Certain Reprisal

by Kevin Macklin

  "No problem," a man with a middle of the range tone of voice, yet, you could tell he had a certain bedside manner, said. "I'll be waiting on you."

  Wearing a salt and pepper beard beneath a shiny, bald head, Noah Nestman, ran Serene Passage Funeral Home. In his mid-fifties, his suit didn't have a wrinkle and it was the middle of the night. I figured people in his line of business often worked odd hours.

  Meeting us in the back of his office with a gurney, he helped load Nika onto it, then had an attendant take her inside.

  Noah was a former addict that was fortunate enough to get clean and find his calling in life. I knew him from his old days and was happy that he was doing something different.

  Lisa followed the attendant and her sister. She would explain everything to whomever needed an explanation. I was sure that investigations would take place, and Lisa would be key.

  I wanted no parts of investigations, so I wouldn't be staying long, at all.

  When they were gone, I said, "There will be another five women in need of your services. Just give them the best. Whatever the cost."

  We shook on it, then CG and I left. Lisa would take a ride share to pick up the EV, but, right now, she wanted some time with her sister.

  Chapter 28

  Investigators and crime scene techs recovered the other bodies and were working on positive identification. Prints were lifted, the land owners were being tracked down, witnesses were being searched for, and causes of death were being determined.

  Mahoney was a clever bastard. He'd left no fingerprints and he didn't own the land. So, as far as the department was concerned, he was clean.

  Lisa was appalled at the fact that Mahoney would, once again, walk away without so much as a blemish. While her sister was in preparation to be buried. While she sat there, twiddling her thumbs, waiting on someone else to deliver her justice. Well, fuck that. She'd go get her own retribution.

  So, she went after Mahoney. By herself. Without so much as a word to anyone else. Didn't want anyone trying to change her mind or talk her out of it. Didn't want anyone getting in her way and inadvertently helping that bastard.

  She got her gun and took off.

  I'd expected communication with Lisa to be sparse, considering she had some real familial issues to deal with, so I hadn't heard from her. And that was ok. I'd be here when she was ready.

  But, the lack of communication had left me unaware that she'd gone after Mahoney.

  Well, I was fully aware at that moment.

  The buzzing of my phone alerted me to the fact that a message was coming in. After grabbing the phone and opening the message, my heart dropped through the floor. It was a media message, a short video. Lisa's face was front and center, against a dull concrete backdrop. Left eye swollen shut. Fat, busted lip.

  Mahoney's irritating voice came through the phone's speaker. "Now, me and the boys are going to have some fun with this pretty, young lady."

  The video ended.

  Lisa had gone on the hunt, after dangerous prey. But the prey had turned the tables, transforming predator into bait.

  There was no need for Mahoney to send that video to me. In fact, he was putting himself at risk by doing so. What if I turned it into detectives? What if I showed someone?

  But, I didn't, and he knew I wouldn't. This worm was too juicy to pass on to another fish. He was chumming the water, but he had me mistaken for a nurse shark. I wasn't.

  I was a great fucking white. I was Jaws, with big steel teeth, ready to make a snack out of anybody who would do harm to someone I cared about.

  I knew I'd be walking into a trap. They knew the lay of the land better than I. They had the numbers. And, they had precious cargo that I didn't want harmed any more than she already was.

  Chapter 29

  You don't just go after a law enforcement officer lightly. They serve the people. Maintain law and order. Protect the public. They have an essential job, one that should be respected. But, when someone like Scott Mahoney, becomes the person the public needed to be protected from…

  Somebody had to do something.

  I knew of at least six victims that he'd killed, with Lisa being a potential seventh. No telling how many more are out there. For all intents and purposes, Mahoney was a serial killer. And, the police weren't going to stop him.

  After opening the hidden panel at the back of my closet, I stepped into the small space. One wall was covered in bulletproof and tactical vests, another wall held pegs on which various guns were hanging, and on another wall were shelves with compartments holding magazines, rounds, a variety of grenades, and other various things pertaining to weaponry. This was my gun safe in a wall.

