Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1)
Page 22
Sin whipped around to see York lying on the ground bleeding from the gut. In her peripheral vision, she saw Fletcher standing in the doorway, pistol still aimed at the stage. She nodded her thanks as his shadowy figure ran behind the stage.
“Help me!” York’s eyes bellowed the fear that comes with death. His breathing was labored and garbled.
Sin walked over, picked up her revolvers, and without looking at him, put a bullet in his head. “No problem,” she said, “I’m glad to be of assistance.” Keeping one gun aimed at Miller, she placed the other in her holster. Taking her free hand, she reached for Ximena.
She fell into Sin’s arms.
“Unlock the cuffs, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Sin ordered.
Miller pulled a chain off his neck and threw the keys toward Sin.
Her eyes never left his—not even for a nanosecond—while she caught the keychain in midflight. She kept her gun and eyes on Miller as she bent down and unlocked the shackles from Tia’s ankles.
“Where are the other girls?” Sin said, standing back up.
“I don’t got to tell you shit!” Miller taunted.
Sin lowered her gun and blew out his left ankle. He crumbled to the ground in a slab of leather and screams.
“The next one blows your nuts off. Where are the girls?”
Miller held up a bloody hand. “They’re in the storage closet behind the stage.” His other hand went to his crotch for protection.
“Did you hear that?” Sin yelled out.
“I have them,” Fletcher yelled back. “They’re all accounted for.”
“Who else is in the room?” an electronic voice said.
“This isn’t the show I paid for,” said another.
“But it is exciting,” came another. The voice sounded labored and excited.
Sin’s head snapped towards the monitors. “Are you jacking off to this? You sick fuck!” She faced the camera and addressed those on the other side of the camera. “What gives you—any of you—the right to exploit and ultimately murder another human being? Why don’t you all get together and burn, cut, sodomize, and kill each other in one big circle jerk. That way, we’ll all be happy.” She paused to take a breath. “Money,” she yelled, “does not give you the right to treat others with indignity and disrespect.”
“Oh, but it does, Ms. O’Malley,” a voice fired back. “With money comes power and with power, we can do and live as we please, and nothing you do will change that. You think your little ‘show’ today has stopped us? You’re wrong, you haven’t stopped anything. We will regroup, change our modus operandi and continue doing what we do with whomever we wish to do it to or with!”
The other electronic voices rose in agreement.
Beside her, Miller laughed in accord with the speakers words.
Sin bent down and pulled the black cowl off the sweaty, red-faced police chief, keeping her gun aimed at him. Holding the hood high in the air, she once again addressed the ‘guests.’ “I can’t stop all the perversion in this world, but . . .” she squeezed the trigger of her revolver. Miller screamed, bringing his hands to his now bloody crotch. Sin then looked at the camera and fired off a series of shots, destroying the video feed.
“What just happened,” a voice yelled. “I can’t see what’s happening.”
“She took out the video feed,” another hollered.
“I can stop this prick,” Sin said, finishing her thought. She raised her pistol slightly and put the next bullet through Miller’s head, “and I promise you,” she growled, “I will stop each and every one of you!”
Fletcher came around to the front of the stage with the girls. He told them to stay put and then disabled the audio feed.
While he was getting instructions from Charlie on how to dismantle and remove the hard drive from the computer system, Sin was entwined in an emotional, tearful embrace with the girls, slathering them with hugs and kisses.
Tia held on to her longer than the rest and whispered in her ear, “Perla Angel de la Muerte.”
Sin swallowed her tears and huffed. “Si, Tia, yo soy la Perla Angel.”
For possibly the first time, Sin believed the words as she repeated them.
Letting go of Tia, she looked around the room at all the implements of torture that were planned for Tia and the other girls.
I am the ‘Pearl Angel of Death,’ she thought, and I will hunt and find each and every one of those people.
CHAPTER 47
Sin sat on the beach and watched as Maria splashed in the water with Tia. Alejandra was nearby, laughing.
Ten days had passed since everything went down at the church. Unknown to everyone but her, Charlie had recovered the hard drive from the studio and discovered the addresses of all the participants or ‘guests’ as they were called. He used NSA software as well as the computer IP addresses to help nail down their locations.
All but one—El Presidente.
Using the information found on the hard drive, Charlie had been able to trace the internet feed back to a computer somewhere in D.C. but no further. Every time he had a bead on its whereabouts, it seemed to move. What was evident was the fact that the identity of El Presidente and the mole were one and the same.
“How’s Thomas?”
Sin smiled weakly at Charlie’s voice. Her demeanor saddened by the question. “He’s fading. Hospice is at the house on twenty-four hour crisis care. Carmelita and her rosary beads haven’t left his side.”
“I’m sorry, Sinclair.” Charlie sat beside her. “He is a tough old bird. It seems he was just waiting to make peace with you before succumbing to the inevitable.”
