Lynn stared at the now cringing Maria. “Hey, girlfriend, how come you didn’t mention the slave trade?”
“I thought you might kill us all immediately,” Maria admitted, looking away.
“You are going to have some real work ahead of you when your brother gets sent to hell.” Lynn turned to me. “What do you think about these Albanian guys?”
“We’ll have to play this out with Brannigan first. After it’s established he’s passed away of natural causes, and Maria assumes his position, we’ll keep track of all the rats fleeing the sinking ship. I know it’s not very thrilling, but would you mind staying behind with Jafar, and begin getting a database together of Brannigan’s enterprises.”
“Sure, DL. Our party down in Belize was enough fun for me with the commando ops. I have a change of clothes here. I’m going to get a shower after I put these three into a holding cell.”
“Is…is that really necessary?”
I answered that one. “Yeah, Maria, it is. Keep cooperating and we’ll have you three out of here tomorrow. Our holding cells are pretty nice.”
Lynn clucked in annoyed agreement. “That’s for sure. They’re more like a damn motel room. C’mon, let’s get you three settled in. I’ll be around later after a little nappy to find out what the big bad has going in his empire.”
After she led the trio out, I walked over with Dev and Jesse. They were watching an A’s game on TV in our social room. “I’ll need you guys for transport and pickup late. Why don’t you both take off until eight. I’ll put the route on your pads. We’ll take the SUV. I’ll have Lynn and Jafar take care of our guests for now.”
“Tommy told us about your meeting with The Destroyer,” Dev said, as he and Jess got up to leave. “Jess and I looked up his fights, including the match in Nigeria where he knocked the shit out of the Big O. Do you want the good news first or the bad news?”
Jess is already grinning at Dev’s choice of words. I smell a set up. “Go ahead, wise-guy, lay it on me. I can tell you two have been biding your time for the right moment. Don’t let me spoil it.”
“The good news is I’ll be throwing the towel in thirty seconds after the fight starts. The bad news is you’ll already be crippled from the waist down.”
After their hee-haw together, Jess gripped my shoulder. “That guy is like the missing link, John. Dev and I haven’t found the chain he’s missing from though, because it exists in some hell dimension… probably where Montoya came from.”
“You have an absolute solid shot again in the UFC,” Dev added. “What in hell do you want to play around with that white Hulk for? You know our Oakland renovated arena’s the only place you’ll be able to give him a shot. The UFC won’t put a nobody out there with you.”
I shrugged. “Alexi called in a favor. I have you two written into my will, so don’t get all sappy on me. Did you happen to figure out something I could work on that doesn’t involve my surrendering before the fight starts?”
Both of them laughed at my having written them into my will. I actually do have a severance amount for them written in if something out of the ordinary happens to me. I’ve been dividing up all our plunder from the recent stream of idiot terrorists we’ve been dealing with. Jafar is getting real good at offshore accounts. My friends, Devon Constantine and Jesse Brown would be amazed at how well they’ll be off if something does happen to me.
“We have come up with a plan, DL,” Dev said. “Clint told us you’re real good with a sniper rifle. You’ll have to do Destroyer on his way into the building.”
“Yeah, brother, nuke him from orbit,” Jess added.
“Get out of here and get some sleep. We’re leaving from here.” They were still snorting amusement as they waved and walked to our exit. Man, the Dark Lord gets no respect from his minions. When I turned toward the rest of my crew, they were all watching me, including Denny. Apparently everyone had enjoyed the Dev and Jess show. They had all been cleaning weapons and equipment for tonight’s Brannigan party, but were in dead pause at being able to hear the Dark Lord’s projected demise. I didn’t care. The aspirin were finally kicking in.
“We’ve been hearing about your Fiialkov opponent from your cage partners, John,” Denny broke the ice first. He had been watching Jafar work the Tahoe plans while networked with Laredo in our control room. “Tommy’s already planning your funeral services.”
I smiled at the others, enjoying not only the prediction of my demise, but now my funeral services too. Good to know. “Same old, same old, Denny. My very loyal crew has me buried every time I fight now… the pricks.”
