No mercy

by John Gilstrap

Boxers laughed. “Yeah, ‘helpful’ is exactly the vibe I’ve been getting off of you all day.”

  Jesse Collier gave it a try. “We talked during your target practice. This arrangement here, with us all trussed up, makes no sense at all. Y’all are in a box. You can’t call for help, and hell is coming to pay a visit. Like it or not, we’re in the box with you, and we’re going to be in the middle of all the shooting. If these Green Brigade people you’re talking about kill you, they’re sure as hell going to kill us, too. However it comes down, you’ll be wishing you had additional hands, and here we are. It only makes sense that we’d want to help.”

  Boxers laughed.

  Jonathan didn’t. His eyes narrowed as he considered Jesse’s words.

  “You’re not thinking of saying yes, are you, Boss?”

  Jesse pressed harder. “We came here to arrest you for the crimes committed in Samson. I didn’t even want to do that, to tell the truth. Seems to me, the Patrones got what was coming to them. This fight here? We got no dog in it.”

  “But you’re offering to fight with us anyway?” Stephenson asked.

  “It beats getting shot while tied in a chair,” Gail said.

  Jonathan gave Gail a hard look. “And what about those charges in Samson? You still intend to pursue them?”

  She took a long time answering. When she did, she looked a little ill. “It’s my job,” she said. “I’ll have to.”

  Jonathan smiled. His question had been a test. If she’d said she would drop the charges, he would have known that they were playing an angle-telling them what they thought they wanted to hear. He nodded to Stephenson. “Cut them loose and put them to work,” he said.

  Jonathan spent an hour with Boxers on the near side of the bridge, using two-foot lengths of detonating cord to drop trees across the road. Few toys were more fun than det cord. Thomas hung around as their shadow, watching the process so carefully that Jonathan let him set the detonators. Finally, with the three of them huddled a safe distance away from the current shot, Jonathan handed Thomas the wireless trigger. “You do it,” he said.

  The kid looked like he’d just gotten a bike at Christmas. “Really?”

  Jonathan ignored Boxers’ angry glare. “Remember what to do?”

  “Just put in the battery, move the switch to Arm, and push the button, right?”

  “After shouting what?”

  Thomas nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He shouted, “Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!” Then he inserted the AA battery, moved the safe to the earth, gathering momentum as it crashed through its coniferous siblings.

  Thomas grinned. “That is so cool.” He handed the trigger back to Jonathan.

  “The technical term is KFB,” Boxers said, rising to his feet.

  “KFB?” Thomas asked, taking the bait.

  “Ka-fuckin’-boom.”

  They laughed, Thomas harder than the others. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Do you do anything but?” Boxers grumped.

  Thomas was learning Boxers’ crankiness. “We kept the bridge so we can get out, but aren’t we still cutting off our own escape with the trees?”

  “We’re not here to escape,” Jonathan said without hesitation. “We’re here to prevail. If we don’t prevail, escape won’t be an option. If we win, we’ll have time to clear a path.”

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t really think we might get killed here, do you?”

  “ Might’s a pretty tough bar to clear,” Jonathan said. “They’re gonna be shooting back.”

  “But we’re better than them, right?” he pressed. Anticipating Boxer’s inevitable barb, he added, “I mean you. You’re better than them.”

  “It’s not about being better. Half of it’s just about being lucky. Once a bullet’s in the air, it’s on its way to where it’s going. The best you can hope for is to stay out of its way.” It wasn’t what Thomas wanted to hear.

  “You still got time to skedaddle,” Boxers urged.

  Thomas shook his head, but he looked peaked. “I said I’d stay. I’ll stay.”

  Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder. “Big Guy and I have both seen our share of shoot-outs. We haven’t lost yet.”

  Thomas tried to smile, but reality was settling in. “What’s it like?” he asked. “You know, after.”

  Jonathan cocked his head. “After a battle?”

  “After killing someone.”

  Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as he decided not to answer. “We should head back,” he said.

  “I want to know.”

  “Soon enough, you will.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I don’t have an answer for you. It affects different people different ways. It changes you, sure, but people all handle it differently.”

  “How did you handle it?”

  Jonathan sighed. Talk like this never came to good. “I guess it didn’t hurt me enough to make me unwilling to do it again.”

  “But we’re ultimately talking more murder charges, aren’t we? Only these’ll be real.”

  “Don’t worry about that, either,” Jonathan said.

  “Why?”

  Boxers guffawed, “Because they can’t charge you with nothin’ when you’re already dead.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Father Dom smiled at the little girl on his office sofa and tried to make her feel at home. She’d arrived only an hour ago, and she was struggling to be bra of the kids, Roman Alexander among them. Mama called me just to give me a heads-up, but if Mama is disturbed enough to call the cops, then I think it’s worth looking into.”

  Dom steeled himself for news he knew he wouldn’t like. “And because Mama called, I’m going to guess that the talking was more like touching?”

  “Not exactly, but she seemed to think he crossed a line. The guy asked questions about Venice. About where she worked and what she did there. I don’t know if he knew that Roman is her son, but Roman didn’t know any better, so he just answered with the truth. About the time Mama saw them together and intervened, Roman was about to go with him down the hill to show him the way.”

