Sin (Sinclair O'Malley Book 1)

by J. M. LeDuc

“Consider it done,” Charlie said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sinclair, I have one other thing to discuss with you—privately.”

  Sin took the laptop and sat on the front step outside. “I’m alone,” she said.

  “I was able to figure out who Marilyn is.”

  Sin stomped her boot off the wooden step and her heart began to pound against her chest wall. “Who? How?”

  “Westcott screwed up,” Charlie said. “After Frank left the meeting, Westcott called someone on his private phone, telling them—her—that you left the country. He spoke of what he had planned and then he mentioned the Annual White House New Year’s Eve Party.”

  “She’ll be there?” Excitement filled Sin’s voice.

  “She will.”

  “So, you made me wait long enough, who the hell is she?”

  Sin disconnected her signal after hearing the identity of the mysterious Marilyn. She was so pissed, she stayed outside for a while trying to regain her composure.

  Thirty minutes later, Sin stubbed out another cigarette and rejoined her unit inside.

  With Satan’s Assassins now headed to Puerto Cabezas, she needed a new plan, and she needed to come up with it by sunup.

  CHAPTER 55

  Sin and her unit arrived outside of Puerto Cabezas at five p.m. There, she reviewed the plan one more time. She pulled a rough drawing from her pocket and laid it on the ground.

  “This is the back door I entered when I hit Veloz.” She pointed to the columns in the room. “It’s the mechanical room and these are the support columns. Charlie confirmed my intel. We set the explosives and then lead Westcott’s men into the same room.” No one spoke as she folded up the paper and placed it back in her pocket. “When we approach the condominium, we need to show ourselves at the last second before entering. We need the assassins to follow us in.

  “Garcia and Wilson, you will cover us from a distance. Hobson and Marcus, you will be their spotters.” She addressed the snipers, “If you think the assassins have the drop on us, take them out.” She pointed a finger at both of them. “The primary mission stays the same. I want the bastards to follow us into the building. You are to only terminate your targets, in dire circumstances. Affirmative?”

  “Affirmative,” Wilson responded.

  Garcia nodded, “Loud and clear, boss lady.”

  Sin then split the unit in two. She would command Alpha team and Fletcher would command Bravo team. The teams were to stay on the outskirts of the city until it was time to be seen.

  “Bravo, do you read?”

  “Ten-four, Alpha. We have eyes on the prize from a half mile away.”

  “Alpha team is within walking distance from target.” Sin replied. “I will confirm when the locals have spotted Westcott’s men.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Sin and Fletcher had the civilians memorize the faces of the Assassins before sending them into the town. As soon as they had a visual on them, they were to report back to the team leaders. With confirmation came payment. It would be the easiest money these men would ever make.

  Sin sent her sniper team, Garcia and Hobson, dressed like locals to the rooftop of another condemned building opposite the condominium. Fletcher’s sniper team, Wilson and Marcus, were on a ridge on the outskirts of town—high enough up to have a clear view at the front of the Condominio Elegante.

  It didn’t take long for the locals to find all of the men. Satan’s Assassins were spread out around the downtown area. Dressed like tourists, they blended right in.

  “Bravo, this is Alpha,” Sin radioed. “I’m taking Johnson and Evans to make sure the building is vacant. I don’t want innocents hurt. If our ‘friends’ even breathe funny, I want to know.”

  “Ten-four.”

  “No one moves until I say so. Affirmative?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Sin and two of her unit made their way around the edge of town to the public pier and eyed her men. “The Assassins are keeping watch of the condominium, the only way in without taking a chance on being seen is by water.”

  Sin led the others to the edge of the water and then under the public pier. “We have a hundred yard swim from here to the pier behind the condominium. We stay together and we stay below the surface.”

  They each pulled a mask and snorkel from their gear bags, placed the bite piece in their mouths and descended below the surface.

  Fifteen minutes later, they kicked to the surface behind the barnacled cement post of the hotel pier. After getting an okay from each person, she led them toward the tiki hut.

  “From here, we enter the busted door in the back and make our way to the top floor.”

  “If our objective is the foundation, why go to the top?” Evans asked.

  Sin grinned. “Manuel thinks Veloz may have hid the money in the walls of his condo. We’re going to go check.”

  She led them through the abandoned building—always on the alert for the gold hunters Manuel spoke of—retracing her steps from the last time she was there and into the apartment where she confronted and killed Veloz. As soon as they entered, they were struck by the smell of blood and decay. She knew from Charlie’s intel that Veloz’s body had been removed, but it was evident no one had bothered to clean up the mess.

  Sin opened the door to the bedroom and the metallic odor of dried blood made her eyes water. Stepping into the room, she wanted to gag. She pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth and pulled her seven inch dive knife from its sheath and waved them forward.

  She tapped the walls with the butt end of the knife and continued until she heard a different sound—more of a thud than the usual hollow sound. Sin placed the sharp tip of the blade against the wall and drove the blade through the plasterboard using the butt end of her palm. She made a small hole with the knife, and the three of them began ripping drywall with their hands, enlarging the hole.

