Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes)

by Bristol, Sidney

  Most of the rooms were clearly bunks or social areas for the ship’s crew. A few looked to be small cargo spaces. The whole place was a warren of halls and turns. So much of it looked exactly the same as the rest. It was hellaciously confusing.

  “I think we’re lost.” Sarah pressed her back to the wall.

  “Yeah, I think we are. It’s okay. We’ll keep looking.” He seemed to be getting on better. Maybe the opportunity to do something, or just moving, was helping him push through the pain.

  Charlie struck out in another direction. This time the muttered voices grew louder, more distinguished. She could make out some of the words. Basketball. Score. Team names. Sports talk.

  The cavernous room they crept into was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Charlie had a tight hold on her so they wouldn’t get separated. He edged forward without wavering, as though he knew where the door must be.

  Like the darkened rooms before it, she had the impression of a sizeable space, but they didn’t explore its depths. Each time Charlie edged them straight for another door. The ship wasn’t that big, was it? They couldn’t be going in circles, could they? Was he simply confused?

  Charlie placed her hand against the wall, then let go. He opened the door, going slowly so as to prevent the hinges groaning too loudly. For a moment they both held their breath, the bit of light allowing her to see Charlie’s wide eyes.

  “Is it safe?” she asked.

  He peered out of the other door, taking his time to look one way, then the other. He leaned closer to her, almost until his lips were on her ear. “I think we need to cross the hall. That room is the one they questioned me in.”

  Oh, dear. She nodded, despite every fiber of her body telling her to run and hide. Charlie was the professional here. She trusted him.

  He turned, and they both listened to the distant movements. Feet shuffling. Muted voices. She could tell one sound was closer, getting closer, closer still, and then it seemed to fade.

  This would be the worst of it. Charlie was going to think she’d betrayed them, but she had to continue being careful. He grasped her hand and led her as quickly as he could across the wide hall and into the room. She remembered this space.

  There, sitting on a table, was the briefcase.

  Part of her hadn’t believed they would make it this far, but here they were.

  “Open it.” Charlie waved her toward it while he took up a post next to the door, peering out into the hall.

  Now all she had to do was snap pictures and they’d be done with it.

  “Hurry,” Charlie whispered.

  She pulled the lip balm tube from her pocket and twisted it like Irene had showed her. The bottom came off, exposing the camera. She felt along the sides until—there—the button under the label.

  “Anyone coming?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Charlie shook his head.

  If she opened the case, they ran the risk of someone surprising them. If she outright destroyed the contents, informants would go dark. What was the right choice? What should she do?

  She didn’t like any of her options.

  Something pinged off the metal, vibrating the whole ship.

  “Hurry, Sarah.”

  She picked the case up off the desk and retreated to the farthest corner of the room. It was her job to deliver the protocols. That was what she had to do.

  Sarah flipped the panel covering the keypad and pressed the first code, initiating the unlocking sequence, then set her hand on the handle. She could do this. It was one thing in her power that only she could do.

  The case chirped, indicating it had recognized her.

  Now, one final code, and she’d have to work double-time.

  Charlie glanced back at her, his posture tense.

  “What’s that sound?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  Was it hail? Had the storm begun in earnest? Maybe that could work in their favor. She plugged in the last string of numbers and digits. The keypad flashed a single, green light, and the lock disengaged.

  She opened it and lifted the lip balm tube, clicking the button to initiate the camera.

  Charlie turned from the door. “You got it?” he asked.

  She flipped the first couple of pages over and clicked again.

  “Sarah?”

  She didn’t bother answering.

  Charlie straightened and tiptoed toward her.

  There were pages of the protocols in here. Pages upon pages, some of them taped together. “It’s going to take some time,” she said.

  “Sarah—stop now.”

  “Charlie—” Sarah glanced up, but her gaze snagged on the barrel of a gun pointed straight at her.

  “What are you doing?” Her body went cold, then hot.

