Without Wrath (Harbinger of Change Book 3)

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Matt was still in a form of shock when he’d realized that this was the troops Chase was talking about sending in? Matt remembered his words, “Be prepared and be away from the target.”

  Now he got it, he just wished Chase had mentioned he should look away, too. When he was given the pointer, he remembered the gravity to which Chase said the conditions of its use were. “If you use it, we’re going to be peeing in some pools and make no mistake, it will cost a lot of money.”

  Matt turned to go back to the harbor, forgetting another lesson, and that was, always watch your flank. This was not his tactical day, and Jim would be shaking his head right now. He looked up to find one of the tattooed maniacs from Ecuador holding a rifle on him and he had a very familiar looking dog with him.

  Matt jumped back as the tattooed killer spoke in accented English, “Drop that gun, Motherfucker! Damn gringo, you brought that shit from sky? I thought that was his thing.” He looked over the melted earth and said, “I guess he really dead this time, huh? That too bad ’cause I wanted to be the one to kill him. You both caused Felipe to die—and for that you both were going to pay.”

  Matt’s mind flashed to him grabbing Felipe and plunging a knife into the base of his skull, scrambling his brain and discarding his lifeless body to the ground.

  “Well, here’s the difference between me and him, asshole,” he said as he pointed the gun at the melted Pablo, “I don’t fuck around.” He started to bring the gun up and Matt saw his life flash before his eyes yet again. This time he threw himself to the ground, his face away from his attacker, forcing him to shoot him in the back.

  The killer from Ecuador ordered him to turn around and take it like a man. Unfortunately for him he never saw Matt blowing the whistle around his neck, otherwise he might have taken the right action, but he didn’t. Instead he reached in with the barrel and jabbed Matt’s back, ordering him to face his death, actually poking Matt in the butt as well.

  Matt heard the action start a second later. He had kept Storm’s protect whistle around his neck since his dog disappeared two years before. He had almost lost hope of ever seeing him again—until now. He turned quickly to see Storm had locked onto the forearm of his attackers trigger hand and was shaking profusely. As a result, no rounds were discharged.

  Using his good foot, Matt deftly swept kicked the short man right off his feet where he hit hard, dropping the gun, which went down the very slope Matt had tumbled down earlier. His left hand was free though, and his attacker reached for his knife, which was on the belt of his wet Chinos. Matt gun butted his hand and threw the knife far away after pulling it from its sheath. Storm had now severely wounded the right forearm and the attacker made a move for the eyes.

  Matt saw the side arm on his right side and knew what that move was about, the weird part was the whole time, the guy was yelling for Gringo to alto. Apparently he had named Storm, Gringo. And when the initial attack happened he had that look of betrayal on his face reserved for people like Pablo and him.

  It was almost comical that this overconfident psycho was going to his grave more upset about the dog than anything else. Matt’s gun butt cracked João square in the face. This was not the time for anything other than lethal actions and the result was the dog gained a deadly advantage and took it, going for the neck.

  It was not lost on João in the waning seconds of his life that he had previously killed someone with the dog in the same manner. As he was fading out he saw Matt smiling and holding the dog whistle, “Adios, Motherfucker,” was the last thing João ever heard as the dog crushed his windpipe. Matt noticed he ended up sprawled on the exact spot Pablo was incinerated and it felt fitting somehow.

  He called off the dog with, “Niza.”

  Matt looked at his savior and with heartfelt pride said, “Aquí.” Storm obeyed both commands and come proudly to his side with a look on his face that indicated he’d just finished a long-range mission and he knew it would end up like this. No questions asked.

  Matt’s ankle still hurt badly, so it took a long time to get back to the dock, hobbling along, nearly falling twice and having to use his rifle as a crutch, an action which made his stomach ache.

  On his painful journey he had time to think. He now knew for sure that Jan and Jon were going to die. Maybe the certainty of knowing Pablo used a neurotoxin could help Dr. Singh, although Matt remembered he was already leaning that direction.