That got a laugh. Jafar’s shoulders were shaking in amusement, but he didn’t turn from his laptop screen. I sat down with them at the table they were working at, and had all my gear shoved at me by prior arrangement I could tell. “Gee… guys… thanks for cleaning my gear while I had the arduous task of riding herd on the Cleaner.”
Lucas came after me like a Marine drill sergeant should. “Why you little panty waist prima donna sack of shit! How dare you even hint at us cleaning your gear for you, pussy!”
“Thanks, Lucas… I needed that.” I caught the cleaning kit thrown at my head.
“That’s thank you, Sir, you boot camp, low life cunt!”
Casey howled, stomping around like the Delta Force prick he is. Lucas has upbraided him worse, and I can tell he’s enjoying my time on the grill. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, Case. I want all of you there for my cage match with the Destroyer. You can all root for him. Did Tommy tell you he tried to put the vice on me?”
That cracked them all up. Even Jafar had to stop in order to enjoy the moment.
“Tommy did it perfectly for us before we left for Belize,” Clint said, imitating the Destroyer’s opening mouth and knitted brow of unexpected pain. “Too bad your cage match isn’t a duel of shaking hands the hardest, meat.”
“I tried to teach this boot camp some manners when I first met him,” Lucas admitted. “The bastard’s some kind of freak – nearly crushed me with that fuckin’ know it all smile on his face. John needs a good lesson. He’s getting’ too damn cocky. Time for the Destroyer to give him a little perspective. Get his ass down here with us mere mortals.”
I was soaking it all in. These guys are the best of the best. They can ring my ass up for their amusement any time. “Luca pulled his .45 out and aimed it at my head after I released him. He said-”
“Touch me like that again and I air your damn head out!” Lucas even got the inflection right from that moment long ago.
“All I remember is that damn .45 pointed at my head after Denny introduced us… ah… good times.”
Lucas laughed at that one. “We sure are going to get a snakehead tonight, brothers. I don’t know how it will all end up, but at least that son of a bitch Brannigan will be out of the picture. That is the bottom line… isn’t it, Spawn?”
Denny grinned at his nickname. “Brannigan dies tonight. That is priority number one. I’m sure he could be interrogated for God knows how many hours on shit he knows, but that prick is too dangerous. I’m well aware of how many ways this could go sideways. His death is not one of them. If the assault team has problems of any sort the order is weapons free. I don’t give a shit if we have to shoot our way out of Lake Tahoe.”
That’s plain enough. “We’ll get it done, Denny. I don’t see the gas not working. If it doesn’t work quite as well as we hope, maybe nobody will miss those Albanian bodyguard assholes. I know I won’t.”
There was muffled agreement with my line of thought on the matter.
“Let’s hope this goes down as planned guys,” Denny stated after a moment. “That Belize incursion was the best I’ve ever seen by anyone with the complications that popped up. This is the word on that from the top: excellent. Murderer’s Row lived up to expectations without a hitch on the op. We have in our hands a way to reshape destiny if tonight’s gig can be accomplished without incident. Making way for a Maria Brannigan takeover b
y natural causes is our goal. Let’s concentrate on that above all else. We can deal with the Albanian killers later. If on our way to that goal, some other entity steps in the way… well then… shit happens.”
Chapter Seven: Emerald Bay Sanction
Dev and Jess let us off at a little after midnight overlooking Emerald Bay. We had decided on approaching Brannigan’s house around the land tip of the shore separating Emerald Bay from the main lake which bordered his house. Only a quarter moon showed its sliver of light through the windblown clouds. We moved down through the thick forest along a nearly obscured path, night-vision goggles in place. Having allowed plenty of time to reach the target, and our movements masked by darkness as well as a stiff breeze blowing through the Tahoe area, the steep descent to the bay shoreline proceeded with tedious care. I played packhorse with our very potent gas canister. It contained a less lethal derivative of the Naloxone gas the Russians used. We had employed it with very good results for the Dubai hit. No one spoke a word.
