Discoveries (Mercenaries Book 5)

by Tony Lavely

  “The ‘necessities’ are complete. Tell me about Ian and Kevin.”

  “First, you must commit.”

  “No, first you must commit.” She tipped her chair back to lean against the wall, crossed her ankles and tipped her head back to gaze at the ceiling, listening with all her heart for…

  She didn’t know what. But I know what I’d do in his place: either grab me and whup up on me a little, or walk out and leave me here while Ian dies. He must be the junior one. And they must really need me, to put up with this… embarrassment. From a woman! She laughed, but kept it internal.

  It took a minute before she heard someone moving, and smelled garlic. That wasn’t her, so…

  He kicked the front of her chair, popping her off the wall and landing with the chair vertical. His face was a rictus of anger. He was breathing hard, a vein standing out from his temple. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Maybe to keep from hitting me? She smiled and he clenched his fists where she could see them.

  He turned and exchanged words with the woman, who, when they finished, gave Beckie a sad smile and shrugged again. The man smiled, then grabbed Beckie’s arm and yanked her off the chair and shoved her against the wall.

  Her scream wasn’t loud… because I can’t breathe to fill my lungs. I guess she mentioned my ribs. Be fair, Beck, the tape’s a giveaway, too. Okay. I can get through this. He’ll get bored soon enough.

  She made sure to whimper every time he pitched her around, or allowed her to fall against the chair or the wall. Enough so he wouldn’t feel motivated to hit harder, but not enough he’d think she was giving up. As he laid into her, her frustration increased. This isn’t making Ian any better. Time to play my hole card.

  She blocked his arm the next time he reached for her, then scurried away to huddle in the corner beside the chair. “Stop! Just fucking stop!” She wiped at her face as if to brush tears away. “Before you go any further, think about who loses what. Ian died months ago, and I grieved him then. Believe me, he’s not alive enough to change my mind. What about you? If you don’t get what you want from me, where’s your next stop? Does Allah provide those 50 virgins for ones who fail the cause? What will your boss say if you kill me without finding out what he needs?” She caught her breath. Will he take the bait?

  He swore⁠—at least, Beckie thought it sounded like swearing⁠—before stomping out of the room. Fuck. That didn’t work. What’s next, Beck? When she tried to sit up, the woman, who’d watched the scene play out with a bemused expression every time Beckie’d glimpsed her, made a stay-there motion with her hands and followed the man out.

  Not a believer, but yet, not a non-believer. No, I don’t know what that means. She lay against the wall, breathing as deeply as she could, focusing on recovering any little bit of her strength.

  After her breath had stabilized again, she used the wall to stand, then grabbed the chair and seated herself. She decided it was time for some contemplation. Like, what are they going to do with me? For all her bluster, she was frightened beyond words about Ian. I got him back, partly, anyway. How can I lose him again? She had no good answer to that. There wasn’t really an answer at all, good or bad. And if… or was it when? If they kill me, what about Ralf? And Ian if he lives…

  Okay, that’s a pretty useless train of thought. Ralf has a whole crew taking care of him; someone will step up. Even without my last will and testament. So stop making it about yourself again, Beck. Get off your butt and do something.

  Beckie gathered herself to stand, ready to rush the door and demand more action when the outside door opened, then slammed shut. A scuffle was followed by grunts, oofs and a couple of bodies bouncing off walls. Quietly, she hurried to the front room.

  The man sat on the floor shaking his head; the woman was kneeling over another person who hadn’t given up the fight quite yet. Unarmed, the two were trading blows, though the woman had the advantage. The person she fought wore jeans and a…

  That’s Amy! Beckie ran in and swung her fist as hard as she could at the woman’s head. While it failed to disable her, she was stunned as well as surprised; Amy rolled her over and used something to strike her jaw. The blow bounced her head off the tile floor; her eyes glazed over.

  The man had revived, but he ducked into the back room.

  Beckie took a second to verify that Amy was essentially uninjured, then gave her a hand up. They shared a glance which Beckie intended to mean I got nothing, we gotta get him. Apparently Amy understood; she grabbed Beckie’s hand and headed toward the inner room.

