Читать книгу PIPER'S, INC. 2 - JUDAS KISS - Joaquin De Torres - Страница 8

PIPER’S, Inc. HQ

Northern, California

Temujin looked deeply into the woman’s eyes as she smiled despite her exhaustion. He lightly grazed his hand over her cheeks, forehead and neck, gliding over the sheen of perspiration that had exuded from their last two hours. His hand snaked beneath the comforter and felt the moisture all along her naked torso. He liked the feeling. Beads of sweat induced by vigorous physical activity had always been a secret turn on for him, and Katarina always provided it.

Katarina Valero, callsign Stroke, was not only PIPER’S, Inc.’s chief combat medical doctor, but also Temujin’s living breathing heart. He’d been in love with her since they met over three years ago, completing no less than 40 missions together. But no one in the organization would know it by the strict adherence to professionalism they demonstrated on a daily basis at the meetings, at functions and on the urban battlefield. It was this secret relationship that brought their private excitement to greater and greater heights.

He brushed aside a swath of her thick raven-black hair and beheld her face. That hair, her slender cheeks, sharply-chiseled nose, full lips, strong dimpled chin and dark brown eyes were the features of a Croatian supermodel, and not that of a front-line combatant who had saved as many lives as he’d taken.

She looked at him with those penetrating eyes and subtle smile full of admiration, expectation and desire. She propped herself on one elbow to give him full view of her still glistening naked body. It practically took everything he had to turn over onto his back and look at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong, baby?” It took him a moment to answer her, his thoughts conflicting like synapses firing in his brain.

“The mass exodus,” he finally responded. “It’s going too quickly, too easily.”

“Draven, we talked about this,” Katarina soothed. “It was bound to happen. When Dr. Turnbull reported our successes and predicted the massive downtime, how was he to keep them in?”

“I know, but we’re losing good fighters and we still have missions.”

“The public is on our side, the country is changing for the better, Baby.” She turned his face towards her with a delicate hand and gave him a smile. “People like you gave this country a chance. We have a new Constitution, we have a brand new Congress, we have new Supreme Court justices and we’ve broken up several banks and corporations. Turnbull’s dream is fulfilled, Draven, and you should be proud of all these monumental accomplishments. You’ve changed the rules of the corporate game. You’ve permanently nailed establishment politics to the cross. What more do you -”

“It’s not enough,” he replied suddenly.

“What?”

“Dale wants to explore furthering our influence. He has this vision of a Utopian nation with us as its overseers. I don’t like it. It’s not what we are. It’s not what we signed up for.”

“You mean he wants us to stay on duty? But so many have already left PIPER’S, Inc.”

“Yes, that’s why I worry. We’re getting weaker physically as an organization. So many of our friends, great warriors, have left; and now he has delusions of an unattainable goal. It’s nothing more than his legacy project. A project that I don’t subscribe to. We’re Ghosts, not gargoyles. We’re not going to stand watch for a perfect society.” He sneered. “America, a perfect society? What a fucking joke!”

“Have you talked to him about your concerns?”

“I’ve let him know, but I don’t know if he’ll listen to me. In the meantime, I’m worried about something else.”

“What’s that?”

“With so many Ghosts leaving, I’m afraid of possible betrayal.”

“Betrayal?”

“Without PIPER’S, Inc. guarding the nation in sufficient numbers, there’s bound to be other organizations – organizations aligned or created by corporations or politicians we’ve taken down – that will want to hit back. They’ll want to know our secrets, our weaknesses, our plans. And they’ll pay any price for any information to strike back at us.”

“And you think one of our people might be bought,” Katarina alluded. He nodded.

“It could be devastating if something like that were to happen.”

“Do you have any leads or suspicions about who could do such a thing?” she asked nervously.

“No. And what’s worse is that I don’t have the time nor the manpower to do any kind of pre-investigation or surveillance. We still have active missions going on right now, critical missions, and I can’t pull anyone off them at this point. Let alone, myself.”

“Have you mentioned this to Dale or anyone else?”

“No, but I will after I analyze the results of the last few missions and the ones coming up. But I can’t shake it, Stroke. A betrayal from a Ghost can be dealt with. They only follow orders. But a betrayal from one of the senior members or commanders would be catastrophic.”

“Do you have any people in mind that you’d suspect?”

“Not yet.” He exhaled in frustration.

“Then don’t worry yourself about things that haven’t happened or have a chance of happening,” she advised. “Do the missions. Do them the way we’ve always done them, with the greatest detail and vigilance. And don’t worry about the ravings of an old man. Dale will be fine, and in time he’ll understand that what he wants is unattainable and could only lead to disaster.”

