“So who was it? The only other people who knew about the job were Dante’s.”
“Son of a bitch...” muttered Johnny. He picked up the phone and pushed the button for the intercom system. The phone at the bar rang and the bartender answered it. “Jason, do me a favor. Tell Kevin I’d like to see him in my office immediately. Thank you.”
Johnny refilled his glass. “Kevin sold you out.”
“The bouncer?” asked Flint.
Johnny nodded. “One of the waitresses told me she saw him speaking with Kim on her way out the other day. I just assumed he was trying to get into her pants—wouldn’t be the first customer he’s tried with.”
“So he ratted me out to the Agency because I slapped him around a little?”
“He’s very proud,” said Johnny. “I must say, your restraint is a little surprising. The old Carl Flint would have killed anyone who stood between us. Instead, you just disabled them.”
“Guess I really have lost my taste for this game,” said Flint.
“I suppose that’s a good thing.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Kevin entered the office, his glare instantly fixed on Flint. “You wanted to see me, boss?”
“Yes, please have a seat,” said Johnny. “Care for a drink?”
“No thanks, sir.”
“Kevin, the other day, do you remember a young woman came to the club and asked for me by name? She had a card with her.”
Kevin hesitated before he nodded.
“That woman has been causing trouble for our friend, Carl. And that reflects poorly on me.” Johnny lowered his glass and a shadow seemed to fall over his features as he leaned in closer to Kevin. He said in a low voice, “It was you, wasn’t it? You told her about Carl.”
“W-wait a second, boss. You don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bo—”
Flint drew one of the revolvers and fired a shot into Kevin’s leg. The bouncer released a scream of pain. “THE HELL’S A’MATTER WITH YOU?”
“You brought the heat down on me and you’re surprised I shot you?” Flint jumped from his seat and kicked Kevin in the chest, knocking both him and the chair onto their backs. Flint planted his foot on Kevin’s neck and leaned in close, pointing the barrel at the bouncer’s forehead.
“Kinda fitting we end up here again, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kevin tried to speak, but couldn’t with Flint’s foot on his neck. Flint’s finger gently squeezed the trigger, but didn’t quite pull it. The bullet inside the chamber ached for release and Flint could feel his body wanting it as well. It’s not as if the man didn’t have it coming. He brought this on himself, and all because of some wounded pride.
Flint clicked the safety and holstered his weapon. He removed his foot from Kevin’s throat and he stepped over to the desk, finishing off the liquor with one gulp. “I want you to remember that I let you live. It’s probably more than you deserve.”
“I suppose you’re right, you really have lost your taste for this,” said Johnny.
“Suppose so.” Flint extended his hand across the desk. “Wanna thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the years, Johnny.”
Johnny stood and reluctantly shook Flint’s hand. “Sounds like you’re saying goodbye, Carl.”
“I’m leaving the country soon. Don’t take it personally, but don’t expect any postcards.”
Johnny nodded. “I understand. I’ll see if I can use my connections in the Agency to give you a window of time to get out of the country.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Flint kicked Kevin in the ribs before he stepped over the man’s body. The bouncer grunted and slowly got to his feet just as the door closed.
“I’m gonna kill that old bastard,” muttered Kevin.
“No.” Johnny drew a Walther P38 from the holster hidden under his jacket and put a bullet in Kevin’s chest, bringing the bouncer right back to the ground. “You’re not.”
Johnny walked from around his desk and looked down at Kevin. “Maybe I would have been better off hiring a trained gorilla. Would have been much cheaper and he’d be much smarter.”
“B-but boss, I—”
“I’m not interested in your excuses, Kevin. You betrayed one of our clients, that means you betrayed me. And I do not tolerate betrayal. Carl may not want any more blood on his hands. But unfortunately for you, I’m not Carl Flint.”
Johnny pulled the trigger again, the second bullet neatly embedding itself dead-center in Kevin’s forehead.
