Wild Card

by Luke Murphy

  “I have to.”

  “Why? Why do you have to?”

  “I can’t explain why. It’s in me. It’s what I do. I’m a survivor, a protector. It’s what I know.”

  “Why can’t they get someone else to go?”

  He stood up. “No one else could do it. Dale and Jimmy know that. They use the ‘jurisdiction’ excuse, but they know that I’m the only one who can bring Sanders back.”

  “Sit down. I want to read something to you.”

  Calvin sat again without arguing.

  Rachel grabbed one of the pages. “There are over two thousand kidnappings a year in Colombia. Of the victims, over one hundred and fifty are killed by their captors. It ranks fourth in the world for murders. Colombia supplies seventy-five percent of the world’s cocaine, and paramilitary groups have waged war on the government. It is among the most feared destinations in the world.”

  Calvin started to stand. “Rachel, I…”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  He sat back down.

  She grabbed a second sheet. “For anyone traveling to Brazil, it is not a matter of whether you get mugged, but when. Organized criminal groups have waged wars against police and public institutions that are unable to be bribed. Prison riots are brutally suppressed, drugs and narco-terrorism claim civilian casualties, and if you survive all that—the piranhas are waiting.”

  Calvin smiled, starting to stand again. “Piranhas? Rach, come on…”

  “I’m not done. Sit down.”

  He obeyed quietly.

  She grabbed the third paper. “The South American Amazon Rainforest is home to some of the deadliest creatures on earth. If you want to read up about them, it’s all here.”

  She threw the papers at Calvin. They scattered on the bed and the floor around his feet. He picked them up and shuffled through them.

  Rachel ran from the room.

  “Rachel, wait,” Calvin stood up and went after her.

  He caught up with her at the end of the hall, wrapping his lover in his arms, lifting her up. He set Rachel down and leaned in, pressing his face into the back of her neck, smelling light-scented perfume. He squeezed tightly.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered, through sniffles and gasps.

  “You know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t important.”

  He turned her around.

  She grabbed his hands, sandwiching them between hers. “Who is this important to? Your ego? It ceases to amaze me just how fragile a man’s ego is.”

  “Ace Sanders is the reason we went into hiding, the reason we were on the run for our lives and almost didn’t make it out alive. Innocent people died because of him.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Oh no, Calvin Watters, don’t you bring me into this. Don’t use me as an excuse to go after him. I can live with what happened. I don’t care about Ace Sanders anymore. It’s over. You need to let it go too. You need to move on.”

  “Five years ago, it would have been about my ego. But that’s not me anymore. Ace Sanders is a bad man, who’s done bad things to a lot of people. People we knew. He doesn’t deserve to be free. It’s not just about us anymore.”

  Rachel planted her head against Calvin’s chest and let her tears fall. He pulled her closer, swaying in rhythm.

  “Don’t leave. Stay here with me.”

  Calvin didn’t say anything, but held her tightly. He never wanted to let her go.

  Chapter 7

  Calvin lie in bed on his side, behind Rachel, holding her close to him. They’d fallen asleep like that. It had been a long night trying to talk her into understanding his need to go after Sanders. He understood her opinion, realized that she feared for his safety, and she had every right to feel that way. Calvin was afraid too, although he’d never let Rachel see or hear that.

  This was no longer a job with Sanders. This time, it was personal. Calvin knew that Rachel didn’t see why he had to go, why he had to put everything he’d worked so hard to attain on the line for a man who had a hit out on him by the Russians anyway.

  Sanders had put them all through hell. He’d changed the way they’d lived, and had left lasting scars, both inside and out. Between Calvin, Dale and Jimmy, Sanders was their responsibility.

  Calvin didn’t want to see someone else get to the ego-maniac first. They wanted Sanders to be punished by their hand, by their terms. This was their fight to win, and he wasn’t going to lose the casino owner to anyone else.

