“We know about his compound. Little Guantanamo is guarded by several men armed with automatic weapons. There is only one road in. They have an unobstructed view of oncoming vehicles. He also has several women there in addition to any guests he might be hosting.”
“I realize that. My plan is to bull rush the front and draw the guards outside,” Michael said, a little unsure of himself.
“Well, your problem is that you’re going to be outnumbered by experienced mercenaries with automatic weapons.”
“Which is why I need you. If we roll in with enough men, maybe we can force a surrender before they retreat into the tunnel system.”
“Not likely. ABCs would surely sacrifice his men and make his own escape while stalling under the guise of considering surrender,” Connor said. “Besides, if you’re going rogue, I can’t ask my men to risk their lives and careers taking up your cause. Rushing in like that is too risky.”
Michael breathed out, deflated. Unsure what to say next, he began to ramble, “I won’t let... just... trying to save a little girl’s life.” The fatigue of the day started to set in. Michael wearily rubbed his eyes and forehead with his free hand. This would be his only chance to even the odds.
Agent Connor thought for a moment about his own family. What if that was his little girl about to be sent down the throat of hell into a world of hurt? He would no doubt throw everything away for a chance to save her. He sighed before replying, “Look, there might be a way.”
“How so?” Michael asked.
“I’d be putting my career on the line too.”
“From what you’ve told me, the DEA has had this guy under investigation for years with only a few low-level arrests. You’ll be getting the bust of the century if you help me take down The Alphabet King and his tunnel system.”
Michael knew Connor was not only a father, but also a career man looking to move up the chain of command. He waited while he considered it for a moment. “Okay, if you are charging in on your own, then your plan may have some merit with our assistance.” His logic seemed to have flipped a switch in Connor. “If we can draw the armed guards outside, you might have a chance.”
“If we charge in there with one vehicle, maybe they’ll get cocky and come out guns blazing,” Michael said.
“That’s what I’m thinking. They are going to underestimate you. They’ll think you’re acting on pure emotion, which leads me to a feasible option,” Agent Connor said.
“If you can’t spare any men, then how would you lend assistance?”
“A new DEA division we are developing. This is very covert, top secret, highly confidential. You must swear yourself to secrecy. Our jobs, your life, and the lives of your friends depend on it.”
Michael reached for a pad and pen. Taking notes helped him focus. “You have my word. It won’t leave this group.”
𓂓
After his turn in the bathroom, Clay found the couch and sat back, resting his head on the soft leather. The fresh shirt felt good, and he preferred the darker color. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. He’d never taken this kind of beating, even in college rugby. A sinking feeling in his gut confirmed his fears. I’m in way over my head, especially with this thing involving Evan’s ghost. Wait. What did she call it? Geist. But without Evan, Clay somehow knew he wouldn’t stand a chance in making a difference when they charged the compound. Martha had tried to explain it to him, through the eyes of Evan, but he hadn’t fully understood. How can I maximize the connection when the time is right? How do I stay focused during the melee of a fight?
As he wrestled with these questions, Martha emerged from the bathroom and Sean went in. Martha sat on the other end of the couch in silence. He looked over and smiled at her. “Thank you again for your help.”
“You’re quite welcome,” she replied, turning her attention to her purse.
Clay looked down at the boots Michael had given him and started to change. As he did, he glanced up to see Jackie focused on resupplying the med kit. It seemed an ominous predictor of the danger that lay ahead. His thoughts dwelled on her. For all her outward strength, he could see that, around the edges, she looked like she might break down again at any moment. She had been in a vicious fight. Had been shot at. Her daughter had been taken. He had been tasked to get her to the car and failed. Martha tried to convince him not to feel guilty, but the thought weighed heavy like an abandoned anchor sunk in the pit of his stomach.
Jackie sensed his lingering stare and turned to look him in the eyes. He met her gaze for a brief moment, gave her a tight smile, a nod, and then returned his attention to tightening the laces of the boots.
