by L. M. Vila
Offering them a seat was expected. Kurtis didn’t take, nor did his companion. He folded his arms across his chest, his muscles shined under the bright lights. The cocky look was still engraved on his face.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” began the General. “Maybe you deserve a bit of praise. The kind that I would offer my employees after they successfully handed me a package. Or possibly as much as someone who brought me a cup of coffee. That is the kind of praise I believe is appropriate for this situation.”
His once proud and swaggering deportment had fallen. Kurtis didn't appreciate being mocked, least of all from this old fool. The General did a good job of hiding it for those precious few moments. This was the opportunity to retaliate. The words that tickled the back of his throat were silenced by the General once more. Apparently he wasn’t finished.
“If you believe that I should offer you gratitude for simply doing your job then you have taken one too many hits in the head today. I’m surprised you came back without a scratch. That man could have destroyed everything I've worked hard to create had he willed it so. And you would have been foolish enough to let him.”
This was way out of line. Even for the General. Kurtis didn’t care for the initial ridicule. Once they turned into insults is where he drew the line. All of this anger built within him yet he could say nothing. Maybe it was force of habit or out of a deep rooted loyalty he had for this man. Whatever held him back was the only saving grace the General had. Kurtis was seconds away from ripping his throat out, shoving it down his mouth to give his tongue a taste of authentic Russian bullshit.
The General shifted his focus to Seika. “Forgive me, Ms. Kunimoto. Where are my manners?” He reached beneath his desk and drew a nicely sized steel briefcase. Yegor flicked the safety latches. The case popped open and with a quick turn Seika was staring at six billion yen.
“As we agreed. Double your payment in Japanese currency.”
It looked good. Payments always did. And Seika preferred cash amongst anything else. Better to stay off the grid with your gains than having to explain it later. She reached over and shut the case, securing it in place with the latches. It had a good weight to it. Seika enjoyed holding on to it more than a purse.
“Pleasuring doing business with you. If I find a need for your talents once more, I'll be in touch.”
Little did he know, Seika was had planned on leaving this country as soon as the job was done. No more American and especially no more Michael Madison.
“Kurtis,” the General said in a surprisingly refreshing tone. He allowed his tongue to slip back into his native language. Heaven forbid this woman hears these instructions. “Escort her to the door. Make sure she gives her brother our sincerest regards.”
To any normal human being, they would have asked the General to repeat himself. To Kurtis, well, he couldn’t wait to hear those words. It almost made up for all of Yegor’s callous abuse. If this was his subtle way of rewarding Kurtis, then it is much appreciated. He couldn’t stand competition. Least of all from women. This one in particular seemed to irk at his patience.
Seika made her way towards the door with Kurtis coyly following behind. It was unexpectedly silent. The immediate ringing of the General’s office phone broke the calm awkwardness. His hands reached for the receiver and gently placed it to his head. Another restricted caller. Such a wonderful girl that one is. Good news was surely going to follow. This was the only one he could really trust anyways.
“Yes moemu rebenku.”
The first words she uttered sent the General in a horrific panic. As she continued it progressively got worse. He couldn’t believe what was being said. This couldn’t be true. Optimism is a noble trait, however, he was proven wrong with every second that passed.
Yegor could do nothing but listen. No words could properly convey his emotions. Worse news seemed to hit him last. It wasn’t so much news as it was a warning. The General’s most dreadful fear was about to come into fruition. A nightmare that had started earlier this morning was about to culminate in this very evening.
His informant didn’t seem to be fairing well either. She seemed distressed, as if in some kind of hurry. After the information was passed and the phone went dead, the General hung on to it. It reminded him of a simpler time. One where a phone call actually meant a job had been completed. Now here he sat, watching his two hired guns about leaving his office, as he waited to be judged by an approaching devil.
“Kurtis! Seika! Idióts!”
The General’s fury broke through the air and traveled with an insane velocity. Wildfires would stare in awe of its magnitude and destructive force. If words were made up of matter these would give nuclear missiles a run for their money. In an instant, the General’s empire would crash down before his eyes. This entire day was carefully planned to prevent that from happening and yet, the one person he hoped to avoid was coming into his house.
One thing Seika and Kurtis had in common is that they didn’t take kindly to insults. Seika didn’t fear that man’s voice as Kurtis appeared to. Regardless, they stopped in their tracks and faced the General once more. Only this time, curiosity was the binding agent that brought them forth.
“What is it?” Kurtis spat.
His insolence notwithstanding, there was only one phrase Yegor could think of that would impress the gravity of this matter into his head much deeper.
“Madison lives.”
Every obscenity known to man flew through the young man’s lungs. Kurtis felt a tirade of fury blowing through his body. The General had to be lying. No one on this planet could survive an explosion like that. Not even Kurtis. He saw the flames encircling the gas station like a volcanic eruption from a mile away. For someone to survive that mess was beyond all logic.
It appears, throughout every warning, every detail, every breath the General uttered about this mission didn’t stress the importance. Scolding them just wouldn’t be enough. They had to understand exactly what he was up against. Surviving two encounters should have been proof enough. Apparently they needed further verification.