  Sin shined her mag-light into the opening and found two large duffle bags. Her men dragged the bags from the wall, unzipped them, and found what Manuel had predicted.

  Euros—millions in Euros.

  Sin zipped the bags and checked her watch. “Time to move,” she said. “Evans, head to the first floor and place the C4 like we planned. Johnson and I will search the rest of the walls and follow.”

  Evans gave her a thumbs up, grabbed the backpack containing the explosives and wires, and left to make his way down to the designated area.

  Sin and Johnson checked the rest of the apartment but found nothing. There may be more, Sin looked at the two duffle bags, but this will have to do.

  “Let’s move out,” Sin said grabbing one of the bags, “We’re running out of time.”

  Johnson grabbed the other and followed Sin back down.

  They found Evans in the mechanical room, duct-taping the last of the C4 to a support column. Sin walked around the room checking each placement and lead wire. Secure in where the explosives were placed, she eyed Evans for a confirmation.

  “All set,” Evans said. “Every lead is programmed. The intervals have been set per your instructions.”

  Sin balled up her fingers into fists. “Let’s move. I’ll radio Bravo that we’re on our way.”

  At the pier, they geared up with mask and snorkel and hit the water for the swim back. With the added weight of the money, it was harder to stay on the top of the water, but the current was in their favor, so it made for a quick trip.

  Forty minutes later, Sin’s unit was all together except for the sniper teams.

  “It’s time to show our hand.”

  “Affirmative,” Fletcher said. “Wilson says the assassins are getting antsy. If I was a betting man, I wouldn’t like our odds.”

  “I’ve seen you in a casino,” Sin said, “I’m not too worried.”

  Fletcher snickered. “You have a point.”r />
  “Do your locals understand the play?” Sin asked.

  “Yeah,” Fletcher poured on the Aussie accent. “They are to wait for all of us to enter the building, gather up any errant locals, and run like hell. They were told to keep running until they are as far from the port as possible.”

  “Bravo sniper, do you read?”

  “Loud and clear,” Wilson answered.

  “I’m counting on you to hit your mark. Dial in and stay on target.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Alpha sniper, do you read?”

  “We’re all ears, Sin.”

  “I need you and Hobson to follow Westcott’s men. If they splinter off, I need a constant update on who goes where. We’ll take care of the rest from the ground.”

  “My eyes are on them as we speak,” Hobson responded.

  “Good.” Sin looked at her team with admiration. “Let’s finish what we started, so we can start a new life.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Sin and her unit regrouped behind the cantina, across the street from the condominium.

  “Garcia and Hobson tell me that Westcott’s men are in close proximity to the building. We need to approach from the sides and make a straight forward approach through the front doors.”

  “Isn’t that a bit suicidal?” Fletcher remarked.

  “You said they don’t leave witnesses, I’m banking on that fact. If they want to keep their identities hidden, they will wait for us to get inside the building before trying to take us out.”

  “Makes sense, but if you’re wrong—”

  “If I’m wrong, I’m counting on Garcia to take them out. If not, I will buy you a drink in the afterlife.”

  Fletcher scrunched his face in a pissed off expression. “If heaven has a cash bar, that would really suck.”

  Sin cracked a slight grin. “Yes, it would.”

  Sin heard static in her ear piece, letting her know her spotter was about to break in. “One of Westcott’s bitches is reaching for his belt,” she heard.

  Her fingers started to tingle at the words. The adrenaline rush was beginning.

  “He pulled his phone from his pocket and he is talking.”

  Westcott, Sin thought.

  “From his exaggerated mouth and hand movements, I’d say he is pissed,” the spotter said. “He just slammed the phone down and is barking orders to his men.”

  Westcott’s mad we’re still alive, Sin thought.

  Sin forced herself to remain calm and stay in the game. “Alpha, we approach from the north. Fletcher, you lead bravo’s approach from the south. Let’s move out.”

  “The assassins are checking their weapons and are splitting up,” her radio chirped. “Two are following your footsteps, two are following bravo.”

  She and her unit entered the front door of the building and ran for the mechanical room.

  “Their leader has sent two of them around the side toward the back of the building, the other two pulled their weapons and are storming the front entrance,” Hobson radioed.

  She cocked the trigger of her gun. The action caused all of her unit to draw their weapons.

  “Alpha sniper, do you copy?”

  “I’m here, boss lady,” Garcia responded.

  “Take out the two heading for the back. We don’t have time to corral the strays.”

  “My pleasure.”

  As Sin and her men plowed through the door to the mechanical room, gunshots splintered the door frame.

  “Fuck, I’m hit!” Fletcher yelled, stumbling behind a cement support post.

  Sin spun one hundred and eighty degrees, hit the ground flat and fired with both barrels toward the door. It seemed like slow motion as she watched the face of the first assassin burst into a collage of blood and guts. The second took cover behind the door.