Reaching the Emerald Bay shoreline, we struck out at an easier pace along the fingertip of land acting as a partial barrier from the lake until we were in position to cut across the undeveloped forest area to the Cascade Community development. Stepping up our pace unobserved through the dense woods, and skirting the tip of highway 89, an hour passed before the Lake Tahoe shoreline became visible. Staying along the shoreline until reaching the first houses in the development, we slowed down into stealth mode the rest of our way.
Brannigan’s place arched upwards from the shore’s rocky escarpment to a beautiful porch with what could only be a gorgeous vista of the lake. Lights were on inside the house. One of the Albanian guards sat on the balcony overlooking the lake. If he didn’t go inside, Casey would put a silenced .50 caliber round through his head. That would launch Plan B. There would be no survivors – messy, and to be avoided at all costs. We made no noise, enjoying the hushed whisper of water stirred on the shore by a gentle wind. At nearly two-thirty in the morning, the house lights went out, leaving only the dim yellowish glow of nightlights in the main living room. The guard went inside. We began our approach to the air conditioning unit on the right side of the house.
I was damn glad to get the stupid canister off my back. With Lucas and Casey watching our backs, Clint and I found the nearest place we could start our encased gas line through the ducting. It had a camera at the tip so we could watch its progress. When it reached the center according to the plans we had, I turned on the gas. We were using Denny’s calculations with exactly the amount in the canister to subdue the household. By 3am we entered through the rear enclosed balcony with our gas masks in place.
We stayed in teams while clearing the house. Lucas and Casey made sure the guards were out cold but still breathing. That was key. If the gas had been more lethal than expected, it would have been time for Plan B once again. Clint and I found Brannigan in bed with a woman companion. Clint took her picture and Brannigan’s while I administered his eternity shot between his left big toe and the one next to it. We watched as his body began to convulse slightly. I double checked his vitals to make sure he was in hell before positioning him with one hand clutching his black heart, and the other grasping his companion’s hand. That left only the tricky part of airing out the house until all traces of gas were gone. The venting system on high blow sped up the process. Lucas gave us the all clear from his monitoring walk through with digital meter. We locked up and left.
By 4am we were moving over the last part of the land finger forest to the Emerald Bay shoreline. An hour after that we loaded our gear into the Dev and Jess transport special, hosted by a delighted Denny.
“You guys are beginning to worry me,” Denny broke the silence. “The damn missions have been flawless lately, and I don’t like it. If it wasn’t for the Dark Lord getting ready to have his head separated from his body to calm the waters of cosmic balance, I don’t know what the hell I’d do.”
“Maybe you ought to put your money where your mouth is, Spawn,” I retorted, observing the unabashed mirth echoing around in the van at Denny’s pronouncement. “I have ten grand says you’re nothin’ but a loudmouth, no account, huckster, and the Destroyer’s goin’ down.”
More laughter, including Denny. He looked around at his companions. “How about it guys? Want a piece of the action?”
Clint shook his head no. “DL’s a pain freak. I know his chest hurt like hell. He lugged the damn gas canister all over the forest tonight, and the goofball was smiling the whole time.”
“Did not.” I don’t think I did.
“Clint’s right,” Lucas said. “I ain’t bettin’ against him. If he does win over that two eyed Cyclops he’ll rag us for a solid year about it.”
“I saw him get choked out by the Slayer in Vegas,” Jess stated. “He croaked like a damn toad, but still won.”
“He’s a freak,” Dev piled on. “It’s a sucker bet, playing the odds against a freak of nature.”
“Gee… thanks Dev.” I’ve slipped from the mantle of Dark Lord to freak of nature.
“You’re on your own, Spawn,” Casey finished Denny off. “I might only put a couple hundred on him to win, but I sure don’t want any of that ten grand against him. John’s a cement head just like Lora keeps repeating. I guess you better step up, Spawn. You’re all in.”
