Without Wrath (Harbinger of Change Book 3)

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  They were sending him home for a while, though, to get some R and R. It was a privilege of their office, every now and then they got to bend the rules and do a good turn for someone like Malcolm Ward. His kills weren’t what earned him legend status. What got him legend status were the three Marines he pulled out of a nasty firefight. First, he dispatched their most immediate threat, as his Barrett fifty-caliber sniper rifle blew an orange sized hole through a brick wall to get the ambusher. Once that was done, he was able to make well-placed shots inside the enemy position to back them off, then in between, ran and drug a single Marine over to safety.

  He did this successfully two times, and on the way back from the third attempt, his enemy got wise to the ploy and he caught a round in the calf. Emboldened, a move was made on his position. He dispatched the four combatants advancing and it was back to a stalemate, but not before he ran out and got the third Marine back to safety. He held down the position and triaged the four of them, saving lives in that process as well. He’d actually gotten one more combatant through a second story wall as the man was peppering their location with sniper shot. Ray noted, and that was how legends were born.

  Frederick answered his private cell on the second ring, “I thought you’d be too busy today to be talking to the likes of me, what gives?”

  Frederick found it important to be intuitive. Ray was almost tempted to say “Nothing, just wanted to say hi,” but of course Frederick was right again.

  “I need your help, Frederick, it’s a matter of life and death. This is not inside the lines, though, and it will be breaching some normal protocol. I have a feeling after you hear the story, you’ll understand the need.”

  * * *

  The sun shone where it shouldn’t be shining. Not only was that a pun for the area, it was a serious fact about his roof. In the most terrifying moment of his life, Matt now knew what it was like to be under fire from a heavy caliber machine gun.

  The chopper was now off to the left adjusting, which meant he had to make a move. But what move? If he went out the door, he would run right into it and although he had his Beretta out, it would do little against an air assault. He was oddly frozen. If he went out the newly destroyed bay window, he would fall twenty feet to a rolling slope, and there was no chance of escape that way without injury.

  He wanted to get to his boat, as he had the firepower to deal with them there. His indecision was handled for him as the machine gun now cut the house in half from the west, the answering machine and phone table now obliterated. He’d had enough and dashed out the front door, and around to the west side of the house. He sprinted down the hill to the dock, careful not to over run and stumble.

  He could hear the chopper coming around again loudly just as he got to the boat. Matt grabbed his rifle and turned, but of course, the damn thing was in the sun; still he put five rapid shots right in the shadow he could see in the sun, and sure enough, it seemed to retreat.

  He started up the boat and headed back across the Sound to where his vehicle was. He made it half way when the sound of the chopper was heard coming across the water. The next thing he knew, heavy machine gun fire was cutting in front of his boat and forcing him out toward the San Juan Islands, and away from his car.

  The chopper was getting very low and aggressive, and Matt knew that he was being herded. Those shots could have killed him. He powered off the engines to full stop and grabbed his rifle. He still had two shots left. He brought it up and as the chopper turned Matt saw a ghost in his scope.

  Pablo was alive. That was the only thing that made sense. Finally. Unfortunately, he was so distracted at the revelation that he failed to take his best shot. Plus, he’d realized that his enemy wanted a showdown of some sort.

  Well, for poisoning his family, it was the least Matt could do. He was being herded out to the Salish Sea, but that would not do, nothing but open water. If they were going to get him to play, it was going to be on his terms and it wouldn’t be at open sea.

  He fired up the boat and made a hard port turn once they cleared Lummi Island. His chosen destination was a mile away at Matia State Park. Truly, it was a rock with trees and a dock, but Matt knew it like the back of his hand and it had cover. He also had ammo in his vest. He had put it on when he left the car at the house near the docks. He just needed to live long enough to make it there.

  Pablo slapped his soldier on the shoulder, “You see, just like I told you, he knows the island offers hope. I’m never wrong.”