  No. Not Charlie…

  “Step away from the briefcase, Sarah.” He grasped the lid and crouched across from her.

  In the full light, his eye didn’t look quite so swollen. He definitely wasn’t wheezing.

  She had a vague memory of lying in bed after too much wine, just in from the U.S. after her surgery. Charlie had insisted on her staying in Hong Kong for a few days. It’d been during their short-lived romance.

  Her arm had been worse for a bit after that. She’d thought the stitches looked funny, but ignored it because she was the last person to follow the take it easy doctor orders.

  Was it really him all along?

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Stand up for me, please.” It was Charlie.

  It’d always been Charlie, and not in a good way.

  “Sarah, don’t make me ask you again, sweetheart.” His smile was…smooth. Even now, it put her a little more at ease.

  He was ready for her to do something.

  She put her hands on her thighs and pushed to her feet.

  “Good girl.” Charlie glanced down, the gun drifting off target. “Don’t get all caught up in good guys and bad guys. It’s not about the right side, it’s about the right price, Sarah. It always has been.”

  The right price for killing people?

  Sarah kicked the case. Charlie howled as his fingers were caught in the sharp edges, and sat back. The gun went off, the sound too loud in the metal box-like room. The bullet pinged off the walls.

  She fell on the case, shoving it closed. She groped for the buttons, any combination would work, but Charlie snatched it from her.

  He roared and kicked her in the shoulder, then rolled onto his back with the briefcase clutched to his chest.

  Two men rushed through the door, descending on her with unkind hands, hauling her to her feet.

  “Peterson,” Wei barked. “Did you get it?”

  “No, she closed the damn thing.” Charlie flung the briefcase across the room and shoved to his feet.

  “You can’t handle one job?”

  “I at least got her to open it. Fuck.”

  “We have to go. Now.” Wei glanced up as more thunder shook the boat.

  “Who is it?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “Oh, fuck. That one.”

  “And he brought friends. We’re leaving. Now.”

  That one?

  Rand?

  He’d come for her. Or the case. Right now, she’d take either.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rand watched the clouds rolling in fast and heavy, blocking out the early morning light. Both Andy and Noah were moving into position, bits of silent shadow closing in on either side of the waterfront. Rand hadn’t even spotted Andy. Noah had broken cover to get closer while the guards had their backs turned.

  “You got the shot?” Rand asked.

  “Waiting for your signal.” Matt’s tone was easy, relaxed. Not a care in the world.

  That worried Rand.

  Matt hadn’t been in combat in over eight years. He had kids. This sort of thing changed a man. Rand didn’t want Matt to suffer because of their fuck-up, but Rand also knew they needed a fourth gu
y.

  A bit of movement caught Rand’s attention. “Noah’s in position.” He scanned the other side of the dock, but Andy was still a phantom.

  “That rain’s about to start any second,” Matt said softly.

  “Yeah, I’m worried about that.” About slippery footing. About the chances for escape. There were a dozen factors that could change all because the skies opened up. “There’s Andy. When you’re ready.”

  Rand pulled out his longer knife and handgun. Armed and ready, he shifted to the very edge of their shelter and crouched, ready to run.

  For a moment, everything went quiet. The waves and seagulls seemed to pause, as though they, too, knew what was going to happen.

  Matt sucking down a deep breath was the loudest thing. Rand tensed, inhaling with him.

  He always liked to fire on an exhale. Rand had forgotten that until now.

  The rifle blast was muted due to the silencer, but in the calm before the storm, there was no mistaking the report of the gun for anything but what it was.

  An attack.

  Rand bolted forward, leaping off the stacked crates they’d zeroed in on for their sniper’s nest. He kept his head down and charged toward the docks.

  Another and another shot fired off from behind him.

  Noah and Andy darted forward, out of the shadows in unison. They took the two dock guards down without warning.

  Rand sprinted down the dock. The small cargo ship was mostly cleared off, giving the men on board little to nothing to hide behind. With Matt’s elevated position, they were easy to pick off.

