by Blaze Ward
Alicia fixed Handsome with a hard eye.
“Do you want any extra equipment like bugs or trackers added to your usual stuff?” she asked.
“No,” he shook his head after a minute. “I’m already out way past standard gear for an agent because of Nigel. Let’s keep it loose on this one and see where they want to go. I’ve got enough toys if things get out of hand.”
Alicia nodded and went back to her screen.
She had already taken apart this resort’s system, and then used relatively-hidden backdoors into the other resorts on the other islands. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but it was something of a compulsion for her to invade every system she could.
Bringing order from chaos, as it were, like a good mystery novel did.
There was a lot of chaos out there, and the Salonnian Syndicates thrived in such messiness.
She would enjoy helping Esme and Handsome button it up some.
15
“What do we know?” Tanaka looked across the desk at his second-in-command expectantly.
His office was expansive. It had been a large conference room on the original design blueprints, when this building was supposedly mixed use, with a tower of residential suites for middle-class folks above him and businesses below. The fifth through seventh floors, however, were private. Serviced by their own elevator bank, with a private parking garage underneath the tower.
The room itself was airy, with a view of the ocean through the open sliding door and the afternoon breeze billowing the curtains around. Watercolors and landscapes covered the walls, but only because he didn’t like to stare at weapons all day. He was already thinking of them all the time.
The only two weapons around were an antique slugthrower rifle mounted on the wall behind him and a modern class four pulse pistol in the top drawer of his desk.
“They’ve been here a couple of days,” Leonard replied. “Flight plan back tracks to Aquitaine, but that doesn’t mean anything if they have a reason to fake it. She has money. Dropped a million Cedis into the local bank to set up her various accounts, and I have the impression she’s got several more letters of credit she could tap if she saw something that caught her eye.”
“Do we know anything about Esmeralda Morgan?” Tanaka pressed.
Leonard chuckled.
He was a big man, but softer than the muscle guarding the penthouse. Six foot four tall, and three hundred pounds. Almost like a bear with long legs and shorter arms. His coloration was similar to the boyfriend’s—Obregon’s—Hispanic heritage.
“So when she was seventeen, she was a fashion model,” Leonard said. “We actually found some thirty-year-old prints of her stored in a database linked to photography. She was just as beautiful then as now, and just as comfortable nude. The bio was way out of date, but showed that she was active until she was about twenty, and then vanished. My guess would be that she found a sugar daddy and married him to get away from nude modeling. Outlived him quietly somewhere, then got all his money when he died.”
“And the boyfriend?” Tanaka asked.
“Blank slate, but that doesn’t mean much,” Leonard said. “Dangerous, but Aquitaine accent like a punk kid, so maybe she likes bad boys.” Leonard turned serious now. “I’ve seen printouts of arrest records for the other five, and they’ve all spent more of the last fifteen years inside concrete boxes than outside. They should have eaten Obregon for lunch, and then probably dragged the woman into an alley and taken turns at her before they cut her throat.”
“And the boy took them all out, and was kinda aw shucks about it at breakfast,” Tanaka growled.
“You get shot with that pistol and you’re going to be down for twenty minutes, Eugen,” Leonard said. “I had someone slip it out of the evidence room long enough to inspect the insides. Nifty, compact, dangerous. The charging cycle is a little slow, but that explains the martial arts moves in between shots.”
“Dangerous enough to take out five men if he surprised them?” Tanaka asked.
“Three of them overnighted in the hospital,” Leonard’s seriousness got worse as he spoke. “Broken jaw, cracked skull, and broken nose/concussion respectively. The other two got off easy if you ask me. Why?”
“Is it worth trying to recruit the kid away from the woman?” Tanaka asked. “You know how rich widows are. She’ll find another one by dinner if she needed to. But he looks like a killer, and we can always use more of them. Plus, he’s got to know that this is just a fling. He has as long as he can keep her entertained and on the hook for whatever grift he has going, and then he’s out on his ass. Rich widows don’t marry pool boys. Even dangerous bad boys like this one appears to be.”
Leonard shrugged. Mr. Kim, as he was known to others, handled recruiting and training. Tanaka kept his organization small, but that was because finding good help you could trust was the limiting factor.
Eugen Tanaka had enough money to buy the resort and the island if he wanted to. His other businesses mostly existed to launder funds.
Life trapped in a criminal syndicate wasn’t where he wanted to be, so Tanaka had made his money instead on the outside by servicing them. And whoever else needed weapons in small to medium-sized loads. Not revolutions or armed insurrection. Those required transport-scale loads.
No, he serviced those men and women who wanted to start their own gang. Or expand it. Maybe assassinate a rival or three. Or a small government that had gotten in their way.
Lincolnshire was far too trusting of the democratic process. Easy to abuse. Aquitaine was all about clan and marriage. Corynthe relied on the rule of the local strong man to keep things tight.
But Lincolnshire still thought that the process of everyone turning out to vote for the person they believed in was the way to govern. Which worked great until someone came along and killed all the other choices, whether it was car crashes, random muggings, or simply sniper incidents.