  After pulling a bulletproof vest from its hook, I pulled it on and secured the straps. Next I grabbed my MPX Copperhead 9mm. A special gun for a special occasion. This little four and a half pound sub gun could shoot the top off a beer bottle at twenty-five yards. I'd taken him to the range before, but now was the time for him to taste action. I grabbed a few other odds and ends, then stuffed everything into a backpack.

  After closing my gun safe, I went out and got on my bike. The night sky was clear, and I started to see stars as I left the city lights for the remote bar. Concrete could be seen in the background of Mahoney's little video, and I definitely knew of a place he frequented that fit the bill.

  About a mile out from the bar, I pulled my bike off of the road and parked it behind a stand of dense foliage. I would take my time and make a slow approach through the trees. Didn't want to be spotted, but the longer I took would build their tension and they'd either be a little frazzled from the expectation or tired from looking at nothing.

  Unless they're mind was focused elsewhere.

  I didn't want to think about that. So, I kept a clear head, taking in the sounds of the nighttime forest.

  It took a while, but I made it to a point from which I had a clear line of sight to the front of the bar. Jackson was standing guard just inside of the front door. Other than that, all else was quiet.

  In order to get a better look at the entire place I needed to cross the street, so I moved through the trees about a hundred yards down and ran in a low crouch across the street. Into another clump of trees.

  Tall grass and weeds separated the copse of trees from the bar. In a low crouch I made my way through the grass, slowly, moving with the nighttime breeze, staying silent. Upon reaching a point from which I could see, I circled around the perimeter. The back of the place had a drive for deliveries and a door right in the middle of the rear wall. Kirkland was guarding the rear entrance.

  I went back to the front.

  From my position I was looking down the front wall from the side. About ten yards from the side wall. After putting my backpack on the ground, I dug out the Copperhead. Extended the collapsible stock. Cradled it against my shoulder.

  I plucked a rock from the ground and threw it out, away from the front of the bar. It made a dull sound when it landed, and I knew Jackson must have heard it.

  He probably didn't want to come out and have a look, but how could he not? What if that was the sound of someone creeping up on him and he didn't check it out?

  Took him a few seconds, but his head popped out of the doorway. When he didn't see anything, his entire body rolled around the doorframe. I lined my shot.

  Jackson's pelvis shattered as the bullet struck him on the hip. His gun tumbled from his hand as he clutched the wound and fell to the ground.

  I crossed the ten yards to the building at full pace. Once I reached Jackson, I switched the Copperhead to my left shoulder, it being an ambidextrous weapon, and grabbed him under his arm with my right. Dragged him to the corner of the building. Peeked around the corner, Copperhead leading the way.

  No one there.

  I figured most people would circle around the far side so they didn't run into an ambush. Kirkland did as I figured most would, but by the time he reached the front of the building I'd already disappeared into the weeds,
pulling Jackson along.

  Chapter 30

  About thirty yards into the grass, I stopped and knelt next to Jackson with my gun pointed back down the path we'd come.

  I said, "You have a choice. Live or die. Simple choice, right? One or the other. You had the front, Kirkland has the back. Where's the one that can fight?"

  Jackson said nothing at first. I clamped my hand around his hip. His eyes went wide with pain. A rumbling groan escaped his lips. I released my grip and he released a big sigh.

  "I don't know. Ok?" he said through gritted teeth. "Somewhere inside."

  "Mahoney and the woman?" I questioned.

  "They're in there, too. Down in the cellar."

  I crept back toward the building, saw Kirkland standing in the front of the bar, back against the wall, swiveling right to left, left to right. Looked like his friend being dragged off into the wild had awakened something primal within him, something from a time when we occupied the kingdoms of the animals and were subject to be some hungry predator's dinner.

  Kirkland looked a little frazzled.

  Oh, well.

  I lined up my shot. Pulled the trigger. Kirkland's head painted the wall an Impressionist portrait of brain and blood.

