Narrower Steps

by Riley Moreno

  Narrower Steps

  The Lee Coil Saga, Volume 1

  Riley Moreno

  Published by Riley Moreno, 2019.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 1

  Lee leans across the table, slides it over, nice and easy. No hesitation or comprise in how she does it either. His eyes light up with surprise and glee, knocking him aside and almost causing the man to sweat his balls off. The sweat glands are on the double! And he dabs at his forehead with the handkerchief that he has tucked away under his sleeve. Then tucks it right back in and blinks; looks up to Lee, blinks. Then reaches out to take it -

  “Slow down, Huckleberry Bob. I need your word.” Lee drags it back.

  “My word.” He pulls that handkerchief right out and holds it to his nose. Maybe he’s sniffing the sweat from a man who’s the size of the globe? And if he is, then he’d have to admit that he was both large and overflowing. Because he’s protruding from head to toe. It all hangs out; his lip, his stomach, his chin, his man breasts...even his bulging eyes that slip out from the eyelids like they’re about to leak out like a runny egg.

  His suit contains some dignity: a subtle and inexpensive allure, but it can’t hide the obtrusiveness of the fat underneath that wants to be let out and set free. Lee can smell him too and reckons perspiration but with a hint of cheap deodorant that probably stained his underarms more than it worked to disguise the smelly odor that he gives off.

  “That code for stupidity? Am I talking in tongues now? Yes, your word. The truth. The key to me walking into that building and coming out with the result that I’ve been working on for the past 2 – months. You, with the ability to wank all you want. And me, with the gratitude to not bust you for such an offense.”

  “I would think you’d judge my truthfulness by the buckets of sweat pouring.” He loosens the top 3 buttons and dabs inside of his chest. “I’m going to have to be put into protection for this. That’s all taken care of.” He looks over to Lee with more than concern on his mind.

  “You can be sure of that. I wouldn’t drag you so deep to fuck you over.”

  “But Lee, you’ve been known for your dirty tactics.” He lets out some air like a leaf blower. “Real hot in here.”

  “I apologize for the lack of ventilation in this vehicle. The sun has rightly and truly baked it into a sauna. And I should charge you for that.” She puts both her hands back on it. “You can count it later. It’s all we agreed and a little extra. If what you say is true, then I should uncork it and let it all out.”

  “You won’t be disappointed.” Lee slides it back over, hands still on top.

  “Open it ... please?” Eric asks with a tiny shiver that Rwanda feels herself.

  Lee stares at him consistently in the eye as she unlatches one side of the brown suitcase. It flips open with a swift click. When she gets to the other side it does the same. The briefcase is now waiting to be lifted; Rwanda raises it with both her hands until she can see his face light up brightly.

  “All signed. All agreed. You own it all. No more slaving and fraternizing under what is rightfully yours, Eric.”

  Eric glares down, picks up the paper documents and breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!” – Eric jumps, nearly dropping the papers in a panic. “Who’s that?” He turns behind to the van door. “Who’s that!?”

  “We want the all clear to go in? Cap’s asking questions. Wonders what’s taking so long?” The guy’s voice doesn’t come through all that clear, but Lee makes it all out just as well. Opening that backdoor would freak Eric out as cops usually do.

  “I’ll be out in two minutes. Tell him to just give me that.”

  “No problem.”

  It goes silent out there once again and Eric’s nervousness calms to a pin drop. “You need the key?

  “That’s the exchange. The only man to have it, right? If I find a carbon copy then -”

  He produces that key. Stainless steel and regular looking. “The only copy.” He places it in Lee’s palm. “Now ... what’s next?”

  “You wait here. An officer will be with you to take you back to your apartment. They will be none the wiser on who let us into their very secret hideout. And with that, I bid you ... adios!” Lee then leaps up, bending down low enough as to not hit the top of the van roof. She squeezes past Eric’s bulge of a body frame, narrowly missing his chunky meat thigh and then opens the van door.

  Lee closes it. And is then met with the outside darkness: a still and vividly tense air is about her when she takes a look around. The team that is awaiting advance forward to the building that lies before them; a four-story; white brick, with an outbreak of graffiti and dried paint.

  Her keen eyes tell her that they will go to the back. And they do. Lotan must’ve seen her get out. That was the signal to water those plants; get the men ready; the deal went down and it’s an icebreaker.

  She hears her walkie-talkie: fzzzzz bzzzz, she tunes it and keeps her voice low. Everything is low toned and silent. The only noise is the rustling of the heavy man inside that van probably trying to relax.

  The van shifts from side-to-side and she hopes to hell that he’ll relax a little. Or at least stop dancing inside of there. “This is Coil ... What’s the goose?”

  “The goose is gagging to know where you are? We need the key.”

  “And I need a promotion. We don’t always get what we ask for. Do you, have it?”

  “I do, Cap. But seen as this is my bust – “

  “Coil, let’s leave who’s is-who out in this situation. Time’s ticking. That building has life in there, hard at work, and we need to pay them a visit. Do you copy?”

  “I sure don’t. But for the sake of nailing this, I do.” She lets the static ride on out, she should give him a friendly goodbye; we are cool; I will be glad to lick your ass for you, but she can’t.