Sin scooped up a handful of sand and let it slide through her fingers like water through a sieve. “I know. I should be there with Carmelita, but I needed to clear my head.”
“Are you up to discussing some business?”
Sin nodded. “Even that shit will be a distraction. What do you have?”
“A couple of things. First,” Charlie said, “we need to hit the ‘guests’ before they catch wind that they have been identified. If the mole figures out that I’ve identified them and tracked down their physical addresses, they will scatter like roaches to light.”
Sin leaned back on her elbows and took a deep breath; her attention still on the girls. “Do you think it’s possible for them to recover their innocence?”
Charlie looked out at the water. “They’re young. They’ll be all right.” His attention turned to Sin. She seemed miles away. “Sinclair, I need you to listen to me, this mission isn’t over.”
She turned to Charlie, her hair blowing across her face with a gust of wind.
“What is the second thing you needed to talk about?”
“Has Graham tried to reach you?”
“Yeah, he’s lighting up my phone like it’s the freakin’ Fourth of July. He even came down here looking for me.”
“And?”
“And Carmelita told him she hadn’t seen me since I left Tumbleboat seven years ago. My bike is in your hangar, so he had no way of disputing her words.”
“Yeah, well, he’s been pretty persistent. He keeps calling me, also.”
“Hit ignore, he’ll get the drift, eventually.”
“It’s not that simple,” Charlie said. “Frank personally came down here to conduct the investigation on the hit at the church. He was like my shadow the entire time he was here.”
“How is my old ‘buddy’?” Sin said staring out at the water.
“Confused. He—the bureau—is trying to piece it all together, but without the hard drives and video footage, all they have is one big mess. He’s worried about you,” Charlie said. “He’s asking if there is any evidence connecting the dead agents to any of this.”
“Did you tell him we found evidence on the computers mentioning Miller’s i
nvolvement?”
“No, I didn’t. I thought it should come from you.” Charlie gripped Sin’s hand in a fatherly embrace. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
Sin’s eyes narrowed and her expression darkened. “I can and will until we figure out who El Presidente and Marilyn are. Until then I don’t want him to know anything.” Her words came out in a staccato rhythm. “I don’t want him to know if I’m alive or dead until this mission is complete.”
Charlie nodded. “That brings us back to point one. How do you propose we take care of the guests without the bureau’s involvement? We need to strike while they are still secure that their identities haven’t been compromised—before they scatter.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Sin said. “I spoke to my unit and they are willing to get involved. Are you tracking the movement of the perverts?”
Charlie nodded. “I have some old buddies on their trails.”
“With my unit’s help, we can strike them all in a short time frame.”
“I realize they have an allegiance to you, but I also realize that they are mercenaries. How do you plan on paying them?”
“They’re patriots first, mercenaries second. When they saw the shit that was happening at the church, they jumped at my request. Besides, I had already offered them another form of payment.”
“Which is?”
“None of the guests will be taken into custody. We know at least two of the people you identified in this ring are federal judges, with their connections being so high up in the government, the only way to make sure we end this is to take them out.”
Charlie took in a deep breath and sighed. “You realize what this means?”
“Yeah,” Sin closed her eyes, a tired smile painted her face, “I will be public enemy number one again with the Bureau.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Sin shrugged. “It’s who I am.”
Charlie stood and turned to walk up the beach. “We have a lot to do. I don’t want to lose the upper hand.”
“Charlie,” he turned to look at Sin. “I will arrange everything with my men, but I need to stay here with my father. I hope you understand?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Sinclair.” He reached back with an extended hand. She clasped her fingers in his and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked back towards the Johnson place.
CHAPTER 48
Six days later, ten of the eleven had been eliminated. The members of Sin’s unit were in the far corners of the country and two were in Germany and the Ukraine. All but one had taken care of their assignment. The final assignment was in motion.
Sin spoke into a headset as she paced the library in Charlie’s lair. “I want an ‘all clear’ confirmation from you, Garcia, as soon as you have a visual.” She turned from the monitors when she heard someone enter the room. She pointed to the open door. “Get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Troy answered. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you are up to something.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He’s with my father. I didn’t want him here either. Now leave.” Her ear piece buzzed.
“I have an all clear, Sin, what are your orders?”
Sin viewed the monitor. Her operative was miced and wearing a video feed.
“Where the hell is Garcia?” Troy said.
Sin stifled him with a wave of her hand. Her focus never leaving the monitor. “Is the target isolated? I don’t want any collateral damage.”
“Isolated and very skittish. The news of his friends traveled fast.”
“On my mark, extinguish the target as soon as you have a clean shot. Make sure you have a clear path of egress before proceeding.” Sin counted down from three and gave the word.