  “I just don’t understand why we don’t end him now?”

  “Because in two minutes he will be close enough to taste freedom. He thinks he’s going to get away and then at the last second, he’ll learn that he’s not. He’ll know how it feels to be so close to something and have it taken away.

  João shouted, “I just want the fucker dead now!”

  Matt was approaching the island, no doubt counting on the benefit of fighting on his home turf. He came around the point and had the dock in sight. At this point, Pablo had had enough with the life of Matt Hurst, the betrayer. He lowered the sixteen-inch barrel of his Adcor Bear defender automatic rifle out of the choppers open window. Its 7.62mm rounds brought a big reality to those on the wrong end.

  Pablo detested guns and killing Hurst this way would have been unheard of until they found out he liked to hunt. That opened up this little scenario in Pablo’s mind, and then he made it happen, just like anything he desired. The hunter would now become the hunted. How classic.

  Pablo spoke, “First we’ll make him dead in the water. Pablo suppressed the trigger and the amazing gun destroyed the boats engine in a flash. Matt’s boat now laid dead in the water. João had pulled the chopper back as he saw Hurst going for his gun. Pablo had already reloaded and was squeezing to put an end to this once and for all.

  Matt saw the dock and had a hope that thirty seconds from now he was going to be on that dock, well at least next to it. Then he heard the roar of the gun over the crafts engines and his motor was blown to pieces until it functioned no more, sputtering to its quick end.

  It looked like this was where the final battle was going to happen. He reached back for his gun, ready for whatever happened, determined to make his shots count. He had loaded five shots while steering and heading for the island. He got the weapon in his hand and turned.

  * * *

  Doug was impressed. Luke kept his old plane in an amazing state of readiness. Luke was a mechanic and although he was retired, he loved her and said, “If you don’t keep up with what you love, then you are a fool with lousy stuff.” Luke kept her there at a ready state to back up David, just in case he had mechanical problems on his flagship plane. In this line of work, one gets the double whammy, not only a loss of a day’s revenue but the repair costs as well.

  Of course, the real reason he kept her so ready was in case he ever needed to get out to his son on a rescue. He paid a lot of money for David to become an architect at Cornell, not to fly tourists around Puget Sound. Like most kids, they had their own idea of what they should do to fill their days.

  As Doug was ready to go, Luke disappeared back into his office. When he reappeared he asked Doug, “Ever take off in water before?”

  Doug found it to be a reasonable question, as indeed he had never taken off in water before, “No, I was hoping to get some pointers right now.”

  Luke replied matter-of-factly as he handed Doug what could have only been a service issued Colt .45 in a leather holster, the straps looped around it, “I was hoping to give some ‘in-flight’ lessons.”

  Doug thought about that, “It could get dangerous.”

  “Thank God. If I have to live one more day without some kind of danger, I’m going to implode. My life was nothing but excitement for forty years, you get addicted to it.”

  Doug fired her up and she felt strong. He had a pit in his stomach like he was heading out to quarterback the team in the big game. It was almost nausea, but nerve related. Luke’s instructions were cle
ar. Take off into the wind. Verify there is no other cross traffic—that was a new concept to Doug—and go. He told him to hold the elevator control all the way back and apply power smoothly, while maintaining directional control with the rudder, of course. When the nose reached its highest point, ease back the pressure to allow the seaplane to come up on the step.

  Luke elaborated on how to establish the optimum planning attitude and allow the seaplane to accelerate to lift off speed. Luke furthered that in most cases the plane lifts off as it reaches flying speed. Occasionally it may be necessary to gently help the floats unstick by adding a small amount of backpressure to the elevator controls or by using aileron to lift one float out of the water, but that rarely happened he told him. The pit in his stomach subsided as the plane rose on its own and they were soaring into the western sky.

  His copilot had a pair of binoculars around his neck; he was a man who came prepared. They had banked from southwest to a true west heading and were currently passing over Guemes Island when Luke queried, “So Matt Hurst really is a war hero of the highest order, you say, huh?”

