Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1)

by J. M. LeDuc

  Sin and her unit eyed the monitors. Each one showed a different angle on the church. “Has Heap beefed up security since our ‘visit’?”

  “Heap has added security walking the perimeter,” Charlie answered.

  “Just one?”

  Charlie nodded. “I’ve seen only one extra guard in the last few days.”

  “How did you check without being spotted?”

  Charlie shot a quick glance at the computer monitors. “The cameras, obviously.”

  “Wise ass.”

  Charlie smirked. “I also did a bit of ground recognizance. The church borders the cemetery. I just went to visit some ‘old’ friends.”

  Sin didn’t respond. She was so intent on what she was seeing that she didn’t even hear Charlie. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” she said pointing to the monitor.

  “What do you see?”

  “Can you zoom in on the corners of the roof? Right where Heap had those gargoyles placed.” Sin shook her head. “What the fuck did he think he was building,” she mumbled, “Notre Dame?”

  Charlie zoomed in the cameras for a closer shot, already knowing what Sin would find.

  “I’ll be damned,” Sin blurted, “machine gun turrets hidden by the statues.” She pointed at the video as her eyes darted from the monitor to Charlie and back again. “If this isn’t the proof we needed to show he’s involved, I don’t know what is.” Sin said. “We need to drag his fat ass in for questioning.”

  “If he’s involved, he won’t miss the final show. We’ll catch up to him tonight.”

  Sin agreed and pointed to the surveillance footage. “What do we do about the machine guns?” Sin asked. “That’s some serious firepower.”

  Charlie looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We take them out.”

  “How—”

  “Hold that thought,” Charlie said opening a file cabinet.

  Sin watched as he placed his hand inside the top draw and depressed a button. To her amazement, the side wall of the room slid open and revealed an ammunitions bunker.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed.

  “You never know what you’ll need or when,” Charlie said.

  “If we ever decide to take down the U.S. government, I think we’ll be okay,” Fletcher said sarcastically.

  Charlie pulled two M40A5 sniper rifles off the wall along with two full magazines. “I have a feeling you’ve fired one of these before,” he said, handing one to Sin.

  “Not officially, but it feels familiar.” Sin placed the rifle and the magazine in a duffel bag and pulled a box of .45 caliber bullets from the shelf. “You mind?”

  “Mi casa, su casa,” Charlie replied.

  Sin looked over at Troy. “Did you understand that ‘Spaneesh,’ or should I translate?”

  “Screw you, O’Malley,” he smiled.

  “Later, big boy.”

  Charlie glanced at his wrist watch and said, “Come on, we have a lot to cover before we leave for the cemetery.”

  “Yeah, about the cemetery,” Sin hedged. “Now that my unit is here, I want them to make the hit with me.” She put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I need your expertise here to guide this mission.” Charlie went to object, but Sin stopped him. “These eleven people have been with me for every mission I’ve conducted in the past six years. We know each others’ moves before we know them ourselves. If this gets messy—and I have a feeling it will—it’s our best chance.”

  Fletcher took a step forward and stood next to Sin. “Kinda hard to fight that logic, mate.”

  Charlie took a deep breath, exhaled, and nodded agreement. “In that case, let me show you the plan I came up with and get your opinion on it.”

  CHAPTER 45

  By eight p.m., everyone was in place. Garcia—a trained sniper—was located on the roof of the mortuary to the south of the church. Sin had located herself on the roof of a storage facility to the north and Fletcher and three of the unit were aboard a skiff—in the gulf—‘fishing.’ The rest of Sin’s unit were located at an all-night diner a couple miles away in case they were needed.

  Troy, due to his injuries, was back at the Johnson place with Charlie who was manning the control room. Charlie’s computer monitors were each focused on a different perspective of the church: two on the roof, one was on the front gate, and the other scanned from the front door to the rest of the grounds.

  All was quiet.

  “Can I get an audio that everyone can read me?” Charlie radioed.

  “Loud and clear. No action,” Garcia answered.

  “Same here,” Sin acknowledged.

  “Nothing biting, not even the fish,” Fletcher responded.

  “Radio silence will commence immediately unless you have a visual. Over,” Charlie said.

  No one responded.

  A black pick-up truck drove up to and through the gate at eleven p.m. without even stopping at the guardhouse. The guard just waved as the truck drove through.

  “That’s Miller’s truck,” Troy said.

  “Everybody, stand down and be on alert,” Charlie radioed. “The party is about to heat up.”

  At eleven thirty, a box truck labeled ‘commercial cleaning’ pulled up to the gate.

  “We have more company,” Charlie radioed. “Commercial cleaners, but the box truck looks too big to hold vacuums and mops. There are two men in the cab, but I can’t I.D. either from this angle. I’ll follow it and keep you informed.”

  “Ten-four,” Sin answered. “Garcia, be ready.”

  “Always.”

  Sin peered through the scope of her rifle to see if there was any unusual activity on the roof. Up till now, the machine gunners had been pretty lax. As the truck drove through the gates of the church, all that changed. She watched as the gunners pulled night vision glasses onto their eyes and took their positions in their respective turrets.

