GREED Box Set (Books 1-4)

by John W. Mefford

  Slowly, my mind was catching up. I blinked, and felt my hands locked together. I looked down and found a zip tie around my wrists.

  “They tied you up, threw you on this cot like a wild hog.” Her forehead was lined with creases. I could feel her stress, and my body stiffened, still taking in what she'd told me.

  “Who threw me on this cot?”

  “Franco, his cronies, hired guns.” Her eyes looked off, then she wiped away more tears.

  Neurons were beginning to fire, but my mental engine was still choking. I tried sitting up—pain ripped through my shoulder. When I fell back, the side of my head throbbed in cadence with my pulse.

  “Larry,” I said, recalling how the latest assault started.

  “Franco's got everyone on his payroll. Anything he needs to achieve his goal.”

  “What is his goal? What is all of this about?”

  She bit her lip, closed her eyes. She put a hand to the side of my cut-up face, then she cringed and reached for her shoulder. “I'm so sorry. I had to do what I did. I hurt you, many others in the process.”

  “What's wrong with your shoulder?”

  “I fought back earlier. I would have killed him if I could.”

  I reached for her shoulder.

  “I'm okay. It is nothing compared to what I've done to others.” Her head dipped lower.

  “I saw the pact,” I said.

  She shifted her eyes back to me.

  “We were rebels, yes. But I thought it was for a higher purpose.”

  I nudged my chin. I could tell this was hard on her, but I had to know.

  “We...the five of us grew up on the streets of Rio, no parents or family to take care of us. We were abused, raped,” she paused, swallowing hard. “When we finally met through our professional lives a couple of years back, we talked about the sins of our country, Brazil. So beautiful on the outside yet a nightmare for so many homeless kids. It's been ignored for far too long. We decided to do something about it.“

  I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

  “It was a lot of talk at first. We discussed protesting, pushing for a government inquiry, but after some effort, we knew that would go nowhere. Meanwhile, kids were dying on a daily basis, all while people discarded them like tissues. We had to stop it. So, we decided to pinpoint certain officials, and I would write a program to ruin their lives, take away their identities, and funnel their money to charities that supported the kids.”

  I saw empathy, but I also felt an inner strength from her. Defiance.

  I examined my surrounding space. The room was small, the cot set against a cinderblock wall. Empty cages sat on the floor. A tiny mirror and sink was mounted on the opposite wall. I saw two other rooms, one box-shaped, glass on all sides. Beyond that, a giant open space. I couldn't detect a ceiling from where I was lying. Computers, monitors, servers, desks, other devices, cables—all were organized like the place could function as a lab for a team of technicians or research scientists.

  “Did it work?”

  She put her head down. “We never implemented it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Franco had this vision...and...”

  She turned away.

  “He told me it would benefit the kids. He used me, my brain, my skills to develop something that would bring in more money than anyone could fathom. And it would all go to help the kids in Brazil, maybe others in other countries living in similar conditions.”

  My stomach did flip-flops, and my chest got tight. “What did you develop?”

  She laid her head on my chest and sobbed. Seconds later, she emerged, her face ten years older.

  “I created a weapon. It sends a toxic gas through certain computers, and people die once they inhale it. It's odorless, transparent. And you can't stop it. I'm the worst human being on this planet.” Her voice drifted off.

  The news report from Mumbai...the images of people trying to escape an invisible killer. Watching their faces, gasping for their last breath. Camila was the ultimate assassin.

  She saw my eyes leave hers.

  “I wanted to stop. In fact, I did at one point. But Franco kidnapped my one and only son, Juan. He is why I breathe, why I live.”

  I reached out for her, my hand touching her face. “I'm so sorry.”

  Camila cuddled against my hand, her eyes shutting, possibly feeling a few seconds of relief from the torture she'd been put through, from Franco and from herself.

  She jerked her head back and looked toward the exit.

  “Franco sold this...this weapon to the highest bidder, a madman out of China. But he also sold me. I can't see my son unless I travel to Hong Kong and continue to develop it, to help them make more money than anyone could ever use.”

