The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset: 1-6

by Ethan Cross

  Standing firm, she said, “I know what I’m doing. I don’t want to take a life or hurt anyone, but I also won’t stand by and let men like John Canyon take away the things I care about and believe in. I’m going to fight, whether you like it or not, so you might as well tell me how I can help. As far as I’m concerned, by going up against the law in the first place and threatening our lives, every one of those men out there is trying to commit suicide by cop.”

  He laughed. “I’m the furthest thing from a cop, but Suicide by Ackerman does have a certain ring to it.”

  Liana’s eyes went wide as her brain caught on that name. Ackerman. The name of one of the most notorious murderers in American history. She looked down where his scars were now covered, and everything made sense. There was a sort of awe in her voice when she proclaimed, “You’re Francis Ackerman Jr.”

  With a wink, he said, “Pleasure to meet you, Officer Liana Nakai. But don’t go spreading that around, it’s classified information. And this only serves to reiterate my point. Remember, when you’re sighting in with that life-ending rifle, that there was no one in history whoever deserved redemption less than me. Yet, here I stand.”

  74

  After fitting Liana with a radio earpiece and giving her a crash course on the 50 BMG caliber rifle, Ackerman picked up a grenade from the table and walked over to Tobias Canyon, who was tied and gagged in the corner of the room.

  With duct tape in one hand and a frag grenade in the other, Ackerman smiled down at the wide-eyed Canyon youth and said, “I like to call this game: Kissing the Pineapple. Because typically frag grenades have a sort of bumpy pineapple shape. You have to use your imagination in this case, since these fragmentation grenades are actually round, but I still like the imagery. Anyway, pucker up.”

  After he had finished taping the grenade to Tobias Canyon’s face, with the pin and trigger release still accessible, he proceeded to cut the fishing line from Tobias’s hands, feet, and chest. He then rewrapped the young man’s hands and attached another grenade to the back of Tobias’s belt.

  With his preparations complete, Ackerman shoved Tobias toward the door and said, “It’s time to take the long walk, kid.”

  Liana stood by the door leading onto the covered porch and front steps of the trading post. The sight of her waiting there like an expectant wife ready to hand him his thermos and give him a kiss on the cheek before he headed off to work made Ackerman’s heart flutter in a strange way that he had seldom felt. He gave her a genuine smile and asked, “Do I get a kiss goodbye?”

  She replied, “I wish I had never met you.”

  “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say. Especially to someone marching off into the lion’s den.”

  “Let me finish. My life was a hell of a lot simpler before you barged into it, but that doesn’t mean that I want to see you get killed now. Why don’t you put on some of this body armor and take one of the Berettas?”

  “I have my push daggers. And I’ve never been one to use body armor, it’s restrictive, and it always felt like cheating.”

  “I thought you were in favor of cheating.”

  “I’m in favor of winning when it comes to life and death circumstances because winning equates to surviving. But I also love a challenge, and bad things seem to happen when I use guns.”

  “Then put on one of the vests.”

  Beneath his frag grenade gag, Tobias Canyon mumbled something. Ackerman replied, “You don’t need a vest. No one’s going to shoot you. And I prefer freedom of movement over extra armor.”

  “I’m not letting you out this door without you putting on a vest and strapping on one of these Berettas.”

  He found the look on her face quite adorable. She reminded him of a little girl ordering a parent to put on a coat for risk catching cold. With a roll of his eyes, he said, “Fine, I’ll wear the vest and take the gun.”

  She seemed surprised. “Really?”

  “Yes, I’m not sure how you intend to stop me from going if I don’t adhere to your demands, but considering the time it takes to argue and our escalated timetable, it’s easier to merely acquiesce.”

  Liana didn’t say anything more, but she had a little grin on her face as she strapped on his body armor and stuck one of the procured 9mm Berettas in the back of his waistband. Just before he stepped through the doorway, he turned back to her, winked, and said, “Don’t worry, darling. This is what I do.” Then he shoved Tobias Canyon down the front steps of the old trading post and began the long walk toward the awaiting army of enemies.

  75

  A small dagger of pain stabbed his side with every step. He suspected that there was an infection brewing, as happens sometimes when cauterizing wounds. But that was something to worry about hours from now. There were plenty of things that could be killing him within the next few seconds that were of more pressing concern.

  Ackerman had made it halfway down the lane without any interruptions, and he had to admit that he welcomed the quiet respite. Nothing but the rain smells of creosote and sage and the fragrance of fear from his captive. Sometimes, he could only handle so much of the normals chattering before he needed to retreat to solitude. Luckily, his only companion on this walk was gagged with a fragmentation grenade.

  But then, the beautiful silence was broken by his father’s voice and the apparition of the man appearing beside him saying, “You know I’ve been thinking…”

  Ackerman tried not to show any reaction.

  Thomas White continued, “As I’m evaluating your options here, tallying up all the variables so to speak, I’ve come to the conclusion that we will be seventy-three percent more likely to survive if you allow me to take control.”

  Rolling his eyes, Ackerman replied, “But did you know that sixty-three percent of all statistics are just made up on the spot?”

