Just North of Fort Lauderdale with quick access to Port Everglades, Gavin’s house was set on an expansive, remote lot. It lay near the ocean and was a perfect spot to keep an eye on things coming into the country. The organization had numerous individuals paid off at the port allowing them to smuggle in and out whatever they needed. And with Port Everglades being the 3rd largest in the United States, the sheer amount of traffic made it easy for things to simply slide by without difficulty. With the right people in place, they could get just about anything by customs.
Michael drove past the main entrance. As usual, the front of the property was well guarded. Four men stood by a closed gate with a winding driveway snaking behind them. From the street, there was no way to see any of the actual structures. They were set much deeper. But like most paranoid wealthy men, Gavin and the four other men that made decisions in this part of the world made it appear as though there were only a single way in or out when in reality, there were multiple different paths. Michael wasn’t supposed to know about them, but he had found the alternate routes without much difficulty. And at one particular entrance waited one man and a car, and that was all.
This is where Malcolm would have been brought, if he wasn’t already dead. There was no answer on his phone and he never showed to their emergency meet up locations. Gavin had him, or had him killed. Michael was here to find out which.
He pulled off to the side when he spotted the chain link gate, secured by a single lock, guarding a dirt road. He parked about a block further down. He grabbed his weapons and from the trunk, pulled a pair of bolt cutters and sweatshirt. He threw the shirt over the tool and casually crossed the street and started making for the gate. He would have climbed but the top was rolled over with barbed wire.
He reached the gate and stood by it, waiting and listening to make sure nobody was going to drive by. When he was satisfied, he quickly snapped the lock and slid through the opening. He tossed the shirt and cutters into the brush and followed the dirt path.
He walked a good distance in the dense vegetation and it wasn’t long before the small garage came into view. The door was open and a white sedan was parked inside, facing outward. One man sat next to it, watching a television and sipping a soda.
Michael crept around the outside, staying out of view. He moved quietly up against the side of the building and paused just around the corner. His silenced gun was already in hand.
He took a quick breath and fluidly swung around the corner, taking giant moves forward until the man looked up. By the time his victim realized what was happening, Michael had the gun pressed to his face, and one finger set to his lips.
“Are they in session yet,” he whispered. He didn’t recognize the driver.
The man shook his head up and down. He was terrified. Michael wouldn’t be surprised if there was piss running down his leg.
“Good. Do you know where they are holding the meeting?” He asked knowing there were three different areas in the house that were possible locations.
Once again the man shook his head up and down.
“Good. Tell me where they are and I won’t shoot you in the face.” He pulled his finger away.
“In, in, in the lounge on the second floor.”
“Good.” Michael knew exactly where that was. “How much security inside?”
“Three men but there are more on the way.”
“How many more?”
“I don‘t know, but they followed some other guy, I didn’t know who he was.”
“Where is this new man now?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. Michael noticed the conversation had brought about a more normal breathing pattern. The man was starting to regain his composure, which meant he was starting to think straight. He needed to end this.
Michael took a few steps back and pulled the trigger twice. The man’s head jerked with the silent impacts and he fell to the floor. “Sorry, you drew an unlucky shift.”
He grabbed the keys to the vehicle from the desk and started down a set of stairs at the back of the building. He entered into a long tunnel close to seven feet tall and only about four wide. After two hundred paces the tunnel started a slow incline until it reached a solid wall on the other end. Michael tightened the grip on his gun. He pushed one side of the wall and it eased open, swinging outward, letting a sliver of light dash into the tunnel. He peaked out.
If he recalled correctly he would be coming out of the tunnel on the first floor in the small library more used as a cover for this secret exit than for any relevant reading material. He pushed again and the whole wall spun until there was room enough for him to get through.
The library was just as he remembered. Small and clean, the books seemed to have not been touched in years though there wasn’t a speck of dust on a single cover. He held his gun down at his side and started walking for the center staircases. In the house, there wouldn’t be much security, only paper pushers and support staff and they wouldn’t know if he was supposed to be here or not. He would be able to glide on through until he came to just outside the meeting room. There would be two or three men standing guard. But if he surprised them, gun drawn, three shots would be quite easy to fire by the time they reacted.
Michael started up the white marbled, spiral staircase, keeping his eyes towards his destination. Quietly he walked around until he reached to top. He looked to both sides. Nobody was around. The meeting room was in the South wing on the East, facing the ocean. He started down to the right and at the far end he would turn left. That’s where he would need to be quick. He pulled out his second weapon as he silently inched up to the corner. He could hear the shifting of the security guards on the other side. He desperately wanted to look and check out what he was up against but that just might give him away. Surprise was his only true advantage. He paused, feeling his body tingle with anticipation.