NOW
The mansion Tanya and Miguel lived in, which also served as the base for the Suárez cartel’s operations, was located on the coast. Not far was a hill overlooking the spot. This was where Julie brought her car to a stop.
Flint had been able to get some military-issue weaponry for this job. She wondered how he was able to get it on such short notice, but then she remembered that he’d been in this game for a long time. He likely had high friends in low places, people like Johnny Venom who could get him anything he needed.
Case in point, the RPG-7D laying in two pieces on her back seat. She opened the back door and assembled the weapon, loading it with one of the rocket-propelled grenades.
Julie hefted the weapon over her shoulder, lining up the sight. This was shift-change time and she waited for the signal. After a few moments, the cell phone in her pocket began to vibrate. She braced herself and pulled the trigger, the rocket launching from the weapon and crashing right into the front of the mansion with a burst of flames.
She acted quickly, reloading and firing another rocket as the guards began to file out from the home. It was all she had for the moment and she hoped it would be enough. Julie dropped the RPG and got back into her car, speeding off for the next part of the plan.
***
Flint waited for the second explosion and once it came, he stood up and unleashed a hail of bullets from the AK-47. With his aim, he took out a number of the first wave of the guards who rushed out. The others would still be inside and they would try to get Tanya and Miguel out as soon as possible.
As he approached, he let the assault rifle hang by his side from the strap. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a grenade and threw it past the flames over the front door and it landed on the steps just as some more guards came down. They were quickly taken care of.
Stepping inside, Flint ducked at the sound of gunfire. He rolled, bringing up the AK-47 and firing several rounds into his attacker, a guard coming from one of the side rooms. Back on his feet, Flint cast his eyes up at the top of the stairwell. Two guards rushed towards the railing, opening fire with Uzis. Flint jumped back, letting loose with the rifle and both the guards fell over the edge.
He felt pain biting into his nerves. Not only from the physical exertion, but also because he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. He’d been tagged in his upper left thigh, right shoulder, and his left arm. The pain was intense, but he blocked it out, forcing himself to stand again. The AK felt heavier than before and it would be difficult to control.
Flint took it off and dropped it to the ground. At this point, the weapon would be more burden than blessing. He drew the shotgun from the case strapped to his back. The front stairwell was blown to bits but he was sure there was another way up and he intended to find it.
Down the main corridor, he moved slowly, keeping his back to the wall. Up ahead, he could see a kitchen area. To the left was an open doorway. Flint took a grenade from the belt around his chest, drew out the pin with his teeth and tossed it inside. Once it blew, he pivoted in front of the doorway, the shotgun raised up.
No one was inside. But a shot rang out and Flint grimaced. He fell on his front and the shooter came towards him from the kitchen. Using his foot and keeping his gun ready, the shooter turned Flint onto his back. Once he did, Flint’s eyes were open and he aimed the shotgun up, pulling the trigger.
Things were growing more and more difficult. The right side of Flint’s chest now had blood seeping from a bullet
hole. His breathing was still fine, so luckily it hadn’t punctured a lung. In hindsight, he briefly thought he should have worn a vest, but as he reminded himself, he had no plans on surviving the day.
Flint tossed the shotgun into the kitchen and shots rang out. Most of them sounded like they came from the right. Three, possibly four guns. He drew the Peacemaker replicas, now his only weapons left. Flint pushed up against the left side of the corridor, inching closer to the kitchen. Once he was in range, he leaned in and fired several hastily-aimed shots. One of them took out a shooter’s gun and another went in his neck. Flint had spied three in that brief instant. Which meant after the one he killed there were two left.
He heard their footsteps and knew they were trying to get closer. Flint pushed forward with his legs, landing on his back and sliding on the tile floor. The two shooters tried to tag him, but they were too surprised and once he came to a stop at their feet, he put four bullets in each of them from each gun.
