“Val! You alright?” Tailor asked, crouching beside me.
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” I gasped, looking down at my chest. The bullet had blown open two of the shotgun shells on my bandolier and lodged in my front armor plate. I was okay.
Tailor extended a hand and helped me to my feet. I shook my head and stepped around the corner. Two men had been holed up at the back of the office. One was a big guy in a dark suit, with an ear bud. He was dead on the floor with about a dozen exit wounds in his back. His pistol lay on the deck in a pool of his blood.
The other man was still alive. He was an older gentleman, with graying hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He had an aristocratic air to him and was wearing what looked to be a very expensive suit. He stood against the wall, eyes wide, with his hands on top of his head. Hudson had the barrel of his SAW practically shoved up the man’s nose.
My eyes narrowed. “Rafael Montalban?”
“Yes,” the man replied. “What is the meaning of this?” I had to give the guy credit. He hadn’t pissed himself or anything. He had some semblance of backbone at least.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tailor said harshly. “You have a computer?”
“I have many,” Montalban replied with an aloof sniff.
“We’re only concerned with the one,” Tailor said. “You know the one I’m talking about.” Tailor was bullshitting the guy. All we’d been told was to get his laptop. We had no idea which laptop or what they were looking for.
Rafael Montalban frowned. “You’ve been well informed. It seems I have a leak in my organization. I’d speak to my head of security about it, but I’m afraid you just killed him.” He nodded to the dead man on the floor.
“Just show us where the laptop is, playboy,” Hudson growled. “I ain’t in the mood for any bullshit.”
“It would seem not,” Montalban said, his English only had a hint of a Spanish accent. “Very well. It’s in a safe in this office. This way.” Hudson led Rafael Montalban around the corner. Tailor and I looked at each other and shrugged. I can’t believe that worked.
Tailor bent over and picked something up. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “He shot you with this.”
I looked down at the gun in my hand. It was a Korth .357 Magnum revolver, beautifully engraved, with a brightly polished blue finish. The grips were genuine ivory and had what I guessed was the Montalban family crest inlaid in them in gold and silver. Ijust been shot with a ten thousand dollar gun.
After Rafael Montalban opened the safe and retrieved the laptop, Tailor made him boot it up and enter the password. He then shoved the laptop into his backpack and keyed his microphone. “Control, this is Xbox. Bravo Team has secured the package and the target, repeat, we have the package and the target, both intact. Requesting immediate extraction.”
Gordon Willis himself came on over the radio. “Excellent work, boys!” he said enthusiastically. “Your ride will be there shortly. Over and out!” Tailor rolled his eyes.
“Xbox, this is Control,” Sarah said then. “What’s your status?”
“One KIA on our team,” Tailor said. “It was Anarchangel.”
“Control, this is Joker,” Holbrook said, sounding very tired. “We’ve got two KIA, Animal and Linus. I’m wounded but still mobile. Copy?” Sarah acknowledged while the three of us swore aloud. Linus was Cromwell’s call sign.
I didn’t really listen to the rest of the radio chatter. We were ordered to gather up and stand by for extraction at the aft heliport. We still had to use caution. Most of the Santa Maria’s crew was still alive. Even though we’d wiped out Rafael Montalban’s security detail, there was no telling who’d be waiting around the corner, ready to be a hero.
“Gentlemen,” Rafael Montalban said, sounding detached and aloof. “Surely we can come to some sort of understanding? I assure you I can triple whatever it is you’re being paid. People died tonight, yes. Your people and my people. But we can all walk away from this.” Montalban then winced as Hudson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and secured them with a zip-tie.
“There’s no going back for us,” Tailor said, lighting a cigarette.
“I see,” Montalban said, discomfort apparent in his voice. “I’m going to ask you again. Let’s talk about this like civilized people. Believe me, gentlemen, I’m a man of means. And I’m not a man to be trifled with. I have powerful friends.”
“I think you better shut your mouth, playboy,” Hudson said roughly. “Your friends ain’t here.”
Tailor gestured at our prisoner. “Bag this motherfucker.” Rafael Montalban was forced to his knees. Hudson pulled a heavy black sack over his head and slapped him upside the head to shut him up. Tailor led the way down the corridor as we marched the Spanish billionaire topside.
I looked at the ornate revolver in my hand again. Feeling a slight twinge beneath layers of Calm, I ejected the one spent case and five unfired rounds and stuffed the gun into a pouch on my vest. Rafael Montalban wasn’t going to need it anymore.
The extraction from the Santa Maria went smoothly enough. The other chopper landed first, depositing Anders onto the deck. He collected the laptop from us as soon as we made it topside. Holbrook and Fillmore boarded that chopper with Anders. It lifted off and hovered nearby while the other one set down.
As Hudson, Tailor, and I shoved Rafael Montalban onto our stealthy helicopter, we noticed the survivors of the Santa Maria’s crew quietly watching us from a distance. Some looked angry, others looked terrified, but most appeared in shock. None had offered any further resistance after we’d wiped out the security detail.
I looked at them one last time as we lifted off. They were all dead, and they didn’t even know it. It felt wrong. A lot of people had died, and I found myself wondering why. The helicopter’s door slid shut as we ascended into the night sky. I quickly grew tired as the chopper droned on. The Calm was wearing off, and I began to get the shakes. I was experiencing adrenaline dump. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate on something else.
I couldn’t wait to see Sarah when I got back. I’d probably go straight to bed and fall right to sleep. Holding her in my arms helped me forget things for a little while. In the morning, we’d probably hold a memorial service for the three men we’d lost. I’d been to several such services already. There were no bodies this time. Our friends’ remains had been unceremoniously dumped into the ocean.
The events of that night strengthened my resolve to escape Project Heartbreaker. We’d gone from meticulously hunting terrorists to recklessly killing the employees of a European billionaire, with no regard whatsoever for our safety. I’d had enough. I was done doing Gordon Willis’s dirty work. He could find another damned errand boy.
My thoughts were interrupted when the chopper’s copilot called my name. I left my seat and went forward.
“You have a call,” the copilot said, handing me a headset.
“Who is it?” I asked, my voice raised so I could be heard over the noise of the chopper’s engines.
“Gordon Willis,” the copilot replied. I pinched the bridge of my nose, took a deep breath, and put on the headset.
“This is Nightcrawler.”
“Nightcrawler,” Gordon said. “Listen up. Damn fine job you did tonight. I’m proud of you. But something’s come up. We have a slight change in our game plan. Can you handle that?”
“What kind of change?” I asked, my voice flat.