Recruited (Rayna Tan Action Thrillers)

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  “They must have been really desperate. That kid was totally strung out, let alone being the worst shot in the world.”

  “You can be thankful for that… If Demonios takes over, getting to Pablo Domingo, Serpiente’s leader in Colombia, becomes infinitely harder. He’ll cocoon, lay low and regroup. We told Demonios we would take care of things if they told us where to find the Serpiente guys that are left. Long story short, one of our teams paid them a visit last night. They don’t know where Pablo is in Colombia. He moves around a lot, but they told us Pablo has a son in college down in Tampa. Which is where we’re sending the tantalizing Chica China.”

  “Right. So who am I going to see and where?”

  “Felipe Domingo, but he’s using an alias of Philip Jefferson. His address is 790 Cotton Drive, Tampa and his cell is 954.217.8900. He’s a freshman at Tampa City College.

  “He sure picked the least Spanish name he could think of,” said Rayna. “Is he doing this because he’s hiding from his father or his father is hiding him?”

  “Who cares? At least your job just got easier,” said Helena, staying positive. “A college kid can’t be all that tough for Chica China. You’ll eat him up like Jell-O. Just play with him.”

  “I’m too old to be a student.”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda boring and you’d stick out. You could be a hooker tired of fat, balding old men and pretend to want a young stud. The most important thing is to get him in close, then force him to tell you where his dad is holed up.”

  “That’s a plan? That’s bogus.”

  Helena had to agree. “We’re going to have to play this by ear. Pablo never leaves Colombia and never enters the city. No one knows where he is, but he does have a weakness. Women.”

  Rayna turned her head to the ceiling. “Am I going have to hop in bed with every person Fidelitas wants me to chase?”

  “Shut up, Rayna.”

  Rayna jolted—this was the first time Helena had ever been anything but sugarplum friendly to her.

  “Do you think you or any stranger can get meetings with just your charming personality or waving a bag of money? Bullshit. Most of the assholes we deal with couldn’t give a damn and would just kick you out the door unless they decided to put a bullet in your skull. But most of them have one thing in common—they are horny bastards and if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with them.”

  “Then you better be damned sure you get close enough to shoot them or stick a knife into their belly before you have to spread your legs.”

  Chapter 9

  TAMPA

  It was almost midnight as Philip Jefferson made his way through the Hyde Park street. He wasn’t gay, but living in a LGBT-friendly neighborhood was a great disguise. He didn’t want any attention drawn to himself nor was he interested in having any of his customers know where he lived.

  Arriving at his apartment, he took the elevator to the seventh floor. Normally, he’d walk up the stairs to get a little more aerobics in, but he’d had ten beers and was focused solely on finding the bathroom.

  It was extremely quiet in the corridor. Always was in this building, that’s why he liked it. He got off the elevator and walked down the hallway to his apartment.

  Inside Philip’s apartment, Rayna perched on a chair a dozen feet from the door. She was fully in the mindset of focused concentration, as she pointed a Sig Sauer pistol with a silencer at the door. She had gone through potential scenarios a dozen times in her head, preparing for whatever was to come. If Philip opened the door and stayed silent, she would motion him into the room and then extract the information she needed. If he tried to run, she’d simply shoot him in the thigh. If he pulled a gun, she’d shoot him in the forearm.

  The sound of a key unlocking the door broke her meditation.

  Show time.

  Rayna gripped her weapon a little tighter.

  The door swung wide, but there was no one standing outside.

  Of course. The one scenario she hadn’t considered. Without a visible target, she knew she had to give up being pro-active for being reactive; rather than making the first move, she had to wait for her adversary to initiate the action.

  The wait was not long. A hand threw a small can onto the floor from around the open door’s corner. A smoke bomb. Not one of the Amazon.com variety, but one of military strength.

  It took fractions of a second for green smoke to fill the room.

  Rayna bolted through the thick cloud toward the door. Almost ready to step out of the apartment, she didn’t see the fist flying directly at her head.

