Off Guard: A clean action adventure book

by Glen Robins

  Can’t find a woman sexier than that, he thought to himself as he snuffed out his smoke.

  Rising slowly as he eyed the American, a hint of admiration spread through him. The guy didn’t make more than a muffled grunt and some fast and hard breathing through his mouth during the ordeal. No pleading, no whining, and no screaming. He had to respect a man like that.

  Flicking the butt of his cigarette away, he set about to finish what he had started. First, he dragged a heavy load of thick black cable across the floor, leaving it in front of the wheelchair. He knelt down and began to uncoil the cable and string it through the wheels of the chair. The guy moved quickly, back and forth, in front and in back. Grunting sounds and the rattling of tools being plucked out of a metal box and dropped back in moments later echoed throughout the empty space. Next, he moved to the window, unraveling more cable as he went, making satisfied rumbles in the back of his throat from time to time.

  A five-foot-tall wooden spool, used to transport the thick black electrical cables, was rolled into place near the window ledge. The wood panel in front of the window was removed and the wiry guy set to work tying ropes and cables to the spool, then running them through pulleys and tying them off. He worked quickly and efficiently.

  This design was genius. His ingenuity would surely garner him some favors in Mr. Penh’s new world order. A high school dropout like him didn’t get the big opportunities some of the other members of the team got. The guys with the computer skills were revered while a lowly mechanic like himself was given the grunt jobs and ordered around like a monkey. But this contraption would display his usefulness and talent. Yes, Mr. Penh would be pleased when he saw what happened to his victims once the wire was tripped.

  ****

  Seventy-Sixth Floor, Unfinished Office Building, Mexico City

  June 18, 8:58 p.m. Central Time

  The wait was excruciating. Every possible scenario rattled inside Collin’s head. Maybe they figured out that Butch and his guys were American and planned to shoot them when they returned. Maybe Rob was dead. Maybe Penh had already launched his plan and the coup d’état had already commenced.

  Lukas’s soft Germanic accent flowed through the earpiece in a whisper, bringing much-needed reassurance. “We’ve got eyes on you. Tracking your movements. Remember, once you get in there, keep trying to slow things down if you can. We need some more time.”

  Just then, the door opened and the same guard stepped into the stairwell, holding the door open and motioning for the group to proceed.

  They took a sharp right once they came through the door and followed a pathway covered in thin industrial-style carpeting. It led them through a jagged, unfinished hallway of aluminum studs with no wallboard on them. An occasional single light bulb hung down from the open ceiling, casting pale yellow spheres of light through the otherwise dark and empty space.

  Collin, who looked a wreck, spoke up. “Excuse me.”

  The officer in charge halted the company, then whirled around and shot him an incredulous look.

  “I need to use the bathroom. You know, the baño.” He pulled a pained, urgent expression.

  “We meet the boss first,” said the officer. He turned on his heels and continued marching down the path through the bowels of the building.

  Disappointed in his failed attempt to delay the inevitable, Collin dropped his head and shuffled forward reluctantly. Butch and Pepé practically dragged him a few steps, barking “andele” several times as they urged him on.

  ****

  The only walled-in area Collin could see in the wide-open interior of the building, other than the stairway and the elevator shaft, had only one entrance. The group approached a set of elegant dark-wood double doors. They halted when the commander in front held up his hand. He rapped on the solid door and waited. The seconds stretched out to an uncomfortable length, causing the commander to shift his weight and glance behind him twice.

  Finally, the door rattled open. A well-dressed, confident Asian man, standing maybe five foot eight, wearing patent leather loafers, a blue silk suit, and an orange tie with a matching pocket square stepped out of the room and into the faint light. There was a buzz of frenetic activity and urgent voices in the room behind him. He was flanked by two other Asian men wearing dark sweaters and equally dark expressions. The second one quickly pulled the door closed behind him.