  His body fell to the ground, lifeless.

  I ran to the front door, Copperhead leading the way. Paused when I reached the doorframe. Got low and ran in, sweeping across the main room with my gun.

  All clear.

  Silently crossing the room, I moved toward the back, threading around tables and a few chairs. Approached the door leading into the kitchen. Crossed the threshold.

  A heavy weight fell onto my back from above, knocking me to the floor. I rolled over my shoulder and immediately rose to my feet, Copperhead rattling away in the process.

  Dalton stood in front of me, hands up, ready for a fight.

  I thought to myself, Always look up.

  Dalton lunged at me, throwing a jab, straight combo. I slipped the jab, then rotated toward the outside of the straight, catching his hand and pinning it to my chest as I rotated my shoulder into the back of his elbow.

  He jerked forward from the pain in his elbow, then rolled in the floor. Stood and faced me. Faking a kick and throwing a superman punch, he caught me on the side of my face.

  Hurt a little, but was far from a fight ender.

  I threw a right to his stomach, then a left to his chin. He let out a little, "Oof," in response to the body blow and crunched forward. I'd expected this. It was a practiced move, done thousands of times in training. The body reacts how it reacts. So, I threw the left at an upper angle to meet his chin.

  Dalton stumbled backed a few steps until he met the wall.

  I could have ended it right then, right there. But, I didn't. When I had received Mahoney's video, I'd briefly wondered if Dalton had been the one to put his hands on Lisa. He definitely seemed to like hitting things. My money was on him.

  Dalton deserved a good old fashioned ass whipping.

  I tracked him to the wall, kneed him in the liver. Threw an elbow to his nose, causing blood to gush out. Straight left to his eye.

  He reached out as if to grab me, and I grabbed his fingers and bent them backwards. He yanked his hand back and took a feeble swing. I stepped to the side and swung an uppercut to his solar plexus.

  His breathing was labored due to his broken nose. He was breathing heavily through his mouth. Fatigue of both body and will was starting to set in.

  I stepped forward and kicked him in the groin, hard and heavy, not holding anything back. Just let the kick fly. It landed with an unpleasant squishy feeling on my chin bone, followed by a brief pain as bone connected with bone.

  He fell to the floor in a heap, hands clenching his stomach as he rolled around in the fetal position.

  After looking around to find Copperhead, I approached Dalton as he writhed in pain. Pointed the gun at his head. Pulled the trigger.

  I made my way down the stairs, on my toes, stepping close to the outer edge to keep silent. After I reached the bottom, Copperhead led me to the door of the concrete room.

  I went in low and fast, scanned around.

  Empty.

  Walking around the room, I searched the wall for hidden doors or rooms. There was nothing to find so I went back out into the hallway. Looked around the tight space. No other rooms down here. So, I went back topside.

  As I walked back into the main room I was surprised to see Mahoney standing just inside the front door, facing me, with an arm around Lisa and a gun to her head. I raised Copperhead, but he was pretty well hidden behind her.

  "I could never count on those guys for shit," Mahoney said. "Now, Dalton, he has some real promise. I saw a bright future for that guy. But, these other shits…"

  "Let her go, Mahoney."

  "Now, you just drop your gun and kick it over here to me. And, I just might think about it."

  A sliver of Mahoney's head could be seen behind Lisa's. About an inch or so. The Copperhead was extremely accurate. On a good day, I'd place my money on that shot. But, right now… My heart rate was up from my scuffle with Dalton. The room was gloomy. And, if I missed I'd hit Lisa. Couldn't do it. Couldn't take that shot.

  To Mahoney, I said, "Let her go. You want me, that's how you get me. Then, we can do this man to man."

  "Macho, macho. I like it. Looks like we have ourselves a little Mexican standoff. But, I'll tell you what." Mahoney lowered his weapon. Pulled the trigger. "I just shot this fine young woman in her femoral artery. She'll bleed out in less than a minute. That's if you don't hurry up and help her."

