Devlin's Defiance: Book Two of the Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  - 37 -

  November 16, 2012

  6:34 p.m. local time

  Pretoria, South Africa

  The attack came out of absolutely nowhere, as far as the people in the limousine and the two SUVs in the convoy could tell.

  “One minute we're humming along on our way to the embassy, the next there's an explosion under our right front tire and we're rolling over and over,” Danuta explained later to the debriefer. “Vito and I had our seatbelts on, so we only had some minor scrapes and bruises, and the armor kept the vehicle intact. But the SUV was a mess inside, guns, grenades and RPGs scattered all over, out of their mounts.

  “As soon as we came to rest, upside down, Vito deployed the Turtle Claw, flipped us back over, and we took off after the limo and the trailing SUV, who'd passed us unscathed after we took the brunt of the blast, and took the third alternate route in our plan.

  “The attackers had also passed us, accelerating after the limo and SUV, machine guns blazing out their windows and from the two motorcycles that joined the chase.”

  “We activated our grille guns and took out one of the bikes, the two riders' bodies blown into teeny tiny pieces, which splattered blood and flesh onto our windshield. The autowash cleared that right up, and we took off after the other bike and the two attacking SUVs.”

  “What the hell?” Kathy exclaimed as she saw the explosion and the SUV in front of her limo start to flip. She stepped on the gas and twisted the wheel, avoiding the rolling SUV, while Stacy, sitting in the passenger seat, shouted at Kristle in the back seat to cover the protectee.

  She then radioed to the trailing SUV, letting Carie and Jill, the Mimosa twins, know that they were taking Alternate Route 3.

  “Roger Dodger, Stace,” Jill replied. “We'll cover and prepare to block, if needed. Out.

  “CB, I'll get in the back. Keep us right behind the limo, K?”

  “Will do, Jillybean. Gun ports opening now.”

  “Rodger Dodger, CB. Looks like two SUVs and two motorcycles behind us … oops, make that one bike. The Kuzzins just got one.”

  “Bravo for the newbies.”

  “Yup. Stacy trained 'em good.”

  “Well.”

  “Well, what?”

  “What?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Oh, no; sorry. Trained 'em well.”

  “Yup, she did; that's what I said.”

  “No, you said 'good.'”

  “I know.”

  “Well” --

  “Gotcha.”

  “Oh, geez.”

  “But lemme get cracking at those SUVs.”

  “Go for it.”

  Jill fired through the rear gun port at the lead SUV chasing them, but the bullets just bounced off the grille and windshield.

  “Aw, shit; they've got armor.”

  “Try the EMP.”

  “Roger Dodger.”

  Jill aimed the EMP gun at the first SUV and fired, but nothing happened.

  “Oh, fuck. They've hardened the electronics.”

  “RPG?”

  “Let's see.”

  Jill aimed and fired an RPG, which hit the SUV right between the headlights; after the explosion, the SUV kept up the chase, seemingly undamaged.

  “Now, that's thick armor.”

  “Flamethrower?”

  “Nah. Flip on the glaint gun.”

  “Okay. Charging.”

  “Green light here. Ready. Aim. Firing.”

  A thick black fluid sprayed from a nozzle at the back of the SUV, hitting the trailing one's entire front end from side to side and top to bottom. The driver turned on the wipers, but they only smeared the mess of paint and superglue slightly before grinding to a halt.

  Unable to see, the driver rolled down his window and stuck his head out, where Jill cleanly exploded it with a three-round burst from her machine gun. The SUV swerved wildly to the left, smashing into and over the guardrail and down into the ditch, wheels spinning as it came to rest on its roof. The second SUV sped up to take the place of its upended partner.

  “Too bad they don't have a Turtle Claw,” Vito said to Danuta as he glanced into the ditch when they whizzed past the now-burning SUV.

