Justice

by Blake, Russell

  Jet decided to try a different approach. “Who’s the woman who called me just now?”

  “Who? I…I don’t…know…”

  “Why is she after my boyfriend? She says she kidnapped my daughter.”

  “I…maybe…Luis…guests…foreign…”

  “Is one of those guests a woman?”

  “I…think…”

  Jet ran her hands over the man’s jacket and found another Glock – which seemed to be the mandatory weapon for Luis’ thugs. She rose and moved cautiously to the other bodies. One other gunman was still alive, holding his throat as if he could stop the bright flow of arterial blood with his hand. He’d dropped his weapon several feet away and was lying in a red pool, so no threat, but she still frisked him, removing a fourth Glock as a trophy before she turned with the weapons and walked to the entry door.

  She set all but one pistol on the dining room table, which had been shattered in three places by stray rounds, and moved to the rear of the house, where the door to the cellar stood locked. She knocked, taking care to do so from the side in case Sofia’s frazzled nerves had her shooting at the slightest sound.

  “Sofia. It’s me. Open the door. It’s over.”

  Several seconds later the sound of a bolt sliding free greeted her. Sofia pushed the door open, the shotgun clenched in her hand, her knuckles white – and thankfully, her fingers not on the triggers. Jet nodded, maintaining eye contact, and took the weapon from her, easing the hammers back into place so the gun wouldn’t go off accidentally.

  “Is it safe?” Sofia asked, her voice hushed.

  “For the time being. But the house is going to need some repairs…”

  Bella joined them with Catalina in tow and they moved into the living room, Sofia’s expression of shock at the destruction not unexpected after several hundred rounds had been fired through the windows.

  “Oh…my God…”

  “God has very little to do with this.”

  “And the gunmen?”

  “Dead. Except for one or two. You need to call the police and get ambulances out here. And Sofia… Valentine didn’t make it. He got at least one of the bastards, though.”

  Bella’s face fell and tears streamed down her face as she absorbed the news, her eyes roaming over the walls, bullet holes everywhere. Sofia was about to say something when lights washed over the room through one of the gaping windows. Jet moved to the side of the window and peered out at the drive, where several SUVs were pulling through the gate.

  “Sofia. Hit the lights. This isn’t finished.”

  “But…”

  Jet pulled the Glock from her waistband and held it at the ready.

  “Do it. Now.”

  Chapter 18

  Sofia switched off the lights and the house plunged back into darkness. Jet moved to the dining room and grabbed two more Glocks, sliding one into her waistband, leaving one gripped in each hand. She ran in a crouch to the nearest window and stopped, peering out into the darkness for several seconds before turning to Sofia.

  “What kind of cars do your parents and their bodyguards drive?”

  “Toyota Land Cruisers. Both white.”

  Jet relaxed and tossed the weapons back onto the table. “False alarm, then. It’s them. Better tell them what happened before one of the bodyguards starts shooting at us.”

  Sofia turned the lights back on and strode to the entry door, her eyes lingering on the damage the torrent of bullets had done to almost every surface. She pulled the heavy wooden slab wide and gasped when she saw the three vehicles parked there, corpses strewn around them, her parents’ security men standing by their SUVs with their weapons drawn.

  She raised her hands over her head and took a cautious step onto the porch. “Dad? Mom? It’s me. Sofia. Carlos, it’s Sofia. It’s okay. They’re all dead.”

  Carlos, a tall man with a fighter’s build, thick black hair, and a serious expression, was the most senior of the bodyguards and had been with Sofia’s parents for a decade.

  “Sofia! What happened?” Carlos called. “Step out here so I can make sure nobody’s holding a gun on you.”

  “Okay. Just don’t shoot me.” Sofia walked down the stairs, keeping her hands in the air. “Better?”

  Carlos slowly lowered his weapon and the other two bodyguards did the same. He glanced at the bodies on the ground and made a hand signal to the other vehicle. The door of the second Toyota opened to reveal an older man with gray hair gelled straight back off his regal forehead, wearing a double-breasted navy blazer and wheat slacks.