Done changing shoes, Clay wondered how his collection of peanuts was doing in Michael’s boots. Elena. He sat up, grimacing from a bolt of pain in his lower back. The clarity brought on by the pang helped him understand that, although he and Michael had been injured, Jackie was the one hurting the most, trying to balance all this. Clay wanted her to know he tried to get Elena back. That he was also devastated by what happened. How every fiber of his being wanted to help make it right.
How, in a day’s time, had she and Elena become so important?
It didn’t take much to answer the question. Little Elena won his heart the moment she spoke to him on the stretcher. Jackie had the same effect and he’d been swept up in it. Having not been in even remote proximity to an attractive woman the past few years, he found her intoxicating. Which is probably why I misstepped in conversation and made myself misunderstood. He shook his head, regretting his clumsiness. Things weren’t always like this...
He drifted a little, finding it hard to concentrate. His head throbbed, scattering his thoughts, then stopped, and the doubt flooded back in. Even though he felt drawn to Jackie, this thing with Evan now had him conflicted. Certainly, she felt the same. Her fiancé had inhabited his body in spirit. How were they supposed to deal with that? Thinking too much. Slow down. Elena is what matters right now. He closed his eyes again and purged the thoughts from his mind. He could not waste time over-analyzing. They faced life-and-death decisions, and he needed a clear head. Even so, he couldn’t help but dwell on Charlie for a moment. He hoped to see her again. But now...
A throbbing came up from the base of his skull. He opened his eyes and turned to Martha. “Could you grab me a couple more of those painkillers? Aceta-” Another bolt of pain made him grimace as he tried to find the word.
“Acetaminophen. Of course, dear,” he heard her say.
Trying to relax, he closed his eyes. His thoughts reeled uncontrollably. Again, it occurred to Clay how strange it felt that he should find himself with these people in this situation. Then a notion occurred to him. In moments of extreme tragedy, when people share a common enemy, kinships are born from necessity. Aside from work, he hadn’t felt that in a long time. Kinship. He missed it.
Clay had big plans after marrying Leslie—large family, grandchildren at his feet on Christmas. But when his wife left, it had all been destroyed. Now it seemed like a hollowed-out fantasy. A framework with no life. Aside from the staff and clients in his business, he’d been alone for quite a while. Too long.
Martha returned with the tablets and a bottle of water. “Here you go.” Clay took them gratefully, then rested his head back and closed his eyes again. Martha sat back down on the couch.
What was I thinking about? Oh yeah... Alone, for too long. Then out of nowhere, life had simply blown up in his face. Within a day, he found himself in some garage making plans to go risk his life with people who were, for the most part, strangers. Stop right there. That’s not who you are.
Sitting there having been pistol-whipped, kicked, shot at, and run over, Clay realized that, in a very short time, these strangers had unexpectedly become what he might consider family. Up to this point, he thought his life would probably have little meaning. Now, he had something to fight for. The people in this workshop had become important to him. More than that, he knew he would do whatever it would take to defend them. If it came down to it, he would give his life to save Elena. It seemed like only moments ago she was tucked in the curl of his arm, safe and sound. The thought of her loss, where she might end up... overwhelmed him, angered him. But it also filled him with something he’d been out of touch with—determination.
Sean came out of the bathroom and sat at the table in front of him. “You doin’ okay, man?”
Clay took another deep breath, bracing himself for what came next. He raised his head and opened his eyes. With a look of steely determination on his face, he nodded silently to Sean.
𓂓
Having finished the call with Agent Connor, Michael opened the door to the office and paused to look around. Everyone sat in silence around the couch and table area except for Jackie. She stood by the worktable going over the contents of the med pack duffel. Michael nodded to the group, walked back over to the worktable, and resumed unpacking the contents of the weapons bag.
With a watchful gaze, Clay followed him across the shop and didn’t fail to notice the relief on Jackie’s face when he came to stand next to her. He also noticed that Jackie had no interest in talking to him, which kinda hurt after the time spent in the hospital room and what happened in the parking lot. He strained to hear their conversation.
“So, do we have to do this on our own?” Jackie asked.
“Mostly. But we’ll have help from above,” Michael replied.