  More tears.

  Just then, I heard a door crash open, boots on metal. Voices, not all speaking English.

  My body tensed, which helped break through the last of the mental cobwebs. Blood flowed through my veins at an elevated pace. I looked around—we were ducks in a concrete pond. I was bound, with no weapon, no way to escape. Camila, however, was a valuable asset. They'd treated her like a caged animal and took away her son. But they couldn't kill her.

  They had to kill me.

  Boots clanged off metal stairs, and voices grew closer. I knew this might be the end, my final epilogue of life. What did I want to say to Camila?

  “The night I first saw you...you were so beautiful. I called you The Natural.” It was corny, but I had to tell her.

  She actually cracked a grin then ran her ringers through my hair. “The day we spoke, I could tell something special existed inside of your heart.”

  I looked over her shoulder and spotted numerous heads weaving through the far room.

  “I thought you were the one...the one for me, for the next phase of my life.”

  She twisted her head, her eyes growing softer, her hands still brushing my hair.

  “I lost my wife almost two years ago. When I witnessed your brother's death, it tore me apart. I wanted to help you, to console you. To take your pain away.”

  “You are a special person, Michael. I only wish we could—”

  “Camila, are we ready for the big trip?”

  The voice had an accent, and he spoke with tremendous confidence. Actually, arrogance.

  Franco.

  He appeared just above my cot, a self-righteous smile exposing neon-white teeth, that same chiseled face, blond hair, and blue eyes I recalled the day he'd accosted Camila.

  “Mr. Doyle, I can see you enjoy your nurse. You are a lucky man.” He leaned forward and touched the back of Camila's blond, frazzled hair. She quickly flung her arm back, knocking his hand away.

  He eyed Camila as other men stepped into the room. It was like a congregation of old adversaries. The tall man with the crazy glass eye and his pudgy sidekick both stared holes through me. Larry was next to them. He looked my way ever so briefly then lowered his head like he was at church—for a funeral service. My funeral service, most likely. Or was he simply too ashamed by his betrayal?

  “You are a persistent person. That is a strong quality to have,” Franco said, splaying his arms while turning to the others in the room. His followers nodded. “But in the end, that persistence will be your ticket to die.“

  I licked dry, chapped lips, my heart slapping my chest so hard I thought Franco could hear it.

  Just then, other faces appeared. A chubby Asian man, barely able to clutch his hands in front of his obese body, two men on either side carrying automatic weapons. Two more appeared, athletic, wearing tight-fitting, black shirts with short, cropped hair. All except the Asian contingent looked familiar.

  “I'm sure Camila has told you all about our Cause. Despite what she says, this is why we are here. Outside of my new business partners from Hong Kong...”

  Larry shuffled his feet.

  “Ah, yes, and our friend Larry. Where would we be without our friend, Larry? We are all dedicated to the Cause, I assu
re you of that.”

  “The Cause?” Camila turned and rose to her feet, leaning toward Franco. “This is not about the Cause, never was. It is all about using me and everyone else to obtain riches. Killing people is just a part of the process.“

  Franco shook his head, his arrogant smile returning. “I can see Camila here is a bit torn up by all this. Creating equations, formulas...that's been her department. She is the brainchild for why we are here today.”

  Camila stepped forward and cocked her arm, ready to land a punch. The man with the glass eye jumped in front of Franco and caught the jab in the palm of his hand.

  “She is a feisty one. You're going to have your hands full.” Franco shook a derisive finger at Camila, then turned and gave a large smile to his Asian cash cow—emphasis on cow.

  “I don't understand people like you. Never have, never will,” I said to Franco, trying to sit up. “But that doesn't mean you have the right to manipulate the world to get what you want. All these people in here...they think they're in it for the Cause. They're either the most fucking naïve people around, or you're the best bullshitter since Jim Jones. Yes, the cult leader.“

  The room grew silent. A lump in my throat doubled in size, and I had to force air into my lungs.