  The passenger on the remaining motorcycle fired her machine gun over her shoulder, but Danuta's aim was more accurate and the rear tire exploded, sending the cycle and its riders also into and over the guardrail on the left.

  “One to go,” Danuta, Jill and Stacy all said, separately but simultaneously.

  “Mobile One to Base,” Stacy radioed, “coming in hot. Open the gates and prepare a perimeter.”

  “Roger that,” came the reply.

  “ETA, thirty seconds.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Deploying right outriggers.”

  As the limo, traveling at a speed above 150 kilometers per hour, neared the turnoff to the street leading to the embassy's driveway, Kathy pressed a button and two steel arms with small tires on the end telescoped out about four feet from the right-side frame of the limo, so that when the limo made the left turn and started to rise up on the two right wheels, the tires on the outriggers hit the ground and kept it upright.

  Kathy then pressed another button and the left-side outriggers deployed, so when the limo turned right and screeched across the heavy oncoming traffic, through the gate and into the driveway, it stayed nearly level.

  Behind the limo, Carie deployed her own outriggers, swerved her SUV and skidded it into position so that it blocked the gates, which began to slide closed. The pursuing SUV, unable to make the turn off Leyds so adroitly, narrowly missed crashing into an oncoming transit bus, then veered back into the left lane and continued on, speeding up to over 160 kilometers per hour, Vito and Danuta in hot pursuit.

  Just after the limo screeched through the gates, bullets crashed into the roof and rear window, fired from somewhere above but out of sight. None of them penetrated.

  Kathy brought the limo to a sliding stop at the embassy door and pressed the Worm button. A flexible tube about six feet tall and four wide telescoped out from the limo to the embassy door. Only then did the limo's back door open and the protectee emerge into the tube, with Stacy and Kristle at his sides, and walk the fifteen feet into the hardened lobby of the embassy, with more bullets crashing into and ricocheting off the Worm's bulletproof exterior.

  After a senior staff member signed off on the turnover document, Stacy and Kristle returned to the SUV, retracted the Worm and headed back to the gate.

  “Job over,” Stacy radioed to the other vehicles.

  “Copy that, Stace,” Jill replied.

  “Copy that,” Danuta replied. “Breaking off pursuit.”

  Ten minutes later, the three vehicles were securely locked in the garage of a safe house where Vito and the six women shared a bottle of champagne as they distributed the fake passports and documents they would need for their departure from the country the next day.

  Three hours later, they watched as a TV reporter reported that a junior member of the embassy staff had shot and killed their former protectee an hour after they had delivered him safely.

  “Oh, Christ; they got him!” Danuta cried out.

  “Not our problem,” Stacy reassured the others, holding up the turnover document. “You all did a great job. To us!”

  “To us,” they all repeated, clinking glasses and drinking.

  - 38 -

  November 16, 2012

  11:27 p.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  In the Gulf of Aden

  “So he's got the patent?”

  “Right, in '09, but only in the US.”

  “And he's asking how much?”

  “Three million.”

  “For what share?”

  “51 percent.”

  “By when?”

  “The 27th.”

  “I like the idea, but I'd want some of our engineers to examine the designs in detail before I decide.”

  “They have, Ja
ke.”

  “Oh? And they think it'll work?”

  “They've got some ideas to improve the air flow and the bounce angles, but the basic design concept is workable and can save lots of lives.”

  “Ready for production when?”

  “Eight months, they say.”

  “Accounting projections?”

  “50 million annual sales in two years, 125 in five. Margins growing from 17 to 44 percent in five years, then stabilizing.”

  “Working capital?”

  “12 million over three years.”

  “And he wants to stay with the project?”

  “Yup; but he knows he won't be the final decision-maker, and he's okay with that.”

  “Good, good. So what's your opinion, Wes?”

  “I think it'll work; otherwise I wouldn't have brought it to you.”