  The perfectly-tailored suit shimmered in the yellowish glow of the single bulb overhead. His black hair was slicked back, and his dark eyes jumped out. An air of assurance and power radiated off him like heat from a gas lamp. It smacked of the kind of smugness and arrogance and entitlement that Collin had learned to hate growing up among ultrarich kids. He knew upon seeing him that it was Pho Nam Penh, the lurking monster from the pictures that he had been trying to avoid all these months. Collin’s jaw clenched, his fists balled, and his eyes narrowed. It also made his heart beat in a heavy rhythm and his breathing grow quick and shallow. In that moment, Collin felt like a bull meeting the matador. Butch and Pepé each tightened their grips on his elbows as Collin tensed and lunged toward Penh. All five of the guards around Collin closed ranks to hold him back and shield Penh.

  The contrast between the two was sharp and incontrovertible. Penh was slick and sophisticated. Collin was dirty and disheveled. Penh was free and relaxed. Collin was restrained and agitated. Penh was cool and in control. Collin was hot and fierce.

  Penh eyed him from head to foot and back. “So I get to meet the infamous Collin Cook, in the flesh once again? My, how things have changed since last we met. You’ve grown a legend of mythical proportions.” Penh’s voice dripped with disdain.

  Collin’s heavy breathing was a testament to the surge of adrenaline that had yet to subside.

  Penh looked past him to Lieutenant Salazar. His gaze went directly to the object he held against his side. “The computer?” he said, with his hand outstretched and his fingers curling toward him in a “give-that-to-me” gesture.

  “Show me where Rob is first,” Collin said as forcefully as he could.

  “Mr. Cook, you are in no position to make demands,” Penh said with a sneer. He clicked his fingers and one of his guards approached Salazar and motioned for the computer.

  Salazar dutifully handed the Asian guard the laptop.

  Penh stepped forward, staring Collin down. Collin didn’t break eye contact. Penh’s clean-shaven face was regal and serene while Collin’s stubbly face was contorted.

  Stepping directly in front of Collin, Penh continued to glare. “You tried to outsmart me, but you failed,” Penh hissed, emphasizing the word “failed.” Then he pulled his head away and took a step backward. His nose scrunched up as he winced, a look of revulsion crossing his smooth face. “You smell worse than an animal.” Looking at Salazar, Penh barked, “Get him cleaned up. I don’t want this filthy pig near me.”

  Penh motioned to the guard holding the computer and signaled him inside with a few words that Collin could not understand. The guard spun on his heels to reenter the room.

  “Speaking of filthy animals,” Collin said angrily. “You made me a promise. You said that Rob would be released if I gave you what you wanted. There, you got what you wanted, now let him go.”

  Penh shook his head. “Still trying to bargain while the odds are stacked so heavily against you? I admire your pluck, Mr. Cook. But if you know what is best, you will make no further demands until I have everything I want, including my money—every one of the thirty million dollars you stole from me.”

  Collin spat as he reacted. “Your money? What makes you think it’s yours?” Collin stopped himself, realizing there was no arguing at this point. Words were meaningless and so was money. He held his breath a moment and shook his head in disgust as Penh eyed him warily. “Listen, I really don’t care about the money. I’d much rather have my family than that stinking money, but you’re not going to get a dime of it until I know for sure Rob is OK.”

  Penh held Collin in an icy sta
re. His dark eyes locked onto Collin’s, revealing his contempt. Then he snapped his fingers while still glaring at Collin. He refocused his gaze toward Salazar. “You are the one who captured this animal, correct?”

  Salazar looked surprised, but answered, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Flicking his eyes toward Collin, then back to Salazar, Penh said, “Take this dog to see his friend, then get him cleaned up. Return him here in ten minutes. We will commence our work immediately.”

  Salazar nodded confidently and said, “Yes, sir.”

  “One last thing before you go, Mr. Cook,” said Penh, as if suddenly remembering something he had almost forgotten and fixing his eyes on Collin’s once again. “Just to show that I am a man who keeps his promises, I have a little memento for you to keep.” He held a hand out and nodded at Butch until he loosened his grip on Collin’s arm.

