On The Devil's Side of Heaven

by Roger Peppercorn

  Pete frowned at his unlocked office door and after setting the bag on the floor behind his desk, he walked over and pulled the door open. He looked around for anyone approaching his office. Satisfied he wouldn’t be disturbed, Pete closed the door and locked it, then slid the deadbolt into place. He pulled on the door just to make sure he wouldn’t be surprised. Then he turned on his heel and went back to his desk. Reaching down, Pete picked up the bag. After setting it again on his desk, he pulled the contents out one at a time and placed them in front of him.

  There were four pieces on his desk and each one was both unique in design and lethal when used. A set of surgical knives he kept for interrogations, a long black metal tube filled with plastic explosives, a nickel-plated 9 mm he had used several times, and a garrote with daggers hidden in the handles. Pete picked up each one and carefully inspected them. Satisfied, he walked over to his coat closet and took out a briefcase. He strode back over to his desk and sat the briefcase on the corner. Popping the locks, he opened the lid and put the surgical kit, explosives and garrote inside. Pete closed the lid and sat the briefcase on the floor, then slid it under his desk.

  Opening a bottom drawer, he removed his gun cleaning kit. Pete normally carried a short barreled .357 at the small of his back. The .357 and the ammo inside each chamber were registered in the federal database, so using it for clandestine jobs was out of the question. The 9 mm, however, had never been registered to anyone, so it was free from the ever watchful eyes of law enforcement. He had used the 9 mm three times before; each time had been to kill an enemy of either CCO or Fritz. Today would mark his fourth kill. The victims he had used it on had never been found, so using it wouldn’t bring any undue attention.

  Pete knew using it was still risky considering it could be linked to three other homicides around the world if the bodies and bullets were ever to be recovered. But that too, wasn’t a concern. Each victim had been properly disposed of.

  Pete took the gun apart and cleaned and oiled every inch of the weapon. After he had put it back together, Pete dry fired the weapon three times and worked the slide several times to ensure it worked properly. Next, he worked the safety and then ejected the clip, slamming it back home over and over again until he was satisfied it was working perfectly. He loaded the clip and then rocked the slide to put one round in the chamber. Then Pete took the clip out and put another round in the clip to make sure it had sixteen rounds ready to go. He turned the gun over in his hands and admired the craftsmanship. Its shiny nickel-plated surface glistened under the halogen bulbs in the ceiling. The grips were a checkered pearl finish he had added himself just last year.

  Pete set the gun down on his desk and then stood up and wandered over to the plate glass window and stared out. His gaze took in none of the sights before him as his mind wandered towards the task at hand. He would have Jenny and another agent take the ex-cop, but he would hunt down Jacobs by himself. Pete began thinking about how he was going to draw him out. He would let him know he was being hunted, toy with him a bit, and then just when the great Ronald Jacobs thought he had the upper hand, he would crush him like a bug. He smiled at the scenario that played out before his eyes. Right now though, he needed to call Max and get the latest. Fritz had said he wanted to be included, but he made the decision to exclude him for now. Pete would call Max but before he made the call, he needed to make sure the agents he had hired were in place. He would give them the go while he was on the phone. If he was lucky, Pete would get to hear Max die on the phone.

  Pete turned and walked back to his desk to make the call to New York. He was halfway through dialing when he had a thought and hung up the phone. On a whim, he leaned to his left and opened the bottom drawer of the desk. He took out one of the many burner phones he kept on hand. After he had it out of the packaging and had turned it on, he turned back to his desktop computer and selected a file and then opened it. Pete scanned the text file for a minute before he found what he was looking for.

  He picked up the phone and after opening the message app, he typed in a text message and then hit send. Pete looked at the phone expectantly, waiting for a reply. He wasn’t disappointed.

  Ronald was in the process of making a sandwich when his phone vibrated on the counter. He looked at it and saw he had an incoming text message from a number he didn’t recognize. Ronald opened up the messaging app and read the incoming text: ‘Today is your day’.

  Frowning at his phone, he thought about who it could have come from. After a minute, Ronald replied back.

  ‘Sorry, busy.’

  Pete’s phone beeped at him. He smiled at the reply, then typed ‘Make your last meal a good one.’

  Ronald was chewing thoughtfully when his phone vibrated again. After reading it, he now knew that whoever was sending him these texts had decided to cut out any middleman and was instead coming at him straight on. He picked up his phone and typed: ‘Be helpful if I knew which meal to enjoy.’ Then he headed down to his safe house to check his surveillance monitors. He was curious to see if the person he was talking to was close by.

  Pete grinned at his phone when he read the response. ‘Going to enjoy seeing you die,’ Pete texted back.

  ‘You sure do think a lot of your abilities,’ Ronald answered while sitting in front of the video monitors.

  ‘Dropping the hammer on you is going to be a pleasure,’ Pete answered.

  ‘Well, after I nail your nuts to the floor, you will have a reason.’ Satisfied the threat wasn’t close by, he went to the armory he kept and started to select a few guns and knives he was going to need. Although Ronald had been out of the killing game for a few years, he still felt the charge he used to get when he was actively hunting the ultimate prey.