  “Sofia!”

  “Papa!” she said and ran to him. They embraced, then he held her at arm’s length.

  “What is this? Are you all right? And Catalina?”

  The passenger door opened and Sofia’s mother stepped out of the truck, managing to look glamorous even in a sweater and khaki pants as she rounded the front fender to hug her daughter.

  Sofia shook her head. “Everyone’s all right. These men were part of the kidnapping ring.” She told them what had happened. “They came to finish the job.”

  “But how? How did you…”

  “I didn’t. My friend Rebecca did.”

  “Rebecca?”

  “Yes. We wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for her. None of us. She got Catalina back, and she killed these men. Single-handedly.”

  Her father took in the bullet-riddled vehicles and contorted forms of dead men. He scowled. “A woman did all this?”

  Jet appeared in the doorway, brushing dirt off her sleeves as she eyed the new arrivals. “Not all of it. Valentine gave his life protecting us.” She descended the three stairs from the porch and approached the group. “I’m Rebecca.”

  Sofia’s mother stood, apparently unsure of how to respond to the apparition of the woman who’d saved her daughter’s and granddaughter’s lives, and then hugged her in a burst of emotion while her father looked on, his face somber.

  “Rebecca used to be in law enforcement…” Sofia started.

  Jet nodded. “That’s right. And I got very lucky with your hunting rifle. I was able to flank them.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Lucky, eh? How many men were there?”

  “Looks like they sent a dozen,” Jet said.

  “And you were able to defeat them with my rifle?”

  “Not all of them. I got my hands on one of their machine guns, which made it a more even fight.” Jet paused. “I’m afraid your house is a mess, though.”

  Sofia’s father glanced around at the carnage. “I thought I’d seen everything in my army days, but this…this…defies description.”

  Jet frowned and lowered her voice. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you. I questioned one of the survivors. The man behind this is some kind of local criminal boss. A thug named Luis. I don’t think there’s any way he’s going to stop coming for Sofia.” Jet paused. “I don’t know why, but look around you. He planned to flatten the place, and her with it.”

  Sofia cut in. “My father’s a senator. He can get the army mobilized if he has to.”

  “That’s not going to work. A man like that will have contacts everywhere. There’s only one way to deal with him,” Jet countered. “A surgical preemptive strike.”

  Sofia’s father eyed her and moved away from them. Jet took several steps as well and waited. “You have something in mind?” he asked.

  “Yes. But you need to know something I just learned. My daughter was kidnapped tonight while I was saving Catalina.”

  Sofia overheard, and her expression changed to shock as she rushed forward. “What? Hannah? No.”

  Jet nodded. “I’ve got powerful reasons to want to take Luis down, and do it before there’s any word on the street about this mess. My daughter’s life depends on it.”

  Sofia’s father nodded. “What can we do to help?”

  “For starters, I was never here.”

  He cleared his throat. “Fair enough. Valentine fought the good fight, as did my daughter.
”

  “And there has to be a complete communications blackout, even within the police force, for at least the next few hours. Until morning, preferably.”

  “That’s easy. I know the chief of police. One phone call handles that.”

  “There can’t be any leaks,” she warned.

  “It will be arranged. What else?”

  “You should get a small army here, just in case.”

  “Done.” He regarded his daughter. “Would you excuse us, Sofia?”

  “Of course, Papa,” she said, returning to where her mother was standing, surveying the slug-pocked walls in shock.

  He waited until she was out of earshot and leaned in to Jet. She could smell his cologne, which was undoubtedly expensive, as was everything about him. “What can we provide you with, young lady? Name it. Whatever you can think of, it’s yours.”

  “I don’t need anything. I’ll take some of the weapons they brought. That’s it.” Jet hesitated and her eyes darted to Tomás’ car. “Oh, and your five hundred thousand dollars is in the trunk of the Mercedes.”

  Sofia’s father shook his head and studied her untroubled expression with amazement. “I…don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you in my entire life.”

