by J C Ryan
Rex kept his gaze steady. Digger’s low growl was enough to let the crime boss know the suggestion was not merely a suggestion.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go to my apartment. Perhaps I can convince you you’re mistaken.”
He waddled out to the hall again, the bell in the empty shop tinkling as he opened the door.
Rex wasn’t concerned about the business. The girl would be back soon enough, he reckoned. From what he’d seen, she might need rescuing, too, but first, Rehka.
He followed the man out and down the hall toward the elevators. They waited a minute or so, and then the doors opened, disgorging the girl and yes, four large men with bulky muscles, in turbans.
Why is it that criminals always pick bodybuilders to protect them? As if steroid infused muscles somehow made them good guards.
The fat man spoke in rapid Dravidian, which Rex now knew was the dialect spoken by most of Gyan’s family, thanks to the helpful clerk back in Bilaspur he’d asked while getting supplies for his trip. The fat guy had told his guards to get out of the elevator, and then crowd back in after he and ‘the mark’ had stepped in.
The guards obeyed and got out, followed by the girl. Patel told her to go back to the shop, speaking Hindi this time. Then he stepped into the elevator holding his arm out to keep the door open and gesture for Rex to follow.
Rex had already decided those steroidal boneheads weren’t getting back into the elevator if he had anything to say about it. Trusting Digger to act without a command, he turned himself around and delivered a forceful chop with the side of his right hand to the throat of the guard closest to him. The others didn’t have a chance to move before the first man was out of commission, gulping for air, sinking into unconsciousness.
Digger went into action. He leaped for the throat of one of the others, bearing him down to the ground as he landed. Rex took advantage of the confusion to land a well-placed punch on the tip of the chin of the third guard, with his left hand. Just then, the fourth guard grabbed him from behind.
With Digger still engaged with his target, Rex had to resort to a time-honored street fight move to defend against the guy who was trying to crush him in a powerful bear hug from behind. A head-butt.
The arms surrounding him fell away, and the guy they were attached to dropped like he’d been pole-axed. Rex might have a headache later, but his target had a broken nose and was unconscious. He spared a look at Digger, decided he was doing fine, and turned back to the guy he’d punched on the chin. He was trying to get up, but his legs were too wobbly to carry his weight, and the elevator doors were trying to close. Rex was in the way.
Fat dude, Patel, was wringing his hands. He probably hadn’t had to fight since he came up from the ranks, so Rex ignored him.
He stepped over to Digger and his man and told Digger to leave it. Digger let go and stepped back. The man tried to get to his feet, but Rex kicked him in the side of his head and he slumped to the floor.
But a scream from practically right under him gave him assurance that Digger was now engaged with the guy he’d punched on the chin.
“Excuse me for just a moment, while I get the trash out of the way,” he said to the boss. He turned and helped Digger drag the guy out of the doorway and just for good measure he kicked him in the ribs. The man fell to the floor and curled up in pain. Then Rex called to Digger, “Guard” and stepped back into the elevator and hit the Close Door button.
“Good, now we can go to your apartment. What floor?” he said politely to the boss.
The guy folded. Fainted dead away, without answering.
“Shit,” said Rex. He made a guess that a guy with the means to have bodyguards around him all the time would probably have the top floor. Maybe it was a penthouse, like back in the States. He shrugged and pushed the button for the highest floor, then he turned and started trying to revive the bastard.
When the elevator stopped, and the door opened, Rex had only managed to partially revive Patel. He was too heavy for Rex to even drag him out, so Rex pushed the button to keep the doors open and slapped him sharply. That made him open his eyes.
He gasped. “Where… Who?”
Rex grinned. “Your place, and I’m your worst nightmare. Get up.” Ever since watching Rambo III, he had always wanted to say that part about the worst nightmare.
Patel rolled onto his side and struggled to push himself to his feet. Rex helped by grabbing the back of his collar and pulling, which caused Patel to start gagging and choking. He found the strength to shove himself to standing in a hurry after that.
