Scorpion Strike

by John Gilstrap

  “Isn’t that a suicide mission?”

  Davey gave him a look. “Not if you know what you’re doing.”

  Jesse watched his father drive in silence for the better part of a minute, weighing the difference between rational confidence and bullshit braggadocio. Then he got hit with a thought: “Wait. Why am I going along? I don’t know how to shoot people.”

  Davey’s grin turned huge. “Somebody’s got to stay with the boat,” he said.

  * * *

  Tyler and Jaime shared a joint and did their best to remain calm as they waited. The “clubhouse,” as they called their restored shanty, which normally felt roomy and amply proportioned, seemed small and claustrophobic tonight. The weed helped a little, but in the way that a garden hose helps with a forest fire.

  “Suppose that shooting was them?” Jaime asked.

  “Thinking the same thing,” Tyler said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “To us or to them?”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jaime said. “Me dying is a hell of a lot different than them dying.”

  Tyler found that funny. Or maybe the weed found it funny. “We need to not get caught,” he said. “That’s the main thing.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Tyler shrugged. “By being smarter than them. By staying out of the way. Out of sight, out of—”

  “You know you can smell that shit from fifty yards away, right?” It was Scorpion’s voice, and it startled the crap out of Tyler. Almost literally. Then Scorpion appeared in the doorway. “And I think you should use your inside voices, not your playground voices, when people want to kill you.”

  Gunslinger came in behind him. Each of them carried an extra rifle and extra vest with stuff in them. “Let me have your seat,” Scorpion said. “I’m a working man. Each of you two put on a vest.”

  He tossed one onto Tyler’s lap, making him jump.

  Tyler stood and turned the vest over in his hands, trying to figure it out. “You don’t put it on like a coat,” Scorpion said. “It slips over your head. Here.” He took the vest from him. “Put your arms up, like your mommy’s putting a sweater on for you.” Tyler did just that while Mr. Macho settled the vest onto his shoulders. It felt lighter than it did when he was holding it.

  “Did the others find you?” Jaime asked.

  “Nope, they were shot and killed,” Scorpion said. He didn’t drop a beat. “Why’d you let them leave?”

  “How was I going to stop them?” Tyler asked.

  “If you knew then, what you know now, you’d have found a way.”

  “Come on, Scorpion,” Gunslinger said. “That’s not fair.”

  “Reality so rarely is.” Scorpion sat heavily in the overstuffed chair. “So, here’s where we stand. Apparently, the bad guys made a promise early on that anyone caught off campus, so to speak, would be summarily shot.”

  “And their whole families,” Tyler added.

  “Then here’s hoping that Dipshit and his bride didn’t have children.”

  “That’s pretty harsh,” Jaime said.

  Scorpion started to say something, but then settled himself and tried again. “I don’t know how to do what needs to be done without being harsh,” he said. “So far tonight, by my count, Gunslinger and I have killed seven men, all of whom were doing their level best to kill us first. That makes me testy. Then, when I try to save a yuppie couple’s ass, they piss on my shoes and get themselves killed, anyway. So, from here on out—from now until this thing is over—when I say something, mentally insert a please or a thank you or a by your leave wherever you think it’s appropriate. Meanwhile, follow my orders or leave us the hell alone. Do any of those words or concepts confuse you?”

  Tyler gaped. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever spoken to him like that. The tone pissed him off, but the words made perfect sense.

  Scorpion wasn’t finished. “You’re both going to have to pull your weight, though. We brought rifles for you, along with ammunition.”

  “Where did—” Jaime cut himself off before he could finish the stupid question.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly where,” Scorpion said with a smile. “Have either of you ever shot before?”

  “I had a BB gun when I was little,” Tyler offered.

  “The most important thing to remember is to keep your booger hook off the bang switch,” Scorpion said.

  Tyler didn’t get it.

  “Keep your finger off the trigger,” Gunslinger translated with a roll of her eyes.

  “And keep the safety on till it’s time to shoot. I’ll give you a tour of your weapons when we have more light. I’ll also want you to carry stuff when we move.”

  “Are we going someplace now?”

  “I don’t want to move tonight if we can avoid it,” Scorpion replied, “but the thing about enemies is they get a vote in any plan you make.”

  “There’s a concern that the Edwardses might have told them about this place,” Gunslinger explained.

  “Oh, shit,” Tyler said.

  “So here’s what I need you two to do,” Scorpion said. “Go outside and sit and watch while Gunslinger and I get some work done.”

  That piqued Tyler’s interest. “What kind of work?”

  He watched as Scorpion and Gunslinger dumped dozens of bits of paper from their pockets onto the floor at the base of the chairs.

  “We need to find out who our enemy is, and what they’re trying to accomplish.”

  “Aren’t they just terrorists?”

  “Terrorists kill and run,” Gunslinger said.

  “These guys brought a big-ass ship with them,” Scorpion went on. “That tells me that they’re here for more than just mayhem. They’re here to get something and take it home with them.”

  Jaime stood a little taller and cocked his head. Tyler caught it, and so did Scorpion.

  “All input is welcome,” Scorpion said. “If you’ve got a theory, I’m all ears.”