  “The truck is backing into the loading dock.” Charlie said as he stared—bug-eyed—at the monitor.

  “My view is blocked,” Garcia said.

  “Same here,” Sin echoed.

  Charlie gave a blow-by-blow. “Truck doors opening and the two men getting out. I don’t recognize the driver, but the passenger is York.”

  “Prick,” Sin snarled.

  “Both heavily armed,” Charlie continued. “Driver standing guard at the front and York is going around back to open the cargo door.

  “The loading door of the church is rising,” Charlie continued. “I don’t see anyone, but it’s evident that York is speaking to someone on the inside.”

  Probably Miller, Sin thought, or maybe the mysterious Marilyn.

  “York is opening the rear of the truck.” Charlie was talking faster as his excitement grew. “He’s waving his gun and it looks like he is saying something to whoever is in—”

  “What’s wrong?” Sin asked.

  “Six girls, all in cuffs and shackles are being led off the truck into the church.” Charlie’s words were choked with anger. “Wait, there is one more coming out. She . . .” Charlie stopped and stared at the screen in disbelief. “She is dressed in what looks like a wedding dress.”

  “That’s got to be Tia,” Sin huffed.

  “The driver is getting back in the truck and pulling away from the dock,” Charlie said. “No sign of York. He must still be in the church.”

  “Garcia, if the truck pulls out and heads north take out the tires and the driver, if it turns south, I’ll do the same,” Sin radioed. “Diner crew, get ready to act.”

  “Ten-four.”

  The truck turned south, back towards Tumbleboat.

  A half mile up the road, Garcia radioed that had the vehicle in his site, and with quick trigger pulls, both of the right side tires blew out in succession. He followed the driver as he got out to check t
he damage. It was the last thing the driver would ever do.

  “Target extinguished,” Garcia radioed.

  Charlie radioed the diner crew to make a pick up.

  Sin was getting antsy and eyed her watch. Twelve fifteen. “It’s getting late.” She sounded nervous. “If they start early, those girls are going to be tortured or worse. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “Easy, Agent,” Charlie responded. “They broadcast live, so the ‘show’ won’t begin until one a.m.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” Sin punctuated each word for emphasis. “I’m not taking any chances with the lives of these girls.”

  “I hate to interrupt your rant,” Garcia said, “but the guard at the front gate is packing up and leaving.”

  “No need to dispose of this one, Sinclair,” Charlie said, “He’s just a rent-a-cop.”

  “Ten-four.”

  “I have a white Ford F150 turning north toward Marathon,” Garcia said. “This one is all yours, boss lady.”

  Sin aimed her rifle toward the north. “I’m on it. I’ll wait until he pulls off U.S. 1 before I disable him.”

  A few minutes later, the truck was on the side of the road with its hazard lights blinking. A blown tire.

  “Bird’s wings are clipped,” Sin radioed.

  “I’ll send the diner crew to assist,” Charlie responded.

  “It’s go time,” Sin radioed. “Charlie radio Fletcher to start moving in.”

  “I already did,” Charlie answered. “His crew has rowed up to the wall and is awaiting instructions.”

  “Open the mics so they can hear my transmission,” Sin said.

  “Done,” Charlie responded.

  “Fletcher, I want you and your men on top of the wall and ready to move,” Sin said.

  “Moving,” Fletcher responded. “Let’s stop fucking around and get these bastards.”

  Sin took a deep breath. “Stay calm, Fletch. This isn’t the jungle of Central America. We stick to the plan.

  “On my mark, Garcia, Sin stated, “we take out the gunners first. I’ll count down from five—five, four, three, two, mark.”

  Garcia and Sin fired, taking out both gunners in the blink of an eye.

  “I have a guard in the front bringing his hand to his mic,” Charlie said.

  Another shot rang out.

  “Not anymore,” Sin said.

  Two more shots echoed as Garcia took out two more of the security force.

  “Move it, Fletch,” Sin said. “We rendezvous at point B in five minutes. Garcia, I need you to stay put and sweep up any trash.”

  “We’re on the move,” Fletcher answered.

  “Gotcha,” Garcia radioed.

  CHAPTER 46

  “Charlie, any new action?” Sin asked.

  “Negative, everything is quiet on the outside. All targets on the perimeter have been neutralized.”

  Sin eyed the four people crouched around her. All their faces were blacked out, but their eyes said, ‘go.’ Her eyes were in constant motion from one person to the next. “We’ve gone over the previous knowledge of the layout of the studio. Fletcher and I need a ten minute leeway to get in position.” Her eyes stopped on Wilson. “At the ten minute mark, you and Hobson are to blow the front and rear entrances of the church. You are only a decoy, do not engage the enemy unless they engage first. If they do, put them down. Is that understood?”

  The men nodded.

  She checked her watch. “It’s twelve minutes till show time,” Sin said.

  “I’ll lose your visual when you enter the building,” Charlie radioed, “but I’ll still get your audio feed. I’m counting on you to give their viewers something special to watch.”

  Sin and Fletcher entered through the same window she’d used the first time she’d broken into the church. Upon ingress, they drew their weapons as they made their way toward the studio.

