Storm Front, page 13
CHAPTER 20
Jutting out from the hotel’s northern façade, the sundeck cum restaurant perched over the shoreline offering clients an all-day dining experience while enjoying million-dollar views of the bay. A grid of pylons supported the hundred yard wide deck that extended another hundred yards over the sandy beach and into the bay. Normally tables and umbrellas lined the restaurant frontage with rows of deckchairs filling the space closer to the beach, but the furniture had been moved inside to safety leaving the deck vacant. Only concrete planter boxes filled with storm-ravaged shrubs remained.
Under the portico lining the sundeck’s restaurant, Dallas and Lex looked up at the roar of the helicopter. The chopper appeared over the hotel and descended before them onto the deck’s western side that was void of planter boxes. Rain lashed across the helicopter as the pilot fought for control in the buffeting wind, but eventually, the aircraft touched down, its landing skids slipping on the wet deck. Lewis, still holding Lincoln and Mich at gunpoint, kept his eyes on them as they stood opposite him.
Through the helicopter’s canopy, they saw Travis in the co-pilot seat, his assault rifle firmly placed against the terrified pilot’s head. He climbed down from the chopper and joined Lewis.
“What the hell are you doing, idiot? What about the pilot?” Dallas yelled. “He could take off.”
“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Travis beamed. “His hands are zip-tied. That boy couldn’t take a piss without help.”
Lex sneered at Travis’s unprofessional talk then shoved her gun in Lincoln’s face. “Lewis here tells me he found you two at Bungalow Twelve. What were you doing in Mrs. Anderson’s bungalow?”
Silence.
Without warning, Mich copped a coldcock to the side of the head and dropped to the deck, moaning.
“No more fun and games.”
“Okay,” Lincoln begged, “there’s no need for that.”
“Yes, there is.”
She swung hard for a small woman. Lincoln dropped to his knees, a bolt of pain throbbing through his head.
“Frisk them,” she said to Lewis, who dutifully complied while Travis held a gun on them.
Lewis searched Mich first and came up empty. Next he patted down Lincoln and paused. Reaching into his cargo pants pocket, he withdrew the necklace.
Lex’s eyes widened. “Oh my God!” Her hand flew to her mouth in complete surprise. Dallas snatched the jewelry from Lewis’s hand and held it up to the dim light for all to see. “I’ll be damned. The old bag had it with her the whole time. Sneaky old bitch.” Still astounded by sudden discovery, Lex tentatively took the necklace from Dallas’s hand and looked adoringly at her prize. She shook her head in wonder as Dallas sidled up next to her and gave her a gentle hug. For the first time in a month, Lincoln saw her smile.
Meanwhile, Lewis and Travis had their prize to admire. With a big grin, Travis picked up two of the duffle bags. “Time to party.”
“You got that right,” Lewis agreed, picking up the last bag.
“I hear there’s a place in Papeete where the girls are just the right age and will do anything for the almighty greenback. And I mean anything.”
Lewis took a swig of scotch. “Sounds good to—” He froze, mid-sentence, the barrel of Lex’s gun in his face. “Both of you, put the bags down—slowly.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Lewis hissed.
“There’s been a change of plans. Put the bags down. Now!”
Lewis glanced over to Travis, nodded, and put his bag down. Travis did the same.
Dallas waved her gun among Lincoln, Mich, and Travis.
As Lewis edged his hand closer to his holster, Lex shoved the barrel into his temple. “Hands where I can see them. You so much as blink, and I shoot.”
“Are you doublecrossing us, bitch?” Travis spat.
“If the shoe fits.”
Lex confiscated Lewis’s rifle and sidearm, and did the same to Travis. She and Dallas slung the rifles over their shoulders and pocketed the extra pistols.
“One more thing,” Dallas said, grinning. She yanked the whiskey flask from Lewis’s military garb, took a swig, and stepped back.
“Bitch.”
She glanced at Lex. “Opinions vary.”
“Why?” Lewis said with an icy stare.