“This man has no equal. If only one of the rumors I’ve heard about him are true then it is a miracle you both are still alive. Criminals who appear on the most wanted list now forfeit their freedom to spare themselves from his wrath. Empires have turned to dust in his hands. You truly have no concept of how dangerous he is, do you?”
The rage Kurtis was feeling kept his lips locked tight. No one on this planet was more dangerous than he was. The General was attempting to prove otherwise.
“You’ve both fought with him, have you not?”
Yegor didn’t need to hear acknowledgement. He knew the answer just by looking into their eyes. Kurtis remembered the blows he traded with that man. His arm memorized the pain.
“Agent Madison is no ordinary man. He fights as if possessed by the devil himself. If you couldn’t stop him then, there’s no hope for us now.”
“Chush' sobach'ya!” Kurtis was fuming. “He’s just a man! I am more than that!”
For the first time in a great while, Kurtis was starting to sound as menacing as he was designed to be. The General still wasn’t convinced.
“Don’t be foolish. You are no match for him.”
“Let him come. I will tear him into atoms! My body will bathe in his blood.”
“And how would you manage to do what you could not do twice before?!”
Reasoning took over. For once, Kurtis had an argument that could not be defeated. “Because I have the one thing in my possession that will break the limits of my body.”
He was sounding more confident by the second. The warning had the opposite effect. This might work out better than the General expected. Kurtis was right. A secret weapon was in their possession. It may very well give him the edge. The General fought himself again and again with this decision. Somehow, someway he felt that no matter which one he picked, he would regret it. Maybe this way, all of his goals would be accompli
shed. They could fight and kill each other for all he cared.
“Very well. Do as you wish.”
Discipline made Seika the woman she was today. Honor kept her alive. She dropped the briefcase holding her payment from the General. To her surprise, Seika was actually grateful for this opportunity. One last chance to exact revenge. It’s not every day that wishes come true.
“I’ll be back for this.”
And just like that, they were gone. This did not sit right in the General’s stomach. Experience told him this was foolish but instinct warned him that taking no action would also be unwise. All the loose ends had to be tied. Which reminded him of one last problem that had to be taken care of.
“Seika, a moment of your time.”
She quickly halted her progress at the General’s request. He picked up his phone and dialed Roman’s cell phone number. They conferred information. Pleasing information. Everything had worked out to Yegor’s liking. They ended their conversation and the second phase of the plan was well in motion.
“There is one last thing I need your assistance with.”
He motioned for her to come closer. It was hard to speak candidly with a broken front door. All of the details were accounted for. This plan was a dream for the assailants. And a nightmare for their targets.
Michael burned through the lifeless freeway. Last time he checked his speedometer it was nearing the red zone. By his estimation it would only be another thirty minutes or so before he reached his destination. Highway patrol officers would throw a fit if they saw him passing by. FBI agent or not, the law is still the law.
The few scant vehicles on the road blurred out of the picture. Unfolding a strategy had run laps around his mind. He was only one man with an address and a few weapons at his disposal. They were almost two dozen armed strong plus a pair of skilled assassins. Nicole was right. On paper, this was suicide.
Unbeknownst to them, Michael didn’t consider odds as a measurement of success. Luck had no place on the battlefield. Skill determined whether you lived or died. Michael had plenty of that. Sometimes he believed his reputation preceded him. A picture is worth a thousand words. However, after Michael got done with a criminal, everyone would be rendered speechless.
Justice is a difficult principle to uphold. The very definition of it in this day is too colloquial and misguided. Michael would have to redefine it in a way everyone would understand. Bring it back to its original form. Something no one would question. Seeing is believing. This wouldn’t be vengeance, malevolence, or even murder. This is pure justice.
Some people will continue to break the law. Hopefully others will learn from their mistakes. After all, this is what it was all about. Deterrence is the most powerful law enforcement tool. That is one thing the L.A.P.D. never understood.
Wilshire Boulevard is usually quiet at this time on a Monday night. Only a few cars travelled along this normally busy street. The ones that happened to be driving tonight were fortunate enough to witness two vehicles with blatant disregard for traffic laws barreling through the quiet city of Santa Monica.
At speeds exceeding a eighty miles per hour and winds blowing straight into her face, Isabella didn’t think evading one FBI agent would be any trouble. Watching Meryl traveling less than five seconds behind her was a rude awakening. She tried everything to dodge that determined woman. They passed underneath every single traffic light, without considering the color, and watched as the flash bulbs captured their movements.
Another vehicle was coming up on the other side. A game of chicken was in order. Isabella turned off her headlights and slammed her gas pedal to the floorboards. She could estimate the speed of the vehicle by the seconds it took to clear blocks. There wasn’t room for error. Even with the street lights glaring down there wasn’t much else to see. Driving a black vehicle had many practicalities. Isabella chose wisely.
The other vehicle was within range, prompting a mental countdown. Isabella veered her car over to the opposite side of the road. In this position, all she would have to do is fake veer to the left. The other vehicle would naturally respond by driving to the shoulder. This would send that car and Meryl’s crashing right into each other.