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with the storage caves,” Jaime said.

  CHAPTER 13

  BAKER SINISE CHOSE TO IGNORE THE RINGING PHONE ON THE BED stand. Whoever it was at this ridiculous hour, they would give up sooner or later. Or so one would think. After eleven rings, however, it became clear to him that the caller was determined. He snatched the receiver off the cradle and brought it to his ear. “What!”

  “Good morning, Mr. Sinise. This is Rosaria at the front desk. There are some gentlemen here from la Policía. Shall I send them up, or should they wait for you here? They say it is a very urgent matter.”

  “What kind of urgent matter?”

  “Yo no se,” she said. “But they tell me, and I quote, ‘One way or another, we need to talk to Mr. Sinise now.’ ”

  Baker sighed. What had Tyler done this time? “Yeah, okay. Give me five minutes. Cinco minutos.”

  Tyler knew that this getaway was important to Baker, knew that he needed time away from the resort to get his head together. It had been a stressful couple of months, and these five days seaside in Zihuatanejo—being served by others, rather than being responsible for providing service—were just what he needed. That boy was impossible.

  “Boy, my ass,” he said aloud. Tyler was nineteen, a man by any definition. The world was full of wounded veterans who were younger than he was. Sooner or later, he was going to have to start acting the part.

  Right after I stop enabling him. He heard his ex-wife’s voice in that last thought, in the same tone as she phoned in all of her tidbits of advice from wherever in the world she and her sugar daddy were traveling.

  Baker decided to take the time to brush his teeth and run a dry razor over his face before going downstairs. While he had done nothing wrong, and the police were here reportedly just to talk, this was Mexico. When people of means were in this part of the world, excuses to detain and extort money were often created on the fly. Always best to approach such times with personal hygiene chores all taken ca
re of.

  He’d chosen to stay in the Hotel Del Mar for its old-world charm and very generous bartender, but the trade-off for charm was iffy climate control. Thus, his room was only on the second floor—all the better to stagger back from Pedro’s pours. He donned the beige suit and pink shirt he’d worn all day yesterday. Then Baker walked out of his suite to the center of the hallway and turned left to head down the grand staircase to the lobby, where the registration desk was located on the far end, on the right.

  As he swung the turn, his first thought was that the cops must be working on some kind of undercover deal. They had a rigid posture about them, almost a military bearing. It’s not at all what he’d come to expect from the local constabulary, particularly not in this little corner of Zihuatanejo. The unexpected appearance gave Baker an uneasy feeling, which spiked off the charts when the pretty young thing behind the desk made eye contact with him, then hurried around the corner and disappeared into the office.

  The rest of what happened, happened with startling speed. The cop on the right raised his hand, as if it were holding a pistol. Baker heard a pop and then he seized and fell. He tasted and smelled blood and was fully aware that he’d just been Tasered. He had no idea why or by whom, but those details seemed of little importance as his body jerked on the tile floor. He was still flopping when the other cop approached him, leaned over, and cocked back a fist.

  Then . . . nothing.

  * * *

  Jonathan gaped at Jaime. “What kind of ‘storage caves’?”

  Jaime shrugged. “I don’t even know if that’s really what they are. But I can’t think of anything else they might be.”

  “Where are they?”

  Jaime pointed to a spot that might have been through the roof. “Over there. On the other side of the island.”

  “Are they used?” Gail asked. “And if so, what’s in them?”

  “Only a few are used. These are massive man-made caves made of reinforced concrete. The ones that are used have big locks on them. I’ve only seen them once or twice, and I’ve never spent any serious time around them. It’s a firing offense to be anywhere near them.”

  “Even for the maintenance guy?” Tyler asked. “And how come I don’t know anything about them?”

  Jaime laughed. “Because your father would tear me a new asshole if I told you.” He seemed to have hurt Tyler’s feelings. “Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “Tell me what you do know about these . . . caves,” Jonathan pressed. In his experience, large reinforced concrete “caves” meant only one thing, and it had nothing to do with geology. He didn’t want to test-drive his theory, though, until he had more to go on.

  “That’s really about all of it,” Jaime said.

  “‘About all’ means there’s more.” Gail was losing patience, too.

  “Every now and then, the marina gets active at odd hours,” Jaime explained. “Always at night. Late. That’s why I didn’t think much about the ship with the terrorists on it. You know, until I saw that it had terrorists on it.”

  Jonathan’s mood darkened even more. “You weren’t startled even by the size of the ship?”

  Jaime did a bobblehead thing as he thought about that. “I guess tonight’s ship is bigger than most. But about the same as some.”

  Jonathan asked, “What typically follows the arrival of these vessels?”

  “What ‘follows’?”

  “Yeah, what do they do? Do the crews stay here at the resort? Do they—”

  “Oh, God no,” Jaime said. “Mr. Sinise would never stand for that. They come, they get their work done, and then they’re out of here. Often before dawn, but always before noon. Well before the guest ship arrives at two.”

  “Are they off-loading cargo?” Gail asked.

  “I believe so. I’ve never actually watched them working. Again, I would lose my job if I got caught watching that.”