  She never can when it comes to a man who pleasantly competes with her at every corner he can get. The niceties’ tonight is because she did most of the leg, mole, and sniffer dog work. Steve just showed up with his night raid team in their padded swat-outfit get-up and UMP’s waiting to tear it all up and bring it to its grave.

  She goes to the driver’s side of the van, suits up in the bulletproof vest that she taps on both sides of her chest, knowing that it’s seen better nights than this one will be. Lee also has flexible knee pads, arm pads, fastens her gloves and makes sure they are on real tight. She ties those dreads up into a knot, like a tea cozy sort of style with none dangling at all. She secures them in place as she doesn’t want them to get in the way.

  No slip-ups! No slip-ups. Lee has got this. So that means she can make her way to join the cap’s team. They were like a trail of ants before, moving with a snail-like precision one after the other, crouching and walking by the side of the black wire fence with their weapons slung over their backs. Speaking of weapons, Lee gets her own HK UMP from the passenger seat that’s leaned against the headrest.

  “Lock and load.” And that’s what she does. Clip in 40 calibers. On a safety lock until she has to move the switch to put that fucker to the fully automatic test. Lee sees this as her extra arm, the 3rd leg; the eye that can shoot you down when she happens to miss you with the only 2 that she has.

  It smells unused. Fully cleaned. And she would keep it that way if it wasn’t for the threat of violence in that building.

  Lee feels that any second her walkie will start hissing commands in a static breathlessness. She knows every s
econd wasted is more reason for them to catch on to something happening on the outside. But she moves at her pace and nobody questions that, except cap, who feels she moves too slow at times.

  She moves to join the team, a van parked so nobody can get a visual. She looks both ways when she appears from behind the tree: at the building, which has the lights on. And the street, which is dead empty with no cars except for the black vans that are parked in the allocated parking spots.

  A few safety lights are on as she moves like a swift millipede with thousands of legs. When she gets to the other side, she remains low and keeps as close to the pavement as possible.

  Lee’s body hovers up and down as she paces it, with those boomerang shaped legs to catch them up. She takes note of every intricate detail that may come into use later, for instance, if they have to make a quick getaway the fence would not be hard to knock down. So, spare the niceties of avoiding any property damage and drive through that wire if that must happen. Cap hates property damage. Lee thinks it’s mandatory.

  As Lee turns to enter into the property, she sees the last man sneaking stealthily. She figures to creep up on him and casually just snake her way to the front of the team. They must be near to the back door as his movement suggests that a message is being sent back to wait. She paces it, reaching him but not disturbing. Almost testing his awareness detection meter. He senses she’s behind, trained to remain calm at all times. That must be Saul because he’s a pro at it.

  “You always know how to make an entrance.” Yep, that’s Saul; crisp and clear voice whatever tone he has to project it at. “Message sent back is for you to make your way to the front. I think having your skill back here would be better.”

  “I do too.” Lee gives Saul a fist on the side of his shoulder as she passes him to make her way to the front. It speaks the words, “Be safe. Keep cool.” Having to turn the corner as the police chain is like one big backward L.

  And he gives a tight headshake to acknowledge that wordless command positively. She would do it to the rest of the team but there’s no time. She checks her digital watch, telling her that it’s 02:30 am.

  Lee’s now by the side of the 2nd man behind Lotan. She doesn’t stop for any chitter or chatter. She gives him an unwilling shoulder fist and he does what Saul did back there, only his is a wordless signal to proceed. She’s fumbling in her pocket for that key now, her protective gear body-hugging her into suffocation. It comes in doses now; the thrill and the dread exchanging numbers and flirting with the other. The knife that’s placed in her heart and waiting to dig in a little deeper.

  She won’t let Lotan see the trepidation in her hands. The key won’t slip from her fingers even though they might as well pass through them like melted butter on freshly made popcorn. The hot and cold flushes won’t deter her from placing that key into that slot... waiting for that last shake to wither like a falling petal so she can get a grip and be a man about it.

  Yes, be a man about it. She hears the jokes in the office. Lee knows what they are saying about her. When she hears that door unlock and the pin drop; tension so raw that nobody dares to check if they’re still breathing. She knows that the majority think she’s incompetent; a soggy pup trying to fill the boots of old and wrinkly men with 15 years of experience and connections. This is a young team, but they root for the age-old barrel.

  Even the females support age over passion. Lotan must be hitting 50–years and she can always smell his age overpowering her trachea to the point where she wants to gag. Even now, waiting for the orders to proceed inside is stained with the ink from his fingers. And boy, does he wipe it all over her face. Leaving his carbon black as a reminder that it’s not coming off anytime soon.

  Lee looks over at Lotan; Lotan looks back at Lee, and she knows that the time to push open that door covertly with no hiccups is now. The door doesn’t creak as she does it, standing to the side just in case somebody is there. She hopes to Zeus that Eric’s declaration of the back entrance being vacant will be true. A little bit more... just a tiny bit and then she’ll be able to see if he was telling the truth.

