Insertion, page 21
“Tango down, officially,” Antonio said.
“Come out from that side!” Alejandro said, adjusting his stance and backing up to the edge of the roof. Ben’s arms were down by his side, trying to maintain his balance as the leader of the Saint Bertrand Cartel gripped the back of his shirt, using him as a human shield.
“How are you doing, Ben?” shouted Courtney, emerging with the rest of her group from the other side of the helicopter.
“Oh, you know me, just hanging out.”
“Callate!” screamed Alejandro. “You all wrecked my fields, my submarines, and now my house is destroyed! I run this country! What do you think will happen if you arrest me? Do you hear those sirens in the distance?” He paused, noticing a couple of members cocking his head to the left, listening to the raging sounds of sirens off in the distance.
“You’re dreaming if you think I’m going to let you walk out of this,” Antonio exclaimed, tightening his grip on the rifle. The group managed to formed a U-shape around Alejandro and Ben, who were backed up to the edge with nothing but the veranda beneath.
“Nate, do you have a shot?” Kwame asked, as softly as he could.
“Negative, y’all are standing on the other side of the helicopter, big boy.”
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Alejandro said.
“Enlighten me,” Antonio said, trying to sight in on Alejandro’s head.
“You’re going to let me and your beloved Ben here walk through you, down the side ladder, and into one of my—”
Just then two rounds shot up from below and through both of Alejandro’s shoulder blades, causing him to drop the rifle and fall to his knees. Hearing the rifle hit the deck behind him, Ben turned around and kicked the rifle away, sending it off the roof.
Watching Alejandro on his knees not being able to move either arm, Ben cold-cocked him in the face, sending blood and mucous all over the deck. As Kyle and Kwame subdued Alejandro, the rest of the team ran up and lowered weapons. Courtney was the first one to give Ben a hug.
“Don’t shoot, peeking over the edge,” Antonio said into the headset. He saw Marco and a couple of men wave to him from the veranda, and he waved back. As Antonio talked to Marco and tried to figure out the ex-fill strategy, the rest of the Bering group gave Ben hugs and handshakes. Max was the last one to walk up.
“Who are you?” Ben asked, sitting down as Courtney checked his vitals.
“Just a distant friend,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome back.”
Ben took it and looked at Alex. “Don’t worry, man, we’ll have plenty of time to fill you in on the ride back,” Alex said.
Antonio walked back over to the rest of the group, “Okay, lady and gents, we have to leave now. I don’t care how cool of a group you think you are, but we don’t want to be here if the army gets here.”
“What about this guy?” Kyle asked, pointing to Alejandro, who was screaming in pain from his bullet-ridden arms cuffed behind him.
“Oh, shut up,” Antonio said, kicking him hard in the chest, sending him on his back. Alejandro let out a small yelp as tears flowed down both cheeks. Antonio felt no remorse as he leaned over and said, “Say hi to Saint Bertrand for me, pendejo.” Pulling his pistol out, he sent a single round through his skull, the noise piercing the night sky.
The shot surprised the team, especially Kyle, who was standing right next to him when he shot. Walking up to Antonio, Max smirked.
“Here I was thinking you were going to let him live.”
“Fuck this puto,” Antonio replied, spitting on his corpse.
Scratching his beard, Max replied, “That also works.” Covering the mic, he leaned into Antonio. “Have you made a decision yet?”
Covering his own lapel mic and turning his head to look Max right in the eye, he responded, “What kind of rifles do we get to use?”
CHAPTER 48
Twenty-four hours later, the Gulfstream G550 ordered by Janet to pick up the group, landed with a soft thump onto the runway as the screaming engines reversed throttle and slowed. Max woke from his deep sleep and saw that he was the last person to wake up and stretch, rotating his neck and shoulders to loosen up his stiff body. Looking around, it was as if nothing ever happened. The atmosphere was euphoric, everyone joking and smiling, not being able to wait to get home.
He was glad the team was functioning at full strength, but more importantly, he completed what he said he was going to for his old partner and friend. As the plane taxied to the hangar, he saw his bright red Porsche through the window parked right where he left it. Rubbing his eyes and using the lever below him to move the seat forward, he sat up and stretched once more. Alex was sitting next to him reading an article on his iPad when he leaned over to Max. “Welcome back to lovely Virginia, the most boring state in the world.”
Chuckling, Max said, “Where are you from?”
“The great state of New Mexico,” answered Alex.
“Not bad, not bad. Why do you hate it here?” Max asked, clearing his throat, still looking out of the window as his Porsche disappeared from view and was replaced with the interior of the hangar.
Leaning back in his chair and turning off his iPad, he responded, “Honestly, this area isn’t bad. I just don’t like that the military is everywhere. Besides camping there’s really nothing to do here. It’s nothing but strip malls and people with ridiculous vanity plates.”