Reverberation and amplitude of the rifle could be heard echoing through the speakers. “Mission over,” Sin said, removing her head gear. “Repeat, mission over. Retreat to designated location until you receive new orders.”
Sin slid the earphones off her head and with a slow and gentle touch, she laid them on Charlie’s desk.
With a slight tap of a button, the monitor went black.
Troy slouched in a chair and hung his head. “I can’t believe what I just saw.”
Sin walked straight passed him—eyes vacant and dead—looking straight at the floor. “You didn’t see anything—you were never here.”
Thomas passed away later that same day. Sin sat on his bed, his head on her lap, caressed by her hands as he gasped his death rattle.
Sin cried for the first time since her mother’s funeral.
She cried for her loss.
She cried for all the girls who lost their lives to sin and greed.
She cried—because she could.
CHAPTER 49
Thomas Jefferson O’Malley was buried in a plot next to her mother.
When the service was over, Sin thanked everyone for their attendance and good wishes. She stood alone at the gravesite and watched as the workers lowered her father’s coffin into the ground. She looked from the grave to the ocean and then to her mother’s gravestone. “Take care of him, Mom,” she cried. “I’m glad you’re together again, and I promise to visit more often.”
With a final wipe of her eyes and a clearing of her throat, she turned and walked back toward her bike. Waiting for her were two men—dark suits, dark sunglasses, shiny wingtip shoes—Frank Graham and Folsom Westcott.
Sin lowered her shades to cover her bloodshot, puffy eyes. The more focused their images became, the more heated she became. “Get the fuck away from my bike before I kill both of you.”
Graham put his arms up in mock arrest. Westcott leaned against his agency vehicle, hands in his pockets, feet crossed.
“We didn’t come here to fight, Sin,” Graham said. “We just wanted to pay our respects.”
Sin pulled her gun belt from her saddlebag and straddled her bike. “Consider them paid, now leave me alone.”
He placed his hands on her handlebars and stared at her. “Agent, we need to talk.”
“Here? Now? Are you kidding me?” Sin kick-started her bike and twisted the throttle a few times, drowning out any further words.
Graham tried to yell over the rumble of her bike, but Sin twisted the throttle further, increasing the decibels. Squeezing the clutch, she shifted into first and rolled the bike forward. To avoid getting run over, Graham jumped out of the way of Sin’s bike. From the corner of her eye, she saw Westcott pull his handgun. The sound of a shot rang out over the sound of her exhaust causing Graham to pull his weapon and twist towards Westcott.
Westcott stood—gripping his gun hand with his other, his pistol on the pavement by his feet—afraid to move.
“Where did that shot come from?” Graham yelled.
“How the hell do I know,” Westcott yelled back, twisting his head around like a paranoid owl. “Somewhere from behind me. I was just standing here when my gun was shot out of my damn hand.”
Sin shut off her bike and sat on the saddle aiming her Colt at Westcott.
Westcott’s anger amplified as his fear subsided. He pointed toward Sin and stomped in her direction. “Arrest her, goddamn it!”
Sin fired one round at Westcott’s feet, stopping him cold.
“Are you out of your fucking mind!” he screamed.
Graham twisted back in Sin’s direction, aiming his gun at her. “Lower your weapon, Agent. Now!”
Sin shook her head. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have back up?”
Graham looked confused. “Why would you need back up at your father’s funeral?”
“I knew you would show up,” she said. “You’ve been incessant in your calls and texts. Hell, you even knocked on my door.”
“So, why haven’t you answered me or checked in?”
Graham holstered his gun and put his hands out, trying to make peace. “What are you talking about?”
“You think we’re involved?” Westcott sounded indignant.
Sin rolled her eyes, guns still pointed at each man. “You’re quick for a shit-for-brains politician.”
Westcott ignored her comment and bent down to pick up his pistol. Sin pulled the trigger on her Colt, the bullet striking the shell-rock inches from his extended fingers.
Westcott jumped back, lost his balance, and ended up with his ass on the pavement. “God fucking damn it! Are you insane? That just cost you your career.”
Sin holstered one revolver, reached into her saddlebag, and threw her badge and credentials at Westcott. “You can take these and shove them up your ass. This was your idea, remember. I never wanted to come back.”
Graham eyed the badge and ID and addressed Sin. “May I?”
She nodded.
He picked them up and went to hand them back to her.
“Keep them,” Sin said.
Graham placed them in his jacket pocket.
“What the hell are you doing, Frank?” Westcott roared.
“Shut the hell up, Folsom,” Graham said, eyes still on Sin. “She’s been down here doing our dirty work while we’ve been safe in D.C. I’d like to know why she thinks we are involved as well a few other things.”
Sin answered his question with one of her own. “Have you located the mole?”
Graham shook his head. “No, every time we get close, the lead disappears.”