Don Bruns - Stuff to die for

“So the CIA is involved in this invasion?”

We approached the warehouse. There were no guards outside the side door.

“I don’t know. Maybe three rogue agents, maybe the entire agency.”

“Three? There was a third?”

He motioned to me and we headed toward the back of the corrugated steel building. We walked past the outside forklift and the Buick was still parked. He walked me behind the building and put his finger to his lips. Whispering, he pointed to an outside metal fire escape. “There’s a door up there. I believe it opens onto a balcony that surveys the entire warehouse.”

I whispered back. “How the hell do you know?”

“I was up there earlier this evening.”

I shook my head. The guy was a regular James Bond.

He motioned to me and we quietly climbed the steps.

You’d think that international terrorists would lock their doors. But they don’t. These guys didn’t. The door opened easily and Angel stuck his head inside.

“They’re busy down there. Come here.”

He eased in, kneeling, and watching under the railing that ran along the four-foot wide balcony. I followed.

The truck was about loaded. There were four more pallets of boxes and one more canister left to lift onto the truck.

“Down there.” Angel pointed.

Jackie was standing against the wall, midway down the floor. Someone I didn’t recognize held a gun on her, and Krueger was nowhere in sight.

“You can see everything from up here, can’t you? The entire operation.” The voice behind me surprised the crap out of me. I’d been shocked so many times tonight this shouldn’t have fazed me, but it did.

“Stand up, put your hands behind your backs and walk down the stairs. It’s time we get rid of you assholes once and for all.” Rick Fuentes shoved his pistol deep into my ribs and pushed me toward the stairs. He grabbed Angel by the collar and brought him along. “I swear to Christ, Moore, I’m going to kill you myself.”

He shoved me and I stumbled down the steps, landing on my tailbone at the bottom. He kicked my ass and told me to get up.

“I suppose now isn’t the time to tell you that your son is still alive.”

Fuentes slashed at me with the barrel of his pistol, and I felt the skin rip on my cheek. I touched it and felt hot blood running down my face.

“You keep fucking things up. Where’s your partner?”

“He took off. I have no idea where he went.”

Fuentes hit me again with the gun. I moved my head with the blow and it wasn’t as severe.

“Do that again, and I’ll take the gun away from you.”

He looked at me with wide-open eyes. Angel spun around and looked at me. Fuentes raised the gun and I grabbed it. I don’t know where I got the strength or the courage, but the adrenaline was flowing and I twisted hard, kicking him in the crotch at the same time. Fuentes went into a crouch and let go of the gun. I’ve never shot a pistol before, but I figured there was a first time for everything. I pointed the barrel at him, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. The explosion was ten times more powerful than I’d imagined and the recoil jarred my shoulder. When I opened my eyes Fuentes was lying on the ground, grabbing his thigh.

“They heard that for sure, Skip.” Angel had pulled out his gun. It was like the Wild West. “Quick, both of us go in with guns and we’ll get Jackie to safety.”

“One minute, Angel.”

“Skip-”

“Mr. Fuentes. You’re spearheading this revolution?”

He glowered up at me, holding his thigh, and stemming the flow of blood. Even in the dark I could see the fluid staining his gray slacks.

“You and your son? There’s got to be a family connection over there. What, your father owned property, a factory?”

No answer.

“The finger was to throw Jackie off your trail. Right? Then why did you hire us to see if Vic was at the Cuban Social Club?” I waved the gun menacingly. I tried to appear like they do in the movies, but he didn’t scare easily. He already knew I was a lousy shot.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Just tell me if I’m right. Once we knew about the finger, you had to do your little act for us too-so we’d go back to Jackie and tell her how sad it was that you were being blackmailed with the kidnapping of your son. It really would have been a lot easier if we hadn’t gotten involved.”

“Skip, let’s go.”

“One more question, Angel, then we’ll go.” I kneeled down on the ground and in the dim light I could see the grimace of pain on Fuentes’s face. I was just thankful I hadn’t killed him. “What about the list of donors? Come on, tell me what that was all about.”

He gave me a hateful look. “That was a huge mistake. You were never to have seen that list.”

“But these people were investing in what they thought was a business venture. They didn’t know about the invasion.”

Fire leaped from his eyes. “Some of them. And some of them donated to the cause. Some of them knew exactly what they were investing in. And you’re fucking with a very powerful group of people. There will be repercussions. That list was never to have been seen.”

I thought about some of those names. Huge power players. Politicians, entertainment moguls. Did they know? Did they “donate to the cause”?

“These people will smash you like a bug. Like the bug that you are. They will hurt all that you love, and take away everything you believe in.”

Angel grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t listen to the madman.” We ran around the side of the building, past the Buick, past the outside forklift to the side door.

“Walk fast, as if you know what you’re doing. We hold our guns at our sides, walk to the far wall, tell the guard that she belongs to us, and we take her.”

If my face didn’t hurt so much I would have laughed. “Angel, they’re killers. It just doesn’t work like that.”

He put his hand on mine. “Friend, if you believe it will happen, almost always it will happen. Do as I say and you will see the success.”

Angel pushed the door open and strode in. I followed as closely as possible. Christ, I’d been free and clear three times now, but I kept going back. What the hell was wrong with me? James had said I cared about people and maybe that was it. Or maybe I was just born stupid.

We were halfway across the floor and no one had said a word. The workers were busy pushing everything into the back of the truck so they could close the door. Big strides, guns by our sides, my face streaked with blood, and it was as if we belonged.

“We’re here to take the girl.” Angel grabbed her by her shoulder and pushed her toward me.

“Huh?”

The guy wasn’t the brightest bulb on the circuit.

“We’ll take it from here.” Angel walked away.

“Hey, wait a minute.” The guard shouted.

I looked over my shoulder, Jackie by my side. The guy had his gun up and was pointing at us. Angel spun and fired. The guard collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Run!”

We did. I grabbed Jackie’s hand and we ran faster than any of us had ever run before. Out the door, through the parking lot, and down the block. The sirens were screaming as we screeched to a halt at the pine grove. Police car after police car, horns honking, sirens wailing, came racing to the warehouse.

“I called in the address before I shot the CIA agent,” Angel said.

“So you had all of this in hand?”

“Not everything. Obviously you played a big part.”

He opened the Jeep and James was lying where we’d positioned him, breathing deeply. I heaved a sigh of relief.

Jackie stepped in and sat by his head, stroked the matted hair, and talked softly to him.