  Years of martial arts training, battle combat in Afghanistan, and the last few days in Habitat Hell paid off in that split second. Just as the knuckles brushed her face, Rayna immediately dropped to the floor. She reacted before the momentum of the fist broke her nose.

  From her lower vantage point, she punched the attacker in the groin, but he didn’t buckle. Instead, he somehow brought his knee up fast.

  It hit Rayna in the jaw. She rolled to the side, fighting down the pain.

  One good thing about the smoke was that it worked both ways—she couldn’t see him, nor could he take advantage of her agonized writhing.

  Felipe tried to pounce on her, but Rayna rolled over again so his face hit the floor.

  Now lying beside him, Rayna saw her attacker was not a seventeen-year-old college student. He was at least twenty-five and, with the scars on his face, Rayna knew this was a seasoned warrior.

  He reached and squeezed her throat.

  Rayna tried to breathe, but his grip was too strong.

  Hammer blows to his gut had no effect.

  She jabbed at his eyes, but his elbows pushed her arms out of the way.

  He stood up, pulling her along with him. He smirked as she kneed him. “I like women who fight. Better in bed.”

  Rayna head butted him on the nose, but she was so weak the impact had little effect.

  She started to lose consciousness…

  “AAAH!” screamed her assailant as he released Rayna from his death grip.

  She fell to the floor, panting and looked beside her to see the attacker lying facedown beside her with a knife between his shoulder blades. Barry hovered over him and twisted the knife.

  “You are going to tell me where your father’s hideout is.”

  “I would rather die than give him up,” snapped Felipe.

  “Do you think I’m new to this? I’m not going to kill you. I will sever your spinal cord. I will paralyze you so you cannot move. Then I will keep you alive in an empty room and feed you intravenously. Not only will you have no girls, but you will have no television, no internet, no nothing. You will live for decades wishing I had killed you. Now, where is your father?”

  There were some things worse than death. Living Hell was one of them. Hell wasn’t just a fiery dungeon. It could also be eternal boredom.

  Felipe stammered. “He is in Uraba.”

  ***

  Felipe was most cooperative. After being tied up and secured in a Fidelitas-controlled facility, he spilled his guts. Fear was a powerful motivator. His purpose in Tampa was to set up a Serpiente operation. While potential profits were not as big, it was low hanging fruit; there was little competition compared to New York, Chicago, Miami and Los Angeles where they had tried to set up shop before. He gave the exact location of his father’s camp and even the contact information of the rest of Serpiente’s New York operation.

  Three hours later, Barry was driving a thoughtful Rayna to the airport. “Delta Force?”

  “You’re smart, Rayna. I was just a kid.”

  “How long?”

  “Three years. Got out after disaster of Operation Eagle Claw. Stupid politicians totally screwed things. Paulina contacted me… gave me the same pitch I gave you.”

  “I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “Rayna, unless absolutely necessary, we never let an operative go in without a
backup plan. Your plan was stupid and suicidal. You should never go into a mission by yourself. You should always have a team with you.”

  Rayna inhaled and said softly, “Fine, but killing Tanner is personal. I want to have the revenge all to myself.” She turned to Barry. “Have all the backup you want, but I’m the only one that gets to kill Pablo.”

  Chapter 10

  URABA

  Somewhere in the Colombian jungle area of Uraba stood an enclave of several straw-thatched huts. Nothing particularly unusual about that. The hostile extremes of weather and porous terrain in a rainforest were not conducive to brick or cement buildings.

  What was slightly unusual were the eight armed men patrolling the cleared dirt area, complete with AK-47s and machetes. Half the men guarded two storage huts in the center of the camp and the several hundred pounds of cocaine inside. The drugs had been gathered from several local sources. Inside the wooden shacks, a dozen locals prepared the cargo for shipment. The rest of the guards patrolled around the largest hut, the temporary home and headquarters of the quiet and unassuming Pablo Domingo, age forty-seven.