Fools never bothered to push back against Eugen Tanaka. And he was only the middleman, anyway. Bergier, or maybe Black Aurora or Ahearn & Toledano, they were the real troublemakers.
He was just a businessman.
Eugen considered everything they knew about the woman and especially the man and shrugged himself. Too much unknown at this point, but if nothing else, it would be nice to get his hands on such a weapon as Obregon had. Something that small that could take a man down, safely or otherwise, was valuable.
He’d never heard of a class one heavy pulse stunner, but there was no reason not to make one, if there was a market. And apparently there was.
He just needed to seduce the man away from his current meal ticket. Maybe with some greater excitement and long-term employment possibilities?
Quality killers were hard to find.
16
They had sent a flying limo for him. Rob appreciated that. This particular model made the luxury of the resort’s version look utterly vanilla by comparison.
And he would have been completely lost this afternoon, except that there was an entertainment console that showed a topographical map projection as they flew. Up onto the mainland, back off the shoreline a distance, where the area drifted into swamps that had been cleared and filled in for cattle and other grazers.
Rob had the back of the vehicle to himself, so he had fixed a finger of utterly superb whiskey and sipped at it as they flew. Quickly enough, the vehicle began to descend, roughly where Tanaka’s message had said he’d be going.
He had dressed reasonably well today. Again, nice but not that formal. Good shoes comfortable for walking. Slacks and suit jacket in simple navy blue. Striped, button up shirt. Off duty banker, maybe.
The briefcase Rob had brought was a simple satchel made of tanned cow leather and weathered by use. No electronics at all.
Rob didn’t dare bring along exotic bug scanners or transmitters with him today. Well, nothing obvious. Nigel had still added a few pieces of gear, hidden in shoes, seams, and belts, but that crazy redneck liked to spoof the e
xperts in the Service.
Hopefully, none of it was gear Rob would need today. His cover would be utterly blown if that happened. Mac’s as well, but she was in public and had a crap top of money in the local banks, so her notoriety would grant her a certain level of insularity.
He was on his own right now.
Just the way he liked it.
They landed at a ranch, but it was not a working place. Those had a certain level of rust and desperation about them, where there was never enough money to repaint everything on time, with one bad market season breaking you so hard the bankers ended up owning everything.
This place had the look of a bargain Tanaka had bought up after the bankers had picked some salt of the earth type’s bones clean. Family spread now in the hands of money who kept everything neat and pretty and had upgraded it all.
It felt like a movie set, except that there were backs to the façades. Rob wondered if Tanaka had some set designers on staff who did nothing but make the place look good enough to move in tomorrow and start filming a holiday romance.
Maybe Jorge needed to buy the place if Tanaka ended up going down on this?
Big main building that looked like it covered twelve thousand square feet across three stories and two wings. Brick and stone façade with ivy climbing at just the right level of decorative. Scent of lilacs from somewhere, just drifting on the wind like a movie set would need it.
Two barns forming part of a quad, one long and low for cattle and the other vaulted for machines. Rob didn’t see any prettier building for horses and tack, so the thing that looked like a show barn arena probably wasn’t for dressage.
The limo dropped expertly into the middle of the parking quad and Rob climbed out as Tanaka and several other men emerged from the show barn.
The man on Tanaka’s right was big, but soft and well-dressed. The other three had the look of tactical experts. Mercenaries dressed for business, but with odd lines like they had their armor under those jackets. Rob was familiar with the look, but he had access to better tailors.
Nobody had any weapons in hand, but Rob didn’t figure he’d be able to outdraw anyone here by much if he had to.
Useful to know he was facing professionals.
“Glad you could join us, Rob,” Tanaka said grandly as he got close, shaking hands again.
The guy just didn’t have hands like a middleman. Not soft enough. Either he was a carpenter in his spare time, or he spent a lot of time each morning driving his hands into a bucket of sand and gravel to toughen them up.
Also useful to know.
Rob had left the empty highball glass in the car and brought the briefcase.
“I’m just happy that the timing worked out, sir,” Rob replied.
“Please, call me Eugen,” he said.
“Eugen,” Rob bowed his head respectfully.
He was just the jumped up boyfriend of a rich widow, right? In over his head around all these dangerous men.
“Leonard Kim,” Eugen introduced the big man. “My Vice President of Operations.”
Big son of a bitch. Heavy and soft, but he carried it well. Gracefully. Retired wingback, maybe, finding life after professional rugby.
“Sir,” Rob shook his hand.
Kim went ahead and played those stupid dominance games big men seemed to get off on. He squeezed Rob’s hand as they shook.
Jorge Royo could teach the man a few things about pressure points and such that he apparently didn’t know.
Rob took it. Waited a long heartbeat and then returned the favor, but he knew about soft spots and nerve clusters.
Kim’s eyes got a little big and nervous as Rob let go and nodded politely without commenting.
The other three smelled like mercs, this close. Gun oil and cordite gets into your pores and leather after a while, which was why Rob preferred pulse pistols. Shorter range and less lethal, but quieter and not as stinky afterwards if you were undercover.
