chapter Twelve

  Ghost let Sean drive, since Maria seemed content to sit in his lap and hold on for dear life. He wasn’t too upset with the arrangement. They took the back seat and let Sean deal with the late afternoon traffic. Tron conducted an unsuccessful search for the bomber in and around the house, which was Calla’s. Calla Munoune. The letters of her name transposed became Melina Lucano.

  Tron had answers nearly before Ghost asked the questions. “Ten years,” he replied in response to, “how long has she worked for us.”

  She had nearly as many names as Mykael, and had used two of her middle names to marry Carlos Caldera twelve years before.

  “The man who killed her, it was the man from your house?” Ghost asked Maria. “The one you call Azisi, yes. He shot her, after she got off the phone with Carlos. She expected him to kill me. I expected him to kill me, but instead, he,” she shook her head and he couldn’t help the way his arms tightened around her. “He shot her.” Her body gave an involuntary twitch like she’d heard the shot again. “He shot her and then he went over to her and shot her again.”

  The Caldera cartel with an operative in position to know all of Black Fire’s moves. It was beyond horrific. Tron was ready for the next question, too. “I don’t know where he is, but I’ll sure as hell find him.”

  “There’s more, Tron.”

  “Damn straight, sir. It’s fubar, no lie. Gonna take you hours and hours here.” Ghost didn’t answer.

  *** Back at WKBG, Ghost shook his head at Tron, left Sean in the outer room. The ramifications of today could wait a bit. Only one thing was important at the moment. He opened the sliding compartment to its full height and carried Maria into the tiny secure inner room. He sat on the edge of one of the sturdy computer tables, framed her face and held her still until she looked at him.

  There were tears in her eyes when she did. “I lied.”

  He gave one short nod. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m the one—I’m Los Cochillos.”

  “Not possible. Los Cochillos was a Black Fire op. It’s over.”

  “No, I—“

  “Listen to me, Maria. Los Cochillos was an op and it’s over.”

  “He knows,” she whispered, still shuddering as if Asizi stood in the room pointing a gun at her head. “He’ll be dealt with.” Greg shook his head when she tried to interrupt him. “I know who you are. It doesn’t matter. I know the why of who you are, what you were. No one knows the why better than I do. I love you, Maria. I’m going to marry you, because promises get broken. Things get in the way. Our marriage will not get broken or messed with. Understand me?”

  “He—“

  “He will have nothing more to do with us. You will be Maria Lassiter. I will be Greg Lassiter. Ghost is finished. I’m walking away—with you.”

  “But, you—I—“ “Yeah. Just like that. You and I. That’s all there is. All th
at matters to me. You’ve changed my life, made me love again. I won’t let you go.” He kissed her then, and she didn’t have an answer for that. “Will you marry me, Maria Ylena Katerina Angelica Elyria Lucano? Will you spend the rest of your life causing trouble for me, and only me?”

  She laughed, sniffed and laughed again. “I will.” “Excellent.” He walked back out to the main room and set her in an office chair. He lifted a phone from the table nearby. “Cassidy Lassiter. Just the sister I wanted. What are you and Peggy and Mom up to this afternoon?”

  Still a bit dazed, Maria took a moment to smile at Sean, who winked back. Greg was finished listening. “Good. Clear the decks. We need a wedding dress, and all the trimmings…this afternoon.” Maria got to her feet and laid her hand over his, shook her head frantically. He ignored her. “Well of course. You can’t shop for her if you haven’t met her.” He listened for another moment, while he turned his back on her frantic attempts to get him to stop. “Better I drop her with you or you pick her up at WKBG? Very good. How long?. That will work.”

  He hung up and placed a finger over her lips, then replaced the finger with his own mouth. When she stopped squirming, he stopped kissing. “Do your doubts have anything whatsoever to do with me?” She looked like she wanted to object, but she’d promised. No more lies. Not ever. So she shook her head.

  “Sorry the dress will have to be off the rack. If you want to go for the giant party wedding later, we can. Oh, and I’ll have to get myself Catholic, won’t I? I’m betting Tia Selena and your grandparents won’t appreciate a gringo who’s also not of the faith?” She shook her head again, unable to speak over the lump in her throat. “You all right with this, Sean?”

  Since his future brother-in-law didn’t even bother to look at him, Sean grinned. “Yeah. Guess it’ll guarantee my acceptance into Black Fire.”