  Collin cocked his head in confusion, then slowly raised his hand to accept Penh’s offer. Penh dropped a long cylindrical object wrapped in white gauze into his hand. The object was warm and firm, but malleable. Curiosity forced Collin to break eye contact at last and brought his gaze to his palm. The gauze was stained a deep red on one end.

  “You were late, but I kept my word.”

  Collin felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what he was holding. The memory of Penh’s threat over the phone flashed back to the forefront in that instant and he knew he was holding his best friend’s severed finger.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Seventy-Fifth Floor, Unfinished Office Building, Mexico City, Mexico

  June 18, 9:04 p.m. Local Time

  After Penh and his guards disappeared through the double doors, Lieutenant Salazar stood taller with his chest out and said, “You heard the boss. Let’s take him to his friend.” Looking toward the man who had led the group from the helipad and squinting at the name embroidered above his chest pocket, he added, “Please lead the way, Sergeant Hernandez.”

  The sergeant cocked his head and furrowed his brow, but started to push his way through the group, nearly knocking Collin over as he stood, ashen faced, staring at the object in his hand. Collin’s stomach turned and his head spun. Butch and Pepé steadied him and began to turn him around. Butch calmly took the finger from Collin’s hand while no one was looking and put it in his breast pocket. He squeezed his elbow to add some reassurance.

  The sergeant led them back to the stairway they had come down moments earlier. Collin staggered as Pepé and Butch practically dragged him. They descended one flight to the seventy-fifth floor. A gust of cold wind greeted them as the sergeant opened the door. Collin strained to see his lifelong friend, but he found it hard to move and even harder to see. In the dim glow of a distance light, he could see Rob strapped to a wheelchair only a few feet from the edge of a missing window. Collin stopped cold at the sight.

  At the sound of the door opening, Rob’s head popped up and looked toward the door.

  Collin tried to call Rob’s name, but his voice was so weak, it was barely audible.

  There was a hesitation before Rob replied. When he did, his tone startled Collin. It was fierce and pointed. “Don’t come near me, Collin. I don’t want to see you right now,” he shouted through clenched teeth. The angry words echoed throughout the empty space, carried by the whipping wind.

  Collin tensed at the reproach, speechless. Rob was a hundred feet away, immobile and helpless, but Collin couldn’t move. He had wanted to run to him. Maybe give him a hug, maybe untie him.

  “There’s nothing to say, Collin. Just get out. I don’t want you here.”

  Lieutenant Salazar snapped his fingers and pronounced the meeting over. “Let’s get this filthy American clean. Sergeant Hernandez, where shall we take him?”

  Hernandez gave Salazar a puzzled look but said nothing.

  Butch nudged Collin to turn around. Collin’s movements were sluggish. In his earpiece he heard Lukas say, “Don’t worry, Collin. He’ll be all right.”

  Butch grabbed a wad of Collin’s jacket, just under the collar, and said in Spanish, “After you, Sergeant.”

  When they reached the landing for the seventy-sixth floor, Hernandez marched them through a maze of scattered tools, saw horses, and construction materials that lay about until they reached another walled-in area with a sign on the door indicating it was a men’s bathroom.

  Collin staggered straight to the sink and bent over, propping himself up with his hands on either side of it. He ran the water, and splashed his face. Butch stood next to him with Pepé next to the far wall. Salazar and Hernandez were stationed just inside the entry. A knock came at the door just before it swung open. A bright-faced Mexican soldier with a neatly pressed uniform and shiny black boots paused awkwardly just after he entered. It looked like he hadn’t had time to finish basic training before being assigned to this duty. He stopped in his tracks, sizing up the five men congregated in the bathroom. His eyes scanned each man’s face and uniform. A troubled expression appeared as he looked over Butch and Pepé. Their uniforms had no insignia on them—just desert camouflage fatigues, boots, and combat vests. Butch interrupted his silent search. “What do you need, soldier?” he asked in Spanish.

  “We are here to escort the prisoner back to the conference room, sir,” said the young private.