  Making her way, she stepped in something sticky. That’s when she smelled the acrid odor of blood. Shining a penlight toward the floor, she saw a partial footprint. She and Fletcher followed the prints with their eyes, but it wasn’t even necessary. The smell would have taken them to the same destination—Heap’s office. Sin tried the door and surprisingly found it unlocked. Stepping into the office the smell burned her nostrils.

  Definitely blood.

  “Damn,” Fletcher mouthed with his nose buried in his shirtsleeve.

  Sin shined her light about the room and discovered its origin—Heap’s bloodied, dead corpse.

  She slumped against the door frame. Everything she thought so clear and true of Heap just became muddied. “We have a problem,” Sin radioed. “Heap has been murdered.” She waited for answer but none came. “Everything we thought was true about this mission just got a bit more screwed up.”

  Charlie answered with a steady, calm voice. “Ten-four. It doesn’t change this mission—proceed as directed.”

  Sin and Fletcher made their way to the studio and spotted two guards outside the double doors. Both carrying Glock 18s—automatic weapons.

  They stayed hidden and waited. They didn’t have to wait long as the sound of both the front and back doors being blown by her unit echoed throughout the building. The guards immediately split and headed toward the detonations. Fletcher dropped them before they made it twenty feet.

  The sound of the gun fire was met with equal intensity from inside the studio.

  Sin and Fletcher stayed low and out of harm’s way until the shooting paused. With stealth-like speed and silence they made their way toward the doors. On Sin’s count, Fletcher blew the lock with his .357 and kicked open the door. In complete sync with his movements, Sin tossed in two flash-bang grenades. Seconds later, the only sounds were those of whining and whimpering from the occupants of the studio.

  Sin and Fletcher dove forward and slid into the studio. Sin taking the left flank and Fletcher sliding to the right.

  “Two o’clock, in the rafters,” Fletcher yelled.

  Sin’s line of sight instinctively went to the location, where she spotted a sniper. He seemed disoriented from the flash and Sin disposed of him in fast accord.

  Fletcher rolled further right to get a better angle on the room. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a red dot—a tell-tale sign of a laser-sighted gun. He aimed straight for the dot, and took out its operator.

  The smoke of the flash-bang dissipated and what Sin saw made her skin crawl. The stage that was set up to look like an S/M dungeon and shackled in the middle of it was a frightened, young girl.

  Ximena.

  With no one else spotted in the studio, Sin sent Fletcher back to check for any other guards that might still be in the building. He moved—low and fast—and soon disappeared from her view.

  Sin waited about thirty seconds—although it seemed like forever—to make sure she didn’t see or hear anyone else. She was about to run toward the stage when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “Drop the guns, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

  York.

  “I told you I was better than any Special Forces puke.”

  Sin felt the cold steel of the barrel of his gun against her head as he pushed her forward.

  “All clear,” he yelled.

  A man dressed in skintight black leather, complete with a black leather cowl and gloves, emerged from behind the stage.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sin mumbled.

  The dungeon master walked—strutted—to the middle of the stage where Ximena was quivering and wrapped an arm around her neck. He reached for and grabbed a red hot branding iron with his other. He turned his attention from Sin to the camera. “Well, looky who’s here,” came the voice under the mask. He turned his attention to the camera and continued, “We got us a special treat for you tonight.”

  Sin
glanced from him to where the camera was set up. It was unmanned. Behind the camera were twelve video monitors.

  “So,” Sin said, “Do I finally get to meet the sick fucks who paid to see innocent girls tortured and killed?”

  The man in leather laughed. “You don’t get to meet no one, O’Malley.” He held the branding iron a little higher, just inches from the trembling girl’s face. “I was just about to brand this little cow before I butcher her. Want to watch before I kill you?”

  Sin was led to the stage, York’s gun pressed against the back of her head and forced to stand next to Miller.

  “Ooh, she’s sexy,” a modulated voice rang out.

  “A little old for my taste,” echoed another.

  “What would you pay, ladies and gentlemen, to see this whore scream for mercy?” Miller said.

  Number signs started showing up on the monitors. In seconds, the total was up to forty thousand.

  “But first, the girl.” This voice seemed more authoritative to Sin. “Then the bitch, and then the wedding ceremony.”

  Electronic laughter could be heard coming from the speakers.

  “You heard the requests,” Miller screamed. “Strip or I burn the girl!”

  Sin glared at the monitors, quickly scanned the room for other gunmen and then moved her hands to her belt. “Is this what turns you perverts on?” she said as she began to loosen her belt. “Are you all so inept as human beings that the only way you can get your rocks off is seeing someone being tortured?”

  Sin saw a red light blink on and off on one of the monitors.

  Sin figured one of the guests was about to speak since Miller clammed up at the sight of the light. She stared in Miller’s eyes and waited to hear what was said. Instead, Sin heard a gunshot.

  She half expected to feel the searing pain that comes with being shot. Instead, she heard a gun and a body drop. Sin watched as Miller’s eyes opened wide as he seemed to look through her and not at her. She used that distraction and brought her hand from her belt, which now held her pearl-handled razor and sliced Miller’s wrist, forcing him to drop the hot iron and release Ximena.