  Franco took a step in my direction, as did the others. I was beginning to feel cramped, claustrophobic even, like we were all stuck in an elevator. The man with the model good looks shoved Camila aside, who fell into the arms of Glass Eye.

  “Michael Doyle, you think you're so above everyone. Former newspaper publisher, the man who uncovered the conspiracy in your hometown. The hero.” Franco's face was red, just inches from mine. I could smell onion from his breath. “Well, this isn't some bumfuck town in Texas, my friend. The Cause drove our mission. We will do everything in our power to carry it forward. It's all for the kids, I assure you.“

  I had nothing to lose, not at this stage. I gave him a sarcastic laugh.

  “Eventually, your leashed dogs will figure it out.”

  A few heads turned, then I said, “You can kill me, just like you've killed others. But it will catch up to you. Karma is a bitch.”

  He swatted a backhand across my face. I tasted copper—again. Just a nick on the lip, but it was more about his power and my humiliation in front of his lapdogs.

  “Fuck you, Franco!”

  Franco laughed, then turned his back to me. “It is time.”

  Within seconds, all sorts of arms had me upright, walking, guns pointed my direction, including one in the small of my back. Camila was about ten paces in front of me, surrounded by her own fan club. We weaved through the lab. I heard a few whispers around me, mostly non-English from what I could tell. I surmised they weren't going to kill me down in this dungeon, which had been used as Camila's lab. But I also knew I didn't have a ticket to travel to Hong Kong either. Somewhere in this trek, I'd have to look for that one chance to escape and hopefully save Camila. I figured my odds at coming out of this alive hovered right around one percent—at best.

  We climbed the stairs and stepped through the exit. Unexpectedly, we didn't turn left, the direction of the Playa building. My heart sank to a new low. In the back of my mind, I'd hoped that somehow Ji and the gang would figure out I'd been kidnapped and, thinking logically, would have been waiting outside the Playa building.

  What was I thinking? With all the muscle and firepower surrounding Camila and me...Andi, Ji, Satish—they'd be easy pickings for this team of assassins. I released a choppy breath and resigned myself to the fact that I was a dead man walking.

  Our path was well lit with flashlights, and the tunnel seemed never-ending, perhaps extending my life a few extra minutes. I could see Camila's blond hair up ahead, and I thought about her torment. The blood on her hands would haunt her forever...and maybe her offspring. While remorse and regret can eat away at your gut, the connection to family is more powerful. Her desire to be with her son had been her justification for creating this weapon that people would spend millions on, and her only reason for living.

  The metal tube curved left, then after about twenty feet, another section appeared, a fork. We veered right, and the single-file line continued the journey. Nothing in sight, except more tunnel, darkness. But they knew where they were going, it was obvious.

  I also knew where I was going—to the death squad. People died every day. But how many had time to think about their life just before it was about to end? My mind drifted back to Franklin, Texas. My Marisa, her sweet, sexy demeanor, her playfulness. Camila had captured my attention, but I'd only been open to looking at another woman because of Marisa, what I knew that she wanted for me. That's how much she loved me. I only wished I could hold Marisa once again, before I died at the hands of this maniacal lunatic.

  Minutes passed, and my energy seemed to seep from body, like a balloon leak. I'd been up for twenty-four hours, my shoulder throbbed, my head ached, the open wounds still stung all over my body. My tank was nearing empty. Maybe I'd run out of gas just as I rolled into the demolition yard.

  Suddenly, the person in front of me stopped, and I ran into his back, then I felt a gun jab my spine. I looked ahead. The tunnel ceased and a single ladder went upward. To where, I had no idea. I just knew the end was near, and my stomach twisted into a vicious knot.

  People shouted instructions and I heard a few people load their weapons. With half of the group already up the ladder, I debated if should kick the two nearest me and make a run back into the darkness. But that was sure death. Being shot in the back, dying in the filthy moat as snakes slithered around me...no thanks.

  I shuffled ahead, then grabbed a rung on the ladder. I couldn't climb with my hands bound. I looked at the guy behind me, and he could see my predicament.