  “Okay; we'll do the deal. Make it four million for the 51 percent, 15 million working capital, put it in our Bulgarian sub and get all the worldwide patents. And we'll use our existing salesforce with the engine manufacturers when we're ready for production.”

  “Great, Jake. I'll get right on it.”

  “Good. Now one for you – well, for the car company, I guess. I've got a design for a combination modern/antique auto, streamlined front end, 1930s limo in the back, like an old Duesenberg, maybe.”

  “You mean like FDR used to ride in?”

  “Yup. And the convertible hardtop would be split front and rear, so either the chauffeur or the rear seat passengers or both can be covered or not. And it would close down into the seat behind the chauffeur, not into the rear trunk.”

  “Wow. I like it.”

  “I'll send you an email with a rough sketch attached. Have the designers mock it up and let's see how it looks.”

  “Will do, Jake.”

  “And one other thing, and the absolutely most important. It must have no – and I mean absolutely none, nada, zero – no electronics, other than maybe the radio. Those are way too easy to hack into and control, even without physical access to the car.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “Sorry, Wes, can't tell you. But it can be done.”

  “Okay, Jake. Another secret; I'll put that with the others.”

  “Do that, Wes. Okay. Any new thoughts on the sequester if those idiots in Washington can't come to an agreement?”

  “Well, Jake, our forecast ranges from four percent to eight percent revenue reductions, most coming from cancellations of some of our defense contracts with the government, but part coming from the upscale commercial and residential security systems installation and monitoring businesses, since some of those guys will also be facing cancellations or reductions in their government contracts.”

  “But, Wes, that's worldwide, not that much in the US, right?”

  “Right; maybe 23 or 24 percent US. It was – give me a sec – 23.6 percent last month, 328 million.”

  “So 4 to 8 percent there, between, ah, 13 and 26 mil, right?”

  “In there, yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “We're also expecting some loss of revenues in our consumer businesses, but not as severe. But we're all hoping they can get their act together and avoid the sequester.”

  “Wouldn't hold my breath on that.”

  “At least we've got six weeks to keep preparing.”

  “Right. Stay nimble, Wes.”

  “We're also analyzing the health care law and I'll hope to be able to give you a heads-up on that in a month or so.”

  “That's going to be complicated, and we'll need to do a lot of defensive positioning. But our employees come first; we always need to be as loyal to them as they are to us.”

  “At least we've got about a year on that.”

  “But even so, we need to stay ahead of the process. I hate it when we get blindsided, absolutely hate it.”

  “I know you do, Jake. Me, too.”

  “I know. And you're coordinating with Amber on her side of the biz, right?”

  “Absolutely; just talked with her an hour ago.”

  “Good, good. Anything else?”

  “Uh, nothing I can think of right now.”

  “Okay. And nothing else here. Ah, except one thing. How are the wedding plans coming with Amy?”

  “Great. We're just trying to sort out if we want to hyphenate our last name, and if we do, whether to go with Christian-Farley or Farley-Christian.”

  “Or just let her keep her maiden name?”

  “We may wind up doing that, or maybe just flipping a coin.”

  “Well, Wes, whatever works for you and Amy.”

  “Thanks, Jake. Appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Talk with you next week or two.”

  “Good night, Jake.”

  “G'night.”

  Jake made a few notes, returned a phone call he'd missed, shut down his PC and then headed next door to the master suite.

  “Coming to bed, hon?” Pam said, taking off her glasses and putting them and the book she'd been reading on the nightstand.

  “Yup. Got a couple new ideas.”

  “Oh, good. You've been a lot more creative since that night with JJ. What d'you want to try tonight?”

  “Oh, I've got a few there, too, but I meant from my fonecon with Wes.”

  “Oh.”

  “We're gonna buy a company that's got an idea for a design for a bird deflector that goes on jet engines on airplanes. Looks like an ice cream cone, but it's made out of rods, so the birds just bounce off and away from the intake.”

  “Oh, that's a great idea.”