  Pablo, unlike Mexican drug lord El Chapo or his namesake, Pablo Escobar, did not seek the limelight nor did the limelight attract him. As far as the police around the world knew, he was only “middle tier,” meaning he wasn’t a big fish so it wasn’t particularly sexy to follow or track him. Pablo liked it that way as his relative anonymity meant that neither local nor international authorities had him on their active radar.

  Pablo stood outside the largest hut, staring at the sky. He had received a text with a most unusual message from his son Felipe. “I am sending you a present. It will arrive by air shortly.”

  Felipe was not known for sentimentality so the message must have some kind of hidden meaning. Try as he might, Pablo couldn’t decipher what Felipe was trying to say.

  From the distance came the sound of a helicopter. That also wasn’t unusual. Military helicopters, particularly Blackhawks, had been scouring the area looking for him and a dozen other mini-cartels. Pablo even had a rundown chopper he retrofitted to carry his goods in. However, his operation was so well disguised that no one from the air would recognize this cluster of huts as a major drug operation. They’d never know that underneath the shabby structures, large holes had been excavated and makeshift rooms built where drugs were processed.

  As the chopper approached, surprise registered on all faces—this metal bird was a luxurious white Eurocopter. A hand tossed a small parachute carrying a small plastic bag out the window. The helicopter hovered patiently while the package descended. After it landed close to the drug baron, Pablo ripped the package open. It contained a single photo and a two-word note.

  The picture was of Felipe draped over a woman with a stunning body covered only with the skimpiest of bikinis. There was no face of the woman but Felipe’s expression was of a man in euphoric ecstasy.

  The two words? “Enjoy, Papa!”

  Pablo waved his hands. Immediately, several workers removed the fake well and fake huts, creating enough space for the chopper to land.

  Helena had done her job well. She purposely designed the photo not to reveal too much of Rayna’s body or her face. Porn is only slightly less common than air, so sending a naked picture would likely get tossed. However, she predicted Pablo could not resist a woman who had given his son dynamite pleasure that no village girl or hooker had ever provided. The fact that only a hint of who this mystery woman was, intrigued and incited the drug lord’s libido even more.

  The Eurocopter descended on the small clearing. The door opened. A moment later, a lone passenger stood in the doorway. A slender and sensuous Asian woman with long ebony hair and sunglasses, clad in a strapless, tight-fitting red dress, showing more than a foot of thigh and generous cleavage. She carried a large, metallic briefcase. With a smile, she stepped off the plane and walked toward Pablo.

  The foxy newcomer flipped her sunglasses over her head as she approached, revealing a dazzling set of eyes. With her lips crimson red to match her dress, the Asian goddess stepped up to Pablo. Rayna opened the briefcase for Pablo. He peeked inside, eyes bulging at the banded stacks of one hundred dollar bills. She picked up one of the bundles and pressed it into Pablo’s hand.

  “Count them if you like, but I guarantee you there is one million dollars in here,” said the woman. “I’m here to do business.”

  He motioned for a table and two chairs to be brought over. Three bootlickers hustled them over.

  “Your boss sent a woman to see me? That’s rather insulting,” said the drug lord sternly as he seated himself.

  Rayna’s bright almond eyes pierced Pablo’s. Despite his callous demeanor, she could see Pablo undressing her with his eyes, hoping to see what Felipe saw. “I am the boss and I came myself because I can’t trust any man to do what I can do.”

  Pablo tossed the stack of cash to one of his henchmen, motioning for him to count the loot.

  “How did you get to Felipe?” asked Pablo.

  Bingo. Pablo’s jaw dropped as Rayna purred. “No man or woman can resist Chica China. Your son was most willing to tell me anything I wanted. He’s staying in my apartment waiting for me.”

  “My son would never do that.”

  Rayna flipped to another photo—Felipe was naked. Each of his arms and legs was chained to a separate bedpost.

