David Golemon - Legacy

“Which should have happened years ago,” Laurel said in exasperation.

“That is not my concern. We were only recently brought into this haphazard operation. You can blame your father for that little oversight, not me. And not Mr. McCabe.” The Mechanic turned and scanned the front doors to the apartment building. As he saw the angry crowd start to shove forward toward the police barricade, he smiled. “Number two, we tip Interpol and the local police about our two American friends who just happened to be wanted for murder in Ecuador, thus they arrive and catch them in a very compromising position with one, two, or three dead men inside.”

“Again, a waste of time,” Laurel countered, trying to anger the Mechanic even further. “These men obviously have high government connections and will undoubtedly be released to their embassy-thus, as I said, a waste of time.”

“Your learning curve may not be progressing as fast as Mr. McCabe seemed to think it would, miss.” He smiled as he saw the front doors open across the street. The police and plainclothes Interpol agents walked out with the two Americans in tow. They were followed by the handcuffed killer and several other police officers. He nodded.

Down below in the area leading to the apartment building, the men he had paid handsomely started their small deceit. The neo-Nazi skinheads started crowding around the police, the agents, and the two handcuffed Americans. The police started shoving and the crowd below grew wilder as protesters from the street were attracted by the action. The Mechanic lowered his field glasses and looked at the three devices lining the window seal in front of him.

“The second domino to fall, miss.” He picked up the first remote detonator. “The police are about to be attacked by your father’s words from six thousand miles away. The demonstration below is about to turn ugly.” He turned and looked at Laurel. “Now do you see? It’s all going to be bundled into one nice package-no witnesses and our Mr. McCabe is eliminating a serious threat to your father’s plans by having this Colonel Collins and his friend blown to Allah. And all the while the blame will be placed on the civil unrest in the streets.”

“And this will make Germany pull its backing for the space launches by the ESA?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Exactly.”

“Too much. This could have been done a lot simpler.”

“But it wasn’t. Would you like to do the honors?” he asked, offering her the remote device.

Laurel smiled and all doubt about the plan seemed to vanish as the opportunity to kill presented itself.

“What am I detonating?” she asked, swallowing and starting to sweat as she caressed the detonator. The Mechanic watched her and his black brow rose. He knew beyond a doubt that this woman was trouble, and her insanity, not to mention her father’s, could very well lead to disaster.

“You are starting a series of detonations. The police will have trouble getting to their vehicles because of the delay that we have paid for. Once in the street, you will press that trigger and five claymore mines will explode in the path of the police, our assassin, and the Americans.”

“And several hundred civilians,” she said, her eyes alight.

“A necessary sacrifice if we are to deter the German government from supporting the space launch. We have people in France, Japan, and Italy doing the same things as we speak. Your father’s words of revolt have spread, as per his plan. The incident with the JPL employee, though unplanned, was a surprise result of your father’s inflammatory words.”

“My God,” Laurel said, as she closed her eyes and stepped toward the window. She opened her eyes again and saw the two large Americans being pulled through the rowdy crowd of protesters. She looked to the right and saw a hundred more Berlin policemen in riot gear trying to push through the crowd, their shields and clubs making a path as people started pushing back. All of a sudden, James McCabe’s plan started to open up before her.

“Yes, praise be to Allah,” the Mechanic said, as he saw the ecstasy cross Laurel’s beautiful face. “I see you are coming to grips with the domino theory.”

The woman didn’t say anything as her thumb played over the detonator that would cause five U.S.-made claymore mines to explode, sending five thousand ball-bearing-sized missiles flying into the mass of humanity.

“God is great,” she whispered.

Down below in the street, Jack and Carl didn’t think the angry mob was going to let them get to the police cruisers. The cars were being jostled by the protesters, each being rocked back and forth on its suspension. Suddenly Jack was pushed to the ground along with Everett. When Collins looked up, he saw that the same man he had threatened before entering the apartment building was standing above them. He had a crooked grin on his lips as Collins saw he wasn’t alone. The police were there and trying desperately to pull the skinheads away from their prisoners. Jack heard a loud grunt behind him and managed to roll onto his back just as one of the skinheads pulled a large knife from the man who had just killed Joss Zinsser upstairs. The man looked over at Jack and Carl amid the shuffling legs and feet.

“Uh-oh,” Carl yelled out loud but to no avail as the policemen were busy trying to keep men and women back from their prisoners.

Suddenly a surge from the crowd pushed the knife-wielding man away and Jack felt himself being lifted from the ground. As he was roughly turned around he saw the smiling face of the man from the front door. He tilted his head as he raised something to chest level. Jack tried to pull away but knew the knife would be faster than him. While police bullhorns shouted orders in German and somewhere in the distance loud popping sounds started sounding that Collins recognized as tear gas canisters exploding, the skinhead thrust forward with the knife.

Just as Jack thought he was about to feel cold steel penetrate his stomach, the man’s face writhed and he was yanked backward by someone’s arm. Jack took the opportunity to twist free and kick out with his foot, catching the German in the stomach just as he was pulled over backward by the person who had grabbed him. Jack assumed that this was a policeman, but he wasn’t about to wait around to confirm it. He turned and tried to find Everett, but the tear gas had started to roll into the crowded and dangerous street.

“Jack, help him!” a voice yelled out, rising above the pandemonium.

Collins turned back around, not seeing who was yelling at him, but he did see the struggle on the ground as the skinhead thrashed away at the man holding him on the ground. The German’s body covered Jack’s savior so he couldn’t see who it was, then the shout from the crowd came again.

“Jack, help him!”

Instead of finding Everett and running, Collins did what he did best. He again raised his foot and brought it down into the Nazi’s face, sending him into oblivion and stopping his struggles with the policeman holding him. Jack turned and started looking for Everett again.

“Colonel!” came a voice from the crowd.

“Jack, get the doc!”

Collins turned back and saw the Nazi’s body being pushed away. A familiar face looked up as four sets of legs came into view and stepped all over his savior. Then he recognized the crazed hair of Doc Ellenshaw. Jack figured there couldn’t be another hairdo like that in the entire world. The frizzy white hair was all over the place and Jack almost panicked when he saw that Ellenshaw was about to be trampled underfoot by the now crazed crowd. He leaned over the prone cryptozoologist.

“Grab my neck, Doc!” he shouted.

Ellenshaw threw his arms around Collins. Jack pulled up and back. His hands were still restrained by the handcuffs, so he had to use another means of rescuing the man who had just rescued him. Soon there was another set of hands pulling on Jack from behind as both men straightened.