Robert Ferrigno - Sins of the Assassin

The flight from the Colonel’s base camp had been a real ass-clencher. Royce kept the chopper at treetop level, the ground a blur as Deeks puked his guts out into his boot, while Royce and Cunningham laughed their asses off, yelling, One more time! Baby swatted them for teasing Deeks, changed the dressing on Deeks’s hand, and told him he was going to be just fine, which was bullshit, since two of Deeks’s fingers had been shot off by groundfire leaving camp. When they stopped for fuel at a little airport in Georgia, Cunningham tried to make amends, killed the gas attendant for his boots. Real nice boots too, hand-tooled and everything, but Deeks just complained the rest of the way that they were too tight. You can’t win with some folks.

The chopper smelled like throw-up, and Royce’s and Cunningham’s cigars didn’t help, but Gravenholtz had to admit, the chopper’s avionics and stealth tech worked perfectly-they zipped right across the border into Nuevo Florida and never tripped the radar or anything else. Smooth ride until they set down in the Glades.

Baby stepped onto the saw grass, the back of her neck shiny with sweat, told Gravenholtz to bring the canister. He was about to tell her to stay put, wait until he checked things out, when she looked back at him with that fuck-me-please look and he grabbed the canister and hopped down, showing off his muscles.

Royce hesitated, his hands on the controls for the chopper’s machine guns, but by then the Asian guys had slung their guns and were dragging coolers of iced beer out of the weeds. Deeks and Cunningham whooped it up, jumped down-Royce slipped out of the pilot’s harness, swatted at the mosquitoes that drifted around him.

You go ahead, I’ll be right there, Baby said, letting Gravenholtz walk ahead of her.

Gravenholtz saw her out of the corner of his eye…saw her reach for something, and then she shot Royce and Deeks and Cunningham, shot them in the back of the head, bam-bam-bam, as if she were swatting flies. She put away the pistol, grabbed Gravenholtz’s hand, and kissed him.

Whoeee, she said, I’ve been wanting to get rid of those three since Alabama.

Gravenholtz stood there for a second, trying to decide what to do. Royce and Deeks and Cunningham had been with him since the border wars…proud rednecks, no weakness, no mercy, but he was in the middle of nowhere, facing down a dozen armed men. The armed men were no big deal; it was Baby beside him making happy sounds as if he was balls-deep on a rainy afternoon that sealed it. Gravenholtz held up a hand, caught the cold beer one of the Asian guys tossed him.

Nobody said a word on the ride into town, which was fine with him, because he was damn tired. And sore too where Rakkim had stuck him. Never been cut like that before, even by a Fedayeen blade. Enough to make most men doubt themselves, but Lester Gravenholtz wasn’t most men. He figured they were going to the Chinese embassy, but, nope, instead they drove up to a private entrance of the fanciest hotel Gravenholtz had ever seen. Fit-for-a-king swanky, and right on the beach. He didn’t like the change of plans, and really didn’t like the idea of him and Baby getting separate rooms, but he held his piece, said, sure, later will be greater, and gave her a wink.

He barely had time to check out the suite before there was a knock on the door, and these four doctors walked in as if they owned the joint. Indians or Arabs they were, skinny little gooks with white jackets and cases of surgical instruments. More gooks wheeled in an operating table and lights and machines with dials and hoses. Doctors seemed real impressed with him, yammering away as they examined him, touching his red hair, gently probing his wounds while he ground his teeth. He guessed stitching him up was real tricky, what with his second skin impervious to their scalpels, but they did this microsurgery thing with lasers, using the existing knife cuts from Rikki to get inside. Real smart gooks. They stitched his ear back up, then filled him full of antibiotics and probably something else, because all he did for practically the next three days was sleep.

Once, he woke up and saw Baby looking down at him, same expression she had just before she blew away Royce and Deeks and Cunningham.

A few hours ago he woke up feeling good. Supergood. Then Baby called, said get ready, because she had a surprise. He asked if they were finally going to the Chinese embassy, but she just laughed. Now here he was, walking with Baby down a marble hallway, barefoot, wearing these gauzy white pants and shirt, a fruity-ass outfit that made him almost glad Royce wasn’t here to see him.

Baby kissed him just before they came to an ornately carved door. “I’m glad I kept you,” she whispered.

Gravenholtz didn’t like the sound of that, not at all, but the doors swung open. Two men inside led them deeper into the room, young guys, dressed all in white like Gravenholtz.

Another set of doors opened and the two young guys stayed outside while Baby and Gravenholtz walked in. An older man turned away from a window overlooking the beach-they must have been forty or fifty stories up.

Baby bent down on one knee, which was the weirdest thing Gravenholtz had ever seen her do, weirder even than killing his three raiders. She tugged at Gravenholtz’s leg but he stayed standing.

“That’s all right, my dear,” said the geezer, smiling as he walked toward them. Spring in his step too, as if he was enjoying himself. “He’ll learn manners soon enough.”

Baby stood up. “Father, this is the man I’ve told you about. I’d like to present Lester Gravenholtz. Lester, this is my father.”

Gravenholtz went to shake hands, but the man’s expression made it clear that shit wasn’t happening. He had a neatly trimmed beard, smooth brown skin, and black eyes so intense Gravenholtz felt he could see clear through him. He looked around. The three of them were alone.

“You’re feeling well…Lester?”

“Full of piss and vinegar.”

“How lovely for you,” said the old man, his mouth tightening slightly. “Thank you for assisting my daughter in securing the black-ice canister. My scientists are still analyzing the contents. I expect their evaluation any moment-”

“So I guess I’m not getting my share of the money,” said Gravenholtz.

The old man cocked his head.

“I told Lester that we’d be selling the weapon to the Chinese,” said Baby.

The old man nodded. “Of course.” He sat in a plain, high-backed chair. Crossed his legs, one knee over the other. “I’m offering you something of infinitely greater value, Lester.”

“Ain’t nothing more valuable than money,” said Gravenholtz.

“Do you believe in God?” said the old man.

“Jesus H., that’s just what the Colonel asked me the first time we met.”

The old man smiled. “The Colonel worships a false god. I am servant of Allah, may his name be praised.”

Shit, oh dear. Gravenholtz should have known. All that bowing and scraping…only ones who did that other than the gooks were the towelies.

“You look in pain, Lester,” said the old man. “Should I summon a physician?”

Gravenholtz turned to Baby. “This is your father? I seen you in church, girl. I seen you take Communion.”

“You’ve seen me do a lot of things,” purred Baby.

Lester felt his skin grow warm.

“I have many daughters,” said the old man. “Hundreds. The sons I keep close, the infant daughters I spread like seeds across the earth. Raised carefully, they marry rich men, powerful men, politicians and military officers on the way up. Sometimes I aid the process…a wife dies suddenly, and a young woman is there to comfort the grieving widower, or a diplomat too busy for love finds it easier than he had imagined, and finds a bride more skilled in statecraft than himself. Yet, even with all my efforts, most of my seeds fall on barren ground, but some”-he smiled at Baby, and she lowered her eyes-“some bear fruit beyond my wildest expectations.”