Draven turned to her and managed a semi-comforting smile.

“How did you become so wise?”

“I fell in love with a wise warrior,” she quipped and snuggled up to him.

“You have to know that there will come a time when I ask you to pack up and leave, too,” he said. She smiled slightly at his new line of concern. “As missions drop off, I will leave it to the newer members to accomplish them.”

“Keeping me out of harm’s way, I presume?” she said.

“Of course. You’ve done your part for the country; you don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I owe you.”

“Then, Baby, pay me back by preparing to leave. You have three houses in Croatia, you have tens of millions in the bank and your family is secure. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

“As long as you fight, I’m not going anywhere.” Her steadfast answer concerned him even more.

“No, Katarina. You have to walk away. You’re training new combat doctors and medics, let them prove themselves.”

“So, you’d have me walk while you continue fighting? Seriously?” Her eyes were now accusatory.

“This is what I do, Stroke. This is who I am. I have to see it through to the end. In time, I’ll leave, too. I have a few people in mind to replace me.”

“Really? Who?”

“Dave Spatz, Gary Kent, Jason Heung, David Ramirez, Tai Chang. They’re all -”

“Tai is gone,” she reminded. “She retired, remember?” Draven looked away. The loss of his top female combat commander hurt him; it hurt him then, and it hurt him now.

Nevertheless, she smiled knowing that he’d already considered his own replacement. He reached over and pulled her closer, his eyes riveted to hers.

“I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Despite her trepidation, she buried her head into his chest and arms as she considered the gravity of his sentiments. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore a small ebb of dread that washed over her.

Draven pulled her in tight, their naked bodies fusing into one. He inhaled the fresh flowery fragrance of her hair. This always had a calming effect on him. Still, he was tense. His eyes swung back and forth from the wall clock to his cell phone laying within arm’s length on the bed.

A mission of great importance was taking place across the country, and he had not yet gotten his phone call. Though his best men were on that job, it was getting late and they should’ve contacted him by now.

* * * * *

Homan Square

Police Black Site

Chicago, Illinois

David Ramirez’s open hand swept through the air and connected with the hulking suspect’s face again. SWAKKK!

“Talk, asshole!” bellowed Ramirez, callsign Zebra 7. The man, bleeding from the nose and mouth, brought his head back to the front to face his interrogator and spat blood and phlegm on the ground.

“Fuck you, traitor!” the massively muscular man shot. SWAKKK! The man spat again after the impact.

“Do I have to beat it out of you?” The big man giggled.

“That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it, 7? Beating?” retorted the suspect, tied to a chair next to another.

“Fuck you, Synikil! Look at you, the big man of PIPER’S, Inc.,” mocked Ramirez. “Big, strong Synikil! He can snap men in half with his bare hands!” Ramirez grinned. “What do you bench, 370, 375? Too bad that doesn’t mean shit when your ass is tied to a fucking chair, bitch!”

“That’s the only time you can hit me,” Synikil sneered. “Tell you what, 7, let’s put your SWAT training to the test. Untie me and let’s dance, you traitor cock!” Ramirez was about to slap him again when someone else spoke.

“What happened to you, 7?” asked the man tied up next to Synikil. Ramirez moved to the other man who was equally filled with rage for his antagonist.

“What about you, Shade? Are you going to talk or do you want your shit beat, too?”

“It wasn’t enough, Brother?” asked the quiet African-American, “what we were paid? Now you’re running with these corrupt fucks? How much are they paying you?” SWAKK! Ramirez’s hand connected with the right cheek of Gary Kent, callsign Shade. Shade didn’t seem to feel it. Standing around him and Synikil were no less than 17 of Chicago’s law enforcement officers staring indifferently down at them. He recognized one of them in full police uniform, a face that had been in the news countless times.

“Chief Carlton Lotts,” he called. “Now what could Chicago’s most controversial and most investigated head of law enforcement be doing here? Did your corrupt boss, Mayor Ron Manuel send you to partake in this festivity?”

“Shut up, PIPER’S, Inc. scum!” the police chief snarled. “We’ve finally found someone to rat all you cop-killing fucks out.” He looked at Ramirez. “It didn’t take all that much money to bring him in. He’s a cop to the core, after all. He said he couldn’t stomach taking down his brothers in blue no matter how corrupt they were, and no matter how much you paid him.”

