by Andrew Allan
More guards.
We ran through a doorway into a small meeting room. There was a long conference table running down the middle of it. White boards on the wall and a water tray in the corner.
“Whoa,” said DG.
“What is it?”
The table was covered in wrapped, square packages. They were labelled SEMTEX.
“They ain’t screwin’ around,” said DG.
“That what I think it is?”
He nodded.
“What is it?” said Ilsa.
“Things that make you go boom,” said DG.
“Why would that be here?” said Ilsa.
“They’re planning to blow up the bridge to Ft. DeSoto. Make it an island, like Florida’s own Martha’s Vineyard,” I said.”
“These guys have got some serious stones,” said DG.
“So, do we,” I said.
DG smiled.
“They can’t blow things up without explosives.”
65
“IS THIS STUFF stable?”
DG pointed to silver rods sticking into the SEMTEX with wires curling off. “These are detonators. Ready to rock.”
“Which I’m sure someone around here has.”
“Probably.”
This would be enough.
Enough to blow up the bridge.
Enough to prove what the Kith were up to.
It wasn’t a smoking gun. But, it was close enough.
Commotion outside the room. Footsteps, running.
Worried looks between us.
Ilsa pulled up her green men’s golf shorts and said, “What’s the plan, man?”
“We get out of here with this.”
“All of it?”
“No.” I picked up a brick. It was dense and heavy. And even though DG said it was stable, I held it carefully. “Just enough for proof.”
“So, we go back out that way and run?” said DG.
Yes. But, not together.
“Ilsa. I want you and DG to go out first. I don’t know what’s on the other side but whether it’s Kith or Stokely, you two will be safer without me.”
“The hell you gonna do?” said DG.
I took hold of DG’s gun. “I’m going to follow you.”
Ilsa said, “Why don’t we all go together.”
“Because if the Kith are waiting for us,” I set the gun on the top explosives box, “I’m gonna blow the whole place up.”
DG shook his head. “Cute, Walt.”
“What?”
“Common misperception. You can’t blow that up by shooting it.”
“I can’t?”
“Needs an electrical charge to detonate.”
“How do we make that happen?”
“No way that doesn’t involve being close. Car battery maybe. I don’t know. I’m not a bomb expert.”
Shit.
“We just need Stokely to see it,” I said.
I handed DG the briefcase. “Don’t know what’s in it. But, get it to Stokely. Just in case.”
He nodded.
“And, if things don’t work out, take care of Ilsa.”
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Fine. If I die, Ilsa, please, take care of DG.”
She smiled.
He looked to her and said, “Good luck.”
“Tell him that.”
DG looked to me and said, “Don’t fuck it up.”
As one would expect.
“Let’s go,” he said to Ilsa.
They stopped at the door. He checked both directions. I could see people running past them.
Ilsa looked back. “They’re evacuating.”
DG took her by the wrist and pulled her into the flow before I could respond. The doors closed.
These quiet moments were the worst. The lack of noise and interactions allowed thoughts to flow into the mind. Bad thoughts. Dangerous thoughts.
I pre-visualized:
SEMTEX in hand, out the door, no peeking, just run. Cut right, follow the hall to the exit. Everyone seemed to be running that way. Slip into the herd, keep my head down, and get outside.
Big breath.
I ran to the door, yanked it open.
Blocked in.
A member of the kitchen staff parked a cart of clean dishes in front of the doorway, then ran off with the rest of the evacuees.
Why were they running?
Where were the Kith?
Didn’t matter.
I slipped between the dish cart and the door and ran. Lugging the SEMTEX slowed my run. Whatever, keep going.
A bellhop bumped me.
A laundry washer stopped me short.
I dodged carts and tables and bins.
A waiter rushed past me.
A Kith guard ran past me. Didn’t even notice.
There were two kinds of panic happening—Staff getting their asses out of there. Kith were what, hunkering down?
I ran.
Down the hall. Around the corner. Turn left, turn right.
Ilsa appeared ahead. DG was next to her. Other heads obscured the view.
Something slammed my back. I dropped the SEMTEX and about choked on panic.
Nothing happened. No explosion, just a dull thud.
A valet kid tripped over it, skinned his knees, got up and kept running.
I slammed into a wall and dropped it again.
A look up revealed a Kith who damn well knew who I was.
He kicked. I tried to catch it but felt the impact in my chest. I held on and dragged him to the ground. He clawed, I punched and kicked him off me.
A dishwasher tripped over him and landed on him. That gave me time to get up, roll a 10-top round table off a cart and spill it onto him. It wasn’t going to stop him, but it was heavy enough to buy me time.
I ran.
The SEMTEX!
I turned back and scooped it up. The Kith guy was almost out from under the table. I jumped on the wood, hammering down with two feet. The Kith went flat beneath. I slipped, but kept upright and ran, ran, ran.
More turns, more dodges.
The herd was in full stride, with more hotel staff flanking in from the sides into the exit flow.
Daylight up ahead. Staff turned light and bright as they went from exterior to interior.
