by Matt Rogers
Rico smiled devilishly. His teeth were still blood-stained. A filthy bandage had been wrapped tight around one of his trouser legs. He was visibly keeping his weight off it. Heavy bags rested under the man’s eyes. It seemed like he hadn’t slept since King had seen him last. The stress was leeching from his bones.
Something was off.
‘I see José got you to deliver my truck for him,’ Rico noted, keeping up the facade of superiority. ‘Awfully kind of you.’
‘It’s not much use now,’ King said. ‘What are you doing down here?’
‘We keep some heavy weapons down in these rooms,’ Rico said. ‘Looks like we need them.’
King flicked his head back, motioning to the dock outside. ‘Seems like we got here just ahead of someone else. Who’s attacking you?’
‘From what I saw, it seems to be our closest competitors.’
‘Is that a surprise?’
‘It is,’ he admitted. ‘We will crush them, though.’
‘Timing’s awfully convenient.’
‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ Rico said. ‘It seems they’ve paid you a healthy sum to be the spearhead.’
‘We haven’t been paid anything.’
‘I’m sure…’
‘Can we reach a truce?’ King said. ‘My friend here wants his mother and sister back. Give them to us, and we’ll leave you alone. Then you can deal with whatever the hell just happened out there.’
Rico laughed cruelly. ‘Really? You think I’d do that? The second I lower this gun you’ll shoot me in the head. I don’t blame you. I’d do the exact same to you.’
‘I—’
With his free hand Rico raised a finger. ‘No. Don’t even try. I know exactly what’s going on in your head. You’re furious that I killed your friend in El Infierno. You’re hiding it very well, but you hate me with a passion. I’m dead the second I consider trusting you.’
King didn’t say anything in return, because the man was right. ‘So what happens now?’
‘We’re in a bit of a situation, aren’t we?’
‘We are.’
‘I have other matters to tend to.’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Pretty sure. Tell me one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
King paused for a moment, trying to wrap his head around how much chaos had unfolded over the last few days. ‘Why put me through all this shit?’
Rico cocked his head.
‘Why bother?’ King said. ‘You could have just shot me in the head back before any of this took place. Why’d you throw me in El Infierno to try and get answers out of me? I ruined your whole operation. Now you’re under attack. You’re injured. Everything’s scrambled. You could have killed me quickly and moved on.’
Rico nodded along, as if agreeing with everything King was saying. ‘I needed to let out a little rage. I wanted to watch you suffer.’
‘That didn’t go so well for you.’
‘I underestimated you. Truth is — you weren’t the sole cause of the breakdown of communications with our supplier. They were offended that we didn’t show up to the meeting. They threw insults at how we operate. So I slaughtered the pair they sent to meet us. That’s why everything’s gone to shit. Because I can’t control my temper.’
‘Wait,’ King said. ‘So it’s your own fault?’
Rico nodded and grinned. ‘Still, you were the perfect fall-back to take out my frustrations on. I would have imploded otherwise.’
‘Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time?’
‘I thought you might be working for one of my competitors for a while. But even when I started to realise that it was an almighty coincidence, I kept you in there. Just for fun. Degrading you gave me that release.’
‘Guess you didn’t expect me to adapt as well as I did.’
‘I can’t say I did,’ Rico said, and shrugged. ‘But you didn’t adapt to this very well. What’s the plan after you kill me?’
‘Find Raul’s family. Get out of here.’
‘Good luck. You’ll never make it out of this shipyard. Either we’ll kill you, or our competitors will.’
‘You seem pretty sure of yourself.’
‘And before either of those scenarios unfold—’ Rico said, ‘—I’ll kill your family anyway, Raul.’
As he finished the sentence, he spun on his heel and pushed off with his good leg, taking off down the corridor. King had half a second to get a shot off, but he wasn’t fast enough. He fired twice. The bullets thudded into the hallway’s far wall, hitting nothing but wood.
And then Rico was gone.
CHAPTER 44
King took off across the empty dining room, determined to stop Rico before any harm could be done. He heard Raul puffing behind him, following close. If Raul happened upon any more dead family members…
King couldn’t imagine the emotional consequences.
He let anger spur him forward. He kept a double-handed grip on the HK417, knowing that there was every chance Rico would be waiting on the other side of the doorway. It would only take one brash step too far to have his brains blown across the opposite wall.
Raul took the bait. He brushed past King, moving with the urgency of a man desperate to keep his family alive.
Exactly what Rico wanted.
King snatched him by the collar and tugged him back, stopping him from hurtling to certain death. As he did so, Raul reacted viciously, turning and swinging a fist in King’s direction. Furious that someone was preventing him from rescuing his mother and sister.
King dodged the wild outburst with ease and tightened his grip. He kept Raul locked in place, despite the man’s best efforts to break free.
‘Are you that fucking stupid?’ King snarled. ‘You’ll get yourself killed.’
He saw the raw emotion in Raul’s eyes and grimaced. The guy was in a bad place. King wasn’t sure if he could control him, even if he had the man’s best interests at heart.
