by Matt Rogers
‘Now,’ José said. ‘You saw what happened downstairs. There’s a lot of clean-up to do. There’s a lot of connections to make. The hard work’s just beginning for me. But you two get out of here. I don’t want any trouble from you, and you don’t want any trouble from me. Understood?’
King didn’t bother trying to wrap his head around the allegiances and power plays and double-crossings and gang wars. He couldn’t care less. If Raul’s family were truly safe, then his work was done. The gangsters who’d thrown him around a corrupt prison system were dead. He’d found his revenge.
It was over.
He lowered his weapon, and José’s thugs did the same.
‘You have my number?’ José said.
King nodded.
‘Give me a call when you get there. We can straighten things out. Gate code is “8380”.’
King nodded again.
José produced a scrap of paper from one of the deep pockets in his khaki trousers. He handed it over. An address was scrawled in ballpoint pen on its surface.
‘Let’s go, Raul,’ King said.
He brushed past the three men in front of him and began the descent. Raul followed swiftly behind. He hurried after King, his pace fast. Probably reinvigorated with newfound hope and promise.
‘King,’ he whispered. ‘Do you really think…?’
‘We’ll find out,’ King said.
CHAPTER 48
They made it out of the shipyard without a shred of protest.
José had clearly informed his forces that King and Raul were not to be interfered with. King kept his HK417 looped over his shoulder just in case any of the gangsters hadn’t received the message, yet they were met with no resistance whatsoever. In fact, none of José’s forces even bothered to acknowledge their existence. They were busy dealing with the aftermath of the gunfight.
As King crossed the newly erected drawbridge connecting the cruise ship to the port, he surveyed the dock and noted the result of the conflict.
The Movers had lost.
Badly.
José’s forces had taken casualties, but that was inevitable. A few of their men lay injured or dead, in the process of being tended to by their comrades. Stress and worry plagued the faces of the gangsters.
King imagined it had been a tense morning for them.
As they passed through a surreal scene littered with the bodies of dead gangsters, some completely torn to shreds by bullets, he pondered what an unbelievable sight it would be to a common civilian. Even a man like Raul — raised on the streets and wise to combat and the brutal conditions of a no-holds-barred prison — struggled to process the swathes of destruction across the port.
King knew it was bad that he felt right at home amongst the carnage.
His pulse barely rose as he glanced from body to body. He simply assessed the dead with cold calculation, scanning for threats. There were none. Every man still alive was preoccupied with other tasks. They would leave undisturbed.
He led Raul to one of the pick-up trucks on the very edge of the Movers’ barricade. It had taken the least amount of gunfire. Its rusting chassis had been dotted with only a few stray rounds. He hoped it still worked. He climbed into the driver’s seat and checked the ignition. The keys were there, jammed into the slot. Clearly the Movers had figured that there was no use securing the cars. If enemy forces managed to hijack them, then they would probably be dead by that point anyway.
Raul got in next to him and tugged the passenger’s seatbelt across his chest. He stared straight ahead. Muted. Untalkative. King guessed all his energy was focused on the thought of his mother and sister greeting him with open arms.
He hoped that the man’s wishes would come true.
He started the truck and drove it slowly through the chaos, avoiding living and dead bodies alike. He didn’t care what José would do with the shipyard. Like he’d told the man earlier, if drug operations bothered him enough to wage a vigilante crusade, then he would never sleep.
And he needed sleep.
He’d devoted a career to battling injustice. In retirement he’d made the decision to leave those problems to his successors.
That’s worked out so well for you so far, he thought.
They exited the shipyard the way they’d come in. The mangled gate had been battered aside by José’s forces following them in. They mounted the gravel road and began the slow climb into the hills of Maiquetía.
King held out the scrap of paper. ‘You been here before?’
Raul shook his head. ‘That’s a wealthy neighbourhood. Buried in the hills somewhere. He must have bought the place when he made his fortune. While Luis and I were locked up.’
Talk of his brother clearly drifted his mind onto traumatic thoughts. King saw him shrink up. He turned away to hide his eyes growing damp.
‘Your brother was a good man,’ King said.
‘I know.’
‘At least Rico is dead.’
Raul shook his head. ‘Doesn’t change a thing.’
‘I know it doesn’t,’ King said. ‘But it’s peace of mind. He won’t hurt anyone else.’
‘José will just take his place,’ Raul said, sounding entirely disillusioned.
‘If your old friend is telling us the truth,’ King said, ‘then maybe he has some humanity. Maybe things will unfold differently with him in charge.’
‘We’ll see…’
Raul directed him through shanty towns and cramped neighbourhoods and onto a winding road that looped between craggy cliffs of rock dotted with tufts of dead grass. They continued up into the hills, the pick-up’s engine chugging as it battled the steep gradient. Finally they entered a neighbourhood that King instantly recognised as upper-class.
Well, at least in comparison to the rest of Maiquetía.