  ‘How about we do this the old-fashioned way?’ Pete responded.

  ‘Name the time, place and how you want to spend your final moments,’ Ronald typed.

  Pete sat back and thought about it for a minute, then messaged back: ‘Stay near your phone. I’ll send you a time and place.’

  The response came back immediately. ‘You forgot the how.’

  Pete fired back: ‘Pretend you’re a boy scout. Just be prepared.’

  ‘Alright, but I’m busy between one and five, so keep that in mind or you will be diddling yourself.’

  Pete almost laughed out loud. Ronald Jacobs had reacted the way he had hoped he would. It was going to be a pleasure hunting him. He settled into looking for just the right place to ambush him.

  Pete had been at it for about an hour when he heard the knock on his outer door. Some of the contents of the bag was still sitting in plain sight so he moved quickly to place it all back in the bag. Then he reopened the bottom drawer of his desk and placed it all inside. That done, he got up and walked over to the locked and bolted door and opened it. He was surprised to see Jenny standing in the doorway looking at him. He had totally forgotten he had awakened her and asked her to come in.

  As he stepped aside, the phone on his desk started to ring. Pete smiled at her and then stepped around. She walked back over to his desk and hit the speaker button for him.

  “What is it?” he said gruffly.

  “It’s New York, sir. We are in place, like you asked us to be.”

  “Give me a few minutes to get set up. I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He disconnected the call. Walking back around his desk, Pete took out another burner phone and made the call to Max in New York.

  Max was sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the desk. The joint he had fired up was working its way through his system. He felt relaxed, the concerns and worries he had experienced over the last several days had begun to recede to the back of his mind. Max reached over, picked up the remote control and began channel surfing. His body rested comfortably in his chair. Max was just starting to get the munchies when two things happened. First, his warning system in New York started to blare through the computer speakers. Then there was the ringing telephone. He almost fell out of his chair
as he scrambled to check the video feed in New York. As he righted himself, he punched up his feed in New York and at the same time reached for the phone.

  Pete heard it ring three times before it was picked up. “Hello?” said the tentative voice.

  “Max, I need an update on what happened last night?”

  By now, Max was looking at a man standing at the door to the Upper East Side apartment. The video was a little grainy but he could see the silenced gun dangling beside the man’s leg.

  “Well, to be honest, I’m not really sure. My contractor hasn’t called in, so all I have are the news reports from the area he was operating in,” Max said cautiously. He was sure now that his employer was no longer going to be paying for his services. He watched the screen closely.

  “You don’t know where he’s at?”

  “Sorry I don’t, but rest assured I already have a plan in place so that the assignment will be fulfilled as promised.” Max hurriedly pulled up the other feeds he had scattered all over the country.

  Pete muted the burner phone and then unmuted the other phone he was using to talk to agents C and E. “It’s a go.” He quickly muted the phone and then unmuted the burner phone he was using for Max. “Don’t bother because you’re fired.”

  Max watched as the gunman kicked in the door and started to sweep the apartment.

  Pete waited for what felt like an eternity for the sounds of breaking door jambs and suppressed gunfire, but all he heard was Max’s heavy breathing on the other end. Then Max said, “Now that was uncalled for.”

  Pete hesitated and then said, “We paid you…” But he never got to finish because Max cut him off. “You can tell your men the cops are already on their way. As for you, our business is completed. You try and find me again and I’ll pay to have you hit instead.” Then all Pete heard was a dial tone.

  After Max hung up, he jumped up and went to the windows of his apartment and looked out to the street for anything out of place. His heart was hammering in his chest. His breath was coming in deep gulps. Max felt like he might pass out and reached for the window frame to steady himself. After a minute, the adrenaline started to subside. He went back to his desk and checked all of the feeds again for other signs of intrusion. Satisfied he was safe for the time being, he once again contemplated moving his operation to his alternate location. Instead, he reached for the phone. It was time he told Ronald Jacobs what he knew about his employers.

  “Sir, the target isn’t in the apartment and it appears as if we have an army of cops down on the street,” said a voice down Pete’s other phone. Then he too hung up on Pete, leaving him with two phones spitting dial tones in his face. He sat there staring stupidly at the phones on his desk, trying to process what had just happened.

  Finally, Jenny said, “What just happened?”

  “Not your concern. Take Sam and make sure that ex-cop is off the board permanently… today.” Pete said absently.

  “What if he’s with his cop girlfriend?”

  “Take them both and report back to me.”

  “You’re the boss.” And with that, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, pulling it quietly shut behind her.

  Pete sat there for a long time staring at both phones. Then, sitting forward, he opened a browser on his computer and started surfing the news sites in New York. He wanted to see if his agents had made the news.

  ***

  Barry Davis sat in his car watching the home where Ronald’s wife was staying. So far he hadn’t detected any threats, but the day was still young. He alternated parking spots on the street and walked casually up and down the block. Barry had been on the job three hours so far.