  In his ear, a voice said, “What was that?” But it wasn’t the voice of his father. It was Officer Liana Nakai.

  Ackerman replied, “Sorry about that. I forgot that I had this communicator in my ear. But since I have your attention now, I’ll take a sit-rep.”

  Over the small wireless receiver and transmitter in his ear, Liana said, “They’re hunkering down like a nest of rattlesnakes. I don’t see any sign of your brother, but they have a few new barricades and men facing that direction, away from us.”

  “Good. All to be expected.”

  “Frank, can I ask you a kind of personal question?”

  With a cock of his eyebrow, he said, “You can ask me anything, but I’m afraid that I might not have ample time to reply.”

  He kept moving, pushing the Canyon boy along in front of him, while keeping his ring finger in the pin of the grenade attached to the young man’s mouth. If any of Canyon’s lackeys had any inkling to take a shot, they would quickly change their minds when they saw that any attempt to take him down would result in the detonation of young Tobias’s head. What they may or may not have seen was that there was another grenade taped to Tobias’s back, and Ackerman was ready to pull that pin at any point as well.

  After a few seconds, Liana said, “Earlier when you saw that red flare go up, there was a sadness that came over you. I understand that you’re worried that you may have lost your friend. But there was something else. An expression that seemed so alien on you. It looked like you were…afraid.”

  “I’m afraid that you must have misinterpreted my reaction. I’m neurologically incapable of fear.”

  “Everyone is afraid of something. Maybe you just haven’t found out what scares you yet. But I definitely saw fear on your face when that flare went up.”

  Ackerman hadn’t taken the time to fully consider his feelings on the matter, but he supposed that Liana was right. He had experienced some strange fleeting moment of what normals called fear. He replied, “Because of the damage to my brain, I’m incapable of fear in the way that you are, and I’m also addicted to pain, which is actually pleasurable for me. I’m also not afraid to die. I’m not afraid t
o be paralyzed or go blind or suffer any kind of indignity or torture. But what does scare me is going back to the way that I was. Losing control and returning to my old self. The dark wind that occupied my years of bloodlust. The scary part is that right now I’m stepping into a situation where I may be forced to kill again. And during the dark years, I wasn’t only addicted to pain. I was addicted to death. I suppose I’m just looking down this long dirt lane at all of these potential victims and wondering, like an alcoholic stepping into the bar and trying to have just one drink, if I wouldn’t be better off allowing them to kill me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Because if I ever returned to the way that I was. The world would be much better off if I was dead.”

  She asked, “So what changed you? How did you go from being addicted to death to a protector of life?”

  He had never thought of himself as a protector. Marcus was a protector. He was always more of a destroyer.

  “In a way, I suppose it was meeting my brother. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew there was something different, a connection that I had with him that I have with no one else. At first, I didn’t know what to think of it. Later, I realized that it was my brother’s resemblance to our father which caused me to latch hold of him. Even before I knew that we were siblings. But deeper than that, I guess what changed me was the epiphany that everything happens for a reason. There is a grand design to the universe, and we’re all part of that design. Every pain I suffered, every life I’ve taken, every drop of blood I’ve extracted or shed, it was all for a reason. It was all leading me along the path to this moment and every moment after. Sometimes, you can’t see the hand of God until you look back on events from down the road. Weeks or months or even years later. When I met my brother, I looked back at my life, and I saw beautiful narrative. I saw my path not heading toward destruction and oblivion, but toward redemption.”

  Liana said, “Has that changed for some reason? Do you ever want to follow that path of oblivion again?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you worried about going back to the person that you were? It seems to me that this epiphany you’ve had isn’t something you can forget and just go back to who you were before you had it. It’s changed you, and you can no more go back to your old self than the coyote can catch the moon.”

  Her words lifted a weight from his chest and filled him with warmth. With their adversaries growing closer, he only had time for one more exchange, and so Ackerman asked, “If we make it out of this alive…would it be improper of me to ask you for a kiss?”

  The reply that came a few seconds later made his heart flutter in some strange and uncomfortable way.

  Liana said, “No…I’d like that.”

  76

  As Ackerman approached, he was pleased to see that John Canyon was waiting to meet him in front of the barricades, acting as the tip of the spear. They had placed two massive pickup trucks with their beds angled toward the trading post. The resulting V formation reminded Ackerman of the paddles in a pinball machine. He had never been allowed to play games such as that when he was a boy, and when he was a man, he had much better things to play with. Still, he was familiar with the concept and design.

  Between the two trucks, they had backed up a panel van, the type that normally carried the name of someone’s plumbing business stenciled on its side. The rear doors of the van were open to two men with AK-47s trained on Ackerman. From various points, all along the barricade, there were other guns of other calibers pointed in his direction. A lot of fingers on a lot of triggers, but he wasn’t worried, and not only because he was incapable. Behind each of the angled pickup trucks were additional vehicles and additional men. Then, far back to the left, away from the action, was the motorhome that Ackerman presumed to be their command post and outhouse.

  It was a good little roadblock. It would’ve been difficult to ram a vehicle through it and escape.