  The first fat drops of rain splattered on the dock.

  Footsteps pounded behind him.

  Rand spared a glance over his shoulder to ensure it was Andy and Noah, then zeroed in on the narrow plank leading to the ship. Bullets pinged off the metal surface ahead.

  There weren’t any of the guards in sight now, at least none that were vertical.

  Rand crossed the gangplank in three long strides before his boots touched the boat. The rain was coming down harder now, the footing slippery.

  The cover fire stopped. No doubt Matt was being cautious now that he couldn’t discern which dark figure was on what side. At least, Rand hoped.

  “Watch out,” Noah yelled.

  Rand ducked and turned. A fist glanced off his shoulder. He slashed with the blade, raking it down his attacker’s arm. Both Andy and Noah were engaged in hand-to-hand.

  Every moment they spent on the deck was another second Sarah’s kidnappers had on them.

  He kicked the man, lifted his gun and fired. Another shot from across the deck answered his. Rand dove sideways, taking cover behind the above-deck structure.

  “Go.” Andy waved at him. He and Noah were pinned down behind a smokestack-looking pipe easily four feet across.

  Rand turned and jogged forward, ducking under windows, searching for an entrance. Twenty or so yards away, he found a door and nudged it open, peering inside. The lights were on, but no one was home.

  The rain and noise from the gunfight at the bow of the ship overpowered anything inside. He strained to hear voices, movement, but instead all he heard was the rhythmic pounding of water and the ping of bullets.

  Time was running out.

  Rand crept down the hall, a sense of dread weighing him down. Would they kill Sarah if it came down to getting what they wanted or nothing at all?

  Rand turned and headed toward the stern of the ship. The rooms were empty. A few held discarded bits, empty boxes of takeout, some doughnuts. He reached out as he passed and stuck his finger in a cup of coffee.

  Still warm. There’d been people here until recently. Which meant that Sarah might have just been here. In this room.

  He sheathed his knife and pulled out his cell phone.

  No service.

  He picked his way forward, pausing at a junction of wide hallways to listen. A fresh breath of air wafted by, heavy with moisture. Someone had left a door open.

  He tilted his head left, then right.

  It was hard to tell, but if he were hemmed in with an advancing enemy, he’d go out the back, toward the aft of the ship.

  Rand took the left hall, gun at the ready. Ahead of him a wide door, big enough for a forklift, stood open. He jogged forward, keeping close to the wall, until he could peer out onto the aft deck.

  Rain poured from the skies, creating a curtain of cover.

  A group of people stood at the port quarter rail, just to the side of the stern. A woman growled.

  He knew that sound.

  Sarah.

  Rand’s heart leaped into his throat, and he stepped forward into the rain before he could process what was going on.

  A man turned, one he recognized. Rand fired first, the shot going wide and pinging off the stern rail.

  Wei fired back, but Rand dove to the side.

  “Rand, Rand—it’s Charlie! Rand!” Sarah’s words washed over him, their meaning lost to him. All he knew was that she was in trouble, and if he didn’t get her back now he might never see her again.

  He dove down a level, using the nook created by the loading ramp and upper deck as protection.

  Sarah was gone, likely over the side of the ship. Only two other people remained on the deck.

  Wei, and another man Rand didn’t recognize. They’d split, one circling around from the aft, the other coming at him from the port side.

  Rand aimed at the stranger and fired off a blast. He swung around, but Wei was faster. The other man kicked Rand in the shoulder, knocking him back. His hand went numb, and the gun slipped out of his fingers. He stumbled sideways, pulling his knife with the other hand and faced Wei fully.

  Sorry, Andy…

  Rand lunged, and Wei dodged. Or would have. Instead, Wei slipped on the oil and water, going down. He twisted, wrapping his hands around Rand’s ankle and yanked. Rand twisted midair, coming down hard on top of the slighter man. The knife slipped from his grip, clattering to the deck.