The time to act was now. A slight jolt to the left and Isabella’s car winked over to that side. The oncoming vehicle seemed to panic. Just as she predicted.
Steel smashed beautifully. The sound was exquisite. Finally a plan had gone right today. So much for the FBI’s crack staff. Isabella’s cover was blown but at least now she had a chance to regroup.
Turning her attention back to the road, a sea of red lights covered the windshield. Instincts told her to slam on the breaks. That’s exactly what she did. Isabella tried to avoid it. Her own arrogant plan led to her down this treacherous path.
Isabella caught the stopped vehicle right at the corner. She was travelling far too fast. Metal slapped metal defiantly attempting to resist the impact. The crunching sound and whiny scrape of her front end shouted into the night’s air. Her car lifted off the ground. They weren’t designed to function on only three wheels. Gravity made sure Isabella learned that lesson. It ferociously landed on the passenger side. The fiberglass body skid along Wilshire for another hundred yards before slowing down to a stop.
Seatbelts were a beautiful invention. Unfortunately, it didn’t protect Isabella from the exploding airbag’s shrapnel or the projectile glass that slashed her face upon impact. Personal damage was minor but more importantly, she survived.
The driver side door kicked open. Pouring out from within, Isabella pulled herself from the wreckage. Her legs were in working order. As they tasted the mashed up asphalt she peered back at the cause of her accident. Her sight wasn’t functioning perfectly. The collision took more out of Isabella than she cared to admit.
In the distance she was able to confirm, through the blurry landscape, something complete unexpected. The car that was responsible for this mess was none other than the one chasing her. Meryl was abandoning her vehicle and began running in Isabella’s direction. Very quickly she might add.
This wasn’t a good place for confrontation. Isabella was injured. Not fully disabled, but definitely not up for a frontal attack. Irony trickled its way in. Staring back at her from a few steps away was the U.C.L.A. Medical Center. A perfect place to regroup. She proceeded without delay.
Isabella didn’t want to admit it, but Meryl was good. How she was able to predict the setup was beyond her comprehension. Not to mention setting up a counter-attack at the same time. These thoughts and more seemed to infect Isabella’s rationale as she proceeded into the building. At least it provided plenty of opportunities for a changing of the guard. The only question on her mind was who is willing to sacrifice more. Isabella or Meryl.
In the world of drug laws and patents, boredom encapsulated Mr. Perry’s life. There wasn’t anything fantastically exciting about finding loopholes or forwarding cease and desist letters. Every night it was filled with fun stuff like this and more. The hours were an insult but the salary was a good apology. It’s pretty easy to find anyone to work for that kind of pay. Getting someone to do the job as good as him, now there was a challenge.
Behind him, Ms. Ross was hard at work as well. While their jobs were different, their hearts are in the same place. No matter how much effort they put, they just couldn’t stop being busy. After this long night they’ll go back to their subpar hotel room and begin the day anew with less than three hours of sleep. Such is the life of a well paid businessman. Mr. Perry believed he would be divorced at this point if he wasn’t already single.
“Mr. Perry, Ms. Ross,” Yegor called. That certainly broke their attention. “I believe we have completed our work for today. Let us go, get some rest.”
“Yes sir,” replied a fairly relieved Mr. Perry. After a couple of taps on his computer he was ready to go.
“Just a moment sir,” Ms. Ross responded. “I have one last project to close.”
“That is fine. Mr. Perry and
I will wait for the elevator,” the General motioned for him to draw closer. “Come. We shall walk and talk.”
“Very well sir.”
Yegor grinned. “That is good.”
They walked down to the short hallway. The top floor was mostly for show. A way to glamorize the magnificence that is General Yegor Semyon. The gold plated elevator doors were a part of that. They weren’t more than a few casual steps away down a long hallway full of Russian memorabilia and photographs. Yegor gently pressed the button to summon the mechanical beast and then they waited. There couldn't have been a better time to talk about the one elephant in the room.
“Sir, about the commotion earlier.”
“Just a minor bout of insubordination, nothing to worry about.”
The General played it fairly cool for a man howling indiscriminately a few moments earlier. Still, Mr. Perry was used to the General’s professional nature. Other than business, he had no idea what to say to this man. They didn’t exactly have much in common as far as their personal lives were concerned. Actually, since he took this job, that's only thing Mr. Perry had to give up.
“Has everything thus far met your standards?”
Yegor calmly chuckled. “Met me standards? I have been very pleased with your work Mr.Perry. You always seem to surprise me.”
“Thank you sir.”
“It is my great privilege to have your assistance during our transition. Things have been a bit more exciting than I would have expected.”
“That is what I’m here for,” quipped Mr. Perry. He couldn’t resist patting himself on a back a bit. Thus, it led him to his next question. He turned his back to the elevator and addressed the General clearly. “Speaking of which. Did that little nuisance we discussed earlier get resolved?”
The elevator chimed and the doors parted. Ms. Ross was jogging towards them. She had made it just in time.
“Actually Mr. Perry, not yet,” the General countered, “but I assume it will shortly.”
