Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  Villa had had her share of suitors through the years, none of whom captured her interest. As a younger woman, boys had shown little interest in her. They had always paid more attention to her school friends than her. As a result, she’d spent much of her time in high school and college doing things like rock climbing, traveling, and studying.

  The ugly duckling, though, had grown up. Now men threw themselves at her on a regular basis. She was glad she had the experiences of her youth because she had learned a lot about human nature. Most men didn’t seem to look beyond the exterior of a woman. For the last few years she’d blown off several different men, and she rarely associated with women. Adriana was comfortable being a loner.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Tommy reentered the plane. “Look who we just picked up.”

  Will stepped through the entrance with a duffle bag in hand.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I crash this little party,” he said with a grin.

  Sean returned the smile. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”

  The young detective sat down in a seat next to Adriana, across from Sean. She had an uncomfortable look on her face but said nothing.

  “So,” he began, “this morning I got a call for a homicide in Piedmont Park.”

  “Aren’t you on vacation?” Sean interrupted.

  Will lifted his hands. “When the boss calls, you gotta go.”

  Wyatt nodded in understanding.

  “Turns out it was a government agent. Former FBI guy.”

  At this news, Sean leaned forward. “Who?”

  “Jack Turner.”

  Sean thought for a moment, staring off to the vacant side of the plane. Then shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Tommy stood quietly, listening to the conversation. He apparently didn’t know the victim either.

  Will went on, “It shouldn’t ring a bell. He’s with the Hoover Directive.” He let the news settle on his audience.

  Adriana clearly didn’t understand. Sean gave her a quick version, “It’s a top-level government agency. They operate outside the bounds of most of the other parts of the Justice Department. To the general public, they don’t exist. Very secretive.”

  Will assumed she understood that and continued, “Looks like he was executed last night in the park. We still don’t have any leads. Just a few bullet casings and the body. No witnesses. No suspects.”

  “So Trent didn’t want you on the case?” Tommy spoke up.

  “He called me early this morning, but by the time I got there, feds were already taking over.” A serious look came across his face. “I can tell you this much: That little story is not going to reach any of the media outlets. They’re calling it a drug-related shooting.”

  Sean was pensive. “What do you think it was?”

  Will leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Our connections are limited. But Trent was able to get the guy’s name, which is probably more than the Directive would have liked. They prefer to remain anonymous. Real anonymous.”

  “You look tired,” Sean commented casually.

  For a brief second, Will looked uncomfortable but then resumed his casual demeanor.

  “I need some sleep.” Then he changed the subject. “Since Atlanta PD was taken off of the case, I went back on vacation and called Tommy to see if you guys wanted me to tag along. Never been to South America.”

  Tommy beamed. “We can always use another gun.”

  Sean nodded in agreement. “Hopefully we won’t need another one.” He looked out the window, thoughtful again. “But my guess is this Golden Dawn group is not going to go away easily.”

  Chapter 46

  Washington, DC

  The streets of Washington always seemed busy. Traffic lights were too short, and it seemed one could get stuck at a crowded intersection for hours. Congested city streets, however, were not at the forefront of Sam’s thoughts at the moment. After he’d left Starks’s office at Axis headquarters, he had intended to head back to his own building a few blocks away and get back to his normal routine, if there were such a thing. Instead, his thoughts were focused on the dark-haired man in the cliché-black trench coat following him about thirty feet behind. The tail was a younger guy, probably early twenties. Sam didn’t recognize him, which immediately placed him in the ranks of some foreign contractor or agency, probably eastern European. That and the fact that his gray business slacks were slim and slightly shorter at the ankle than they should have been were two major giveaways.

  Given his career choice, Sam was accustomed to being observed but it was always a little disconcerting to have a tail. He could wonder who the stranger was or who had sent him but at this point, he really didn’t feel like playing any games or worrying with all of that. So he took a different approach and turned, walking straight toward the man.

  Townsend’s sudden move and change of direction threw off the pursuer. It was probably what the kid had least suspected would happen. The moment of confusion was all Sam needed. He stepped quickly toward the target, deftly dodging the people busily walking the other direction. At the same time, he withdrew a small knife he kept in his jacket pocket and unsheathed the weapon. The tail never saw the blade in Townsend’s hand as he reached within his own jacket to pull out what Sam assumed to be a gun. Whatever it was never saw the light of day as he deftly dropped down to one knee and ran the sharp edge of the knife across the back of the younger man’s heel. The Achilles tendon snapped up into the back of the man’s leg, causing him to scream out loudly. Sam was already heading back in the direction from which he’d come. None of the confused passersby knew what was wrong with the man on the sidewalk, clutching his leg.

  Townsend didn’t even turn to see the tail collapse to the ground in excruciating pain. He assumed he’d severed the tendon, rendering the man completely incapable of pursuit. Someone had made a play at him. Perfect. One more thing he would have to think about. His other appointments were going to have to wait.