Laughing some more, Max replied, “I’m not going to argue you on that one. Being from Cali, this is definitely a change of pace.” After the plane came to a stop, the pilots lowered the steps and one by one the operators left the cabin. Max made sure he was the last one to leave. He looked back at the empty cabin, he thought to himself, yeah, he could definitely use a change of pace. After all, more time at home meant he could finally ask the redhead at the pub out on a date. Catching a glimpse of the digital clock from the open cockpit, he saw it was just past four o’clock, which meant there was still time to head to the pub to catch happy hour.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he noticed everyone else heading to their cars, wasting no time at all to get home. He couldn’t wait to have that first beer touch his lips, and maybe talk to Samantha if she was working. Walking down the stairs and rounding the corner outside of the hangar, he saw a very familiar face.
“If it isn’t the great killer himself,” Jack said, leaning onto Max’s Porsche and holding out his hand. Max shook his head and continued walking to the hood of his car. Setting his bag on the ground, he pulled out his key fob, and opened the hood, and noticed a bright yellow Corvette C8 parked next to him.
“Why do you need a Corvette? Are you in a midlife crisis?” Max asked, placing his bag inside.
“You’re a funny guy. Just let me know when you want to line them up and we’ll see who gets the last laugh.”
“Yeah, okay bud,” Max said, Max motioning for his friend to stop leaning on his paint job, and shut the hood.
“Have you given what I asked you any more thought? We could definitely use you.”
“I know you didn’t drive to the airport to ask me a question that you could have just called for. What is it this time?”
“You do know me all too well. I have one more thing that needs wrapping up. I promise this is the last favor I ask,” Jack said, adjusting his RayBan’s.
“I’ve heard that one before,” he said, opening the driver’s door and pausing.
Reaching behind his back, Jack pulled out an envelope but as he was about to hand it over, he pulled it back. “Are you going to work for me or not?”
“If you ask me again, I might change my mind,” Max responded.
“That’s the Max I know,” Jack said, handing him the envelope. He watched him open it and read the contents.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely, it’s already been cleared.”
“By whom?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” Jack replied, shooting him a quick wink.
“Okay, then,” Max said, “consider it done.”
The two friends shook hands and then Max jumped in, backed up, and peeled off toward the exit.
He stopped home only to park and drop his bag off. Entering the Irish pub, he didn’t see the red-headed girl of his dreams working, but nonetheless, he exhausted and was just elated to be back. Finishing his first beer and about to grab his second, he heard a familiar voice next to him.
“Is this seat taken?”
Snapping his head to the right, he saw Courtney, and boy did she clean up nicely. Wearing skin-tight blue jeans, a long-sleeved button-down shirt with the top couple of buttons undone, and her long blonde hair relaxed, touching her waist, she took a seat. Her bright blue eyes stared into his. He was speechless.
“You look like you just saw a ghost, man,” she said, smiling and putting her wallet and keys on the bar top.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.
“What does anyone do at an Irish pub?” she said. “To have a drink! Let’s get a shot or two in before I answer that question.”
EPILOGUE
Alexandria loved to go on boat rides when friends invited her, and she had a lot of friends with boats. Growing up around them because her father loved to fish, she developed a passion for them, but she was more of the partying type. It wasn’t until college that she got her first taste of partying on expensive yachts, thanks to her ability to woo almost any guy she wanted to. That knack she had for being in control followed her well into her job working for the CIA. It also helped her accomplish her side job of making money by selling secrets and making back door deals with shady people. She was also frugal, and was taught at a young age how important it was to save money for important items.
Her plan was, as soon as she saved enough money, she was going to move out of the city, buy a house somewhere in Virginia, and make the short commute to work.
It had been about a week since she made her last cell phone call to Pablo, and she hadn’t heard from him since. No matter, she was going on vacation now, and if they needed more work or something else, they would definitely give her a call.
When Jack handed Max the envelope at the airport, he felt no remorse. Hacking Alexandria’s computer and acquiring her trip itinerary was the easy part—Jack had Preston do that for him. No, the hard part, believe it or not, was trying to find a last-minute flight to Key West the same time she was headed down there. But he accomplished it.
After Max checked into his hotel, he drove the rental car around the small island and looked for quick evacuation routes—not that it was this kind of mission, but he was a creature of habit. Booking a flight ahead of his target allowed him to spot her and follow her the second her plane touched down.
Alexandria’s best friend from college lived in the Keys and invited her out to accompany her on her boyfriend’s boat. Taking the next week off and scrubbing whatever plans she had, she grabbed the next flight out. Her friend was waiting for her at the airport, greeting her and reminiscing on everything over the past couple of years. It had been a while since they had seen each other.
Due to the nature of her job, it had been a while since Alexandria had sex with a decent-looking man; she was so busy selling herself for information that she hadn’t really had time to date, but tonight she was on the prowl.