  They’d all worked too hard, had come too far, to lose Sanders now and fail. Everyone was depending on Calvin.

  He buried his face in her hair, breathing in. “Last night was amazing,” he whispered.

  Rachel sighed deeply. “So, have you changed your mind?”

  He could hear the hope and desperation in her voice.

  “You know I can’t. People are depending on me.”

  “I depend on you. What about the life we’ve built, the dreams we’re chasing…together?”

  “We’ll just put it on hold for a while, and then pick right back up when I get home.”

  Rachel squirmed out of his grasp and rolled off the bed. She slithered into one of his extra-large USC Trojan Football t-shirts, stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Calvin heard the shower turn on a few minutes later and thought it was probably a bad idea to try to slip in with her, even though seeing her naked, in only one of his shirts, got his blood flowing.

  He got up, checked the stability of his knee, and hobbled across the room to the closet.

  Even though it was getting stronger, and way ahead of where he was this time last year, mornings were the worst for his rehabilitated knee. He made it part of his routine to stretch, loosen and exercise it as soon as he got out of bed every day.

  Five years ago, Calvin had multiple arthroscopic surgeries to repair his torn ACL. He’d worked hard and was on his way back until his run-in with Derek Baxter last year. That setback had been demoralizing, but he continued to work at gaining back the strength he once had. The drill he’d run against young Johnny at the gym showed just how far he’d come.

  Calvin pulled out a suitcase from the closet and opened it on the bed, when his cellphone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Calvin, it’s Dale. I thought I’d call you on your cellphone instead of the landline. I still don’t know if Rachel will want to talk to me after last night.”

  “Where are you? I can hardly hear you.”

  “Hang on, I’ll step outside.”

  Calvin waited until Dale came back on the line a few seconds later.

  “Is that better?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Baxter’s in town.”

  Although he’d been expecting it, the news hit like a gut shot. He slumped down on his bed, dread coursing through his veins. His mouth went dry.

  “Calvin, you still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you hear what I said? Baxter’s back in town.”

  “I heard you. How do you know?”

  “I’m at your old workshop.”

  Calvin felt paralyzed.

  Back when he had been a “collector” for local bookie Donald Pitt, Calvin had a special location he’d take his clients, to work them over. He called the rundown house his “workshop”, located in Vegas’ red-light district. The perfect spot.

  There’d been a lot of carnage and bloodshed spread in that basement, and a lot of grown men crying for mercy. There was a reason Calvin had a reputation as the toughest “collector” in the business. Pitt’s rate of return had been one hundred percent after Calvin had taken over.

  “Why are you there?”

  “The neighbors heard screaming last night and decided to call the cops this morning.”

  Calvin was confused. “But that house has been gutted and vacated. I haven’t been there in over a year.”

  “We know that, but someone was here last night.”

  Calvin almost didn’t want to ask. “You
found Baxter?”

  “The first cops on the scene discovered the locks busted. They entered and cleared the house, until they reached the basement. Someone used it last night.”

  Calvin closed his eyes. He’d spent so many hours in that basement that the image of the layout burned his mind: the narrow wooden stairs, the dim lighting, and blood-stained concrete. The only piece of furniture was a chair he had double-bolted to the floor.

  “What did they find?”

  “Not what…who.”

  Calvin blew out air. “Fuck.”

  “We found a man hanging from the ceiling beams, Strappado style. His hands were tied behind his back and suspended in the air by a rope attached to his wrists. Bricks were attached to his feet which helped dislocate both arms.”

  “Shit. Military torture techniques. How Americans were tortured by the North Vietnamese Army in the war. Our military also used it during the war in Iraq.”

  “There’s our military history buff,” Dale said.

  “You’re sure it’s Baxter?”