“Were you able to bring a pistol?” Tanaka asked, smiling hopefully.
Rob handed the man the satchel and watched as he opened it and peered inside.
“Marvelous,” Tanaka said. “I might have to make you an offer to buy it later, once I’ve had a chance to see how it works.”
“Oh, I’m sure we could call this one a gift, Eugen,” Rob replied, smiling equally. “I have one under my arm and several more hidden on the ship. Nobody would notice it missing but me, and I’ve been assured by the authorities that I’ll get the one back that they have when we depart.”
“Excellent news, Rob,” Tanaka said, handing the case to Leonard Kim and taking Rob by the elbow. “Hopefully, you’ve not had lunch. I thought we might have a light meal, and then head over to the barn for a show.”
“A show?” Rob asked, not exactly faking confusion. “You have horses?”
“Oh no, Rob,” Tanaka laughed. “That’s a combat simulator. A Hogan’s Alley, except far more sophisticated. I dabble in weapons as part of my business, and buyers occasionally like to see their equipment put through its paces. I also hire out men like these three as security forces.”
A thumb pointing to the mercs, all looking tough today, but Rob figured that Longbow had killed more people than any of them, maybe all three, and he was Jorge’s medic.
And guitarist.
“Interesting,” Rob offered noncommittally.
At least it sounded like he was in the right place.
Now, he just needed to find out if Tanaka was the man who had been supplying arms to Guadarrama and other criminals, back on Ramsey.
And get out alive.
17
Mac was rather enjoying the shopping experience, especially since the Service was paying for the clothes. And assuming the mission went well, everything would go into her wardrobe at headquarters, in case she needed something snazzy for a mission later on, rather than dressing down like a kid, as she had been doing.
Alicia had even allowed herself to be talked into buying a few things, but she had a tendency to be in grays and black. A little muted indigo or crimson would add some color, and Mac still had an eye for that sort of thing.
They were having a late lunch, the two of them. Well, late for normal people, who worked white-collar jobs and had a meal around local noon. It was after four in the afternoon now, but Esmeralda Morgan generally stayed up late dancing with her boy toy, and didn’t get to bed until late, at least according to her legend.
From there, not rising until mid-morning. Late lunch. Late supper. Today shopping instead of sunbathing nude by the pool.
Far better than the three months she had spent pretending to be a working girl as she slowly penetrated Guadarrama’s organization.
Alicia had pulled out a handcomm and snickered quietly as they were alone in the dining area. It presented as a sidewalk café, but they were indoors under a massive dome structure that was opaque enough to make even the hottest or coldest days seem perfect.
“What’s so funny?” Mac asked her nerd.
“Someone just broke into the suite,” Alicia looked up and grinned. “Would have set off the hotel alarms, if you hadn’t forgotten to set them when we left. To say nothing of all the things I have in there. I still think you should have let me leave a stun remote on the bar.”
“We aren’t supposed to be that dangerous on this mission,” Mac pointed out, matching Alicia’s delicious grin. “Rich widow. Favorite niece. The boy toy gets to be shadowy trouble, but that’s because the sort of people we’re going after will see him for what he is, hopefully without realizing who he works for.”
“And what is he?” Alicia asked, glancing around to make sure they were alone.
“Deadly,” Mac said. “Flat out lethal. Everybody sees the playboy, but that’s an act. The men and women who polished him after the Service was done took Rob a whole other place. Only Miguel and a few others understand that. Otherwise, they would have never put us out here like this. Miguel or probably Dillon would have built up a team and spent a
year chasing down dead ends as our target cut his losses and ran, but our target would have gotten away in the end. Even this has a deadline.”
“Really?” the nerd perked up. “How long?”
“The news will probably arrive from Ramsey in no more than seventy-two hours, ninety-six at the extreme outside, depending on how well Dolf’s people managed to follow up and arrest everyone. After that, we’ll either need to be inside our target’s organization, or it probably becomes too late, because someone smart enough to work with all the Syndicates while belonging to none of them will know when the show is over.”
“I’m not that fat, and I can’t sing,” Alicia smiled. “But I’m willing to learn, if that means we can go all operatic on these scum balls. Maybe even start working out more.”
“If you were in better shape, we could take you into the field more regularly,” Mac pointed out. “Everybody looks at Rob and sees big and grandiose, but this is my mission. My case. My team.”
She liked the way Alicia blinked in surprise. Like maybe she kept forgetting that this lowly field agent could give the assassin orders, because Handsome would listen. But she’d been a Department Chief a year ago. Second tier down from Miguel himself, and Mac knew how to work the system.
They were here because she had taken Miguel aside and laid it out, the way it should be done, not because Handsome Rob had suggested it.
In a way, it really was the mature, older woman calling the shots, and the hot, young stud along for his physical gifts, not that she would say that to Alicia. Mac and Rob had talked out all the details, sweating and snuggling as they recovered from various things.
They were a good team, as long as everyone stayed in their lanes. She would do the planning. Alicia would do the cryptographic analysis as they broke in and stole data for her.
And Handsome Rob, Assassin, would kill people for her.
18