Flint stood and flinched once he heard another shot. The other side of the kitchen. He dropped behind the counter, two bullets remaining in the chamber of one gun. Flint waited for a pause and sprung up, one shot going in the guard’s forehead and the other in his chest.
He holstered one weapon, opening the chamber of the other and allowing the spent shells to tumble out. There was the back stairwell and he was about to ascend, when he caught sight of two people running around the back towards the pier.
Tanya and Miguel were trying to make a run for it. Escape by sea. Flint went to the back door and kicked it open. He took his last grenade and threw it forward, the explosion causing the pair to hit the deck.
As Flint moved forward, he loaded a bullet into each chamber and snapped it shut with a flick of his wrist. Miguel was the first up and Flint wasted no time firing right between the son of Suárez’s eyes. He fell back and Tanya looked at her lover in horror, pounding on his chest, shaking his body and screaming at him in Spanish.
“Don’t bother,” said Flint as he came closer.
“You...you’ve ruined everything!”
“You brought this on yourself, ‘Suárez,’” said Flint. “All I wanted was to be left alone. You thought it’d be more fun to play games with me, to test me so I’d sign up with your outfit.”
“And what do you think will happen now, Flint?” asked Tanya. “You think it’s coincidence we were able to find out your real name?”
“I know, you’ve got connections inside the Agency. But you forgot to ask if I care.”
“You thought we took away your peace? Just wait until this gets out. The Agency will know you were behind this. They will come after you with everything they’ve got! What do you think of that, you bastard?”
“I think they should hurry the hell up.” Flint holstered his gun. He drew the other one, which was still empty and loaded the chamber with a single bullet. The gun struck the ground in front of Tanya.
“One shot,” he said. “Make it count.”
Tanya looked down at the gun and then stared at Flint. She slowly wrapped her fingers around the hilt and then it snapped up and the bullet flew from the chamber. Flint winced as the bullet hit him dead-center in the chest.
He wavered a bit and then fell to his knees. “N-not bad.” He raised his own gun and fired four shots, going from Tanya’s head down to her belly. She fell beside Miguel.
Flint reached inside his jacket and drew out a cigarillo. He struggled to light it but finally managed to hold his lighter steady. As he lay on his back, puffing on the end, it wasn’t long before footsteps came down the marble steps behind the mansion.
Julie Kim’s face came into view. She knelt down and helped Flint into a sitting position. Pulling open his jacket, she saw the wounds he had incurred.
“I thought we agreed on vests?” she asked.
“Guess I’m getting senile in my old age.” He looked at the gun in Julie’s hand. “You know what happens now.”
“You can still be useful to me,” she said. “I’m still going to go after Dante.”
“Then that’s your business. I want no part. I just want some peace,” said Flint. “If you don’t have the stomach, I’ll do it myself. But figured I owed you what you want.”
“Dante’s the one who killed Christian, you were just the gun he used.”
“And a gun’s useless if it can’t do anymore killing. So put me outta my misery,” said Flint.
Julie nodded and stood. She closed her eyes as she put the barrel against Flint’s head.
The ice made small noises as it struck the sides of the glass holding a bit of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. The man called Dante slowly sipped the scotch, music playing from his sound system as he sat in the dark.
The light came on in the room and a soft voice came in, drawing Dante’s attention from the music: “Sir, I apologize for the interruption.”
Dante paused the track with a remote. “Quite all right, Tauna. Is there something I can help you with?”
The Filipino woman known only as Tauna walked into the room, circling so she stood in front of Dante’s chair. “I’ve just received word. Miguel Suárez and Tanya Cruz are dead. Carl Flint’s body was also found at the scene.”
Dante set down the scotch and picked up his cigarette from the tray, slowly sucking on the filter. He set the cigarette back and exhaled through his nostrils.
“Double the amount in the trust fund we had set up for his favorite little orphan.”
“Sir?”
“Carl Flint performed his last job admirably, even if he had no idea he was actually working for us,” said Dante.
