by Dirk Patton
“She could not rule out that possibility,” Packard said.
I nodded in thought, pushing Dog’s head out of my lap. He’d fallen back asleep, sitting up, and was settling into another rumbling snore. With a grunt of displeasure, he turned a circle, lay down on my feet and closed his eyes.
“You need to let her go, Colonel,” Packard said after watching me intently for several long seconds.
“Could you?”
He considered my question before responding.
“Does it matter what I’d do? Think about what you stand to lose.”
I nodded slowly, acknowledging to myself that he had a good point. A point that had been analyzed over and over by my racing mind.
“When do I leave for California?”
“We’re still verifying the intelligence provided by Major Romanova.”
“Hope Viktoriya checks out,” I said, happy to switch topics. “Captain... I mean Major Black seems quite taken with her.”
“He is, and I’m concerned for him. If we find out she’s playing us...”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but then he didn’t need to. Not with me. I simply nodded understanding.
“Speaking of Russians, Captain Vostov and her companions have been located.”
“Irina and Igor are alive?” I asked in surprise.
As much as it had pained me, I’d written them off as casualties of the never-ending conflict.
“Very much so, it seems. I’ve got a couple of sub skippers that used their heads and didn’t blindly follow Admiral Huber’s orders. They weren’t willing to risk broadcasting anything, so we didn’t know until they put into port last evening.”
A broad smile was on my face and my mood had lightened at the very good news.
“Where are they?”
“California. Continuing with the original plan. Captain Vostov will approach certain senior military leaders with whom she is familiar and attempt to convince them to aide in the overthrow of Barinov. With any luck, you won’t have anything to do when you arrive.”
“Are we ever that lucky, sir?”
“I don’t know, Colonel. We’re alive. People we care about are alive. You’re going to be a father. All things considered, it could be far, far worse.”
We each lit a fresh smoke and I turned to check on Rachel. She hadn’t moved but the moon had and it shone through the glass door, highlighting her sleeping form.
“Yes, sir. They certainly could.”
3
The Admiral departed soon after and I was left with the night and my thoughts. And a loudly snoring dog. Crushing out a cigarette in a nearly full ashtray, I poked his side with my big toe, earning a snort of annoyance.
“Get your ass up, fur ball.”
I stood and moved to the stairs, padding silently in my bare feet. Dog watched me but didn’t move.
“Whatever,” I said, looking into his eyes a moment before descending the steps.
The sand was still slightly warm from the previous day’s sunshine. It neither felt good nor uncomfortable. That was something I’d noticed about my body since becoming infected. I could easily detect even very slight variances in temperature, but it didn’t matter to me if it was hot or cold. No, I hadn’t tried touching a hot stove or anything stupid like that, but... Well, it was hard to explain.
Walking down to the edge of the ocean, I stopped when the small waves were crashing around my shins. Bending, I scooped a handful of seawater and raised it to my nose and took a small sniff. More death, only a different scent than land growing vegetation. Letting the water trickle through my fingers, I wiped my hand on the shorts and began strolling along the beach.
I hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when I heard Dog splashing through the surf behind me. I’d known he wouldn’t be able to resist coming with me, it just had to be when he was ready. He bounded through the water like a deer, then circled around me and shook.
“Asshole,” I said with a grin as I wiped water off my face.
He just looked at me, panting, then plunged back into the water. I watched him for a few moments as he frolicked in the surf, then said a mental fuck it and charged in with him. We played in the water for half an hour and emerged back onto the beach as the eastern horizon began turning an amazing shade of pink mixed with orange.
The waves were picking up with the coming day and as Dog vigorously shook the saltwater out of his fur, a bikini clad girl with long blonde hair walked by. A long surfboard was tucked beneath her arm and she gave me a bright smile as she passed.
“How’s the water?” she called over her shoulder.
The first thought that sprang to mind was an honest answer. That it faintly smelled like a sewer.
“Great,” I said instead.
She paused and turned back to face me, bumping a rounded hip out to the side and posing in front of the ocean for me.
“You look familiar. Have I seen you here before?”
“Just got one of those faces,” I replied with a smile before turning away. “C’mon, Dog.”
I set off at a fast jog and a few seconds later he raced past me through the sand and up onto the lanai. Putting on a burst of speed I’d never had before the virus, I pounded up the stairs a couple of seconds behind him.
“Make a new friend?” Rachel asked with a smile.
She had her legs curled beneath her in a chair, a steaming cup of coffee clasped between her hands. I bent and kissed her before dropping into the adjacent chair and lighting a cigarette.
“She told me I’m the most gorgeous hunk of manly man she’s ever seen and can’t live another day without me.”
Rachel nearly snorted coffee through her nose and was unable to stop laughing for nearly a minute.
“You should write fiction with an imagination like that,” she chuckled. “She was probably telling you that senior citizens aren’t allowed on the beach during daylight hours.”
“You’re not funny,” I groused, then flashed her a smile. “Sleep well?”
“Better than you, it seems. How’s the Admiral?”
“Did we wake you?”