  He neared his government-issue sedan and glanced at it suspiciously. Townsend turned his head and noticed a homeless man sitting in an adjacent alley close by, trying to stay out of the cold late morning breeze. “Hey,” Sam got his attention. “Can you do me a favor?”

  The scraggly fellow looked around for a moment then replied, “If you got a dollar.”

  Townsend smiled wickedly. “I’ve got ten for you.” He handed the vagrant a crisp ten dollar bill and the keys to his car.

  The man was obviously confused, so he explained, “I need to run up to my office for a minute, and you look cold. Would you care to warm up my car for me? You can sit inside while I’m there, and when I come back there will be another ten bucks in it for you.”

  “What’s the catch?” the old white man peered suspiciously at him from underneath a wool cap. His face was dirty, and he reeked of the streets.

  “No catch. You won’t steal my car. It has a tracking system on it, so that would be pointless. I just want you to warm it up for me.” Sam began to walk away. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so.” Sam dropped the keys and money in the man’s hand and rounded the corner, disappearing from sight.

  The homeless man stood up, checking both ways to see if there really was something suspicious going on. He couldn’t believe a total stranger had just left him the keys to his car and paid him to do it. Feeling like it was his lucky day, he quickly opened the car door and inserted the keys into the ignition. At first, the engine didn’t turn over and just clicked once. The clueless man tried again.

  Sam heard the explosion as he casually walked down the street and stopped next to a boutique cupcake shop. The earth shook violently beneath his feet for a second. His eyes scanned everyone suspiciously to see if he could find the other tail he was sure was hiding in the crowd. Hundreds of panicked pedestrians hurried in the opposite direction of the blast. Cautiously, Sam moved back toward the corner of the busy intersection, staying against the wall both to stay out of sight and out of the way
of the rushing mob. It only took him a moment before he found his man. Black trench coat. Sharp jaw and nose. And running toward the burning car up the street. He was the only one going in that direction. Satisfied he’d dodged the hit, Sam blended into the terrified mob and disappeared into the chaos.

  Chapter 47

  Cuenca

  The flight had taken the private jet just over five hours before landing in the picturesque city of Cuenca. Spanish tile roofs dotted the landscape of the city sprawled out across the high valley and up into the foothills of the Andes.

  Will had been sleeping for the last few hours, apparently still exhausted from the trip back from the southwestern United States. He snapped awake as the plane landed with a sudden jolt. He rubbed his eyes and stretched out his arms.

  “Have a good nap?” Sean asked from across the aisle while he massaged his face for a moment. He stared at Will, a slight grin barely visible at the corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah. I was exhausted. How long was I out?”

  “About three hours,” Tommy jumped into the conversation from the other side of the plane.

  “Wow. Guess I was tired.” He looked out the window as the city landscape passed by. The mountains in the distance loomed enormous over the colorful town.

  “Well, I hope you’re rested. I just got off the phone with my contact down here, and he is taking us to Crespi’s church first thing after we check in at our hotel.” Tommy had always been one to get right to work on everything he ever did. There was no beating around the bush. It was a trait he’d carried since high school. Procrastination was a word that didn’t exist in his vocabulary.

  Adriana spoke up for the first time in a while. “There is somewhere I need to go when we arrive at the hotel. I can find my way to the church and meet up with you there. Would that be all right with you?”

  The men were a little thrown off by the sudden request, but Sean and Tommy both shrugged and nodded.

  “Sure. We can work it out. You want me to come with you?” Sean asked.

  She smiled at his offer. “I will be fine. Just need to see an old friend for a few minutes. Shouldn’t take long.”

  The conversation ended as the plane slowed to a stop on the far end of the tarmac where a small group of private hangars sat against the backdrop of the dramatic Andes.

  Two black SUVs were waiting just outside one of the empty hangars.

  After a few more minutes, the occupants were descending a set of stairs onto the tarmac. A gusty breeze blew across the surface. The temperature seemed fairly mild compared to where they’d been just a few hours ago. Being closer to the equator certainly warmed things up, but Cuenca was a city of high elevation. At more than eight thousand feet, the mercury here never really reached the high end of the thermometer. Off in the distance, dark gray clouds rolled toward the city. Rain, evidently, was a pretty regular occurrence this time of year.

  One of the doors of the SUV in front opened. A short, squat man stepped out wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses and a black suit and matching tie. Apparently, he didn’t care that the sky was fairly overcast. Sean and Tommy had known Mauricio Delgado for nearly a decade.

  A big grin crossed Tommy’s face as the man approached. Schultz set down his bags and opened up his arms to embrace the squat Latino. “Buenas tardes, Mauricio!” Tommy embraced the shorter man and gave him a huge clap on the back.

  Mauricio pulled away and returned the slap with one on Tommy’s shoulder. His round face beamed. “It’s good to see you again, my friend. It’s been too long,” he said with a thick accent. With no hesitation, he turned to the other three and extended his hand toward Sean. “You seem to be in better health than the last time I saw you, Señor Wyatt.”

  Sean shook his hand firmly. “I still owe you one, amigo.”