  “Surely, there must be some signs of something,” Jonathan said. “When you go down to meet the incoming passengers, you must see some kind of evidence of what these mystery ships do.”

  “I think you’re really asking me if I think that these ships bring things for the cave. And yes, I do think that. But I can’t swear to that.”

  “Why do you think it?” Gail asked.

  “The forklifts will be low on battery power or gas, depending on which machine. We’ll find pallet nails and bits of wood and debris. All of that has to be cleaned up before the guests arrive. There can be no mess for the guests.”

  Jonathan remembered how impressed he was with the pristine cleanliness of the place when he and Gail first arrived. “Do you see military items?” he asked.

  “You mean, like bullets and things?”

  “Yeah, but also other things. Do you see torn labels with pictograms on them? Drawings of little explosions?”

  “Excuse me, Scorpion,” Tyler said. “You seem to be going someplace with this. What are you thinking?”

  Jonathan shared a glance with Gail, who clearly had gone to the same place as he. “The kind of structures you just described are typical of explosives-storage facilities,” he explained. “Bombs and rockets and bullets, and what have you, all need to be stored somewhere before they’re deployed. That’s where storage magazines come in. They’re stupid-expensive to build because they have to be engineered in such a way as to contain any accidental explosion if one were to occur. You’ve seen the insides?”

  Jaime nodded. “When they’re unlocked, they’re just there.”

  “Describe the doors,” Gail said.

  “Huge,” Jaime said. “Made of steel, I think. Like bank vault doors, but ten times the size.”

  “Does my father ever go down there when they’re moving things from the ship?” Tyler asked.

  “I don’t know, Ty. I’ve never seen him down there, but like I said, I’m never down there when they’re off-loading.”

  Jonathan stood. “Well, I think we’ve hit upon a corner of the why of the evening. This has something to do with weapons. The Russians, or whoever they are, want what your daddy’s got.”

  “And he’s not here to give it to them,” Jaime said, completing the logic.

  “Wait,” Tyler said. “My father does not have a bunch of weapons on this island. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Evidence to the contrary,” Jonathan said. Nothing could be less relevant to him right now than a son’s loyalty to his father.

  “That’s not much to go on,” Gail said. “Even if you’re spot-on, there’s a lot more to know.”

  Jonathan checked his watch. “And it’s six-thirty,” he said. “Time for our check-in call. Excuse us, gentlemen.” He pointed with his forehead to the shanty’s door. “Remember to stay quiet and keep an eye out for movement.”

  Gail lowered the pitch of her voice to as low as her alto vocal cords would allow, and said, “And keep your damn fingers off the triggers.” She winked at Jonathan. “I figured you were missing Big Guy.”

  * * *

  Henry West felt his bride’s glare burning blisters into his back as he threw clothes into his suitcase and tried mentally to inventory what he was missing versus what he had.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t tell me where you’re going,” Sarah said. “I don’t need to know why, but you always tell me the where.”

  Henry avoided eye contact and the delay that would bring. “I don’t understand why you have to keep pressing when I already told you that I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “One leads to the other,” Henry said. Jesus, how does she see through me so easily? “You know the kind of work I’ve always done. Part and parcel, babe. Part and parcel.”

  “Are you telling me that this is for work, then?” Sarah asked.

  He wasn’t going to lie to her. They’d been through too much over too many years for him to insult her that way, so he said nothing. He crossed in front of his bed and pulled a baseball cap off the top shelf of
his closet.

  “Oh, my God,” Sarah said. She brought her hand to her mouth. “They pulled you back in. You’re back with the teams.”

  Henry didn’t think for a second that his poker face was solid enough to pull off a lie, even if he’d been inclined to try. “I am not back with the teams,” he said. “I’m still with No Such Agency, just as I’ve been since I left the team.”

  “Please don’t lie to me, Henry. That’s your Conan hat, and you haven’t worn it in years.”

  Henry felt deflated. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “Not really. I haven’t rejoined the teams.”

  “But?”

  “But I have to help a friend.” He could feel the heat of her anger.

  “Henry, you promised. And not just me. The kids too.”

  He turned away from his packing and squared up to her. He reached out for her hands, but she didn’t respond. He didn’t move until she finally gave in and took his palms in hers. “I am not lying. I have not joined with any official team, but yes, I have joined with an unofficial one, and this is a one-off. One in a row is not a trend.”

  “Who are the others you’ll be with?”

  “I don’t know them all, but I can’t tell you about any of them. That’s just not the way it works.”

  “Will it be dangerous?”

  “Isn’t everything these days?”

  “Don’t,” Sarah said, and she tried to pull back. But she didn’t try very hard. He wouldn’t let her. “You know what I’m asking. Will there be shooting?”

  “Probably,” he said.

  “Is this official government business?”

  “The government can’t do what we’re going to do. More precisely, there is no government where we’re going.” He saw her face darken and he tried to put a new spin on it. “I’m making this sound worse than it is. A friend of mine—a man I owe my life to, literally—has been taken hostage in a place where there is no hope of government intervention.”

  “In this country?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Her exasperation was growing. “Can you at least reassure me that what you’re about to do is legal?”