‘Let me go,’ Raul spat. ‘Mamá’s up there. Ana’s up there.’
‘He’ll shoot you dead if you stay this reckless. I will do everything I can to get them back. But stay behind me. Okay?’
The tension dissipated and Raul nodded, overcoming the brief flood of urgency. King shoved the man behind him and re-adjusted his grip on the assault rifle.
He pressed forward.
The corridor was silent as they approached it. Either Rico was long gone, or he lay in wait just within the entrance, barrel aimed at the doorway. King tip-toed up to the gap until he could see a narrow sliver of the floor on each side, shrouded in shadow. He guessed the power had been cut years ago. Faint glimmers of natural light crept their way in, but apart from that the decrepit hallway was dark.
King took a deep breath, then fired a ten-round burst into the corridor. The muzzle flash lit up the space like a fireworks display. A violent outburst of sound ripped through the space. It would make anyone flinch. He charged in after the shots, using the shock value to advantage. His reflexes would never be sharper than they were now. He took in the length of the corridor in a single glance. Knowing he had the speed advantage on anyone. Knowledge acquired through countless scenarios identical to the one King currently found himself in. Scenarios where he always managed to come out on top.
But no targets presented themselves.
The corridor lay empty. It stretched into the distance, descending into total darkness until the very end, where a beacon of artificial light illuminated what seemed to be a large stairwell. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the blurry sight. A shadow briefly passed over the light, dimming it for a moment.
Shit.
Rico hadn’t been bluffing. He’d made it to the stairwell despite his injuries. He would be en route to Raul’s mother and sister, ascending the steps as fast as his wounded leg would allow. If King had simply charged headlong into the corridor, he probably would have caught the man by now.
<
br /> ‘You were right, Raul,’ he said, and took off at a breakneck pace.
He knew with each step he was gaining ground on the injured Rico. It all came down to whether he could close the distance before the man reached Raul’s family.
He heard Raul’s panicked breathing behind him as he tried to keep pace. The noise quickly shrank into the distance. Not many men could match King’s speed when he put everything he had into it.
The benefit of having long legs, he thought.
Which proved disastrous as he burst out into the stairwell.
He entered a rusting, winding stairway with a gaping hole in the centre, drilling through the ship’s mass all the way to the basement. The stairs themselves curved around the exterior of the space, ascending past dozens of different floors home to cabins, entertainment centres and supply areas. The stairwell seemed to be the hub of activity in the cruise ship, connecting all its various parts together. King burst onto the wide staircase at full pelt, and instantly realised his mistake.
A long metal object flashed across his vision. Before he could react, it powered into his ribs. The blow cracked across his sternum with enough weight behind it to cause serious damage. He ran straight into it like a fool, adding power to its impact.
He coughed and groaned at the same time that he was thrown off his feet. He landed on his side, hard. Rolled once. Slammed into the stairwell’s banister — the only thing separating him from a twenty-storey fall to inevitable death. The HK417 fell off his shoulder and skittered away. He watched it disappear under the banister and cascade into oblivion. Just like that, he’d been disarmed.
He came to rest against the wooden railing with burning pain flaring through his abdomen. He looked up, expecting to see Rico standing over him, snarling in victory, aiming a pistol at his forehead, ready to fire the kill shot.
But it wasn’t Rico.
It was Roman.
The man from the police station, who had grilled him on his intentions and then vanished when his cover had been blown. King had assumed he worked for Rico in some capacity. This confirmed it. He’d cleaned himself up since departing the holding cells. He was dressed in a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt and khaki combat trousers. His long hair remained tied back. He held a steel crowbar in one hand. A Zamorana pistol rested in a leather holster at his waist.
King pointed to it, and spoke softly. Still in incredible pain from the rib shot. ‘You should probably use that.’
Roman smiled and raised the crowbar, its jagged metal tip gleaming under the stairwell’s spotlights. ‘No need. This will do.’
‘Do you know what’s going on out in the shipyard?’ King said. ‘Killing me won’t achieve anything. You won’t make it off this ship.’
‘Of course I know what’s going on out there,’ Roman said. ‘And it’s the only reason I’m going to make it off this ship.’
‘What?’
‘Who do you think I am?’
King cocked his head. ‘You work for Rico. You’re a Mover. That’s why you interrogated me in the holding cells. You needed to know if I was working for your competition.’
Roman let out a harsh laugh. It echoed through the stairwell. He crouched down until his face rested a few inches from King’s.
‘I am the competition,’ he snarled.
‘Oh.’
‘Those men out there are my men.’
‘You’re attacking Rico?’
‘I am.’
‘How’d you get in here?’
‘Very carefully. Something you clearly know little about. I guess I never considered driving an armoured truck through the wall.’
Something clicked in King’s mind. ‘Ah. That would explain the scouts.’
‘Scouts?’
‘We were spotted on the way in by a couple of men decked out in tactical gear. In an apartment complex. I thought they were Movers, but they were yours, weren’t they? Assessing the situation before attacking?’
Roman nodded.
King flashed back to the holding cells, where Roman had revealed a shred of his true identity. ‘You said you were in the import-export business?’