“Good job. Now, move your fat ass to your apartment.”
Rex shoved Patel out of the elevator. Stumbling, Patel caught himself on the opposite wall and looked around to get his bearings. As Rex had guessed, there was only one large apartment on this floor. Patel staggered to the door and reached in his pocket for a key.
“I’ll take that,” Rex demanded in a whisper.
Very quietly, he unlocked the door and turned the knob gently, so that not even a click betrayed his presence. He drew his gun from the back of his pants, pointed it at Patel, and gestured with it for him to go in first. With his other hand, he mimed zipping his lips.
Patel nodded and pressed his lips together. He started toward the door, and as soon as his bulk was directly in front of it, Rex propelled him in with a shove to his back. Rex followed, his gun ready, sweeping the room for threats.
“There’s no one here,” Patel protested.
“We’ll see.” Steering his captive with one hand, Rex cleared the rooms. Patel had been telling the truth. No one else was there.
Patel was gaining a little confidence, though. He turned toward Rex, raised his hands, and backed away from the gun. “What do you want?”
“Rehka Gyan. That leech, Dhruv, sold her to you, or maybe you took her when he was jailed. Where is she?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Rex was getting tired of this dodge. He pointed the gun at Patel’s nose. “What have you done with her?”
Patel’s hands shot higher into the air. “All right! Don’t shoot. You’re too late. I sold her.”
“To whom and when?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Listen Patel, I don’t have the time or patience for your bullshit. I’m not going to ask you again. Start talking, tell me the whole story and nothing but the whole story or your brains will decorate the wall behind you.”
Patel shivered and started talking. “Dhruv owed me money. I took the girl as payment, but I sold her to a Saudi friend of mine. She’s probably now in his harem. He enjoyed her performance so much that he overlooked the fact she was no longer a virgin. He took her as a pleasure wife.”
Rex literally saw red. The casual and arrogant way Patel revealed Rehka’s rape pushed all of Rex’s buttons. He still held the gun pointing at Patel in his right hand, but his left fist shot out and landed squarely on Patel’s fat, ugly nose. Blood sprayed, and Patel went down, but Rex wasn’t through. He dropped the gun on a nearby chair and went to work.
He’d encountered pure evil before and kept his cool even while he meted out justice. He’d exposed a child pornographer, killed drug dealers, terrorists, arms dealers, and anyone who helped them, all in the name of avenging the deaths of his family and protecting his country. But this time, he could contain his rage only long enough to get the name of the Saudi, before he let it loose.
He kicked Patel in the ribs and stomped on him where his legs met his torso. Patel curled into a fetal position and Rex landed a kick to his kidneys. He didn’t stop until Patel stopped screaming.
Rex stood back, breathing heavily, both fists clenched, and looked at the wreck of a body at his feet. Patel was still breathing.
Good. They can’t get me for murder, at least not yet.
Rex picked up his gun and looked at it. Pointed it at the quivering lump of flesh on the floor. Put just enough force on the trigger that another twitch would fire it.
And then, he took his finger off the trigger and turned away.
The bastard wasn’t worth it. If he took the shot, the other Patel – his new cop friend – would hear. He’d have no choice but to arrest Rex, and then Rehka would be enslaved in a Saudi harem forever, or until she committed suicide. Rex landed one last kick to Patel’s face which broke his jaw in a few places, wringing a gurgle from him.
“You’ll be having your food through a straw for the next six months asshole. It might just help with your obesity issue. You can thank me later.” Rex hissed as he turned and left.
He took the elevator down and found Digger still guarding the casualties. “Stay. Guard,” he said, and walked out to find Aarav.
“I happened upon a big mess inside,” he said. “I have no idea how it came about and who caused it. When I got here that's what I found. One thing is plain as daylight — someone out there must have a serious grudge against your namesake.”