  He was pleased to see that Canyon had positioned his resources in much the same way that Ackerman had imagined he would. Although he had never played Battleship as a child, at the moment, he felt a bit like he had just won a giant iteration of the popular board game.

  Stopping ten feet short of the barricade, Ackerman waited his finger held tight against the ring attached to the safety pan attached to the release mechanism of the grenade, which was then attached to Tobias Canyon’s face. To the young man’s father, he said, “I know that you were wanting to see your boy, and my associate informed me that you had wished to come up to the trading post and speak face-to-face. But I figured what kind of a host would I be if I didn’t come out to meet and greet all of you myself.”

  Stepping forward, the elder Canyon said, “Cut the crap. Let’s talk deal. I want my son back, and I want my truck back. And I’m sure that you and your little girlfriend would like to walk out of here with your lives. So let’s talk. How much is it going to cost me?”

  Ackerman cocked his head and replied, “My apologies, John. I appear to have somehow been imprecise or unclear with my demands. You were to bring me Agent Carlisle by a certain time, or I told you that I would destroy you and your little kingdom. Am I speaking with a dialect or an accent that makes it difficult for you to comprehend. I would be happy to restate in a manner that would—”

  “How are you operating under the assumption that you have any room to dictate terms to me? Look around! I have you completely surrounded, outmanned and outgunned. The only thing keeping you alive is the fact that I need information from you. And fortunately for me, you aren’t the only one who possesses that information. I don’t care where it comes from. You or your brother. I expect him to be along shortly.”

  Ackerman felt an eye twitch at the use of the word “brother” and laughed to cover the gesture. “Yes, I expect Marcus to be along soon as well, but I’m not sure that you’ll enjoy his company. He’s not nearly as much fun as I am. He kind of just cuts straight to the point without all the embellishment. But what you refuse to comprehend, my dear Mr. Canyon, is that we are in the exact same situation that we were in earlier. With you sitting in a position of weakness and believing yourself in the seat of power. It’s sad really.”

  “You are completely out of your mind. I have no idea where your friend is. I think it’s time that you had a reality check.” Turning to one of his subordinates, he gave a nod, and a short barrel-chested man picked up a radio receiver and said, “Come on in.”

  Ackerman had no idea to whom this man was speaking or why it would have a bearing on their current discussion, but he didn’t like surprises, unless he was the one doing the surprising.

  He said, “I wouldn’t try anything reckless, John. I will not hesitate to separate your son’s head from his body. Well, I guess ‘separate’ is a bit imprecise—there won’t be much head or body left—but you get the idea.”

  Canyon had a little smirk on his face. “Just watch, my friend.” Ackerman stepped to the side of the van in order to see the approaching vehicle. It started as a pair of headlights and became a pair of headlights attached to a massive dark shape. Then it emerged as the biggest, blackest, armored narco tank that Ackerman had ever seen. The armored truck stopped, and Ackerman watched as his brother dropped down from the back with his hands raised in surrender.

  77

  Special Agent Marcus Williams felt like his whole world was falling down around him. Five men armed with silenced MAC-10 submachine guns had pulled up to him and Yazzie in the equivalent of a ghetto tank. With no other choice, he had surrendered. Now, with his hands raised and his weapons stripped from him—the MP5 and all his ordnance remained with Yazzie’s patrol vehicle, and his brass knuckles had ended up in the pockets of the Mexican gentlemen currently jamming a MAC-10 into the small of his back. The ornate Colt Peacemaker, they had given back to Yazzie, as the southern crew of cartel thugs seemed to be thoroughly acquainted with the police captain.

  They shoved Marcus forward to the point where he could se
e his brother over the top of the back of the pickup trucks. Canyon stood just in front of Ackerman, while Frank had hold of the wannabe king’s son. In order to hold back the blind rage he felt, Marcus used an old technique he had learned to keep from hitting someone when he really wanted to. He flexed his bicep muscles, while keeping the expression on his face neutral. He felt like a heat seeking-missile. He wanted to zero in on Canyon and pull the truth out of him by any means necessary. But the twenty-something of Canyon’s men armed with assault rifles and the cartel members armed with the submachine guns made it difficult for him to reach Canyon without being torn to shreds. So no matter how much he wanted to, now wasn’t the time. Still, he had trouble keeping himself from spinning on the man behind him, taking the submachine gun, and mowing down everyone who got in his way. Over the top of the truck bed, Ackerman smiled and said, “Good to see you, brother. Although, you’ve looked a hell of a lot better.”

  “And I’ve looked a hell of a lot worse too.”

  “Not by much,” Ackerman said. “What did you find out there?”

  Canyon stepped into view and proclaimed, “I’m the one in charge here, and I’ll be the one asking the questions.” Turning to Captain Yazzie, he added, “Xavier, I thought you had this one under control?”

  The police captain remained characteristically stoic and unreadable behind his small oval-shaped glasses and Stetson hat. Yazzie replied, “They’re a slippery pair.”

  Marcus moved closer and felt half of the guns follow him, while half remained on his brother. His biceps felt like balloons about to pop. Unable to contain himself any longer, Marcus snarled, “What did you do with Maggie Carlisle?”

  As he asked the question, his gaze bore directly into the gang leader’s eyes.