“Woke up and you weren’t there,” she said with a shrug. “Saw you out here talking to him.”
“He’s good,” I said. “And Irina and Igor are alive!”
“Where have they been?”
“Guess they were on a sub. They’re in California, now. Proceeding with the original plan.”
“Thank God! I really thought we’d never see them again.”
“Me, too,” I confessed somberly.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the color of the ocean change as the sun peeked over the horizon. Far out from shore, I could see the blonde girl sitting on her surfboard, waiting for the right wave. No one else was out, which struck me as odd. If a location is good, there’s always going to be at least a small group of surfers in the water.
“So, you don’t have to go to the mainland now. Right?”
“What?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the girl.
Rachel shaded her eyes and looked out at the ocean.
“Are you really watching that girl? On our honeymoon?”
“What girl?” Mavis asked as she walked out of the house.
“Some blonde surfer girl he was talking to on the beach,” Rachel said.
“Really?” Mavis asked in surprise. “Can I learn?”
In the time I’d been watching the blonde, several large swells had passed beneath her board that grew into nice waves as they reached shallower water. But she had ignored each of them. Was she waiting for that one, perfect wave? I suddenly stood when she raised something to her mouth and appeared to be speaking into it.
“Get dressed! Both of you.”
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, standing and moving closer to me.
“Don’t think she’s a surfer,” I said, eyes glued to the girl.
“Then what?”
“Don’t know, but something’s off. Let’s get out of...�
�
I spun when the breeze brought the smell of body odor and burnt tobacco to me. Two men stepped around the back edge of the small house a moment later, pistols in their hands. Wrapping Rachel in one arm and Mavis in the other, I charged into the house, shouting for Dog to follow.
Gunfire erupted, bullets punching through the thin walls and shattering the sliding glass door. Ducking as I ran, I deposited Rachel and Mavis on the floor against the back wall and shoved the king mattress on top of them with an admonition to stay put.
Staying low as more rounds tore through the house, I ripped the closet open and grabbed a pistol out of my pack. Dog was next to me, primed for a fight. I raced for the front door, blasting through the thin material without hardly slowing.
A man with a short shotgun in his hands stood on the walk and an SUV idled at the curb. A fat man sat behind the wheel with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He saw me and pressed the horn, sounding an alarm an instant before I drilled a round through his head.
Dog flew past me like he’d been shot out of a canon, leaping to slam into shotgun man’s chest before he could bring his weapon to bear. He landed on his back, hard, the gun flying out of his hands. His screams were nearly as loud as Dog’s snarls as one hundred pounds of pissed off German Shepherd ripped into him.
The sound of running feet warned me an instant before the two men who’d been shooting up the back of the house charged around the corner. With a guttural roar of rage, I ran directly at them, weapon extended at arm’s length and finger pulling the trigger. Three fast shots and the first one dropped.
Still running, I ignored a round that buzzed past my ear and fired two more shots. The second man cried out as his shoulder and elbow were destroyed and his gun fell from nerveless fingers. He tried to backpedal, but I was on him in a flash, slamming him onto his back and dropping a knee onto his chest. I screwed the hot muzzle of my pistol into the soft flesh beneath his chin hard enough to draw a yelp of pain.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growled. “Who sent you?”
“Po'shyol 'na hui,” he spat back, surprising me.
“Fuck me, you ugly Russian bastard? Fuck you!”
I hit him hard with my left fist. Hard enough to rock his head to the side and split the skin on his face. His eyes lost focus for a moment. Faintly, I began to hear sirens. I didn’t have long. The neighbors had called the police and they were on their way.
Moving the muzzle off his neck, I pressed it against his good elbow and looked him in the eyes.
“Answer my question or you’ll never be able to wipe your own ass again!”
He glared at me and remained silent. I pulled the trigger and he wailed in pain as the joint was destroyed. Slapping him hard, I moved the muzzle to a knee.
“Answer me or be a cripple,” I seethed.
He swallowed audibly then nodded.
“There is a bounty on your head and a palace in Malibu for whoever brings you in.”
“You a fucking bounty hunter?” I hissed, pressing my face close to his.
He shrugged. I removed the muzzle from his knee and stood. Held his eyes with mine, then shot him in the forehead.
I whirled at a gasp of shock. Half a dozen neighbors, all still wearing their night clothes stood in the street watching me with terrified expressions. When they saw me looking at them, they quickly turned and fled. At the end of the block, two marked police cars screamed around the corner and surged toward where I stood over a body with a pistol in my hand.
“I’ll call the Admiral!”
Rachel stood in the door, a rifle in her hands. I could see Mavis peeking past her.
“That would be good,” I said, gesturing at Dog.
Rachel called him and he ran inside the house. Shotgun man wasn’t moving and from the amount of blood staining his shirt, I didn’t think he would be again.
As the police cars skidded to stops, I put the pistol on the ground, moved ten yards away and sank to my knees with my hands on the back of my head. They still found it necessary to tackle me onto my face. A knee dropped into the small of my back and another on the back of my neck, pressing my face into the grass. It was a struggle to restrain myself from snapping both their necks.