  Another young army man in a new uniform stepped in behind the first, looking straight ahead, keeping his eyes away from any of the men in restroom.

  “Mr. Penh demanded that this man be cleaned up before returning. As you can see, he is still filthy,” said Butch. “Mr. Penh ordered him to be returned in ten minutes, but that was only four minutes ago.”

  “We’re just following orders, sir.”

  “Understood. So are we. Give us a few minutes and he’ll be ready.”

  Lukas’s voice could be heard again in the earpiece, saying, “I need more time. Stall if you can.”

  Collin splashed more water on his face and took off his shirt. Using liquid soap from the sink dispenser, he began to wash his hands, arms, and neck. The lather turned brown as he worked. He continued soaping and scrubbing his upper body, producing more brownish rivulets. He cupped his hand under the faucet and splashed the cold water all over to rinse off. As he blotted the water off his skin with a wad of paper towels, another Mexican soldier, this one a lieutenant, barged into the crowded restroom. “The prisoner is wanted, at once,” he barked.

  Sergeant Hernandez snapped to attention. “Yes, sir,” he said. Pointing at Butch and Pepé, he ordered, “Bring him now.”

  “But, he’s not clean, as Mr. Penh ordered,” said Butch.

  The new lieutenant shook his head. “No matter. He is wanted immediately. Bring him at once.”

  Two more armed soldiers elbowed into the room and seized Collin by the arms and briskly escorted him out of the restroom, shirtless, damp, and partly soapy.

  ****

  “Collin,” said Lukas in a whisper through the earpiece as Collin marched down the rubbery carpet strip toward the conference room at the far end of the building, an armed guard firmly holding each of his elbows. “Penh needs you to log on to your computer because of the biometric identifiers we put on it. His hackers have not been able to get past the login protocol. Go ahead and let them in. We’ve got a little maze set up for them. It should keep them busy hopefully long enough for the rest of our forces to get into place. So stand by and be ready.”

  Collin and his armed entourage finally reached the double doors of the long, walled-in room. Bare sheetrock walls extended to his right as they stood in the dim light and waited for someone to answer the knock. One of Penh’s bodyguards opened it cautiously and stepped out. He eyed the bare-chested Collin curiously, then signaled for him to come in and for the others to wait right where they were. The guy had powerful hands. He clutched Collin’s sturdy arm in a vice-like grip, as if he were trying to deflate the biceps.

  As Collin was pulled into the room, he couldn’t help but notice how overcrowded the space was
with people and equipment. The far wall was occupied by two racks of computer servers with flashing and glowing lights—green, blue, and red. Thick blue and yellow wires trailed out of the backs of the slim modules, each hooked in to its own shelf. Each rack was six feet high and stuffed full. Collin was shocked by the scale of the operation.

  Computers and monitors were lined up on long plastic stow-away tables, the kind people keep in the garage and set up for outdoor barbeques or parties. These tables lined the walls on either side of the long rectangular room. Fans stood on wobbly legs between some of the tables, oscillating and blowing warm air around the room. Diligent people sat on folding chairs and pecked away at the keys and murmured among themselves. Supervisors lorded over them in the narrow space between the rows of tables and chairs, pacing back and forth between three or four people, barking an occasional command or answering questions. It was like a veritable beehive buzzing with workers and activity. Collin estimated thirty or more people crammed into this workspace. Some wore uniforms. They appeared to be Mexican nationals. Others appeared to be Asian. They were not in uniform, but neatly dressed. All were men. Smoke filled the air and Collin coughed and sputtered as he was dragged into the middle of the room.

  Penh stood, at the center of the action, waiting for Collin to be brought to him. He, too, gave Collin an inquisitive look when he saw him without his shirt. “We have work to do, Mr. Cook. Please, have a seat.” He pointed to the rack of servers at the far end of the room.

  “Before we start, let me get this straight. I log in to this computer. You get what you need from it. Then you set Rob free. Did I miss anything? I mean, that was the agreement, was it not?”