  Protection details weren’t his specialty, but he had on occasion over the years been tasked with watching out for threats. Normally he did so outside of official protection details, acting as an outside observer rather than a body man. He wouldn’t have taken this job but the money Ronald had offered had been too much to walk away from. Besides, this job was just a few hours from his home in the Everglades.

  Where Ronald was secretive and preferred the shadows, Barry preferred the sunlight and crowds. He normally disguised his jobs in the guise of music gigs. Barry was a musician or at least that was how he professed to be making his living. When he wasn’t working he wore Panama hats, cotton blend button-down shirts, and cargo shorts. One look at him and you would immediately peg him as a beach bum or a middle-aged man in the throes of a mid-life crisis.

  He was gregarious in nature with an easy-go-lucky stride. But in truth, he was a trained killer. Barry traveled the country with a six-string across his back, with the hopes and dreams of one day making it big. The music, however, didn’t pay the bills like a contract killing did.

  He looked in his rearview mirror and noticed a gray sedan turn down the residential street. He could see a couple in the front seat and was just about to write them off as just another married couple until they slowed their car in front of the house he was watching. He could see the woman in the passenger seat point and nod her head toward the house, and then they accelerated past. A minute later, the sedan came back down the street in the opposite direction. Barry slid down further in the driver seat, reaching over and turning off the radio.

  They again slowed down as they went by the house until they were passed it. He watched them turn at the corner and drive away. Barry made note of the plate before they rounded the corner. It could be nothing but the way they had purposefully slowed down on both occasions had made him think otherwise. He reached over, picked up his phone and sent a text to Ronald alerting him to the couple in the sedan. A minute later, Ronald acknowledged his text and asked to be kept apprised of any further developments.

  An hour went by and then the sedan was back again. This time they found a place to park down the street where they could see the house. They sat there for a half hour, just watching. Barry reached down, pulled out his gun and rested it on his lap. The doors swung open and as they got out, Barry opened his door just enough to allow him to get out quickly and quietly if needed. If they were a hit team, he both admired their gumption for a daytime hit and was repulsed at the same time. Only amateurs pulled this kind of stunt in broad daylight.

  They crossed the street walking hand-in-hand. The woman was tall and thin. She had long flowing blond hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in a stylish fashion. Her blouse was loose fitting but did little to disguise her ample chest. The shorts she wore complimented her long golden brown legs. Her flip-flops made him rethink for a moment that they were a hit team. The man, on the other hand, was dressed in casual business attire. The jeans were designer and the crisply ironed shirt was light blue. He had a short but stylish haircut that many young men wore these days. The aviator sunglasses hid his eyes.

  They walked and talked like a couple in love that were just out for a stroll, but their heads looked like they were mounted on a swivel. He knew then that this was the threat Ronald had warned him about.

  He was on the fence about getting out of the car and approaching them, but his instincts told him they were simply casing the house and the neighborhood. Barry knew his position was safe from being discovered. He had parked half way down the block and behind a large 4 x 4 pickup. He picked up the Glock and held it for a moment, debating again if he should get out of the car. The decision was made for him as they walked past the house and continued further down the street. He could see the woman chatting and laughing, which he knew was just a part she was playing.

  He slid further down in the seat and leaned over far enough that he would be hidden from view. When they were past him, they turned and walked back up the block, this time moving slower than before. Barry knew right then he was going to have to get another car. Keeping this one would only alert them to his presence later on, when he would come for them. He just hoped there would be time to unload this car and pick up another one before they were on the move again.

  When they were in front of t
he house again, they idled for just a moment, then continued on until they re-crossed the street and got in their car. Barry pulled his door shut and started his car. He waited for them to reach the end of the block before he pulled out and began to follow them.

  Agents D and G, whose real names were Vicki and Sean, had seen enough of the neighborhood. They decided to return later on in the afternoon and to finish the job that night, after everyone was asleep. Vicki would be the trigger and Sean would act as a lookout. They had been a team for just a few years, but in that time they had found their rhythm. Vicki was by far more of the threat when it came to one-on-one, but Sean’s ability to paint the walls in blood made him both unpredictable and deadly when it was time to lower the hammer.

  On their first job, their target had been a rising cartel member who often took vacations in south Florida. The scope of their work simply called for them to execute the man in a public place but after two weeks of staking out the man’s home, Vicki had suggested killing him as he wandered outside to pick up the paper. Because she was a woman and a South Florida blonde, they had decided she would arouse fewer suspicions than him. The plan called for her to approach the target like she was out for a jog. When she was close enough, Vicki would pull her piece and fire two times. Once into the target’s face, the second would be a center of mass to the heart. It was simple and straightforward. What they hadn’t counted on was their target wearing a bulletproof vest under his bathrobe. Nor had they counted on him being armed.

  They had arrived several hours before daybreak. Their target was predictable as the sun. On the morning of the hit, Vicki had gotten into position just minutes before he was expected. At 7:00 a.m. sharp, their target had wandered out casually down the drive to pick up his morning paper. Vicki had waited for the signal and then begun to jog towards their target.