  The tone in Rayna voice changed to icy steel. “And, if you don’t do this deal with me, I’m going to order his balls cut off before I return. If for some reason I don’t return, your son will be returned to you alive… but he will be bringing his private parts as carry-on luggage. As you can see, in his present condition that will not be difficult.”

  Pablo couldn’t hold himself anymore. Brutal. Rough. Dirty. Sex with a Sadomaz Witchbitch. He ripped off his shirt—this guy was seriously built. “Why have a boy when you can have a man?”

  She smiled. “I like men… but I don’t want an audience.”

  Pablo curled a finger at her. She followed him to another hut.

  ***

  “We’ll have some privacy here,” said Pablo as he entered another thatched shack. Surprisingly, this room contained a luxury king-size bed and a HD television screen on the ceiling.

  As Pablo began stripping, Rayna took the remote control and turned the television on—loud. She sidled up to the naked man. As his hot sweaty body touched hers, his hand rose to rip off the top part of her dress—exactly what she hoped for.

  She rammed the remote control into Pablo’s genitals.

  He buckled, gurgled and her elbow cracked down upon his head.

  Suddenly, someone jumped on her. Rayna’s sunglasses dropped to her floor as her attacker started pulling Rayna’s hair. “You old bitch. You cannot take my man away from me.”

  Rayna yanked the girl off her back—she couldn’t be more than fifteen. She screamed. “Help! Chica China’s a phony.”

  Rayna saw Pablo recovering—he reached for the gun in his pants, but Rayna moved quickly and grabbed him by the neck. She was ready to twist it off when she heard the sound of a gun cocking. She glanced up to see one of Pablo’s men taking aim at her.

  The gunman squeezed the trigger. Rayna fell to the floor, pulling Pablo along with her. As the gunman fired again, Rayna tossed Pablo’s body as a shield in front of her. The bullet went directly into Pablo’s chest. He slumped over.

  The young girl wailed. “Francisco, you killed the boss! Now I have nothing.”

  “Shut up, Maria.” Francisco turned the weapon on the young girl.

  Rayna leapt up, yanking a small knife, taped to the bottom of her foot, and launched it at Francisco’s head. The blade spun like a propeller in the air, then penetrated three inches into the boy’s head. He fell forward and the gun slid toward Maria.

  The girl picked up the hand cannon and pointed it at Rayna. “There is nothing for me now. All because of you.”

  “Maria, that’s not true. You have your whole life ahead of y
ou.”

  “I’m having Pablo’s baby. Without Pablo, I have nothing.” Sobbing, she dropped the gun and herself to the floor.

  As Rayna wrapped an arm around the young girl, Pablo dug deep and tapped that bestial strength that kept his cartel kowtowing to his every whim. He sprang up and leapt at Rayna, putting her in a crushing headlock. “Chica China, you die!”

  Rayna tried to claw at Pablo’s face, but it was an impossible angle. With his hold growing ever tighter, Rayna felt herself losing strength and consciousness.

  One last chance. Rayna stretched out her arms and then furiously pulled them back. She rocketed each arm at Pablo’s head. Each of her thumbs landed in an eye.

  “Ahh!”

  The now blind Pablo hauled himself off Rayna and kicked at her head. Before his foot struck her skull, a shot rang out.

  Maria squinted over the smoking barrel, following Pablo’s body to the floor. She then turned and pointed the gun at her own head.

  “No!” screamed Rayna. Too Late. Maria pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 11

  With Pablo dead, all his crew helped themselves to the drugs in the huts, hoping to grab enough so they might start their own baby cartels.

  No such luck.

  Barry and the helicopter pilot exited the chopper, systematically lobbing grenades at all the huts. The solvents for making cocaine were highly flammable and each of the dozen huts lit up like out-of-control oil wells, for a final half hour of glory. One of the henchman tried to grab the briefcase with the cash but he quickly lost an argument with a bullet from the pilot’s pistol.