Roman got back to his feet and held his arms out wide, gesturing to their surroundings, to the cruise ship itself. ‘Business is booming. At least, it will be. When we have control of this place.’
King made to get to his feet but his ribs flared, buckling his knees. The pain sent him straight back to the floor. Roman noticed the gesture and whipped forward like a cheetah, moving faster than King thought possible. He lashed out with the crowbar, then stopped the blow short. The tip came to rest an inch from King’s throat. Another ounce of movement and Roman would sever arteries. King understood the message and stayed put.
‘How’d it feel to be played?’ Roman said.
‘What?’
‘We used you.’
‘Who used me?’
‘I got a call from my business partner before,’ he said. ‘Asking if we should send you in before we made our move.’
King grimaced. ‘Oh, shit.’
Suddenly, the mad situation began to make a little more sense. He’d wondered why José had been so open to handing across most of his expensive arsenal. The Cobra had never been intended for Rico. It had been ordered and primed to carry out an assault on the Movers’ compound. The tales José had told them of fleeing the country, of being sick of the life of an arms dealer and deciding to retire.
All bullshit.
He and Roman had been amassing their forces to launch the attack when King and Raul had broken out of prison and stepped willingly into their warehouse. José had seen an opportunity to use two martyrs free of charge, desperate men willing to act as a spearhead for the assault which now raged outside.
Roman saw him thinking hard, and didn’t speak. He knew King would be piecing together what had happened.
‘You’re drug dealers?’ King said.
‘Small time,’ Roman said. ‘Movers were shutting us down at every corner. This is the endgame. We win this, and we take over.’
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ King said. ‘It appears that we both have the same short-term goals.’
‘Kill Rico?’
King nodded.
‘We do indeed,’ Roman said. ‘But then what?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Say we work together to clear this cruise ship,’ Roman said. ‘And we succeed. What will you do after?’
‘Get the next flight out of here.’
‘You sure? I thought you hated drug dealers.’
‘Is that what you think this is? Me being here?’
‘You seem to be some kind of vigilante warrior. What else would you be doing here?’
‘If this was a crusade against organised crime I would never sleep,’ King said. ‘I just don’t like it when people fuck with me.’
‘So you don’t care that I’m just going to carry on the drug trade after we’re done here?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ King said.
‘Then I think we have a deal.’
Roman extended a hand. He tucked the crowbar behind his back as a gesture of camaraderie. Probably to show that he meant no harm. King seized the grip and rose tentatively to his feet. He placed a hand on his ribs and took a deep breath. Agony flared. A few were likely broken. Not good. But it wasn’t on the level of crippling incapacitation that meant he couldn’t continue. The adrenalin dump was still powering through his system. It numbed the pain just enough to press forward for a few more minutes.
That was all he had.
Then he thought back to the last few days, and met Roman’s eyes. ‘What were you doing in the police station, then?’
Roman smiled. ‘We have connections too. José still supplies the Movers. They had no idea he’d embedded himself in a rival organisation. When he found out that the internal mechanisms of their operation had gone to shit, he did some digging. Found out that you had something to do with it. So I went in to try and find out just exa
ctly what was going on.’
‘And you realised I was a nobody?’
Roman nodded. ‘I did.’
‘And you left me there to be transferred to El Infierno and killed by either Rico or the prisoners?’
Roman hesitated. ‘I—’
‘On second thought,’ King said, ‘I don’t need your help.’
CHAPTER 45
He seized Roman by the collar with one hand and battered the crowbar away with the other. His ribs burned with every action, but he held an uncanny ability to bury pain away for brief spurts of violent explosive action. His brain released neurotransmitters — called endogenous opioids — into his system, suppressing the emotional response to his aching torso. He battled through the physical sensation and continued with his actions, his brain an impenetrable fortress.
Roman’s eyes widened as he noted the change in atmosphere. He’d been disarmed in a matter of seconds. He recognised that King had been holding back, refraining from retaliation over the course of their conversation.
The drug boss had underestimated him.
King reached down and undid the holster at the man’s waist and ripped the Zamorana free. He touched a finger to the trigger, slotting it inside the guard. One shot was all it took. The bullet entered the side of Roman’s skull just above his ear. Compared to the intensity of assault-rifle and sub-machine gun fire that King had grown used to, the round from the pistol felt surprisingly subdued. Roman died quietly, blood spurting from the exit wound on the other side of his head. An instantaneous passing. Probably what the man deserved, considering how little he had provoked King.
Still…
One less crime boss in the world.
King kept the corpse on its feet with the hand he had wrapped around its collar. He took one look at the dead man, and felt no emotion. Roman had said it himself. If he took over the shipyard, nothing would change. Maybe this would do something. Probably not. But King was only a single man.
And he didn’t like to be fucked with.
He wound up and tossed the dead body over the banister. It fell into the empty space in the centre of the stairwell and soared away, legs and arms splayed. King turned back to the corridor he’d come from and ignored the brutal squelch of the body slapping the ground floor that echoed up through the space.