  Delgado wagged the index finger on his free hand. “No, amigo. No one ever owes me anything. I was just glad I could help. We were fortunate we found you before,” he paused for a moment. “Before anything worse happened.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m grateful,” Wyatt smiled widely.

  “You’re welcome. Although,” the man paused, “it’s a shame we never found your partner. It’s as if he disappeared into thin air.” Mauricio scratched his head while he and Sean shared a silent moment, both men pondering what could have happened to Nick.

  “We’ll probably never know,” Sean said. “Although some part of me still thinks he might be alive. I can’t say why. Just a gut feeling.”

  “Perhaps, my friend,” a wide grin crossed Mauricio’s tanned face. His dark brown eyes brimmed. “Let’s hope so.” Then he changed the subject and stepped toward the others. “Who are your companions?”

  “This here is Will Hastings,” Sean answered as Will put out his hand. Delgado shook it heartily. “He is a police officer in Atlanta.”

  Mauricio raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Excellent. We will make sure that local law enforcement has our full cooperation. But it is always good to have another gun, just in case. No?”

  Will nodded. “Never hurts.”

  The four men shared a quick laugh before Mauricio turned his attention to their female companion. “And who is this?” he asked as he stopped in front of Adriana.

  “My name is Adriana Villa,” she answered for herself and offered her hand. He began to shake it gently, but she squeezed his hand just as firmly as Will had. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  His look of surprise turned to one of respect. “The pleasure is all mine. Bienvenidos a Cuenca.”

  “Gracias,” she replied.

  “De donde eres?” he continued.

  This time she answered in English so the others would understand. “My family is from central Spain. But I have lived in many places.”

  “Intriguing.” There was a brief moment of awkward silence before he got back to business. “We will head to the hotel where you can check in and get refreshed. After that we will have a light dinner. I understand you want to visit the church as soon as possible?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Good,” he said, lifting his hands. “We will take a look around this evening. I’ve made arrangements with the head priest. He said we can have a few hours tonight after their evening prayers.”

  Chapter 48

  Washington, DC

  Eric Jennings had played the game a long time. He’d worked hard for the government and done more for the protection of the nation than most people in his line of work. In his mind, the things he’d done were justified.

  Protecting his retirement and the well-being of his finances was worth a few sacrifices. For what the Prophet was paying him, it was worth a few more.

  The dead man on his living room floor had been an asset he’d used a few times, a mercenary with no family or known acquaintances. It had been easy to lure him there under the guise that another well-paying job was waiting.

  Upon entry, Jennings had invited the man in toward the direction of the kitchen. He had his back turned so there was no way the unsuspecting asset could see the gun in hand. When the man was a mere few feet away, Eric spun around and fired three bullets into the chest of the visitor. The weapon couldn’t have been audible outside of the apartment. With the curtains drawn, the gun’s flash couldn’t have been visible either. To people watching the news, it would look like a burglar had gotten his just desserts, a simple cover-up to an otherwise intricate plan. After the execution, Jennings wrecked the place, destroying mirrors, picture frames, vases, and even crushing the coffee table. It had to appear as if a struggle had occurred and as a result, he’d killed the intruder.

  The next step would be trickier. His target from earlier in the day had somehow managed to escape the car explosion, though he wasn’t sure how. Witnesses had said they saw a homeless man climb into Townsend’s car. It didn’t matter. The arrogant prick had only postponed the inevitable.

  Sam Townsend had made dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies in his brief career with the Justice Department. Whenever a
nyone had a sudden rise to power there always seemed to be resentment from legions of others who thought they’d have been better suited for promotion. As someone who was tasked with upholding the law, he’d seen his fair share of bad guys but never actually arrested anyone. Faces ran through his mind while he sipped on a glass of vodka and cranberry juice. His nerves had settled down for the most part. Yet, while he sat in a low-back, leather chair, his Glock .40 rested nearby on an end table. There was only one light on in his Georgetown townhome, giving the impression that no one was there. He had spent the rest of the day doubling back through the streets and metro stations of DC, making sure that no one else was following him. But whoever had arranged the attack would surely know where he lived.

  What had occurred previously in the day had been sloppy. He doubted those who would attempt to clean up the mess would be so careless. Then he thought of the charred body of the homeless man to whom he’d given his car key. That would help cover his tracks for a short time. It could be weeks before dental records revealed the man’s identity. Plenty of time for him to disappear and figure some things out. Still, something told him he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.

  The waning glow of twilight had given way to evening, and the yellowish tinge of streetlights radiated outside his parlor window. He took another sip from the pinkish-red liquid and placed the glass back on the end table. A sudden knock on the door startled him. Sam grabbed his gun and stood quietly. Visitors were something he never had. But if someone was going to kill him, he doubted they would knock. He stalked quietly over to the door and took a look out the peephole. It was Eric Jennings.

  “Sam, open up. It’s Jennings,” the voice echoed the visual confirmation.

  Townsend lowered his weapon and unlocked the deadbolt and main lock to the door. He opened it cautiously and looked around outside.

  “Were you followed?” Sam asked suspiciously.