The two of them went inside, and Patel just shook his head at the carnage. He looked at Rex inquisitorially.
“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to solve this one. Like I said, I got here after the fact. And I’ve got a plane to catch, so I won’t be able to stay for a statement. Although I think I just gave you one — I don’t know what happened. I take it that would be okay with you then if Digger and I leave now?”
“I’ll call for backup. Go on, get out of here.”
Rex said, “Digger, come.” He and Digger walked out the door, leaving Aarav to scratch his head and figure out how to explain what had happened.
If Rex had looked back, he would’ve seen a smile on Aarav’s face.
CHAPTER TEN
REX WAS SPEAKING metaphorically when he said he had a plane to catch. The truth was that he had no ID that would get Digger into Saudi Arabia without a long quarantine, if at all. The Saudis recognized only Seeing-Eye and Hearing dogs, not service dogs for the ‘invisible’ maladies, like the PTSD that Digger’s papers claimed. In fact, they had gone so far as to ban ownership of dogs as pets in 2008, but a quick check of the internet revealed that was no longer the case.
What Rex needed was a new identity, and various documents for Digger that included valid health and vaccination certificates, which he could provide thanks to having Digger checked by a veterinarian as soon as he’d reached India. Other documents Saudi Arabia required, he’d have to have created by the same forger who’d create his. Using the forger he’d used before wasn’t an option. Everything in India was for sale – including the intel that a savvy guy with a big roll of money had entered the country with no ID and paid for a complete legend, only to be back a month or so later looking for a new one.
The bottom line? He had to find a new forger, one as good as the old one, and he had to give the guy enough time to create flawless papers. Rex went back to his hotel to shower, change clothes, and cool off. He hadn’t broken a sweat for his efforts in beating Patel and his goons, but his rage had left him tense and unsettled.
A warm shower followed by a cool rinse put him in a better frame of mind. Digger needed a walk, so Rex took him downstairs and let him run on the grounds of the hotel while he thought about the quickest way to find a good forger. Then he had an idea. Patel – the cop, not the gangster – would probably know of someone. He already knew Rex wasn’t what he claimed to be, but he’d chosen to keep that to himself, partly in gratitude for Rex and Digger saving his life. Just maybe, it was also partly because he suspected Rex could get things done that the police couldn’t. What would it hurt to ask him? Asking wasn’t a crime.
Rex took out his phone, looked up the number of the police station where he’d given his statement the evening before, and dialed. When the phone was answered, he asked for detective Aarav Patel.
“He’s tied up with a case,” came the answer.
“Will he be long?” Rex asked. “I just have a quick question.”
“I’ll give him the message. Right now, he’s with the captain. There was some gang violence early this morning and five members of D-Company were badly beaten.” The man on the other end of the phone sounded like he was delighted to share the news.
“Okay, I’ll call back.”
“I could take your number, have him call when he’s free.”
“That’s okay.”
Rex was willing to take a chance that Patel would still help him after being left in a precarious situation. But not so big a chance that he’d hand out his cell number on a silver platter to anyone one who asked.
He called Digger, went back to his room, and waited an hour.
This time, he was transferred to Aarav Patel right away.
“Aarav, it’s Randall.”
“Please don’t tell me you have stumbled upon another half dozen beaten up crime syndicate members. I had a hard-enough time explaining the last five. I thought you would be on a plane by now.” Patel laughed.
“That’s the reason for my call. You see, that plane I need to catch. It will take me out of the country.”
“I would hope so.” Patel chuckled. “What can I do to get you on it as quickly as possible?”
“I need someone to help me with papers… for me and my dog,” Rex said.
“Ah, that kind of papers. Just a moment.”
Rex heard footsteps and then a door closing, before Patel came back.
“You mean some artwork, right?” Patel said, emphasizing ‘artwork’.
“You got that right.”
“Would you be coming back to India when your errand is finished?”