  The man stood against the far wall. He held the handle of a second door that had been covered by a large canvass print of the coast line.

  “She… goes,” he said, pointing at Amy.

  “She stays,” Amy said. “Improves your odds, as you’ll realize when you think about it.”

  “What do Ian and Kevin need?” Beckie said. “I’m getting tired of asking, so unless you want two girls to embarrass you some more…”

  “You must commit.”

  “You keep saying that. Do you understand what it means? I’m here, damn it! What more commitment do you want? I’m not going to say I’ll do anything for you, so get that out of your head and tell me what I need, then what you need. Otherwise, I walk and you tell your keeper how you failed.”

  Amy spun, but the man waved his hand; the woman, who had regained her senses, gave him a raised eyebrow look, but turned away from Amy. She and the man exchanged a few words, which didn’t seem to soothe her concerns. Amy moved slightly, positioning herself between Beckie and the woman.

  Beckie reached to tap Amy’s shoulder. When she turned, Beckie took her hand and urged her to stand beside her. Amy’s grumpy expression conveyed her opinion, but she moved. The man’s posture relaxed, slightly.

  “Wait here.” He entered the room behind the hanging; Beckie heard fumbling and shuffling, but no voices. Doesn’t mean he’s alone back there. After a crash that sounded like a chair, the light went on; in another moment, he reappeared carrying a tablet computer.

  First, however, he handed Beckie a slip of paper with a long combination of Latin and chemical sounding words. Not a lot of help for me. She handed it to Amy, but when Amy reached for her pocket, the woman shot up. “No,” she said. “Not until Madame does her part.”

  Beckie and Amy exchanged a pair of glances before Beckie said, “I wasn’t clear enough. I didn’t say I could actually get it to Millie. Your job, now.” She turned to the man. “What do you need?”

  He handed her the tablet. “The demonstration will explain everything.” He gestured that Amy should turn away. “Only you.”

  She shrugged and studied the blank screen. It gave her no clue, except the right facing triangle that marked “Play.” She touched it, wondering what the show would be.

  In seven minutes she knew. While “why” had received short shrift from the producers, “what” was brilliantly clear: In the United States, kill the nine Justices of the Supreme Court. The other targets seemed to be environmental. First, in New Orleans in the run-up to a predicted major hurricane making landfall where the storm would produce a significant storm surge and heavy rain, destroy the city’s system of dykes and sea walls. Finally⁠—Beckie laughed at the idea⁠—disable the earthquake protection built into the Alaska oil pipeline.

  “Ignore that last one,” the man said.

  “Don’t want to wait?”

  “Others have pointed out that the changes may be discovered before a major earthquake occurs.”

  “Others? Like Ian?” He made no response. “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing. He refused to assist in the other two projects.”

  Projects! I guess I know where that idea came from. “Allow her,” pointing to Amy, “to leave with the information and I will sit right here and consider your… ‘projects.’ I cannot promise to do more than that.”

  Three: In Peillon, A Bad Dream

  The man stood still for several long moments. Be
ckie didn’t move, except to shift her weight on her feet. Amy stood, griping the paper with both hands.

  Beckie noticed and leaned over, “Don’t sweat on it so the ink runs,” she said softly, forcing the little bit of levity she could into it. The woman chuckled once, as if amused. Beckie smiled to Amy. She’d been loud enough, but not too loud.

  “She will say nothing else.”

  “She has nothing else to say,” Beckie agreed. She and Amy shared a look; the girl nodded. “You will let me know when Millie says it works.”

  “Let her out.” The man’s command oozed ill-will and resignation.

  The woman waved to Amy; the two did a little dance to avoid leading. The front door opened and closed; the woman returned. “I will continue to hold your phone,” she said.

  Beckie nodded. It was too much to hope for anything else, but maybe Amy can get the paper to Millie.