  “We’re doing a background, and we have crime scene specialists on the scene analyzing blood stain patterns. But I don’t need any reports, I have no doubt in my mind. That military connection, plus the fact that Baxter is one of only a handful of people who know about the workshop. The victim also makes me think of Baxter.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I wasn’t certain, but I suspected. So, I emailed the picture over to the warden at Ely State Penitentiary. He confirmed the victim is Davydov, the Russian who visited Alexandrov in prison yesterday.”

  “Why would Baxter go after Davydov?”

  “He must have been following us, and knew we had spoken with Alexandrov. Who knows what kind of information he got from Davydov before killing him. Davydov’s abdomen is pretty messed up. He took a lot of pain and punishment. Baxter didn’t try to clean up or hide him like with Craig. He wanted us to find him like this.”

  Craig, was a young cop, one of Dale’s men, who’d been killed by Baxter during the Grant case manhunt. He’d been stuffed inside a closet after being shot in the head. Baxter had referred to the young police officer as “collateral damage”.

  “Shit.” Calvin couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “The Pathologist confirmed estimated time of death about three to five hours ago. Baxter is on your tail and sending you a message.”

  What could Davydov have told Baxter? Was Baxter planning to go after Sanders too? Would Baxter actually go as far as to follow Calvin across continents?

  “If he’s been following us, why didn’t he just put a bullet in my head when we left the prison yesterday? He’s an elite sniper.”

  “Jimmy asked me the same thing. I think you’re special. You’re no longer just a mark. After you beat him last year, and ruined his perfect record by blowing off his leg, this became personal for Baxter. I don’t think a kill shot from long range would be satisfying enough for him. He wants you to suffer.”

  Calvin’s chest heaved. “He wants something up close and personal.”

  “That’s my bet.”

  Nobody said anything for a few minutes. Calvin had a lot on his mind, and he knew Dale was deep in thought too.

  “Did you send your shopping list to Mike?” Dale asked.

  “Yeah, last night. He said he’d take care of it. It’ll be waiting in Colombia when I land. He’s supposed to get me an address today.”

  “Good. Your flight has been arranged.” Dale gave Calvin the information.

  “It looks like this shit is real now.”

  “As real as it gets.”

  “Did you talk with Colonel Hughes?”

  “Yes. Jimmy and I were on the phone with him last night for over an hour, and again this morning. He’s putting together a top-tier team and a plan to trap Baxter. Hopefully it’ll happen sooner than later. We’re heading out to meet with him.”

  “It would be one less thing I’d have to worry about.”

  “I don’t think Baxter is going after Sanders. He has no reason to. You just need to stay safe and make it to that airplane.”

  “Sounds easy enough.” He was sure Dale heard the sarcasm in his voice.

  “Do you have any way to contact us when you’re away?”

  “Yes. Last year when I went into hiding, Mike set up my defensive security system at the house and gave me a military satellite phone that should work from anywhere in the world.” Calvin gave Dale the number.

  “Good.”

  Calvin heard the bathroom door open and saw Rachel step out, a towel cinched around her body.

  “Gotta go.”

  “Good luck, Cal. Stay safe, and stay in touch. We’ll do what we can from our end. Remember, Baxter doesn’t like to lose. He’s good at blending in, so be on the lookout for any potential danger signs.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like to lose either.” Calvin hung up.

  “What did Dale want? Is the mission off?” Bleary-eyed, Rachel looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep.

  Calvin shook his head. “My flight is booked. I’m leaving this afternoon.”

  “And what do you plan on doing when you get there?”

  “Whatever needs to be done.”

  “Like what you did to my stepdad?”

  Calvin froze, shocked. He didn’t think Rachel knew about that. It had been a secret he thought would never surface.

  “He got what he had coming to him.”

  “Not everything needs to be settled with violence, Calvin.”

  “He deserved that for what he did to you.”

  Rachel put her arms around Calvin, and he could feel her wet hair dampen his t-shirt. “I know you did that for me, and you only had my best interests in mind. And I love you for protecting me like only you can. But sometimes things are better left alone.”

  “Not this time, Rach.”