These houses had yards. Most were two-storey, big and sprawling and well-built. King saw sloping terracotta roofs and gated properties complete with security cameras at every turn. He guessed that security systems were paramount in these parts. Anyone with a semblance of fortune would be a target.
According to the address listed, José’s property was at the very end of a wide court paved with smooth asphalt. King stopped the pick-up in front of a spacious property complete with a four-car garage and a guesthouse. He let out a low whistle as they got out and approached the steel fence.
‘Crime pays,’ King said.
‘Around here, it sure does,’ Raul said.
The man took a deep breath. King rested a hand on his shoulder.
‘I just want you to know,’ King said. ‘Whatever we find … I’m here for you. I’m hesitant to believe José just yet.’
Raul nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I’m prepared. As prepared as I can be.’
King nodded and punched the code José had given him into a steel panel next to the gate. With a mechanical whir that broke the quiet residential silence the gate swung open. He stepped through into the driveway.
The house seemed deserted. All the windows were drawn. A bird shrieked from a nearby tree. The silence unnerved him. On second thought, he ducked back to the car and retrieved the sole HK417, still fully loaded. Raul watched him move with reserved panic on his face.
‘King, what are you doing?’
‘Just making sure…’ King said. ‘José lied to us once already. Better safe than sorry.’
He re-approached the house, mentally alert. He flicked his gaze from window to window, watching for any sign of movement. It was tough. The small mansion had at least a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows facing the wide front yard.
‘José’s come far from the slums he grew up in,’ King said.
‘Tell me about it.’
‘If he really is a good man,’ King said, ‘then perhaps he can help you get on your feet.’
‘Maybe…’
They approached the front door silently, a huge wooden slab set into a polished stone exterior. King tried every key in the set until one slotted home inside the lock. He t
wisted and pushed the door open. It groaned on its hinges, cutting through the silence. King grimaced and tip-toed into a marble foyer. He held out a palm, signalling for Raul to stay back. At least for now.
Any element of surprise had just been ruined. If there were hostile forces in the house waiting for them to arrive, they would know exactly where to go.
The foyer was enormous. Its ceiling stretched far overhead, making King feel small. Antique coffee tables lined the walls, adorned with polished vases and exquisite mirrors. It seemed that in his newfound wealth, José had developed fine taste in interior decoration.
Hurried footsteps sounded from an adjacent room. Heading straight for the foyer. Two people, King figured. Possibly Raul’s family. Possibly hired killers. Whatever the case, he couldn’t take the chance.
He raised the barrel of his rifle.
A pair of women burst into sight, hurrying through an open set of double doors. Their eyes were wide. They hadn’t been expecting visitors. The woman in front had to be in her late twenties. She was beautiful. She kept her long silky hair tied back in a ponytail. She had olive skin and pearly white teeth and a slender figure.
Must be Ana.
The other woman was much older. She was short and mousy with deep wrinkles in her cheekbones signifying a struggle through years of hardship. She stared at King with terror in her eyes. He knew what she was feeling. She had worked so hard to escape her chaotic life. And now there was a tall stranger aiming an automatic weapon at her and her daughter.
King saw the two of them and felt an enormous weight lift off his chest. The constant unease and worry and questioning was gone. The two of them were safe. José had been telling the truth.
He couldn’t help but smile with joy. He opened his mouth to speak.
They saw the gun and screamed in unison.
CHAPTER 49
Raul’s mother had an instinctual response to the firearm. She first spread her arms out wide, acting as a human shield for her daughter. Even in the tense situation, King admired her courage. Next she charged at him. Her face balled into a mask of anger and she sprinted in an attempt to deter her would-be attacker. If King had hostile attentions, it would have spelt certain death for her. Thankfully, he had no such inclinations.
He stepped aside and tossed the HK417 to the floor. It hit the marble with a loud clang and slid across the foyer, coming to rest on the other side of the room. An instant way to diffuse the tension. The old woman stopped immediately and furrowed her brow, confused by the sudden turn of events.
Then Raul stepped through the door and saw them.
At first, nothing happened. The three stood frozen, taking a second to process the sight before them. King made sure to stay out of the way. He did not wish to interrupt such a reunion. Especially after what it had taken to reach this point.
The trio flung themselves together in a tight hug, spilling out a year’s worth of emotions. They bowed their heads together and sobbed without restraint, holding each other close, letting the frustration seep away.
King thought better of his position and decided to retreat into one of the adjacent rooms. This was not his moment. He would let them speak. He would let Raul break the news of Luis’ demise. He did not wish to loiter awkwardly in the corner and watch events unfold. He had brought the three of them together, and now he would let them become reacquainted in private.
He had a phone call to make.
He stepped into a living room complete with a U-shaped leather sofa and an enormous flat-screen television built into the far wall. More high ceilings. More exquisite decorations. The entire house had a feeling of grandeur to it that directly juxtaposed the grimy warehouse José worked from. King guessed that the man kept his work and home life distinctly separate.