  The man hurried into the back room once more; he came back in a minute, talking on a phone. Actually, Beckie realized, he’s listening, not talking at all. He finally set the phone down and said. “We must leave.”

  Yeah, someone’s been watching us all along. Amy knows where I am, so fix that. Damn. Should have figured that.

  In five minutes, the three of them had gone out the back into an SUV, and while the woman shared the back seat with her, the man drove.

  “I hope I’ll be able to get some sleep. And maybe some food.”

  “All the comforts, eh?” The woman smirked, then began a discussion with her partner. When they finished, she turned back to Beckie. “We will not allow you to starve, but we must reach… our destination, first. He…” She tipped her head toward the driver. “… wishes to know when we may hear your opinions.”

  “I said all along, not until I hear that Ian and Kevin are improving. So, I hope your partners haven’t decided to stop my friend from delivering that paper.” She leaned back. “But I would like to review the slide show again, and I may have some questions. When we arrive.”

  The woman nodded. I wonder if she’s thinking it’s just to string them along? Or he is?

  The backseat of the SUV didn’t afford Beckie a good picture of the outside, especially since the moon, while near full, hadn’t risen much. Still the scenery began to look familiar to her. When they turned onto a narrow road, she recognized it as the one that led to Peillon.

  She spent the next half-hour or so ignoring the possibility of meeting another car coming the other way, and reflecting on the contents of the slide show she’d seen.

  Well, first, they gave up on damaging the earthquake mitigation features of the Alaskan Pipeline. Why? He said⁠—in effect⁠—they had no control over when the earthquake would happen. Why don’t they see that same problem with the hurricane hitting New Orleans? I guess the odds are a little better, but it could still be years. Well, a couple, anyway.

  They’re not that stupid they can’t see the similarity. So that means the real goal is take out SCOTUS. Leaving aside why someone’d want to force a new set of justices… Which would probably answer the who wants to force a new set of justices…

  Nothing more came of her cogitations, no matter how she worried them about. When the SUV stopped in the little car park in front of the fountain and the steps up, the woman shooed her out and followed. The man drove off.

  “I’ll lead this time,” the woman said. “Don’t lag too far behind. You are not the most popular person here tonight.”

  “You think they’ll remember me? Little old me?”

  “I am certain. One of my tasks will be to keep them from you until⁠—”

  “Until what? I give you the keys to the kingdom?” She snorted.

  “Until the leaders come to their senses and realize you are worthless. As they should have done months ago!”

  “Don’t hold back; tell me how you really feel.” They were still climbing the steps; Beckie decided to poke a little. “Seriously, why haven’t they done that?”

  “Done what? Declared you useless?”

  Beckie mumbled something that could be taken as assent without being understandable; she was sure the woman just wanted to vent and a little nudge might accomplish what nothing else had, so far. Even if it didn’t, it used time.

  “Do you want to be useless?” The woman brayed a quick laugh. “Of course you do not. But you are, for them. They still believe that your team is the answer to their difficulties.”

  Maybe they don’t know that we’re the cause of some of them. Since the guy Al-Shazar showed up in Pakistan when I did, it’s too much to think that’s a coincidence. Maybe no one’s told them he’s dead?

  “What difficulties are those?”

  She waved, a disgusted gesture in the dim light. “They have been promised money for arranging the events you saw on the tablet. They have already spent the money seeking to expand their influence. The bill will soon come due, and unless you do things…”

  Beckie stopped short. “How would we be responsible for⁠—”

  The woman spun and glared. “You interfere in Pakistan; you interfere here! Have you no imagination, to be unable to see⁠—”

  Beckie grabbed the woman’s arm and dropped to sit on a step, close to the wall. The woman stifled a cry of shock, but landed safely. “I’m guessing that when we arrive where you’re headed, ears will be listening.” She glanced, but the woman made no response. Good training. “Speaking of Pakistan, what do you hear from Al-Shazar?”

  “An example.” The woman didn’t try to disguise her disgust. “He is sent to command the warlords and contact any who might assist us in negotiations.”

  “Negotiations with whom?”