Michael spun around the corner and ran. His arms came up and locked in place. He felt steady and smooth, calmly letting his body move itself as he pressed forward. His eyes locked on the closest man and instinctively he squeezed the triggers. The weapons popped in his hands and the first man fell to the ground, both bullets catching center mass. Two others started to react, jumping to their feet and reaching for weapons. But Michael was quicker. He fired again and hit one man in the shoulder and the other near the groin. He kept pressing forward and passed by the first guard, firing an extra round into the body to be sure there would be no retaliation. The other two men were still in shock as Michael fired again, finishing each of them off with a close shot to the head. He felt high as he watched them fall to his sides.
At the end of the hall he kicked open the French doors and found four men in the room. Gavin sat in a chair furthest from him, then Niles Malkin, Ferdinand and finally the Egyptian Luzige Mubarak.
Michael smiled. “Stay the fuck down,” he waved his gun across the room while holstering the other.
“Michael,” Gavin spat. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprised to see me? Thought you had gotten rid of me? You would have, had you not killed or taken my brother. We would have just disappeared, but you had to go and pull that shit.”
“You sorry little shit,” the Egyptian said. “Get the fuck out of here, you’ve already fucked things up enough.”
“Are you really still trying to control me?” Michael started moving towards the man. He slinked down in his seat. “You think you can do that after you tried to have me killed for no damn reason.” Michael couldn’t believe the audacity. “That’s not how it works. Now tell me where my brother is and I might let you live.” Nobody said anything. “Tell me where the fuck he is!” He smashed his gun into a picture on the wall, shattering the glass. The frame fell to the side hanging oddly but not falling.
“We don’t have your brother,” Gavin said. The old man stood up on his frail legs. His skin wrinkled up and folde
d over itself as he spoke. “But we know who does.”
“You mean he’s alive,” Michael felt some relief wash over him but he had to hold onto the situation.
“Yes,” the voice startled him. It came from the speakerphone resting in the middle of the table.
“Who is that,” Michael asked.
“I’ll introduce myself shortly, just don’t fire when I come in.” The phone hung up.
“Who was that,” Michael asked again. He looked towards the door and saw someone coming down the hall. The man put his hands behind his head as he closed the distance. He walked slowly past the guards Michael had gunned down and through the broken door, stepping over the wreckage. He was a strong looking man, with deep-set eyes, dark hair and a chiseled chin.
“Who are you,” Michael asked.
“I am Elias Blanco, we’ve spoken once before if you recall.”
Michael thought back quickly, he remembered. They had spoken on the phone just as he was leaving for Nova Scotia. Elias Blanco was the top dog.
“What are you doing here?”
“I called this meeting,” he said. “I was just caught in traffic, that’s why I’m a little late.” His demeanor told Michael this situation was nothing new to him. He was too comfortable. “Looks like I missed some things.”
“Where’s my brother?”
“Alive, “ Elias answered. “These four here wanted to kill him but I thought he’d be more useful still breathing.”
Michael pointed his gun at Gavin, “I knew it. I should kill you right now.”
“Don’t do anything rash,” Elias said. “Your brother’s life may depend on what you do at this moment.”
“You’re issuing threats,” Michael responded. He couldn’t look weak in any way and he couldn’t give in to a deal at this point. He had to walk out with his brother or start shooting. “You try anything to me or so much as think about hurting Malcolm, I’ll be sure to see these four dead and probably you as well.”
The man smiled. “What makes you think that wasn’t what I was coming here to do anyway?” Michael glanced towards Gavin but as he did Elias took the opportunity and snatched his wrist. The gun fired but his arm was already twisted around his back and his hand bend awkwardly forcing his grip to loosen. His gun was suddenly stripped from him and he was flung to the floor.
He rolled on his back and looked at the man standing over him. The next instant he was looking down the barrel of his own gun. He wasn’t scared. This was one of the more likely possibilities of how this all would end. Michael closed his eyes.
Elias Blanco fired. Michael didn’t feel anything. The man fired five more times and he opened his eyes to see the gun pointed at the table. Elias emptied the clip and then flung the gun to the ground.
“Get up,” he said. “We have some things to discuss.”
Chapter 32
Texas, August 2012