  She let him go. Without another word, Rachel turned around and went back into the bathroom.

  ♣

  Dale tucked his phone in his pocket and looked around the taped-off scene. They’d secured the perimeter but Baxter was long gone. The crime-scene unit continued assessing and determining patterns of blood spatter. Multiple squad cars and unmarked vehicles lined up outside the workshop, lights still flashing.

  A group of onlookers had gathered at the road behind the crime scene tape, snapping pictures with their iPhones. The scene was all too familiar. Like Calvin, Dale hadn’t been back to the house in over a year, but he’d never forget the last time he’d stepped inside, finding Calvin and Baxter upstairs.

  Both men had been beaten and bloodied. Calvin had been shot in the shoulder and Baxter’s leg had been blown completely off. Blood coated everything. Dale had raced to put a tourniquet on Baxter’s thigh, but the carnage had been unforgettable.

  “Did you talk to Calvin?”

  Dale turned and saw Jimmy exit the house.

  “Yeah. Just got off the phone.”

  “Did you explain everything to him?”

  “Everything he needs to know. Did forensics find anything in there?”

  “Do you expect them too? Baxter’s a pro. Remember when he killed Craig last year? He dug the bullet out of the wall and cleaned up all the blood. He didn’t leave one shred of evidence.”

  Dale nodded, not wanting to relive the nightmare. Telling Craig’s parents that their son had been killed was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Baxter wasn’t covering this one up.

  Jimmy rubbed his face. “Do you really think we’ll get to Sanders first?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t know if Sanders even survived the plane crash. A team of Russians is after him, and maybe even Baxter. Sanders has to deal with the Colombian drug cartel, Brazilian kidnappers and the Amazon jungle.”

  Dale smiled. “Yeah, but we have a wild card.”

  “You think Calvin’s that good?”

  Dale looked at Jimmy and put on his sunglasses. “I know he is.
Just ask Derek Baxter.”

  Chapter 8

  Calvin had said goodbye to Rachel at the apartment. After Dale’s call, he wasn’t going to risk her safety by having Rachel leave the house with him, or be anywhere near if Baxter chose to strike. At this point, there wasn’t much else he could do to protect her.

  He had no idea where Baxter was. The former marine held all the cards, had the advantage in this match. For all Calvin knew, Baxter could be watching him right now.

  He left three hours before his scheduled flight. Calvin had a cab pick him up a few blocks from the apartment, and made sure the driver followed his exact directions to the airport. There was no way they were driving directly there.

  It was common knowledge that there were two routes to the airport from the Vegas strip. The short route, and the route that cab drivers used to ring up the meter, the one tourists wouldn’t know about. Calvin created his own circuitous route for the cabbie to follow.

  The driver switched lanes constantly, circled neighborhoods multiple times, as per Calvin’s directions, while Calvin watched out the back window the whole way. He knew the driver wouldn’t mind, because the meter was running and he’d promised him a big tip.

  He had the driver drop him off at a coffee shop, where he called another cab service to meet him three blocks away.

  Using shop windows as mirrors and the busy Las Vegas downtown as a shield, Calvin blended into the crowd and moved on foot, going in and out of shops, rounding corners, speeding up and then slowing down at intervals, before finding the cab waiting at his ordered destination. He followed a similar routine with the new cab driver, before being let off at the airport.

  It was exhausting and long, but a necessary safety precaution. He remembered Baxter well, his attention to detail.

  Calvin walked into the terminal almost two hours before takeoff. He went to the desk and showed his ID to get his ticket, checked his bags and headed to the gate.

  The McCarran International Airport, as usual, was bustling. Tourists looking for big winnings, newlyweds on their honeymoons, and elopers looking for an “Elvis Impersonator” marriage, entered the city full of smiles and dreams, while broke gamblers, hung-over bachelor party attendees and unsuccessful dancers left, trying to get as far away from Sin City as fast as possible.