  “Who was this guy?”

  “Nobody’d ever seen him before. Well dressed, they said. Suit and tie.”

  Dom’s stomach tightened. There are no coincidences. Dom pinched his lower lip and scowled. “Didn’t touch him, though?”

  “Nope. Didn’t do anything I could arrest him for, even if I knew who he was or where he went.”

  “Did he ever show up at Venice’s office?”

  “Not that I know of. I asked Mama to check that out and call me if he did. I haven’t heard back from her, so I can only assume…” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence. “Frankly, Father, I’m not as concerned about Venice as I am about strange guys hanging around an orphanage talking to little boys.”

  “It’s not an orphanage.” It was an important distinction in Dom’s mind.

  “Still, I think you can see my point.”

  “I do. What do you recommend?”

  The chief shrugged. “I don’t know. I was hoping that maybe you could shed a little light on what your friends at Security Solutions are up to. Does this have something to do with that?”

  Dom didn’t like the tone of the question any more than he liked being stuck in the middle. “It wouldn’t hurt to be more vigilant over the next few days,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Claymores?” Stephenson gasped. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.” They were out in the front yard of the lodge, making the final preparations for their defense.

  Jonathan couldn’t tell from the man’s tone whether he was impressed or appalled. “One of the best antipersonnel weapons ever invented,” he said. “But they’re only a last resort, understand?”

  “So if we see someone in the clearing, we just blow them up?” Jesse asked.

  Jonathan shook his head. “No, if you see a lot of someones, and you know they’re all OpFor-excuse me, opposition force-then
you can use them, and then only if they’re close. Effective range is only about eighty yards.”

  “I’ve heard of claymores,” Thomas said. “Didn’t they use them in Platoon?”

  Jonathan chuckled. The modern military was looking more and more like a video game every day. “Claymores have been around forever.” He lifted the wedge-shaped plastic box and displayed it to the group. “This baby has 700 steel balls in front of about a pound and a half of plastic explosive. When they detonate, they send a wall of buckshot out in a sixty-degree pattern that makes living through violence, while others just like to fight. I imagine a good handful will disappear as soon as the first bullet passes their head. The ones who are the most frightened will become the most fearless fighters.”

  Jesse cocked his head. “Do I hear admiration in your voice?”

  Jonathan continued working while he talked. “Respect is a better word. I respect anyone willing to die for a cause.”

  “Even terrorists?” Thomas asked.

  Jonathan nodded. “Even them.”

  “But they’re the enemy,” Jesse protested.

  “And my goal is to help them die for their cause. But I still respect them.”

  “So, what’s next?” Stephenson asked.

  Shadows were getting very long now; it would be dark soon. The explosives were set, the weapons were loaded, and the satellite link was established. His troops and his camp were as prepared as they were going to get. “I guess it’s time to make your phone call,” he said.

  Stephenson’s expression didn’t change as he heard the words, but color drained from his face. He turned away and hobbled up the steps into the cabin.

  “What phone call?” Gail asked.

  “The one that’s going to bring hell to the front porch,” he said. “We alerted Ivan and his gang to our location by using Steve’s credit card at the Wal-Mart back in town. We wanted to get them on the road in the correct general direction. When Steve turns on his cell phone and makes a call, they’ll be able to zero right in on us. We’re at the point of no return.”

  Gail cocked her head. “Why are you really doing this?” she asked.

  “I’d like to know that myself,” Jesse said. The facial twitch that followed from Gail announced her wish that he would wander off somewhere.

  Jonathan wished that himself. “Want to take a walk?” he asked.

  “To where?” Jesse protested.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Jonathan snapped. He looked to Gail for her answer.

  “Sure,” she said. This time, Jesse read her glare perfectly. He was staying behind.

  Jonathan led the way toward the front tree line, his hands in his pockets, his rifle hanging from its combat sling like an exclamation point down the front of his body. When he felt far enough out of earshot, he said, “You go first. Why are you really doing this?”

  She chuckled. “You really have the whole story. I didn’t want to get shot tied to a chair. You wouldn’t do the sensible thing and call the authorities, so I had only one choice. I had to pick a side, and as scary and hopeless as you and your little army are, the other side seems worse.”

  “I guess next time, you need to listen to Irene Rivers when she tells you to butt out.”

  “Next time.”

  They walked awhile in silence. “You know we have a chance of winning this thing,” Jonathan said. “A good chance.”

  “Okay,” Gail said. Another silence, then, “You haven’t told me why yet.”

  Jonathan looked toward the treetops as he said, “The lofty answer is duty. The tawdry one is revenge. Just like any war anywhere.”

  Gail wanted more, then realized he’d said a lot. “What did Ivan do to your wife?” she asked.

  “He killed her.”

  “There’s got to be more than that.”

  “There his head. “Nope, those details are mine. You can access the reports when we’re done.”