“There!” yelled a voice.
Three guards ran towards me. They aimed. They fired.
I ducked behind a stack of dishes. Glass and ceramic shattered and flew. A housekeeper took a bullet and smacked the floor hard.
Everyone screamed.
I weaved for cover.
The exit was thirty yards ahead.
Bullets blasted a time clock off the wall. I dodged it.
Twenty yards away.
Grunts and groans and cries as the staff squeezed out the exit doors ahead. Someone yelled in Haitian. Someone snapped in Spanish.
Ten yards away.
Everyone jammed up.
The Kith were charging guns first. If I stayed behind this group, they’d be shot, too.
I broke right and ran down a side hallway, away from the exit.
Bullets shattered glass pitchers as I dashed around the corner.
I had a clear path and moved behind parked carts for cover.
More bullets.
A light shattered, glass fell, glass crunched under my feet.
I moved across the hallway. Something shoved me ahead of my momentum. I spilled forward, lost my footing, stumbled into the wall. When I looked down, there was a hole in the SEMTEX where a bullet had shot into it.
What now?
The hall intersected another hall. It appeared to lead the wrong way.
More bullets shot up the walls like a Mexican execution.
I ran for it.
A slug hit my shoulder. Intense pain. I almost dropped the SEMTEX.
But, I didn’t.
I ran.
I ran faster.
I slammed the cross bar and shoved a door op
en. It revealed a loading dock with a flatbed semi truck backed into it. The parking lot was beyond it.
I ran down the ramp and around a landscaped planter.
It was swamp hot.
The door slammed open behind me.
Someone said, “There he is.”
Someone else said, “Oh, shit.”
66
WHAT A SIGHT.
Cops, cops, and more cops.
Cop cars, cop SUVs, cop emergency response vehicles, even a fire engine, were all in the parking lot.
Stokely was at the head of the pack, although over by the other exit. He caught the buzz as officers saw me run around the corner. They saw what I was carrying. And, they all raised their guns.
“Drop it!” said a voice over a police cruiser loud speaker.
I dropped to the ground and let go of the SEMTEX.
A fleet of officers ran at me. One, two, I stretched both arms out flat on the ground. No sense in getting up only to get knocked down. They scooped me up and put my hands behind my back.
Click went the cuffs.
The cops dragged me over to Stokely.
“Am I glad to see you,” I said.
He sized me up.
“Not sure if I should tell you it’s not how it looks,” I said. “Or, it’s exactly how it looks.”
“Tell me the truth,” he said.
“Fair enough.” I looked up at the hotel. “You’ve arrived in time for the Kith convention. This is where they’re hiding out while they take over Ft. DeSoto under the guise of the Governor’s bogus state of emergency.”
“That’s all happening like you said?”
“Yes, actually, it is. They’re moving supplies onto the beach. And that, over there, is SEMTEX, which they intend to use for blowing up the bridge to the island.”
Stokely looked past me to the block of SEMTEX.
“You’re gonna want to speak to the guy they call Razook,” I said.
“Where is he?” said Stokely.
I shrugged. “Last I saw, he was trying to kill me up in the penthouse.”
“Why is that?”
“Because that’s what he does. If my wife is around here, you can see the evidence beaten into her face.”
Stokely nodded.
“How’d she get here?” I said. “And, DG.”
“That’s another matter I’m dealing with,” he said.
“So I can trust you?”
Stokely nodded.
“Sir,” said the officer next to Stokely. Tap on the shoulder. A point over to the lobby entrance of the hotel.
Look who strolled out the front doors. Razook himself. He was out of his robe and wearing a respectable suit.
“That’s the man you should speak to,” I said.
Razook was flanked by Von and one of the muscle men from the penthouse.
“The guy on his right shot the Governor.” Maybe not technically. But, why quibble?
Stokely stepped past me.
The officers holding my arms prevented me from following.
“You the man they call Razook?” said Stokely.
Razook walked over. “I am.” He sized up Stokely. “How can I help you?”
“Who says we need your help?”
Razook seemed surprised. Not how he was used to being addressed.
“Do you own this hotel?”
“I am a partner in it.”
Stokely looked past Razook. “And, all of these men work for you?”
Razook nodded. “Yes. My organization has bought out the entire hotel for the next week.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we can,” said Razook with his shitty smirk. “In fact, we can buy just about anything we want to.” Razook looked deep into Stokely’s eyes, selling the message behind the words.
“So, I’ve heard,” said Stokely. “Seems even police officers are on your payroll.”
“We’re always looking for more.”
It was Stokely’s turn to give him a look.
Where were Ilsa and DG?
“Can you identify that man over there?” said Stokely.
Razook nodded confident and said, “I can. That’s Walt Asher, the man who killed Governor Vissel.”
Stokely gave me a suspicious look.
Why did this all of a sudden feel like a rehearsed act they were both in on?
Stokely said, “And, how do you know he did that?”