  * * *

  Jim Jensen had the auto-track locator on. It not only showed where Matt was, but a digital trail-line to where he had been in various colors so it did not all become one blur. It was very advanced software. He saw Matt’s signal was stationary right now, on an island not far from there. He pulled into the driveway that showed as a previous Matt location and went to the end. There was a big green and red trimmed house on the right with lots of big trees around the house and property. Shade abounded everywhere. At the end of the driveway was a dock and a fairly nice sized boat tied up to the dock. Jim saw Matt’s car and his first piece of the puzzle came into play.

  He pulled out his digital field glasses and hit record as he watched the excitement across the Sound. It was furious over there and he could see Matt’s house was tore up. There obviously was a gun battle, but the way the roof was hammered, the fight was from above, too. The tracker showed from here he went across the sound, presumably in his own boat to his own house. Then back out and south into the Sound just minutes ago. He eyed the house, it had Hurst’s car off to the right and no other vehicles or activity. Jim walked up to the back door of the house and tried the door, it was locked and alarmed he noted by the sign indicating so.

  The cops were too close for the alarm to go off and him to get away or worse, they’d think he was part of the action across the way. He looked up to the second floor, there was a bathroom window slightly ajar, and it would appear that the homeowners must have overridden it to set the alarm. He climbed one of the many helpful trees and was inside in no time. The boat keys were on a hook in the kitchen and something else of interest hit him as he passed through the upstairs bedroom to exit.

  This was an operative house of some kind. There was surveillance equipment aimed at Matt’s property. He could see it was recording, and that wouldn’t do. He stopped the recording, took the memory chip out and pocketed it on his way back out the window. He was on the small roof ledge going back to the tree when he saw the laser strike. It pulsed blue for five seconds, just like the operating manual said, and then the Krypton laser stopped, impressing him with its immense power and spectacle. That’s going to get some attention for sure.

  His time was now limited, but it had Jim wondering what transpired that would make Matt use it? That satellite was TJAC’s biggest secret by far, so Jim could only imagine. He noticed that the shot didn’t go unnoticed across the Sound either, with several people in uniforms on Matt’s dock trying to see over the hill south.

  * * *

  Matt hoped that someone from TJAC was heading here to extract him. Just when he had this thought he stepped on an odd shaped rock and almost went down again. He was wondering who that crazy-ass pilot was when his question was answered. Sitting in the cove was the plane. Doug and a tall man in his sixties who looked like a jungle tour guide were on the beach, Doug still in his Southwest uniform.

  He spoke to the elder man, “You see, I told you we didn’t need to look for him, he’s a survivor.” Doug saw Matt limp and started to run for him when a very large Rottweiler ran between them and got in a defensive posture. Matt told it, “Niza,” and the dog stood down with a whole different demeanor.

  Doug and Luke hurried to him and as they started heading back for the plane, Matt said, “I was reacquainted with a few old pals. Fortunately, my dog was one of them.” They got in and Matt pleaded with Doug to make post haste in getting back to Anacortes.

  Doug saw he was ashen. He also knew he was no friend to flying. He brought the plane around into the wind and started the takeoff procedures. The do
wned helicopter and sunken boat were soon left behind in the natural harbor.

  He didn’t need to look to know that Matt was scared. He forgot to tell Luke that bringing the plane out of the water felt very similar to bringing a loaded cargo plane up; maybe he would later over coffee. He looked at the magic man. The last time they were together in a prop plane, a whole nation was looking for them. He never saw him scared during the combat parts of their journey, but a couple of times during turbulent flight situations, he saw fear. The plane lifted off and Luke introduced himself and asked before Doug could, “Was that a laser that shot out of Space?”

  Matt looked at Doug and hesitated in answering Luke.

  “Matt, providence brought me to the only man with a Silver Star on his wall, adventure in his heart, and a seaplane; I believe we can trust Luke.”