  “I think so. Remember that plane that went down in the Hudson River? The hero pilot that landed it?”

  “Of course. Sully or something?”

  “Right. That was caused by birds getting into the engine.”

  “Yeah, I remember that.”

  “Well, that's what this thing should prevent.”

  “Wow.”

  “And then I told him about that idea you had about the car.”

  “The FDR car?”

  “Right. And with no electronics.”

  “Good. So no chance of a thing like Sharon and Glenda pulled off last week?”

  “Right.”

  “Great. You know, I don't know how you can manage to keep on top of all those businesses you've got.”

  “Oh, I trust Wes and Amber and the others to coordinate and run the day-to-day operations, so I don't have to get involved too deeply in the details and can just focus on the overall strategic stuff, at least most of the time.”

  “Okay. And how are Wes and Amy doing? Wedding plans still on?”

  “Yup; they're doing fine.”

  “Good. So now are you coming to bed?”

  “Now I'm coming to bed.”

  “And in bed, I'll bet.”

  “For sure. And you too, I have no doubt.”

  “That smile tells me you've got a new trick up your sleeve.”

  “Maybe two, m'love. Maybe even three.”

  “Oooo, get in here, then,” she cooed, holding up the sheets invitingly, revealing herself in all her naked beauty. “Ginny May awaits. Hope Stevie Bruce is ready.”

  “Let's find out.”

  Jake was out of his clothes and under the sheets in an instant.

  - 39 -

  November 17, 2012

  6:13 a.m. local time

  George Town, Penang, Malaysia

  The naked, mutilated corpse of Dung Hong Lo, the Dragon Head of the Fong Sim Ung triad, was found propped against the front door of the Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion in George Town.

  Two chopsticks had been thrust into the eyes, another two into the nostrils and a third pair into the ears. The chopstick in the left ear and the right nostril were both broken; the missing pieces were held in the corpse's left hand. The chopsticks in the ears were ruled to be the cause of death.

  A swastika, a pentagram and the numbers 25 and 489 were crudely carved into his heavily tattooed ch
est and stomach, post-mortem, and a husked ear of corn was held in his right hand, with kernels missing in a pattern which appeared to show the Chinese characters for either “Death by Torment” or “Bitch Dog in Heat.”

  Hu Fa TId, the investigator in charge, wasted hundreds of his squad's man-hours attempting to determine which of fifteen possible hexagrams of the I Ching was indicated by the two broken and four unbroken chopsticks, a quest at which he was ultimately unsuccessful.

  On the more significant investigation to determine the killer or killers, Hu was equally unsuccessful, and over the next year, gang wars among the local triads led to over eleven hundred grisly bludgeonings, executions and assassinations of triad members at all levels, from Blue Lanterns to Red Poles, Vanguards, Incense Masters, seven Deputy Mountain Masters and even two Dragon Heads (Mountain Masters).

  Over the next four years, the triad wars spread from Penang to the rest of Malaysia, to the Philippines, to Hong Kong, Taiwan and even into mainland China, reducing triad membership by nearly sixty percent and leading to changes in governments at all levels, from municipal to country, in Malaysia, Taiwan and mainland China.

  Even North Korea got tangled up in the wars, and over three thousand military officers were killed, a third of those on orders of the young and reckless dictator, according to reports from a strange American basketball player who had visited the country as an honored guest every year from 2013 on.

  - 40 -

  November 18, 2012

  10:18 a.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  Another beautiful, cloud-free, 81-degree Sunday on the beach, but the forecast included a cool front bringing the high temperature down into the mid-70s the next day, about the same as the Gulf and air temperatures were at this hour. The temps were expected to stay low through Thursday, Thanksgiving Day (and the 49th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy).

  The AA meeting had just let out from the first gazebo, and a few of the more rugged summer regulars were still holding their ground against the onslaught of the snowbirds and the Canadian frostbacks, which had begun in earnest in early November.