“Do you really think it’s a coincidence that you and your men were staying in Papeete when I called you?” Dallas explained.
“What are you talking about?”
“Not too bright, are we?”
Lewis didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. “Explain it to a simple man like myself.”
“Fine. The trip you won to beautiful Papeete was our back-up plan in case things went tits-up.”
“You arranged the trip?”
“Lex here excels at tourism. A convincing letter from the French Polynesian Tourism authority and a little spending money goes a long way.”
His scowl relayed his utter contempt for the two women before him.
“Looks like we planned well,” Dallas added, nodding at Lex. “Things did indeed go tits-up. In case you haven’t realized it, you and your men with your expertise were plan B. Did you think it was just a coincidence that while on vacation you met another vet living in French Polynesia who sold you weapons and explosives?
“Think back to that chance meeting at the hotel’s bar two days ago with the Afghan vet. No doubt the conversation turned to battles in deserts far from sweet home Alabama. Bloody sand battles drenched in blood . . . A natural bond forms—a bond only vets could understand.”
“Why not just use him?”
“He was a handy source for sure, but I needed someone I could trust. Who better than daddy’s dear old friends from the military?”
“Missy, you are one cold lady.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Lewis glanced over to Lincoln and Mich. “And those two?”
“Why have just two drifters take the fall, and possibly arouse suspicion, when we can also have a military type like yourself, angry at the world and with the means and experience to pull off such an audacious heist? You give the robbery that professional flair and gravitas.”
“The more patsies the better,” Lex added.
“They’ll never believe it.”
“Won’t they? Are you sure about that? Two losers”—she nodded at Lincoln and Mich—“pissed off with low pay or management or whatever, hire a bunch of military types to pull a heist. You see, my darling Lex does all the backend data entry for the hotel.” She blew Lex a gentle kiss. “And computers are her thing. These two are already on the books, but you . . . You and your men booked into a bungalow two months ago for a two-week full package stay. You even asked for a tour of the hotel and all its amenities, including the vault. Plus our digital records show you asked to have personal items stored in our vault for safekeeping. Apparently, you enjoyed the stay so much you left glowing reviews of the staff and management. You even left a thousand dollar tip to the room attendant—which, by the way, was also recorded.”
“You said the parent company on Papeete controlled the vault. When they check the video footage they’ll find nothing.”
“You’re right. The parent company controls the vault, but we control the feed to Papeete. Lex here is such a geek with computers it’s scary.”
Lex looked to Lewis and Travis with a depraved grin. “Looks like rednecks are good for something after all.”
“Whore! You set us up!” Lewis shouted. With bulging eyes and clenched jaw, he balled his fist, ready to strike. “I seldom hit women, and when I do, I feel remorse. But you two— I don’t care who your daddy is; I’m going to enjoy hearing you cry.”
Dallas laughed at the tough talk. “Try it, asshole.”
“This is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me.”
“You know, you really have to expand your vocabulary. You’re just like a typical redneck. Your tired macho clichés are so pathetic it’s almost sad. You’re the reason women turn to women.”
“You bitches need someone to teach you a lesson,” Travis growled.
“Do we, now?” Dallas’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“You’ll bleed for a month, bitch. It’ll be a lesson you’ll never forget.”
Dallas waved her gun over to Travis and aimed between the eyes, her voice calm and her hand steady. “I’m going to do to you what should be done to all rapists.”
“Yeah, what’s that, bitch?”
Crack! She put a bullet in his forehead. Travis’s head snapped back. He dropped like a stone, dead before he hit the deck.
Dallas waved her gun at Lincoln and Mich. “You two, we need the bodies under the rubble, not outside. Drag his body into the restaurant.”
While Dallas held Lewis at bay, Lincoln picked up Travis’s legs while Mich lifted his head. At the end of Lex’s Sig Sauer P320, they carried the body to the restaurant where they left him on the floor beside the maître d's stand and returned to the sundeck.