“Yes.”
“If I were to give you a name, would you be willing to drop off the, ah, papers to me, when you’re done with them?”
With only a little regret, Rex said, “Sorry, man, I don’t think I could do that.”
“It was worth the asking.” Patel exhaled. “Okay, we know this man is an artist. We just can’t get any evidence against him. It tends to walk out the door with his customers.
“Is your errand something I’d approve of?”
Rex answered, “I’m hundred percent sure you would. You have my word on that.”
Patel sighed. “I’ve broken more laws in the less than twenty-four hours I’ve known you than all of my life to this point. What’s one more?” He gave Rex the name and address. “Don’t get me in trouble, my friend.”
“No chance. And thank you.” Rex ended the call.
“Come on, buddy, we have an urgent assignment,” he said to Digger.
***
THE NEW FORGER confirmed Rex’s guess that he’d need several days to complete the work. In fact, he’d said a week. Rex offered a premium on top of the already expensive order if he could do it in three days. The extra money did the trick, and his order was fast-tracked.
While he waited, he gathered the gear he wanted to take with him. It felt familiar. He bought a computer carrying case and a camera bag. One of his weapons had a few pieces that could be broken down and camouflaged as camera or computer parts. What couldn’t be camouflaged that way, he concealed in a lead case marked ‘film’.
At a shop that had the same name as the one in New Delhi where he’d found Digger’s kongs, he bought a large crate for the flight. Rex was nervous about how Digger would react to the crate, but it was a necessary evil. Digger looked it over when Rex put it in the back of the van, but he didn’t growl at it. That was a plus.
Rex inspected Digger’s combat gear, including the harness with the night-vision camera, and decided it was still in decent shape. Using the make and model name of the camera, he researched what software he’d need to interface with it on his new iPad and installed it. That night, he got Digger into his gear and took him out for a test run. It worked perfectly.
Next was deciding how to explain his night-vision goggles, if anyone asked. Chances were that if everything else was in order, an x-ray wouldn’t flag them. If it did, Rex would have a story ready. Something along the lines of needing the night vision gear to take
pictures out in the desert at night time.
Getting his gear in proper order to take with him also put him in mind of what he wouldn’t need – or necessarily want – to have with him on the trip. The laptop and hard drives he’d taken from the Afghani drug lord, for example. He hadn’t finished exploring the information in them and probably wouldn’t finish for a good long time. Some of it didn’t need immediate action, but he might want to act on it later. However, he wouldn’t be doing anything with them until he got back. It would be too hot for them in the van in airport parking, not to mention the potential for theft. He started a checklist, and the first thing on it was to find out what bank might have a large enough safety deposit box for the hard drives.
Then there was the question of his cash, some of which he’d need with him, but certainly not the bulk of two-hundred-thousand dollars that remained. He’d been frugal except for the purchase price of the van and of his and Digger’s two sets of identity papers. He made no apology to himself for spending on those – the best was required and came at a price. He decided to deposit the cash in several international banks, so the amount would not be questioned anywhere, and he’d be able to access it in almost any country.
Finally, the diamonds. It was easy enough to place them in a safety deposit box, but he decided perhaps not the same one as the hard drives would occupy. Nor in a bank where he also had a major cash account. Those, he’d put in a Deutsch bank safety deposit and leave just a few hundred dollars in a checking account there. When he got back, he’d look for a buyer. He’d carried them around long enough. It was time to turn them into a more useful asset – cash.
When all that was done, he started researching the Saudi who’d acquired Rehka’s bond and learned how he was connected to the royal family and where he lived. The connection to the royals was tenuous. He was probably about somewhere around number three hundred in the line of succession, but still wealthy beyond any reasonable measure.
By the time the new ID and Digger’s extra papers were ready, so was Rex. He knew where he was going and who to see, his equipment and his partner, Digger, were in top condition, and he had a ticket for the next flight to Riyadh.