  “Luke, trust me, he got kidnapped on purpose and he did it to become a poison pill to whatever those guys were up to. I knew he lived because he sent me a message not to fly on the day the Bush fleet was sunk. Things aren’t always what they seem, Luke.”

  “Son, I served three tours in Vietnam. I’ve seen shit happen the worst of the movies don’t cover. I’ve also seen what happens when the black bag guys show up. Those sons of bitches operated with impunity and if any of us ever got caught up with them, we always got the worst of it. It’s a lot to take in because all these years I’ve refused to believe Hurst wasn’t duplicitous in this crime.”

  They had already passed Guemes Island and were heading to the eastern tip of Lummi Island. As they flew over the eastern top of the island they could see the small Lummi Island ferry halfway across the Sound holding several emergency vehicles, all with their emergency lights flashing. It made the ferry look like a fourth of July float in some water parade. The string of emergency vehicles already on the island was focused on a house to their left. The place was swarming with personnel.

  Doug went past them and was making a sweeping view of the area west of the island when his copilot exclaimed, “There!”

  Doug looked off to the southwest and saw a helicopter at low altitude chasing a small boat. He immediately banked left and headed for the action, which was heading for a small island.

  * * *

  Pablo had him in his sights. Matt was able to get to his gun up, but this was it, Pablo fired the roaring weapon and it struck the water right outside Matt’s boat. The line was dead on and all Pablo had to do was bring it up steady and he would cut both Hurst and the boat in half. As the first bullets struck the water, a seaplane came out of nowhere and narrowly avoided contact between the two flying crafts.

  João jerked the yoke in response and Pablo’s shots were all wide left, albeit he had blown the bow into splinters and the small boat was now taking on water. By the time he righted and tried to locate his target, Hurst was in the water and was halfway to the dock, swimming on his back holding his rifle out of the water.

  João righted their position and Pablo brought the reloaded weapon around on Hurst just as the plane was back. This time, now understanding the near collision was no accident, Pablo emptied a clip on the plane; hitting it mid-section and making it retreat.

  Pablo reloaded and they refocused on Hurst, who had now made it to the dock and was climbing up. João brought the chopper in a herky-jerky dive that concerned Pablo for a second until he gained better control. Matt was running on the dock at full speed as Pablo brought the final blow to him. He fired and the dock started exploding. Just like before, his line was right and all he had to do was raise the gun slowly.

  This time though, the distance between the bottom of the planes floats and the choppers blades were inches, not feet. It actually created a small wash that João overreacted to, and while he was trying to get control back, he stalled the craft.

  They were thirty feet off the ground when the stall occurred and the Chopper hit the water hard, but because of the floats, it wasn’t life threatening. The dog in the back seat got the worst of it as he had no seat belt and ended up on the floor, but you can bet he didn’t cry from the pain. Pablo was most impressed with João‘s dog.

  Of course, Pablo had not come all this way to fail. He actually had what he desired most, a game of chess on a playing field that was only so big. Not many places to hide. He followed suit and went into the icy water and swam with his weapon and ammo over his head to the dock. He instructed João to get the chopper started again as they would need it. Matt’s boat had half sunk by the time he headed out into the islands interior.

  Already Pablo could tell his adversary was not worthy, as he’d made it to the tree line without incident. It was the perfect place to make a stand and Matt had failed to utilize the advantage. João had a similar gun and he was instructed to cover him on the advance, but still, to make no attempt to shoot him at his most vulnerable place, which was at the dock and beach, was a huge tactical error.

  On his trip up to coverage he saw something that energized him, and might answer the lack of assault when the time was right. There were copious amounts of blood, both on the dock and in the sand.

  So angry at the interference, Pablo wanted to blast that insipid plane, but it disappeared. Pablo could only guess that it was Matt’s pilot friend, but how he ended up in his game he could not compute right now.