  It’s open. The door remains open and inside is pure darkness, but a little light from the other end comes through. It’s a back way to the outside path that Eric did a rough description of, it’s a pathway to a trail of incipient sewage that reeks of dead swine. From the time you open that door, you smell the rotting of pig’s flesh left out in the sun.

  The decay. The pure insulin if you’re diabetic and in need of a jab. And what’s worse, Lee smells it all and it overwhelms her senses. She keeps herself sane. The real deal is inside that story of death; calculating and buying its time to make itself known. What she knows is very much and far too little. And it’s laying frog eggs in her earlobes that keep saying, “there’s no time to fret woman. Show ‘em how it’s done, lady.” She can hear the sarcasm singing sweet – sweet victory. The eyes wondering what her next move will be.

  Lee’s time to act comes when she hears hesitant footsteps approach their way. Lotan does the backward wave with his hand and each man inches back like a conveyor belt operating the wrong way. She can see his shadow come into her sight and automatically she goes for the UMP but that would be stupid. To noisy. A slip-up. She recovers from it and thinks to let him come into her view as she rotates the UMP back behind her back. Save that for later.

  It’s hard to see anything from this angle. She would have to let him come all the way too close it. A predictable fucker he is. Yes, come and close that door, Lee thinks. Let me knock you to cherry blossom hill where the birds don’t fly anymore. Don’t question why it’s open? Just come on over here. The hesitance though, he’s afraid. Might call it in, might not. Who knows what he’ll do?

  No time to wait for him to do anything. Her legs are more than itching. The chapstick, dry in need of a lip balm to even it all out. She speculates on whether to run him down and spook him into a Freddy Kruger nightmare.

  Her brain fires, “Run at him!” Prompting her to emerge from the darkness with only a split second to react to the back of her UMP that comes crashing down on him like three hail Mary’s and Jesus Christ. She wasn’t ready being the last visualization before she sees as he goes down. She makes sure it's lights-out before the rest of the team come through that fenced door like a ticking tractor just about to get its engine running.

  The engine she sees is a line of police-ants with guns and an inkling that there’s more ahead; more to subdue, and to keep it all silent, a step up from the last is going to have to be performed.

  There are a couple of men guarding the back and they’ve been spooked so the covert opt is out of the door and all that’s left is to charge from the command of Lotan; Caesar reincarnated. What happened to the original plan? It’s all faulty wires and don’t electrocute yourself now.

  Lotan and crew barge through that battered fence door like two separate dotted lines and enclose them without having to break out into the fire. At least not yet. These hired protectors are panicking over what to do, and how to react. It’s the cops. And when the cops show up, you have to think about the repercussions of being Zorro.

  These men are unsure of whether to run back inside or surrender. Out of shock is how it comes across when one man goes for his machine gun and fires.

  “Shit!” is all that Lee and Lohan can utter as the two separate lines have to quickly run for cover from whatever they can find. Luckily, there are four skips filled to the brim with construction trash, two on either side with enough room to conceal the twelve cops in 3’s behind them.

  The machine gun keeps going off as the rounds penetrate. The 12 hold their machine guns, ready to retaliate. Another machine gun breaks out, and then the 3rd guy joins in and fires at the skips. The 4th must be a little smarter as Lotan gives a sneaky check to see why he hasn’t broken out into fire yet. Turns out he runs back inside with no time for Lotan to shoot him down.

  “Shit!” Lotan draws his head back just in time as the bullets contin
ue to spray-paint the skips into a bulleted design of holes. Lee counts her many sins, missed blessings, and the fact that they are most likely outnumbered with no clue how many are inside there.

  Lotan gets ready for it... he waits... tries to get eye-contact with Lee who gives it to him as the pair take a deep breath. Then, when they are both sure that a reload is needed by the opposition, they fire at the three men who didn’t see it coming.

  Bratatatatatata, is the angels singing from the twelve guns that regurgitate again and again and hit the 3 men with an impact that causes their eyes to shut down. Their guns to heave out of their grip, and their bodies to sail backward and downward as they try to withstand the impact of the continuous fire that doesn’t give them any chance of waving a white flag. They each fall and look a bloody mess as they lay there lifeless.

  Lee ducks and covers her head when she hears the yell of a man in the building: “Pigs!” Then, a few windows smash with some pieces of the falling glass hitting the ground. The man yells again, “shoot the pigs!” and then the weapon fire breaks out and the hail storm causes each of the 12 to duck and protect their skulls from the unwelcome dust and dirt from the discarded bricks, Chester drawers, wood, and broken tables.

  It looks grim, as a few of the cops try to return fire but find that their range is off, and the advantage is from the upstairs. Lee needs to think, or at least, needs Lotan to decide what their next move should be. They manage to hit two of them from the up and this causes them to reshuffle, break a few more windows and find vantage points against them.

  Lee hopes their cover will be enough. She feels slightly vulnerable as the building towers down on them like it’s bending it’s back teasing them into the realization that they're pretty much screwed. Lee shouts over to Lotan, “you think we should enter the building!? We can’t stay here. We are sitting ducks!” The machine-gun firing drowns out her plea; so, she informs the man next to her that she’s making her way to him.