As both girls threw on their best cocktail dresses, her best friend called up some more girlfriends and the small group of attractive women hit Duval Street, which was littered with more bars and restaurants than a person could count. Your typical Friday in Key West meant the bars, clubs, and streets were packed full of people. This also made it that much easier for Max to complete his tasking.
It was late evening now as Max sat in his car off the main strip. He let Alexandria get nice and intoxicated for a couple of hours before he made his move. Walking through the alleyway connected to the parking lot which dumped out onto the main strip, he checked his phone and saw that his target was already inside. In addition to hacking into her computer, he had Preston introduce a bug remotely onto her phone that showed Max her location at all times. It was too easy.
Wearing shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, and a weathered Dodgers ball cap, he looked like every other person just wanting to get a quick drink at a dive bar. Showing his fake driver’s license to the security guard, he made his way through the crowd and right up to the bar. He ordered a beer and pretended to care about the football game being shown across all of the monitors.
Looking to his right, he spotted his target and her four friends who were only thirty feet or so away. They were all running low on drinks. Quickly scanning the entire bar, and looking for his way in, he found it.
Sitting closer to the entrance were five guys young guys who seemed to be well into the night with their empty beer bottles stacked upside down inside of the bucket on the table. The hooting and hollering coming from their table only added to the allure of using them as his scapegoats. He ordered four Mojito’s and one tequila sunrise, and after the bartender to put them together, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two small pills.
The active ingredient in eye drops is a chemical called tetrahydrozoline, and when induced the proper way into the eyes, it helped to narrow the blood vessels causing the redness in the eyes to subside. However, when introduced to the digestive tract, it was known to be lethal in many cases. One pill of the main ingredient was more than enough to send its victim to the hospital. However, he needed to be certain and the last thing he wanted was to use his pistol—that could get messy. Besides, a lot of the people who didn’t look like much working at the agency knew a decent amount of self-defense. Max was in no condition to get into another fist fight after what he just experienced the last week, so he chose the easy way out.
As drinks were brought to him, he handed the bartender his credit card. As he turned around to insert it into the machine, Max used his right hand to reach over the drinks to grab some napkins and simultaneously dropped both pills in the tequila sunrise. In the fifteen seconds it took for the bartender to turn around and hand him his card back, there was nothing to be seen inside the drink other than the beautiful bright red-orange and yellow colors of the cocktail.
Taking a shot of tequila and slamming it back onto the counter, he noticed a waiter walk up next to him about to order a set of drinks.
“Hey man,” Max said, tapping the younger gentleman on the shoulder.
Greeting him with a smile, he said, “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”
“You see those gentlemen over there?” he asked, pointing to the howling men in their colorful shirts, shorts, and boat shoes.
“Yes, sir, I do,” responded the waiter.
“We’re all down here on vacation, but unfortunately I have to leave. I’m not feeling too well, but they find those women standing over there very attractive,” he said pointing to Alexandria’s group. “Can you make sure you get these drinks to them? My friends are a little shy, so I think this will break the ice.”
Laughing, he responded, “Of course!”
“Great! Thanks, man. By the way I think I saw the redhead drinking the sunrise earlier, so that’s for her. Just tell them the drinks are from them, not me,” he said, slipping a twenty-dollar bill into the breast pocket of the man’s Hawaiian shirt.
Noticing his generous tip, the waiter nodded, grabbed a drink tray, set the drinks on top, and was off. Quickly walking to another corner of the bar but making sure he was still in eyesight of the drinks being delivered, he made sure that Alexandria got her drink. She did.
After watching her take a few sips, he was satisfied that she would drink the entire cocktail. He made his way through the crowd and back onto the street. Wandering across the road full of potholes and cracks from the constant battering of hurricanes, he entered another bar and ordered a beer and a burger. He sat outside in silence to enjoy his late-night snack. This was the boring part, but he had to make sure the job was one-hundred percent complete. He couldn’t afford to let Jack down.
Two hours dragged by and his target was still inside. He wondered if the drugs had worked. At this point all he wanted to do was get back to the hotel and go to sleep. As if on cue, not five minutes later the girls stumbled outside with the men who were sitting by the entrance. Watching the group laugh—and seeing that some of the men were probably going to get lucky based on their body language—he kept his eyes fixated on Alexandria. She was now swaying heavily and had to use a nearby light pole to lean on in an effort to keep her balance. Smiling, he took a sip of his Corona and watched as she instantly dropped to the concrete, completely lifeless. Listening as the crowd gathered, he heard someone lean over and touch her neck. “She has no pulse!”
His job was complete. With two lethal doses, it had worked its way into her digestive system by now, soaked into the walls of her intestines, and from there moved into her blood stream. The drug, when exposed to the heart, caused it to either beat too fast or too slow, depending on the person. After walking back to his vehicle, he drove back to the hotel to get some sleep and looked forward to the early flight back to D.C. in the morning.
Wilbur Mckesson, Insertion