  The woman stared at her hands, wrapped around her knees. “Even here, I cannot say.”

  “Umm. Okay. And what have you heard?”

  She dropped her head to rest on her knees. “Nothing,” she whispered. “He got the call that all was in readiness, and said he would advise us before sunset.” She lifted her head and again glared at Beckie. “Why do you ask?”

  You might have guessed that was coming, Beck. And telling her you killed him would get you full marks for… for stupidity! “I heard his name in… in a context I didn’t understand. I wondered if he had a connection to you people here.” She rolled her head back to enjoy the azure sky above. “If I’m as critical as your people believe, why not answer my…” Might as well be honest. “… my demand for proof that Ian and Kevin were alive?”

  The woman again gestured, leaving Beckie with the impression that the woman’s belief had been sorely tested by something. “I am not informed of all that happens… of course, I am not! But proofs were to be sent. Three times, as I understood it. Then you claim never to have seen them!

  “Where did they go? I don’t know. But I suspect that our… technical expertise, I suppose, might fail us in these more esoteric needs.” She stood. “In the end, of course, it doesn’t matter; you appeared as we needed.” She waved for Beckie to stand. “Now, we must move.”

  Beckie was almost staggered. I appeared as they needed. That’s why we could leave so easily this afternoon. Fuck! I keep playing into their hands!

  They had come down the south side of the mountain top following the same street Beckie had climbed the day before as they carried Ian away from the keep’s exit. This time, as she watched her step on the cobbles, Beckie cast little furtive glances at the solid stone buildings. I wonder how cell reception is here? What did Derek say? Not many towers… hope any message⁠—

  “Down there.” The woman pointed at a slab door some twenty feet ahead. “In,” she said.

  She stepped by the woman and slowly walked into the stone building. “Left, first door.” She reached it and stepped in. She stopped, waiting for the woman, since the dim light from outside didn’t penetrate, and she could see no other light source. So don’t want to walk into something and break a leg… Or trip and fall on my face again!

  The woman must have been familiar with the layout; a lamp to Be
ckie’s right flashed on and the woman came around her to point at a straight chair set next to it. Beckie nodded, then sat.

  “Tell me,” the woman said. “You can’t really do anything, can you?”

  If that’s what you believe, lady. “I don’t know.” Beckie closed her eyes. I also recall you are not a believer, and not a non-believer. “If you have the tablet, I can go through those slides again.”

  “No. Achmed has it; he will bring it in a few moments.”

  “How about a cup of water?”

  “Would you prefer wine?”

  Beckie considered mixing pain-killers with alcohol for a second, but she didn’t recall any warnings about it with these meds before. She agreed.

  In another minute, she’d dry swallowed one of her pills and followed it with a mouthful of the chilled white wine the woman had offered her. “Thanks.”

  Beckie wanted to ask even more pointed questions, but since she’d already decided the odds were that this room, like the one on rue des Roses, was being monitored, having her quiz the woman or sound like she was, was likely to have unpleasant consequences. Especially if they decided she was as worthless as the woman thought.

  The silence held for several more minutes, until Achmed came through the doorway. He held a small case and a paper bag that, as he approached, exuded appetizing aromas, shot through once again with garlic and oregano.

  “I apologize,” he said with evident disdain, “we have no MacDonalds to tempt your palate. Make do with this.”

  She took the wrapped package he extended. Undoing the oil stained paper revealed a good size sandwich. Her first tentative taste made her mouth water even more; the chicken filling had been grilled to perfection. The second bite was every bit as good. The wine did it justice.

  “Merci,” she said.

  When the meal was complete, the woman offered a refill of Beckie’s glass; she agreed, then asked Achmed for the tablet computer.

  Further study of the slideshow added little of significance. She knew how she’d approach the assassination attempt if she were actually to consider it, but the New Orleans job, even if the scheduling problem was ignored, would require weeks of study and analysis. At least, she knew nothing after the fact that much of the city was below sea level. But they can’t get paid until it works. Can they? Would whoever be that foolish? Well, Beck, since you don’t know who it is…