He found what he was looking for in no time. A corded home phone rested on one of the tables just inside the entrance. He picked up the receiver and dialled the number still scrawled on the scrunched-up scrap of paper in his pocket.
José answered on the first ring.
‘I assume you worked out I was telling the truth,’ he said.
‘I did,’ King said.
‘So there are no hard feelings?’
‘I guess not.’
‘I’m sorry that I used you for my own interests.’
‘Don’t worry,’ King said, and smiled. ‘I would have done the exact same thing.’
‘Oh, I know that. I certainly don’t doubt what you told me of your past. Not many people could survive what you just attempted. On that note … where the hell is my truck?’
‘The Cobra?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought I’d park it for you. It’s near the ground floor somewhere.’
A pause. King heard José walking on the other end of the line. Then another pause. ‘Is that what that enormous hole is in the side of the ship?’
‘You’re on it.’
‘Jesus. That’s going to be a hassle to solve.’
‘Not my problem. You sent me to die.’
‘You sent yourself to die. I covered you in armour to try and avoid that. Let’s call it even.’
‘I can respect that. I must say — you don’t sound too bothered about what I did to Roman.’
‘We were business associates,’ José said matter-of-factly. ‘Not friends. He was a cruel man, just like we all are. You have to be in this line of work. Initially I was mad — but now I get the lion’s share of the profits, don’t I?’
King shook his head. ‘Crazy world. Can I ask a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why are Raul’s family here? You directly disobeyed Rico. He would have found out eventually. He would have butchered you.’
‘We were in the final stages of preparing the shipyard assault. At that point it didn’t matter what I did. We were hoping to bury him well before he caught onto it. Besides, it wasn’t his smartest move asking me to take care of things.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Ana and I…’
Everything clicked. ‘Ah.’
‘The things you do for love, hey?’
King smiled. ‘I wouldn’t know. But I’m glad you’ve found someone that makes you happy.’
‘You got a woman?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You should find one. Might settle you down.’
‘I see that hasn’t worked so well for you.’
‘Touché,’ José said. ‘So where does the great Jason King go from here?’
‘Somewhere quiet, I think.’
‘You enjoy that. I have many hard years ahead.’
‘Your decision.’
‘Never said it wasn’t. I relish hard work.’
King raised an eyebrow. ‘You patronising me? Saying I don’t work hard?’
‘Not at all, my friend.’
‘You should hear some stories…’
‘I can only imagine.’
‘I’m done with that life.’
‘You don’t seem to be.’
José was right. King said nothing in return, but he found himself thinking hard. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d told himself he was done. Done with fighting, done with killing, done with violence. He’d been through hell down in a small country town in Australia, and now he’d been put through a second round in Venezuela. He began to wonder if peace would ever come.
He thought he might get himself killed trying to find it.
‘Want some advice?’ José said after a lengthy period of silence.
‘I’m all ears,’ King said.
‘Go find some place in the middle of nowhere. Lay low for a while. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t provoke anyone. If someone tries to start trouble, turn and walk away. That’s how you settle down.’
‘I’m trying, José,’ King said. ‘Trust me. I’m trying.’
‘Can you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘If you get provo
ked, can you ignore it?’
King tightened his grip on the phone. ‘I honestly don’t know. Seems like I can’t.’
José sighed. ‘Hate to say it, my friend, but you might just be made for this life.’
‘I might just be.’
‘Good luck, King. And don’t worry about Raul. I’ll take good care of the three of them. You have my word.’
The line went dead. King spent a long time cradling the phone in his hand, staring at nothing in particular.
Thinking.
Maybe it was time to shake things up. Just like that, he made a decision.
No more travel. No more hopping from country to country, willingly heading into dangerous locations. Maybe he had been looking for trouble all this time — subconsciously. Putting himself in situations where he knew he could retaliate. He thought back to the crowded bazaar in the heart of Maiquetía, where the madness had begun. If he’d simply stepped aside to let the short thug pass by, none of this would have happened. He would have continued on with his nomadic existence until the next sign of trouble reared its head.
But then where would Raul be? Still in El Infierno.
Would José’s assault on the Movers have succeeded without King’s help?
Would it have backfired spectacularly, leading to the slaughter of Raul’s family after Rico discovered what José had done?
More than likely.
King sighed and headed out of the living room. Truth was … he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. Even in hindsight.
He stepped into the foyer and saw the two women staring at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Their eyes were bloodshot and their cheeks were puffy. They’d been crying.
‘I told them what you did for me,’ Raul explained. ‘What you did for Luis.’
King shrugged. ‘Not a problem.’
‘They don’t speak English. But they want you to know that they will always be in your debt.’
King smiled. Raul’s mother crossed the room and held out a plump hand. King took it. Her skin was warm. She squeezed hard, and King noted the gratitude in her eyes. He nodded acknowledgement and smiled back.