  He realized Hurst probably thought he had an advantage here, but he did not. Pablo had also been trained in combat now. He figured it was worth learning, for one day he might have to fight outside of a chair and controller. Plus, he had the machine gun. Knowing that Hurst had a high power weapon with a scope added to the drama, for sure, but his had steel jackets and he could shoot a lot more of them.

  As he was making his way stealthily across the thickly wooded forest, Pablo heard quite a ruckus, the kind one wouldn’t make unless one was in real trouble. It was too overt for a decoy and seemed spontaneous. Pablo scanned the terrain ahead and found the path that would provide cover as well as gain him ground. He thought he knew what the sound was, and it was his chance to gain the upper hand.

  As he was making his way quickly toward the sound, he almost made the same mistake as his adversary. There was a sudden ledge and the forest floor gave way suddenly to a steep embankment. One had to adjust quickly to the downward slope or one would be in trouble. He looked to his left and there was Hurst, trying to get to his feet. Apparently he was walking backwards trying to use his scope and fell down into the leaf-covered ravine.

  Pablo walked around the tree to the left and came into his view, “Next time you’re fighting for your life, you shouldn’t scream out your location and that you’re in peril. Oh wait. There won’t be a next time for you, Matt. This is one of those lessons that cost you your life.”

  Matt lunged for his fallen rifle, but his right ankle was damaged and he fell to the ground at least six feet short of his gun. He rolled over just as Pablo was bragging about a fact that he had been unsure of until now. “Your wife and child will die. The neurotoxin is slow working and gradually shuts off all their vitals. I just wanted you to know that. Oh, I almost forgot, your parents were on the ferry also, in case you didn’t already figure that one out. Looks like your lucky friend lived though, but rest assured, after what he did here, I will hunt him down and kill him, too.”

  Matt reached into his pocket during Pablo’s diatribe and retrieved his keys. He pointed the laser pointer at Pablo and turned it on. Chase always told him that once he activated it, they would know he was in mortal trouble. “Only use the pointer to bring the troops in,” he had said.

  Matt aimed the pointer at Pablo, its beam finding his chest. His hunter laughed a mighty laugh at this move. “Scrappy Matt Hurst, fighting any way he can until the bitter end,” Pablo shielded
his eyes partially, “only this time there is no one to save you, Matt. You killed her remember? And now you must pay.”

  Pablo looked at his chest and realized the beam was focused there and no attempt was being made at blinding him, which would have been the only point of such a move.

  Matt, being a child of the movies, was watching the end of a good one here. Only this movie had not been titled yet, and Matt was apparently going to miss the end.

  Pablo raised the gun and fired. The light was much brighter than Matt thought it would be. He was told when you die there was a bright light, but he was never told it would be so hot. Then it was done pulsing. The light was still bright through his closed eyelids, but the heat was gone. It was still there, even though he couldn’t feel it anymore. His eyes were blinded, the light was so bright that he feared Heaven was experienced as a blind person.

  He kept them closed, trying to let the brightness stop. It wouldn’t. It took two full minutes to get even splotchy vision back; and he then realized he was still in the forest, not dead and in Heaven. He was nearly blind, but he could move so he checked his body. He was not injured. This time he took Pablo’s advice and did not scream out. In two more minutes his vision returned to shades. In two more, he could focus enough to try to move out of the ravine.

  He carefully nudged his way along to his rifle and picked it up, his vision really only semi-clear for about five feet. Using this tunnel vision, he made his way up the embankment. It took a good ten minutes, what with the hobbled ankle and the impaired vision.

  In that time his vision came back a little more, and he could see what his nostrils had been telling him. There was a fire of some sort. He looked at the hill where Pablo had been and the ground was smoldering. He walked over and the smell was disgusting. It smelled like burnt hair. There was a charred area about six feet in diameter and on the outer ring of that was a rifle, melted in half. The stock, up to the bolt, was gone.