From the corner of his eye, Lincoln spotted a black outline enveloped in the darkness, riding a giant swell into the bay. He squinted. The rain hindered his vision, but the shadowy form had shape. It was the unmistakable outline of a ship, her bow plowing through white caps, on a collision course with the hotel—specifically the sundeck. His blood ran cold.
CHAPTER 21
A mile beyond the surf breakers bordering the bay, lightning cracked followed by the inevitable thunder. Lincoln edged over to Mich and casually bumped his shoulder to get his attention. Hiding his voice under the thunder as the deep boom resonated across the island he whispered, “When I give you the signal, go for Dallas.”
Mich was careful not to move his lips. “What?”
Making sure the girls were preoccupied with Lewis, Lincoln shared his plan.
“Are you insane?”
“Just do it.”
“What about them?”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Okay. You sure this will work?”
Lincoln responded with a half-hearted, lopsided grimace.
“Great. What’s the signal?”
“You’ll know.”
After the thunder rolled past, Dallas drew her gunsights on Lewis’s forehead. “Where do you want it,” she asked with cold indifference.
“Screw you, missy.”
“So be it. I’m not a cruel person—I’m really not—so I think between the eyes would be the fastest way.”
“I’ll see you in hell.”
“Not if I see you first.” She tossed him the flask. “Have one for the road.”
He smirked at her gesture but accepted the drink. Lifting the flask in a toast, Lewis glared at Dallas and Lex and gulped the scotch. He allowed the warm sensation to flood his body one last time, then said defiantly, “Ain’t life a b—”
The Manu Tai crashed into the eastern tip of the sundeck, her bow driving through the deck like a knife through butter. Wooden planking exploded from the hit, blasting in all directions. Her hull groaned as she slid up the beach, the ear-splitting sound of stressed metal reverberating in the air.
Dallas, Lex, and Lewis swung around. Their jaws dropped to see the ship crashing through the decking headed their way.
The forward momentum propelled the ship onward through the sundeck until the bow smashed into the hotel’s frontage. The building’s eastern edge, bordering the open-air foyer, crumbled over the Manu Tai’s upper deck. The ship’s impetus finally waned until, with a crashing boom, the Manu Tai’s bow came to rest inside the hotel. The remainder of the ship was wedged and listing on the shattered sundeck.
Lincoln dove onto the duffle bags. He scooped them up, while Mich charged Dallas, the more experienced shooter. He grabbed her rifle and scrambled for cover. Using the bags as shields, Lincoln covered Mich and himself when Lex opened fire.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The bullets ripped holes into the bags undersection, level with Lincoln’s midriff. Sprinting beside Lincoln, Mich returned fire as another volley sprayed the deck at their feet. The two dove over the nearest concrete planter box outside the restaurant, using it as cover.
More bullets pinged off the planter box spitting concrete pieces over their heads.
Lincoln and Mich picked themselves up from the floorboards and crouched down. “This was a shitty idea, Monk!”
Lincoln snuck a peek around the planter’s edge. “We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“Not for long!”
“This is only part one of the plan.”
“Only part one?”
Dallas lifted herself from the deck.
Lewis took the only opportunity he had.
Crack!
The head-butt knocked her back down.
Lewis leaped onto Dallas and slammed his fist into her jaw. At Dallas’s scream, Lex took her eyes off Lincoln and Mich and swung around. Lewis reached for her weapon—Travis’s Desert Eagle. Dallas drove her elbow into his face, breaking his nose. He moaned. Instinctively he pulled his hands back to protect his face. Blood gushed from his nose. Not finished, Dallas kneed him in the groin. He clutched his balls and rolled off her, groaning from the pain. As he staggered to his feet—
“Get down!” Lex shouted.
Dallas dropped to the deck as the barrage tore into Lewis. He stumbled backward from the multiply wounds across his chest and fell over the deck and into the water, out of sight.
“What next?” Mich asked.
“You cover us”—Lincoln looped his arm through the three duffle bag handles—“and I’ll shield us.”
“Where are going?”