  That was good enough logic for Matt, “Yes Luke, it was a laser guided by a smaller laser on the ground. You know, a pointer. And thank you for saving my life, both of you.“

  “I used to do a lot of black ops, Matt, and pointing a laser designator at a target is no new invention, but pointing one at a target inside the United States that is then connected to a megawatt laser in Space, now that’s a different story all together. I take it you work for the CIA?”

  Matt looked at Luke and he was sure sick of the lies and subterfuge, this man just risked his life for him for God’s sake. “I work for a secret group of patriots, backed by money you can only imagine. I was given a keychain and told if I’m ever in mortal danger in the northwest, then activate it and point the laser pointer at my target, and then be somewhere else, but keep it on the target for as long as possible. Only thing was, no one told me not to look.”

  Doug asked, “How close were you? That thing was bright from the cove?”

  “I was twenty feet away down an embankment. No elaboration here, it struck right as Pablo was pulling the trigger to end me. He had me compromised. So I actually thought I’d died and the laser shot was the white tunnel of lights I’ve always heard about. I thought I was dead. I heard a sound best described as a bug hitting a zapper, and then a hum for a few seconds, and then just white. I could smell that smell one gets at the dentist when he uses the drill for a cavity. When I came to, it took a good ten minutes to make it up the embankment, as my sight was slow to return. Once I saw Pablo’s gun melted into the earth, I figured out what weapon this little designator unleashed. Matt held out his pointer.

  Luke chuckled, “Yeah, it brought the whole can of whoop ass son. That is for sure.”

  Matt laughed an odd laugh, “First I was obsessed in getting my vision back, and then I wanted to see the body or remains. I forgot to watch my flank and his henchman was able to get the drop on me. Only he had my lost dog at his side. He apparently stole it when he escaped in Ecuador.”

  Matt pulled the whistle out and showed it to them, “I always carried it, I really love this dog, and I never believed he was dead. This whistle got me through some tough times.”

  Luke liked this boy, but he had a lot to take in. So much history involved Matt Hurst, and it was like being in a plane with a warrior king of legend.

  “So then what happened?” Luke inquired.

  Matt stared off out the window while he answered, “He was about to blow me away, saying he wasn’t the type for long goodbyes. I recognized my dog; Storm was the strongest and smartest of my kennel. During training missions, he was always the dog that was in the attack lead. He was also a bad boy and bullied the other dogs.

  “He has two light brown patches on his head right where the devils horns would be. The joke was that’s where we cut them off. So once I saw him, I remembered the whistle. Hoping the killer was the type to want to see who he shot I feigned cowardice and flung myself to the ground. He didn’t realize I was blowing Storm’s protect whistle. Before he knew it, the tables were turned and I helped Stormy here end his lowlife, flesh-peddling ass.”

  Matt continued looking out the window, emotion welling in his eyes, “They killed my parents. Pablo informed me before he died that he gave Jan and Jon a neurotoxin that will kill them slowly, no hope of a cure.” He tried to kill you, too, Doug, you were never meant to survive that attack. Pablo’s plan was to make me realize he killed everyone I loved and then kill me.”

  The plane’s cabin was silent. Luke knew Matt didn’t want to hear about what a hero he was, just like he didn’t want to hear those words on missions when he’d lost good friends. So he came up with something Matt did want to hear, “I’ll watch your dog while you go to the hospital and deal with things. You can be sure he’ll be safe with me.”

  “Thank you, Luke, this whole thing was unbelievable of you to do. This block of time you are gaining for me might be the difference in me seeing my wife and son alive again or not.”

  Those were the last words spoken on the flight.

  * * *

  Jim Jensen started the Edgewater Console powerboat with the acquired keys, she was a two-engine rig and he was soon powering toward the San Juan Islands, her gas tank full. The tracker said Matt was moving from the center of the island heading toward the islands harbor.