  Sin glanced at Fletcher. He was hit in the lower leg. It wasn’t life threatening, but he would need help getting out. “Two of you help Fletch, and everyone head for the back door. I’ll cover you. Garcia, what’s your status?”

  “One bitch is down and I have the others penned in. Your exit is clear, repeat, your exit is clear.”

  “I’m not leaving you here alone,” Fletcher groaned.

  “Move, that’s an order!”

  As her unit made a run for the rear door, the assassin rolled across the entrance, firing as he moved. Sin countered and kept his aim off target. She quickly holstered her empty .45s and pulled her semiautomatic from her waist. She jumped to her feet, emptying her magazine as she headed toward the exit. Nearing the emergency exit, Sin gave the final orders. “Garcia, bug out. Wilson, blow this fucker!”

  “But, you’re not—”

  “Blow it!” she yelled.

  Sin turned and ran blindly as the compression of the explosion knocked her off her feet. She stumbled—crawled—her way to the water and dove in with every bit of strength she had.

  Her unit swam as hard as they could. With each explosion, more debris rained down, forcing them to dive deeper in the water. Fifty yards out from the shore, they pulled up and surfaced. Looking back, all that could be seen was fire and a building crumbling in upon itself.

  “Nice job, Evans,” Sin spitting water between words. “The building imploded.”

  “Thank Charlie,” Evans panted. “I just followed his design.”

  “Bravo, did you see anyone get out?” Sin asked.

  “Not alive, Alpha leader. Their fearless leader tried to scramble as soon as the first detonation blew, but I put a .50 caliber bullet in his chest as soon as he tried to bug out.”

  “Good work,” Sin gasped, tired from treading water. “We’ll see everyone back at home base.”

  “Can we congratulate each other later,” Fletcher breathed, “I think I’m about to pass out.”

  CHAPTER 57

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” Charlie said.

  Sin sat on the front stoop of Manuel’s home. “What have you heard from Washington?”

  “Westcott is going freaking nuts,” Charlie said. “Troy has had a hard time keeping up with him. He’s been going from coffee shop to bar to his office to just wandering around. Constantly checking his phone and getting angrier with every glance.”

  “He’s probably trying to reach his men,” Sin said. “It’s nice to know the bastard is squirming.”

  “Let’s end the squirming and get you home.”

  “Patch us through when you’re ready.”

  “Are you sure Manuel can handle this?”

  Sin looked back at Manuel who was sitting at the table staring at the pile of money—his money. “Yeah, he can handle it.”

  A few minutes later, Charlie patched Sin’s phone through to Westcott’s. He bounced the signal off of so many satellites, that it would be impossible to trace.

  Westcott was pacing the parking lot on the east side of the Pentagon when his phone rang. “Who the hell is this?” he growled through gritted teeth.

  Manuel started to rattle on in Spanish, talking as fast as he could.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Westcott yelled.

  “My name is Manuel,” Manuel said in broken English. “Phone given to me by large man with dark beard.” He described the leader of the mercenary squad.

  “Where is Kennedy?” Westcott was practically pulling his hair out as he stomped the pavement.

  “I served them at the cantina and saw them go into the abandoned building, but the building is no more.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Westcott’s voice kept getting higher and louder. “What building and where are the men you saw?”

  “The Condominio Elegante, Signor. As soon as the men enter, the entire building exploded.”

  “Did you see anyone else enter the building?”

  “Si signor, but they a
re dead, too. Everyone is dead.”

  Westcott slumped over the hood of a parked car. “When you say everyone, what do you mean?”

  “I mean everyone. The men I saw and the people they were following—everyone.”

  Westcott’s voice perked up at the news. “Are you sure?”

  “Si.”

  Westcott laughed loud enough that he could be heard through the receiver in Manuel’s home.

  “One more thing, Senor,” Manuel said, “the man with the beard owed me money and—”

  “Fuck you,” Westcott said.

  The line went dead.

  Manuel gave the phone back to Sin and looked back at the money on the table. “No, fuck you, Senor.”

  The next morning, Sin said her goodbyes to Manuel and Serena.

  She and her unit made their way back to a small executive airport next to Tonconin International where Charlie met them for the flight home.

  CHAPTER 58

  Sin sat in her rented apartment in Georgetown, mesmerized by what she saw on her computer monitor. Charlie had provided her with all the information he had amassed on Westcott and Marilyn.

  He walked around the sparsely furnished room while Sin studied the screen. “You’ve been trailing Westcott for months,” he said, “and the best you could come up with was a card table, two chairs, and a mattress?”

  Sin pointed to the kitchen. “There is a coffee maker and a fridge—all the necessities.” She stared at the monitor, “If I wasn’t looking at both pictures side-by-side, I wouldn’t believe it was the same person.”

  “The difference is amazing,” Charlie said, standing behind her.

  On the left side of the monitor was a picture of a chunky, plain, redhead. In that picture, the woman was standing next to Folsom Westcott.

  “This picture—the before picture—was on your wall at the hangar, right?”