  Scott Mahoney released Lisa, and spun out of the door.

  I was stunned. Slow to react. Lisa fell to the floor in slow motion, but I couldn't move a muscle. When he lowered his gun, I hadn't expected him to shoot it.

  So, I had to make a choice. Go after Mahoney and Lisa would certainly die. Save Lisa, and Mahoney would get away. Mahoney needed to be stopped. But, at the cost of Lisa's life?

  I ran to Lisa and dropped to my knees. Took my hands and tried to put all of my body weight on top of that wound.

  "Go," she said. "Get him. I'll be fine."

  "No. I won't let you die."

  "I'll be ok. He needs to be stopped."

  She wouldn't be ok. The moment I took pressure off of the wound it would start erupting. Even with all of my body weight staunching the flow, a pool of blood was forming beneath us.

  But, what could I do? Really? I didn't bring my phone, so I couldn't call for an ambulance. She didn't have one either. We were on the outskirts of the city and there was no telling when a car might happen by. How long would we have to wait out here for help to stumble upon us? What were the odds of Lisa making it that long?

  Extremely low.

  I should have taken that shot. It had been the only chance.

  I held and held, but she was still fading.

  "Stay with me, Lisa. Stay with me."

  "Stop. Come here." She took hold of my arm with weak hands.

  After releasing my hold on her wound, I moved my hands to her face. Kissed her on the lips.

  She smiled, reached up and laid her hand on my cheek, said, "Get him. For me. My sister. All of us."

  I couldn't say anything. So, I just cradled her head in my arms as her life force leaked out onto the bar floor.

  I took a moment, pushed everything I was feeling down, down into a lockbox. It's always a bad idea to go into combat with high emotions. Prevents you from thinking. Prevents you from staying alive.

  Mahoney could have run for the hills. Or, he could be sitting right outside, waiting for me to walk through that door in a highly emotional state.

  After getting up, I walked into the kitchen and found the back door. Opened it and peeked outside. No shots rang out towards the door. I went out, quietly made my way to the corner of the building. Poked my head around.

  All clear.

  The ten yards went by in a flash as I darted into the weeds. The
sounds of insects assaulted my ears as I circled the building, again, this time spreading my focus between the building and the surrounding foliage. All the way around and back. Back across the street. The only person I encountered was Jackson, still in the same place I'd left him.

  Mahoney was gone, disappeared. Headed for the hills.

  Back to my bike I went.

  Chapter 31

  The following days were hard for me. I spent a lot of time wondering if I could have made that shot and saved Lisa's life. Was the fact that I cared about her the thing that had cost her life? That I was afraid of losing her if I made a mistake?

  Funeral arrangements were made for Lisa and her sister, as well as all of Mahoney's other victims. Starr didn't have any family, at least none that anybody could find. So, we held a funeral for her as well.

  Jackson tried to play the hero, but ended up telling all that he knew about Mahoney's activities. And Mahoney, himself… He just vanished into thin air.

  Juicy enjoyed her time at Edgar Ivanovich's estate, then went back to living life as she always had.

  I felt the need to disappear for a while. Let things blow over. So, I hopped around, went here, went there. Ended up in California. On a roof in the middle of the afternoon.

  The trap houses went back to business as usual, but since keeping the stash off site was a good idea anyway, we kept a modified version in place.

  And Toad… He would always be an asset. Has been up until this point. He's mainly the reason for my presence in an L.A. suburb of sunny southern California.

  Looking down the scope of my .30-06 Springfield rifle, I scanned the sidewalk and street. I was on top of a building that served a dry cleaner, spice shop, and vape store. The afternoon sun was hot, but I wasn't going anywhere. People walked in and out of a variety of shops, to and from their cars parked along the street.

  Toad and his algorithms had tracked down Mahoney. Even with me gone he'd never given up the search. We'd kept in touch using encrypted phones, and a few days ago he contacted me to inform me that he'd gotten a hit. I was in Colorado, but went straight to the airport to catch the next flight out.