  “You’ve been lucky.”

  Jet’s phone vibrated. She excused herself to take the call, moving to the corner of the house as she thumbed the line to life.

  “Hello?”

  Matt’s voice echoed on the line. “We’ve got a serious problem.”

  “Matt! You’re alive!”

  “Barely. I’ve got a broken arm, and my bruises have bruises. But I’m ambulatory.” He sounded worked, but his usual self, she thought with relief.

  “Where are you?”

  “I was just released from the hospital half an hour ago. That’s not important. Listen to me. I was attacked at the apartment.”

  “I know.” She paused. “They got Hannah.”

  “What?”

  “They took her. Who are they, Matt?”

  “CIA-affiliated black ops. Arthur’s colleagues must have traced me somehow – I would have thought that was impossible, but with technology changing daily, I guess you never know.” Matt hesitated. “The woman heading the team…we have some history. She’s the best they’ve got, and completely ruthless. If she’s got Hannah…”

  “She called. She wants me to do a trade. You for Hannah.”

  “That bitch. I can’t believe–” He explained his history with Tara, culminating in the attack and his interview with the police, whom he’d fed a story about an attempted robbery of the apartment.

  “She’s working with the gang that kidnapped Catalina, Matt. I know where their headquarters is.” She told him about Luis’ warehouse and described the battle she’d just fought at Sofia’s parents’ estate. Matt took it all in without comment. When Jet was done, an uncomfortable silence hung on the line.

  “What are you planning to do?” he asked softly.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “With a broken arm, after a five-story fall? Are you kidding me?”

  “I can still hold a gun.”

  “No offense, sweetheart, but you’re a liability now. I can’t afford a liability. I’ll have one chance to take these scumbags out, and it’s got to go flawlessly.”

  “You don’t know Tara.”

  “She doesn’t know me.”

  She could practically hear him scowl through the phone. “I can’t let you do this alone.”

  “Matt. Listen to me. I need you to think for a second. I appreciate that you want to help, but I don’t need any. I’m going to find this Luis and wipe the floor with him. And I have very little time to do it. He’s working with Tara, and she’s got Hannah, so every second I delay is another that this psychopath could be hurting her.” She sighed. “I don’t want to argue, okay? Just please stay out of it and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “You can’t take on a mob stronghold by yourself.”

  Jet surveyed the drive, a sliver of tangerine moon rising in the sky, the bodies of dead men lying everywhere, the vehicles shot to pieces, Sofia’s parents standing by the bodyguards, whose weapons were still clutched in their hands. She smiled humorlessly.

  “Wanna bet?”

  Chapter 19

  The wind off the Andes had increased, carrying with it a chill redolent of year-round snow and wet stone chasms, and it rocked the Land Rover as Jet accelerated onto the highway back to Mendoza. Six minutes into her drive, she passed a line of police vehicles racing in the opposite direction. Sofia’s father had sworn to run interference for her until she could either complete her errand, or die in the process. On the passenger seat beside her was an Uzi one of the gunmen had been using, three spare magazines, and two of the Glocks, now reloaded, a spare mag for each in her pocket.

  She had no idea what she’d be walking into at the industrial building that Luis used as a headquarters, but she was confident that whatever it was, she’d prevail, as she had so often before. This time the stakes were as high as any mission she’d ever embarked upon, and she would not fail. Luis was as good as dead, as was the elusive Tara, who was going to learn before the night was through that she’d taken on far more than she’d bargained for.

  At least Matt is in one piece, she thought. Although it was more than obvious to Jet that their idyllic life together in Mendoza had come to an abrupt end and they’d need to get out of Argentina immediately if they wanted to be safe.

  The off-ramp to the industrial area where Luis’ compound was located was dark, the streetlights nonfunctional. Graffiti covered the light poles as well as every visible section of gray concrete embankment. Squat homes, tiny rectangles of brick with iron bars crisscrossing the windows, lined the road. The cars parked in front were relics, most of them rusting heaps from the sixties and seventies. As she continued on, the neighborhood degraded, until she crossed a small river and was among the warehouses and office buildings.