He nodded to the shattered window bordering the restaurant, twenty yards away.
“Any particular reason?”
“More cover, more chance of living.”
Mich surveyed the immediate area. Apart from the planter box, there was no other cover.
“Lex and Dallas have more guns and more firepower,” Lincoln said, daring another peek at the two women turning their attention to the planter box. “We stand more chance inside than outside.”
“Good call. This is part two, right?”
“Yep.”
“Is there a part three?”
“This is it.”
Mich tightened his finger around the trigger.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One!” they said in unison.
Lincoln darted out from the safety of the planter box, the duffle bags in position as shielding, with Mich by his side, guns blazing. The two sprinted the twenty yards to the restaurant. A hail of hot lead whizzed past them. Lincoln felt the rush of air as the bullets’ trajectory passed inches from his face, and the thud of rounds hit the bags. Mich continued firing. Lincoln slipped the bags from his arm and with all his strength tossed the bags out to the deck, the last ace up his sleeve and—not to worry Mich—part three.
Together they bolted through the restaurant’s open façade and dove over the empty all-day buffet counter standing center in the dining area.
After they gathered their senses, Lincoln shot a glance at the sundeck.
Lex crouched behind a planter box directly outside the restaurant, her cold eyes watching his every move.
She pumped several rounds into the buffet counter’s metal side. Ketchup and mustard bottles exploded.
A thump and moan from behind caught Lex and Dallas’s attention. The chopper pilot picked himself off the floorboards and scurried toward the gaping holes within the decking beside the ship’s hull. He stumbled from the volley of bullets from Lex’s rifle and dropped over the side.
She turned back to the restaurant.
Dallas crouched beside a planter next to Lex. “Forget them!” she shouted over the rain indicating Lincoln and Mich. “We got those two are exactly where we want them, and”—she pointed to the duffle bags lying haphazardly on the sundeck—“we got what we wanted.”
Lex’s eyes never left the restaurant.
“Lex, it’s time to go.” Dallas held up the detonator trigger for Lex to see, then indicated the chopper.
“I killed him.”
At this point in the game, Dallas was at a loss for words. “Who cares? I’ll fly it.”
“What about Lewis’s body?”
“The investigators will put it down to rednecks doublecrossing each other. Who cares? Lex, we have to go.”
Lex wiped the rain from her face, took one last look at the restaurant and the carnage around her, and nodded. “I’ll cover you. You grab the bags.”
Lex shielded her with suppressing fire while Dallas slipped out from the protection of the planter and grabbed the three duffle bags. She held them tightly to her body and ran for the chopper. Lex took off after her, spraying the restaurant with bullets.
Lincoln and Mich watched from behind the buffet as the two climbed aboard the helicopter. Seconds later the turbine’s whine filled the air.
“Where’s the pilot?” Lincoln asked.
The rotor blades came to life. The downwash created a raging vortex of water that hammered the sundeck and restaurant, driving Lincoln and Mich further behind the counter. The chopper lifted from the deck with Dallas in control and Lex in the co-pilot’s seat.
Dallas kept the chopper hovering thirty feet above the sundeck, facing the hotel, while Lex reached into her pocket.
Through the canopy, Lincoln and Mich could see Lex indicating the detonator trigger in her hand, a degenerate grin on her face. Beside her, Dallas laughed.
Like dominos falling, six muffled explosions echoed over the sundeck. Lex had detonated the C-4 explosives.
Lincoln glanced at Mich. “It’s now or never.” He indicated the rifle, which Mich gladly handed to him.
“Agreed.”
Together they made their way to the portico outside the restaurant. Lincoln pulled the necklace from his pocket and Mich withdrew the mojo bag from his, and proudly held their prizes high above their heads for Dallas and Lex to see.
Lex stared back at Lincoln, dumbfounded by the nightmare before her, then screamed in anger, ruffling through the duffle bags for her pearls. Her anguish was lost as was Dallas’s f-bomb, clearly mouth but not heard, under the turbine’s whine.