  Wei grunted and Rand turned, slamming his fist into Wei’s face.

  Again and again.

  Wei bucked and twisted, unseating Rand just enough to roll out from under him. Wei slashed out with Rand’s knife, catching the front of the Kevlar vest. Rand knocked Wei’s hand aside and punched again.

  A bullet hit the deck inches from Rand’s thigh.

  He dove sideways, taking cover by the ramp.

  “Come on,” a man called out.

  Wei scrambled up one level and bolted, leaving a red trail of water behind him.

  Rand pushed up, drawing his second Glock, and fired at Wei’s back. The man dodged at the last second, as if he knew Rand had him in his sights. The other man lurched forward, arms flung out, and went head over heels into the water below.

  Wei turned, firing off three shots before he, too, disappeared over the side of the boat.

  Rand closed in, peering down at a smaller boat. Not quite a speedboat, but big enough to hold a dozen people. Wei disappeared under the boat’s awning and the engine revved, the water churned.

  Rand roared. He was powerless to catch them. To get Sarah. All of this was for nothing. She was gone. He’d failed her.

  “Rand!” Andy came pounding down the side of the ship, hair slicked to his face.

  “She’s gone.” Rand flung his hand out toward the ship.

  “Yeah, Matt saw that. Come on.” Andy holstered his pistol and slung his assault rifle over his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Come on, Noah’s doing a sweep on the other side.” Andy shimmied down the ladder Wei and the others had descended.

  The high-pitched hum of another engine cut through the roar of the rain. Noah’s sleek, black speedboat came into view.

  Rand almost laughed out loud, except he needed his breath.

  He scurried down the ladder after Andy, Noah not far behind. By the time they were most of the way down, Matt had the much smaller boat alongside the ship.

  “There’s a guy in t
he water,” Matt called up.

  Andy leaped from the ladder to the nose of the boat and climbed to the driver’s seat. Matt disappeared from view while Rand focused on the miniscule amount of deck space below.

  A wave pushed the boat into the freighter. Rand let go of the ladder and landed on one of the cushioned benches.

  “Geronimo!” Noah whooped.

  Rand covered his head not a moment too soon. Noah landed with a bang on the floor of the small craft, his arm smacking Rand across the shoulders.

  “Got him,” Matt said.

  “Go! Go!” Noah chanted.

  Rand leaned over the side of the boat and grabbed the fallen man with Matt, hauling him up into the boat as the engine shot them forward. The man sputtered, water and blood pooling in the bottom of the boat.

  “What the…I know you.” Rand stared down into the face of a man who was supposed to already be dead.

  “Who is he?” Matt asked.

  “Charlie. He’s one of us. He…”

  The pieces clicked together.

  Sarah’s injury. Charlie would have been close. Plus, they’d been more than coworkers at once. And he’d used her. Sold her out. Burned her. And for what?

  Charlie’s eyes rolled around. He gasped for breath.

  “Where are they taking her, you son of a bitch?” Rand grabbed Charlie by the front of his shirt and shook him.

  Charlie choked up water and sputtered.

  “He’s probably in shock from the fall. It’s just a shoulder shot,” Matt yelled over the roar of the engine. “Here.”

  Matt looped a set of plastic restraints over Charlie’s wrists, binding them together, then another pair secured him to the bench support of the boat. This dead man wasn’t going anywhere in this lifetime.

  “I’m going to do something stupid,” Noah called back.

  “Oh, shit.” Matt gripped the rail with his one hand.

  “Hold on,” Andy yelled.

  Rand glanced up. They were closing in on the bigger ship with at least twice the speed. “Fuck.” He gripped the bench and the back of the captain’s chair. Noah wouldn’t…

  “Prepare to board,” Noah yelled over his shoulder.

  Rand’s stomach dropped moments before Noah swerved, crashing into the other boat.

  The impact sent Rand and Matt flying across to the other bench. Charlie rolled to his side.