  Jet parked several blocks from the building and studied the approach – a desolate thoroughfare plunged in gloom, no sign of life other than a few lights brightening her target’s grimy windows. She slipped the Glock into her waistband and shouldered the strap of the Uzi, taking care to pull the windbreaker she’d borrowed from Sofia’s father over it as a cover. That was one of the positives of the small size of the submachine gun, the negative being that its effective range was only two hundred yards.

  Jet was the only person on the street, not surprising given the hour and the district. She crossed to the block next to Luis’ building, sticking to the shadows along the other properties, her rubber soles soundless on the concrete.

  A furry black form shot from a crevice and ran across her path followed by another, larger animal, startling her. She realized it was a rat being chased by a cat even as her finger found the gun’s trigger. She forced her breathing back to even, her pulse throbbing in her ears. Up at the next block she saw a cloud of smoke drift lazily from the front of Luis’ building, where two men were standing, their cigarettes a giveaway to their position – for which Jet was thankful, because it not only told her where the guards were, but also meant they weren’t expecting trouble.

  Jet turned the corner and rounded the block, taking her time on the perimeter, watching for more guards but seeing none. A frontal approach was to be avoided given her army of one, so she was depending upon stealth to penetrate Luis’ defenses. She studied the concrete wall running along the sidewalk. Spray-painted gang tags marred nearly every inch and it was topped with barbed wire. After confirming that the large, flat-roofed, single-story structure beyond the wall was Luis’ building, a tentative plan gelled. It would be a difficult way to get in, but she’d done harder.

  She stopped at the base and listened. Every nerve was raw, on high alert for any evidence of movement on the other side – dogs, a patrol, a lone guard. Several minutes of complete quiet convinced her that there was nothing
there. After adjusting the submachine gun strap so it was secured to her back and rolling up the windbreaker and stuffing it partially into her pocket, she ran toward a large tree growing along the sidewalk no more than seven feet from the wall. Momentum carried her several yards up the trunk and she pushed off with her right leg, propelling herself higher as she spun in midair, arms stretched above her head.

  Jet hit the wall hard, which nearly knocked the wind out of her. Her fingers locked onto the top with a vise-like grip and she used the energy from the jump to bounce upwards. At the top of the wall, balancing like a gymnast, she whipped the windbreaker free and draped it over the coils of barbed wire. After a long glance at the inky ground on the inside of the compound, she shifted the gun to her chest and hoisted herself over the razor-sharp metal before dropping to the ground, tucking and rolling as she landed.

  She was on her feet in seconds, the Uzi in her hands, scanning the yard. No alarms sounded, no gunfire erupted from the darkness, no warning cries echoed through the grounds, so part one of her incursion had gone as well as could be hoped.

  Jet edged along the brick surface of the warehouse, peering into the gloom as she took cautious steps, weapon at the ready. Three-quarters along the building’s rear, she came to a single steel door, its knob marred with a dusting of corrosion. She tried twisting it, but the deadbolt above it was locked. She eyed the keyhole and reached into her pocket, pausing to listen before setting the gun down next to her and kneeling, two primitive lock picks fashioned from hair pins in her hand.

  Thirty seconds of work and the deadbolt opened with a soft click. She replaced her picks and retrieved the submachine gun, senses tingling as she readied herself for the most difficult part – locating Luis in a building that occupied the better part of a block. The interior would be black as pitch, judging by the few high, barred windows near the roofline.

  When she pushed the door open, a klaxon sounded in the cavernous space. Any thoughts of subterfuge fled as the intrusion alarm alerted the occupants that the building had been breached. As expected, the interior was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination the moonlight filtering through the grimy glass above her head. She worked across the warehouse floor, dodging pallets heaped with wooden crates, aware that she had only moments before she was attacked by guards. Across the expanse glimmered a bar of light below what she assumed was a door. She ran toward it.