“I’ll get right on it,” said Tauna.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Yes sir, that’s all.”
“Thank you, Tauna. If you don’t mind?”
“Of course, sir.” Tauna bowed slightly towards him and walked towards the door. Before closing the door behind her, she turned off the light. Dante picked up the remote and hit PLAY. The sound of Bob Dylan’s voice piped through the speakers.
Ain’t gonna hang no picture,
Ain’t gonna hang no picture frame.
Well, I might look like Robert Ford,
But I feel like Jesse James.
GENTLEMAN ROGUE
CHAPTER ONE
San Francisco. Right in the heart of Silicon Valley.
Dalton Moore, a tall, dark-haired man dressed in a black tuxedo walked through the lobby of Loerke Technologies. The lobby was packed with guests, all dressed to the nines and mingling about, gorging themselves on the free food and open bar. Most were at the party to celebrate Loerke’s sky-rocketing emergence into the technology market, with ideas and plans that promised to make a lot of waves—and that worried some very powerful people.
Dalton moved through the crowd, speaking to some of the guests and joining in with idle chit-chat as he sipped champagne. His steel eyes looked through the lenses of his dark-rimmed glasses, and a voice crackled in his ear.
“Okay, looks like we’ve got visual.” The voice belonged to Baxter, a top-of-the-line hacker and Dalton’s partner and technical support.
Dalton gave no response, just continued talking with a group of young professionals. He smiled and laughed at their jokes, but really paid very little attention to what they said. Instead, his eyes were focused on another group on the other side of the room.
“Right there. See that bald guy with the beard? That’s Malcolm Loerke,” said Baxter. “Now see the woman by his side?”
Dalton did. Early forties, wearing glasses and had burgundy hair that fell over her shoulders.
“Excuse me,” said Dalton to his conversation partners. He turned away from them. “What about her?”
“That’s Gabrielle Russell, Loerke’s executive assistant,” said Baxter. “You need access to Loerke’s office and she seems like the easiest way to get it.”
“Sure about that?” Dalton emptied his glass and set it on one of the many small, standing tables set up arou
nd the room. He watched as Loerke and another guest excused themselves, leaving Gabrielle Russell alone.
“Well, you could always try seducing Loerke himself…”
“Not my type.” Dalton stepped from the table, walking over to a passing waiter who carried a tray of freshly-filled champagne glasses. Dalton smiled at the waiter.
“Pardon me.” He took two glasses and began his approach. His target didn’t even look at him, just watched the crowd. Dalton sidled up beside her. “You look like you could use a refill.”
She jumped at the sudden appearance, then relaxed and grinned. “I’m sorry, you startled me.”
“My apologies.” Dalton held out one of the glasses. “Join me?”
She glanced down at the drink, apparently considering it for a moment before she accepted the offer. “Thank you.”
“Kenneth Pyne,” said Dalton, now extending his hand.
“Gabrielle Russell.” They shook. “So, Mr. Pyne—”
“Please, call me Ken,” said Dalton.
She placed a hand on her chest. “Gaby.” Her gaze lingered on his eyes and finally she said, “That’s a wonderful accent. England?”
Dalton nodded. “London, as a matter of fact. And you?”
“Philadelphia. We’re not known for our sophisticated accents.”
“But you more than make up for it with your cream cheese and steak sandwiches.”
Gaby snickered. “I suppose we do.” She held up her glass. “Cheers.”
“Indeed.” Dalton clinked the side of his glass against hers and they both drank.
“What brings you all the way from London?” asked Gaby.
“I’m an investor, actually.”
“Oh?” Gaby raised her eyebrows. “I hope you’re impressed by what you’ve seen so far.”
Dalton sipped his drink, keeping his eyes locked on Gaby. When he lowered his glass, he had a small smile playing on his lips. “Quite.”
Infernum Omnibus Page 20