“Fine.” Denny leaned back in his seat with a big smile. “When the Destroyer gets through with him, I’ll get to gloat on my own, even though he’s screwin’ with our UFC angle.”
“That’s what you think, Spawn. I need to keep our buddy Fiialkov happy with this match. You don’t have anything he wants, so I’m our key to Interpol inside information. After I kick the Destroyer’s ass, I’ll have an extra ten grand to put in the coffers of Harding International Funds.”
“Or I’ll have ten grand to put into the coffers of Spawn International, and ragging privileges forever. I found the Destroyer’s match with the Big O. He destroyed him. I hate to say this partner, but maybe ducking him would be a good idea.”
Then it hit me. I started chuckling and nodding my head. Now I get it. There must be something on the Spawn tripwire about the upcoming UFC fight. “Okay, Spawn, I get it. What’s on the UFC radar you know about that I don’t? You know of course this silly game you play with maneuvering us chess pieces on the sly is really annoying, right?”
Denny shrugged comically amidst the silent smiling operatives he launched at his choosing. “Like Popeye said, ‘I am what I am’. Take it any way you want, meat. Quit whinin’, and let’s celebrate a little.”
Then Denny pulled out a big jug of Jim Beam from his bag. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Jesse looked with a pleading glance at Devon, who smiled and nodded. He was driving. Denny produced shot glasses for all of us from a pouch in his bag. Denny poured carefully. He lifted his.
“Nice work. Let’s hope our empire building goes well. Maria Brannigan seems motivated, but it’s tough to gauge reality when she’ll be controlling a hundred billion dollar empire.”
“One thing I do believe about Maria.” I sipped my shot. “She believes we’ll kill her if she doesn’t bring her brother’s company out of the darkness. She’s absolutely right. If she doesn’t put our changes into effect, and divest the anti-American crapolla off the ledger, I don’t like her chances.”
After an amused chorus of agreement, Jess spoke up. “Hey, can’t you guys shoot one of those nano-thingies into them so you’ll know where they are all the time?”
“I wish it were that easy, Jess,” Denny replied. “This isn’t the X-Files. They would know we injected them. The technology for micro devices like you’re talking about only exist in Hollywood movies right now. The power for a micro-device like that to transmit over any distance is just not out of the conception phase. We have an even more reliable way, although not quite as exciting, except to them. I plan to give Maria, Alexander, and Candice a special smart-phone with Lynn on their Fave Five speed dial. Jafar will of cou
rse be tracking them, but I plan to have the trio checking in with Lynn. You know how awkward things will get if any of them don’t talk to their new BFF on a regular basis, right?”
“Shit!” Jess’s one word hushed pronouncement drew more laughter. He gulped down his shot. “I’d rather have an ankle bracelet.”
“Speaking of Lynn, have you made any progress on our Gulf of Mexico cruise,” Clint asked. “I thought Senator Cassigan was really pushing the issue about his brother Stan’s disappearance. Did you get a chance to look over the threads I put together about the past incidents?”
“The Senator involved has backed away from it, Clint,” Denny answered, refilling everyone’s shot glass. “He left me high and dry. Wendell had to have been warned off. I did go over your preliminary notes. I think you found the missing clue with their financial reports. All four couples that disappeared, including Senator Wendell Cassigan’s brother, were in dire straits financially. They all had public personas of being rich beyond rich, but your research revealed what my people didn’t find – they were in debt up to their eyeballs.”
“They were taken in by a firm supposedly based in Tampico, Mexico,” Clint explained. “The couples were all very rich, but not in the manner they had on display in public. This fraud oil firm, called Tampico Oil and Gas supposedly had the rights to a relatively new rig already in place which had struck an oil pocket. The buy in was twenty-five million. These couples are asked to sail from Corpus Christi to inspect the investment, all of it under top secret negotiations. This company knew which couples had yachts, and ambitions about being high finance oil company owners. The scammers are not actually without setups in the Gulf. There are literally thousands of rigs in the Gulf. Tampico Oil and Gas owns three profitable ones.”
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 68