  When they got to the tree line, they hung a left and waded together through the scrub growth on the leading edge. “When we’re done,” Gail said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said ‘when we’re done.’ Are you really going to let Jesse and me go when it’s over?”

  He smirked. “The phrase, ‘turn myself over to you’ seems more appropriate.”

  She didn’t get it. “You’re really just going to let me take you in?”

  He shrugged. “That was the deal, right? You help us fight, and I turn myself in.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Sure it does. A deal’s a deal. You caught me outright. I made mistakes and you capitalized on them. To the victor belongs the spoils.”

  Gail stopped. She looked shocked.

  Jonathan gestured with his head for them to keep walking. “When there’s a lesson like this to learn, someone needs to learn it. That someone’s me. Like you said, with extenuating circumstances and all, maybe I’ll be acquitted.”

  She was still befuddled. “I don’t know whether to believe you.”

  “Always believe me. Especially when I make a deal. I’m really not very complicated.”

  “How can you speak for your big friend?” she asked.

  Jonathan laughed. “I don’t speak for my big friend,” he said. “In fact, you need to leave him alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. First, he didn’t have anything to do with those shootings. All he did was lift me and the kid out of trouble. I did all the shooting.”

  “What’s the second reason?”

  Jonathan looked right at her. “He’d kill you if you tried.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Night fell inside the lodge a good half hour before it fell outside. They’d carried the kitchen chairs upstairs into the master bedroom and draped blankets to create a lightproof nook in which they could operate their laptop without creating a beacon for the bad guys. The computer was set to continually monitor the SkysEye satellite images of their corner of the world. They’d configured the screen view in such a way that the cabin was in the middle of the frame, with outer margins calibrated to show a one-mile radius from the center point.

  “We’ve got a great signal, Mother Hen,” Jonathan said into his satellite phone. “Looks like we’re all set here.”

  Back in Fisherman’s Cove, Venice sat in her office scanning her three large computer panels. In the middle, she watched the same SkysEye image that Jonathan saw. On the left screen, she tracked the progress of the Brigadeville caravan as they moved ever closer to her boss’s location. True to his word, Lee Burns had not been able to provide constant video of the vehicles as they moved, but he had been able to mark them electronically by their heat signatures through the SkysEye network. As long as the engines were not stopped for more than a few minutes, and the heat signatures remained constant, their position appeared on her screen as white dots on a map. She kept the right screen available for obtaining further information.

  She keyed her microphone. “Scorpion, the caravan is approaching the Wal-Mart now. Ifow that they picked up on the cell phone signal. If they do, they’ll be on you in forty minutes.”

  “Roger that,” Jonathan said.

  Venice watched her screen as the lead dot stopped in the parking lot of the department store, and then waited as the other seven dots converged. None of them moved.

  “Okay Scorpion, they’ve stopped at the Wal-Mart.” Knowing how much Jonathan obsessed about brief radio traffic, she didn’t add her concern that they might not have picked up the clue from Stephenson’s cell phone signal. Since there was no way to tell, there was no reason to say anything.

  Her true concern was that they might turn off their engines. As long as the heat signatures stayed at their nominal levels, the SkysEye passive sensors could follow their progress and transmit their map coordinates for interpretation by the computer. If the heat signature changed dramatically-particularly if it cooled-the passive sensor would lose contact, and be unable to reacquire it without re-ta
sking the satellites, which Lee had already told her they could not do.

  Venice had long ago decided’t need the infighting. We’re to the point where you’re either on board, or you’re a liability. Just let it go.”

  He sent Stephenson upstairs to monitor the computer screen and take some of the stress off his leg. Then he directed the others to gather all the furniture into a pile in the center of the room downstairs. With the walls free from obstruction, there’d be easy access to the windows, and they’d be able to maneuver quickly in the dark to secure better fields of fire. The windows themselves were all open wide to keep from having to break out glass when they came into service as gun ports. On Jonathan’s instructions, Jesse Collier had fastened all of the doors to their jambs with two-inch screws.

  He gathered them all upstairs in the bedroom for one final pep talk. With the draped-blanket light lock taking up one-quarter of the tiny space, Julie and Stephenson sat together on the bed while Thomas sat on the floor at the base of the tiny window. The rest stood where they could, with Gail and Jesse tiered on the stairs. In the light of the kerosene lanterns, their faces showed variations of dread and anger. All except for Thomas, who seemed ready to avenge his days in captivity. Boxers listened from the first floor at the base of the steps.

  “Okay, folks,” Jonathan began. “Our friends will be with us soon, probably within the next few hours. Listen to me. From this point on, until the shooting is over, the only way in and out of here is through the windows. It’s slower than the doors, but the inconvenience largely favors us. I’ve put the clackers for the claymores on the floor in front of the front door. They are arranged as they are arranged out in the yard. The two middle initiators are for the mines out front, and the outboard initiators power the mines on their respective sides of the building. Do not-I repeat-do not activate any of the explosives until you hear Big Guy or me say, ‘claymore, claymore, claymore.’ We’ll say it three times if we need them. Remember, these are weapons of last resort, and if you screw it up, we can be in a world of hurt. Especially me and the Big Guy.”