  From what Jim could ascertain, some kind of battle happened at Hurst’s house and bled over to this island. He could only assume that Matt led the attackers away from his home to a place that he knew had cover he could use. He wondered where his family was? Jim rounded the Point of Lummi Island and pulled out his field glasses from his pack. He could see a chopper lying in the water at the mouth of the harbor, his field glasses always recording for review later. He knew the bird wasn’t the target as it was still of this earth. Had it been the target, it would have been incinerated.

  He opened up the throttles yet didn’t go as fast as he’d wanted. Out in the more open water, the Sound was offering up some choppy conditions. The outrigger came out and slapped down, came out and slapped down, for what felt like an eternity. Finally he covered the few miles and as he was pulling up on the chopper, a seaplane took off and headed southeast. He went past the downed bird and found Matt’s boat half sunk and destroyed by heavy gunfire. A quick tour yielded no bodies.

  He looked at the tracker and it was showing Matt was now on the path of the departed plane. He thought about finding the laser strike site, but chose against it. The troops would be coming to check that out soon enough. He pulled out of the harbor and headed southwest, following the tracker. He was going on the presupposition that a plane with floats had to land in water. As a graduate of West Point, he was trained to observe things calmly in battle, things that others might miss. He headed southwest at full throttle hoping that Matt’s family was okay.

  Jim Jensen pulled out his phone. It was time to make a call to Chase.

  * * *

  Lauren’s plane had landed a little too rough. This was going to be a day she would never forget. Everyone was jumpy as hell with the speculation that Seattle was a terror attack.

  Of course, everyone immediately focused on Pablo Manuel and his zealot followers. He had ended his last communication to the world with, “If the world doesn’t straighten out, I will be back, and like Jesus, I will come back with wrath.”

  Was that what this was? The flight attendants were instructing people to wait until the plane came to a complete stop before undoing their seat belts. She reached in her purse and turned on her phone. She was in no mood to jostle with people. Although she was in a hurry, she was in no physical shape to join the fray getting out, so she took the easy route. The attendant showed up and helped her to her waiting wheelchair. She got in and they were off. The wheelchair attendant dropped her at the car rental shuttle bench after retrieving her bag.

  She had gotten one of the last rental cars available for the day, and it turned out to be a monster GMC SUV, way bigger than anything she’d ever driven and nearly impossible for her to get into. If not for the small ladies step, it would have been undoable. As she headed north up I-5 toward Seattle, she wondered if the plane and ferry had anyt
hing to do with Matt Hurst? Otherwise, it sure was a giant coincidence.

  The car was fully loaded and she synced her iPhone to it before she left the airport. She had three messages. The first was from her mom, the second and third were from Scott. In the first message he mentioned the genius of going to Portland now that they knew it was a terror attack. The third was right before she landed and it was just Scott checking in on her.

  She cut the phone off. Good old Scott, always looking out for me. She wondered how he was going to take it when he figured out that in a small way she was using him. She hoped he understood that a secret this big could have no leaks, not even him. If he really loved her then he would understand.

  Her stomach rumbled and she felt queasy from the meds and lack of food. Up near Castle Rock, Washington, she saw a taco place and that was the tipping point. She’d been eating corn tortillas, rice, and beans for so long now, it had become a staple for her.

  She was now an official carnitas connoisseur, so they’d better bring it. The place was called Los Perrico’s, but it obviously was a true American cafe once upon a time. It still had the obligatory counter and rotating dessert case, which was now filled with Mexican pastries instead of pies.

  Lauren ambled to the end counter seat, as they sat higher and she could get up without exertion. There was a TV on, and she was trying to pick up the news while she ordered her chicken tacos with rice and beans, which of course made her stumble through her order. She’d realized that she had to get to know a place before she trusted them with her carnitas. It was hard to fuck up grilled chicken.

  She was munching on some chips when a breaking story came out of Seattle. She was now glued to the small TV on the shelf behind the counter. The story was actually out of Bellingham. Apparently a house on Lummi Island was the scene of a massive police presence. Cops and news crews of every kind were there. Before news crews had arrived there was a blue flash in the southern sky that witnesses said looked like a laser.