  “Hurry up down there,” someone yelled.

  I held out my wrists. The guy looked around, pulled out a switchblade, and cut the zip tie in two. I mouthed a thanks and began the climb. I got to the top, noticing that we'd emerged through a trap door of some kind. I pretended to have my hands bound again. No one noticed...because the group was now squeezed into a small shack, surrounded by water equipment, landscaping tools, a wheelbarrow. The last person came out. I smelled BO like it was being shoved up my nose. I would have said something, had it not been for the multitude of guns within an arm's distance.

  Glass Eye opened the door to the shack, and that's when the split occurred. He, his round buddy, Franco, and the Asian group surrounded Camila, and they walked across a park. The two thugs and Larry ushered me in a different direction.

  I just noticed...this was the park near the fountain. A few lights illuminated patches of the open space, although the shack had been nestled inside a group of tall, bushy trees. I looked left at Camila, and she turned back to me. I wanted to do something, but they'd shoot me before I moved three feet. Emotion came over me. I didn't want Camila to leave. I didn't want to die...although part of me wondered if now was my time to join Marisa.

  I took in a breath.

  Without warning, something whizzed by my ear and exploded in the head of the thug in front. Fragments of skull and brain and blood sprayed everywhere. I nearly ate my tongue, but my reflexes sent me to the ground. I heard more gunshots, but I couldn't tell where they were coming from. The guy to my right fired into the trees, screaming at the same time, his triceps vibrating at the cadence of his automatic weapon firing. It was deafening. I heard more screams, and I jerked my head to the left. Camila's group was under assault as well. She was on the ground, the fat Asian man bleeding from the chest next to her.

  It felt like we'd been transferred to an Afghanistan war zone, our convoy raided by...who was this? Maybe a group who'd gotten shafted by Franco during this WMD dog-and-pony show? Could it be the good guys?

  Another shot just over my back. I looked behind me, and the thug to my left dropped his gun and grabbed his arm, blood squirting between his fingers. He fell to his knees, his face pouring with sweat. This was my chance. I star
ted crawling on my elbows and toes toward Camila. Seconds later, another shot and what sounded like a golf club taking a chunk of grass. I looked at the man again, and both hands surrounded a hole in his chest. I could have thrown a quarter in it, but I wasn't ready to play a drinking game.

  I squirmed again, moving my limbs as fast as they could go, toward Camila and the killers surrounding her. Franco was hunkered down behind one of his sharpshooters, who was firing off into the sky. I'm not sure who or where they were shooting, but bullets rained all around me.

  I kept moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Larry running, more like lumbering like an old donkey. He was headed to the shack. Twenty yards and closing. In a split second, a bullet pierced his head, blood shooting out of the other side of his skull, and he crumpled to the ground. Damn, someone was a good shot.

  I swallowed back a mouthful of bile and kept crawling, praying the bullets wouldn't find me or Camila. Ten feet away, Franco spotted me, with one eye still on the sky and the bullets aiming for him. His eyes were afraid, and that gave me a rush of energy. He tried to grab Camila, who slapped and kicked. He threw a punch, then another, both connecting to her face. She screamed as she kicked him away, got on all fours, and started crawling.

  Only five feet away, I yelled, “Camila, Camila. Stay down!”

  Just then, she pushed up with her one strong arm onto her legs and started running. Then, in an instant, something wild and violent exploded in her neck, and she was tossed to the ground. I looked left, and my eyes met Franco's, and then, our gazes shifting left some more, we stared at the man on one knee huddled next to him. I jumped up and raced to Camila. Blood was gushing from the side of her neck. I pressed my hand against the wound as she tried to speak.

  “I...I...”

  “Shhh. Don't talk. Save your strength.” Could she be saved? This was all I'd hoped for when Marisa had been killed...a chance to save her, to talk to her.

  Her body shook; her eyes bulged. I looked around and only saw people shooting, hearing more bullets landing with a thud on the ground around me.