4
Several more police cars screeched to a halt in the street before the pressure on the back of my neck was removed. Two cops grabbed my upper arms and hauled me to my feet. There were four more by now and when I stood they stared at me in surprise.
“Aren’t you Major Chase?” the one with sergeant’s stripes asked.
“Colonel, now,” I said with a shrug.
“What the hell happened?” he asked, looking around at the bodies.
I didn’t see any reason not to tell him, even though I knew any lawyer would be screaming at me to keep my mouth shut.
“Russian bounty hunters,” I said. “Seems the price on my head now includes a beachfront mansion in Malibu.”
“These are Russians?”
I turned to another cop, a Samoan who was about six feet tall and equally as wide with no neck. It wasn’t hard to imagine that no one ever messed with him.
“They are,” I said, watching the sergeant bend and go through shotgun man’s pockets.
Finding a wallet, he looked inside, peering closely at the ID card behind a clear plastic window.
“Vasilly Pasternak.” He closed the wallet and returned it to the pocket where he’d found it. “Son of a bitch, Major... sorry, Colonel. You certainly cleaned house. Guess they shouldn’t have messed with you.”
We looked around when the door opened. Rachel, Dog and Mavis stepped outside. Rachel gave me a subtle nod, confirming she’d spoken with Admiral Packard.
“Shouldn’t mess with my family,” I said, looking at the front porch.
The sergeant stared at me for several moments, then stepped around and reached for my cuffs.
“What are you doing, Sergeant?” a pompous voice called.
A tall man with long gray hair strode across the lawn, his unhappy gaze fixed on the cop who was about to release me.
“Oh, shit,” he mumbled quietly.
“Your honor,” he called. “Please stay back. This is a police matter.”
Your honor? This guy was a fucking judge? And what was... oh, shit. I just realized he was wearing a robe over pajamas and slippers on his feet. He must be one of the neighbors.
“Then you need to keep that man in restraints!” the judge snapped as he arrived and stood glaring at me. “I personally witnessed him torture and execute that man.”
The cop hesitated. I don’t think he gave a shit what I’d done to Russians.
“Your honor, do you know who this is?” he finally asked.
“I don’t give a good goddamn if he’s the King of England. He committed murder and I’m trying to understand why you were about to remove his handcuffs.”
“Sir, this is...”
“Where’s your supervisor?” the judge snarled, interrupting the cop.
“The Lieutenant’s on the way,” he answered with a sigh. “If you’ll please return to your home, I’ll send him and the detectives to speak with you when they arrive.”
“Be sure you do!”
The man stomped away, exuding an aura of complete disdain for the uniformed officers.
“What a dildo!”
Everyone turned to look at Mavis who had approached while the judge had been ranting.
“Language, young lady,” I chastised, then grinned. “He’s an asshole, not a dildo.”
“He’s also the most condescending, arrogant and hardest sentencing judge we’ve got,” the sergeant said. “He never lets anything slide.”
“But it was self-defense,” Rachel said, the concern clear in her voice. “I saw the whole thing. They just showed up out of nowhere and started shooting. He didn’t have a choice.”
The sergeant shook his head.
“Sorry, ma’am. Better save it for the detectives. Out of my hands, now.”
He nodded at the street as two more cop cars glided to a stop. One was marked, a uniformed Lieutenant stepping out. The other was painted all black, but it looked like every other cop car I’d ever seen that was trying to not look like a cop car. Two detectives, one old and one young stepped out. The Lieutenant led the way to where we were standing. All of them looked around at the carnage as they crossed the lawn.
“Sergeant?” the Lieutenant asked.
“Looks like self-defense to me, Loo. Russian bounty hunters on the ground, and you know who this is, right?”
“I recognize him.”
“And, it seems Judge Humphreys lives just across the street.”
He nodded at a house and the Lieutenant and two detectives turned. I could see the judge watching us through a window.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” the Lieutenant asked.
“Says he saw Colonel Chase here torture and execute one of the men, and he’s all bent out of shape. Wants to talk to you.”
The lieutenant turned and looked me in the eye.
“Well. Did you?”
“John, keep your mouth shut!” Rachel said loudly.
The Lieutenant’s gaze shifted to her and she glared back at him with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Probably good advice,” he said after a moment. “Okay, Colonel. The detectives are going to take you into the station so you can make a statement. We’ll get everything sorted out there.”
“Not trying to be a dick, but that’s not going to happen,” I said.
His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to me.
“Do not make this more difficult than it has to be.”
I sighed.
“I’m not the one who’s going to make things difficult.”
“Then who is?”
I’d been hearing the low thrum of approaching rotors for nearly twenty seconds, but knew I was the only one who could. For the moment.
“Him,” I said, looking up.
“Who? God?” the Lieutenant asked, giving me a funny look.
I couldn’t help but snort a laugh, then a pair of Marine Super-Cobras screamed over the rooftops before going into an orbit of the area. The Navy Sea Hawk helicopter they were escorting flared and set down in the middle of the street.