Razook almost slipped. “I’ve seen his picture all over the news. And, he has harassed my organization for years. His face was already quite familiar. And based on my dealings with him, he’s just the type to assassinate a public servant.”
“The guy who killed the Governor is right there,” I yelled.
The officers gripped my arms tighter.
Razook spoke, “No. I certainly did not kill the Governor.”
Stokely said, “Keep him quiet.”
The officers jerked my arms.
“Officer, Sheriff?” said Razook. “I’m helping with the hurricane recovery. I have too much to do to waste any more time with him. If you like, and when you’re ready, I will be happy to give a statement. But, now I must go.”
He turned to leave.
Stokely watched.
Razook looked back and saluted Stokely.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I never had a chance.
I never had a fucking chance.
“Just a minute,” said Stokely.
Razook kept walking, ignoring Stokely.
“Razook.” Stokely’s voice got loud, commanding.
Razook stopped and turned at his limousine, which had been waiting outside the lobby. “Are you speaking to me?”
“I didn’t say you could go anywhere,” said Stokely.
Before Razook could answer, Von walked out of the hotel.
And, my heart sank.
Ilsa was on his arm. I thought she got out with DG.
Where was he?
Von hurried Ilsa over to the limousine.
“They’re taking my wife.”
Stokely ignored me.
Ilsa saw me. “Walt?”
Von pushed Ilsa into the car. She fought and lost. He slammed the door.
“That’s my wife!” I yelled.
Razook pointed to me. “See what I mean? He’s crazy.” He turned to step into the limo.
“Freeze right there,” said Stokely.
Razook ignored him.
“I said freeze.”
Razook sat on the leather limo seat.
He looked back to Stokely with a nasty expression as he reached to close the door.
Stokely reached for his gun.
Razook saw it and pulled fast on the door.
Stokely was fast on the trigger.
Von hit Stokely’s arm.
He fired.
His bullet hit the ground.
The limo door shut.
Von swung at Stokely.
Stokely ducked and fired, two slugs in the gut.
Von grabbed Stokely’s shirt. Another blast.
Von hit the ground.
The limo engine revved. It moved, whipping around fast, bystanders be damned. Hotel staff jumped out of the way. Cops tried jumping on the car but missed.
The limo roared past.
Ilsa jumped out and rolled across the concrete.
The limo raced for the road.
It rolled over the SEMTEX brick I had dropped.
The explosion was massive. The heat and sound blew us back—we all fell back.
Black smoke curled upward.
The limo was a memory.
And, so was Razook.
I looked around.
There was DG running towards us, a wide smile on his face. He was holding something. It was small and black, like a key fob.
“Hey, I got the briefcase open.” He laughed. “You see that shit?”
DG found the detonator.
Wait.
I said, “What about the other?—”
A bigger explosion came from inside the hotel.
Fire blew out the exit doors.
Windows blew out.
Kith scattered.
Cops hustled.
Stokely waved everyone back.
The Kith on the ground looked confused and surprised and conflicted. They couldn’t abandon their leader.
Kith up in the suites were blasted out the windows. It was a 360-degree massacre. Their bodies fell on rooftops and trees. They dented car roofs. They smacked hot pavement.
The explosions accelerated and spread. Concrete sheared off the hotel facade.
Everyone ran.
Ilsa and I did, too.
DG caught up to us. “That one was an accident. But, I’m not gonna lie—I love exploding shit!”
Kith members were standing around in awe. Seeing their colleagues’ charred bodies splatting against the pavement seemed to tip them off to the fact that some dreams weren’t worth keeping alive. They panicked and ran.
The hotel’s large, multi-ton crown, the most distinguished piece of its architecture, broke loose as the tower beneath it crumbled. It seemed to be the only part of the structure that hadn’t been busted into dust. Its massive weight accelerated its fall down…down…down…right on top of the believers.
It buried them in a pile of hot steel and stone rubble.
Maximum freedom? Enjoy it in the afterlife.
The ground shook.
Pulverized concrete bloomed into rolling powder clouds.
We ran onto Gulf Boulevard, across the street, up the curb, until we couldn’t run any further, otherwise we’d end up in the Intracoastal waterway.
We stood on a wooden dock and looked back at the wreckage. The tower was now a giant pile of rubble strewn all over the parking lot and onto the street. Seagulls circled around the plumes of smoke. You could see a cloud of cement dust blowing north and dirtying the windows of nearby hotels.
And, the view was incredible. For the first time in decades, this slice of the beach was clear. You could actually see the beach from the road, unlike most places along the strip.
That didn’t look nearly as good as my future, everybody’s future. Razook was dead. The Kith were obliterated.
Ilsa’s arm wrapped around me. I was still cuffed and couldn’t reciprocate.
“You did it, Walt,” she said.
Her smile was bright despite her miserable experience.
“We did it,” I said.
The disaster scene was beyond belief.
“Seriously. How many of those bastards you think I got, fifty? Hundred?” said DG. He was standing tall, hands balled into fists on his hips, in a state of hillbilly bliss.