“So, you’re the mole!” Shade spat glaring at Ramirez. “We’ve been looking for the traitor for months. I never expected it would come from one of our best Ghosts.”

“Face it, Shade. We’re fading out,” answered Ramirez. “We did our job for king and country. Yeah, we got paid, but we did our jobs and now it’s ending. Turnbull’s setting us free. We’re disbanding! Retirement papers, severance pay, new identities – we get it all. It’s over. Ghosts are leaving in droves. Time to take a side, bro.”

“This place,” started Synikil, “this is where innocent people were beaten, tortured and held for no cause for decades under the old police regimes. How appropriate that you lead us here, 7!”

“Yes, the old regimes,” said Lotts with a tinge of melancholy. “They made this place notorious. I was one of them, the interrogators. How do you think I was promoted up?” He took a step towards Shade and leveled malevolent eyes on him.

“Ain’t nothin’ like beatin’ a nigger until he’s beggin’ for his pathetic life!” he spat.

“You’re lucky this nigger is tied up, fat man, or you’d be beggin’ for your whore mother to come let you suck on her titty!” Shade shot back. SWAKKK!

Lotts stepped back and rolled up his sleeves, showing several tattoos of White supremacist symbols on one arm and Masonic symbols on the other. He showed them off to the other men who grinned admiringly.

“We used this place to beat confessions out of them. If they were witnesses to a crime involving a cop, we beat them to keep their silence; and if they refused to testify against someone we wanted, we kept them in a cell for days without food and water. We held their cell phone, so not even their families knew where they were.

“In the back of the building we had ten fake graves, dug just deep enough to put in a body. We would show them and say we’d kill them and bury them back there. Told them they would just simply disappear.” He cackled. “You’d be surprised what that does to a man’s conscience while he’s left in solitary confinement.”

“Well, I hope you have enough graves back there for all you mother fuckers,” spat Shade. SWAKKK!

“You fucking bastard,” seethed Synikil at Lotts. He looked at all of them. “You’re all COWARD FUCKS!” SWAKKK!

“Everyone, get your gloves on.” At Lotts order, the men stretched on rubber surgeons gloves. “PIPER’S, Inc. did a good job shutting us down a couple years ago. I lost a lot of good friends thanks to your fucking leader, Tim. . .Tam. . .Tom- Ramirez, what’s his fucking name?”

“Temujin.”

“That’s right, Temujin.”

“And what do you intend to do with us?” asked Shade defiantly.

“Homan Square was where I got my start. Like these men standing around you, this is where they’ll get their start.” The men, all White, then began taking off their uniform jackets, caps and duty belts. Some slipped on brass knuckles or pulled out their night sticks.

“PIPER’S, Inc. killed or put away hundreds of our brothers in blue and shut down this facility. But those days are over. We’re going to open this place back up with a vengeance, and thanks to Officer Ramirez here, you two are going to be part of the grand re-opening ceremony.”

“Seven, you fucking coward!” spat Synikil. “What a fucking mistake it was to take you in!” SWAKKK! Synikil dropped a wad of fresh blood at Ramirez’s feet.

“The mayor is going to enjoy the fact that we took out a couple of Ghosts, especially two heavyweights,” said Lotts. “He promised me another promotion if I ended your scourge.” He looked at Ramirez. “He promised you one, too. He said the more you deliver PIPER’S, Inc. scum, the higher your career in the force is going to be.”

“Thank you, sir. I will deliver more, you can count on it.” Ramirez’s answer was firm as he checked an incoming text on his cell phone. Lotts took a step back and looked at his menacing group.

“You boys take your time. Then put their bodies in the graves out back. Ramirez, you’re in charge.”

“Roger that, sir,” Ramirez answered. “Freeman said he needs you out back.”

Lotts walked up to Synikil, grinned, then hammered a right cross onto his jaw. Synikil barely flinched, he just looked at him and spat another wad of blood on the floor. He smiled at Lotts.

“That’s all you got, bitch? You’re lucky I’m tied up or I’d take your badge and dig one of your eyes out with it!” Lotts launched another right on his chin but Synikil only glared at him as more blood oozed from his mouth.

“Sir, Freeman says it’s urgent,” reminded Ramirez. “I’ll take care of these assholes.” Lotts nodded again and began walking out of the huge dilapidated holding room.

“Hey, Lotts!” called out Synikil, “I meant what I said about putting your badge in your eye! And after that, I think I’m going to send it to your wife!” Lotts pointed at him and looked at his men.

“Take your time with that one!”

Ramirez waited until he was out of the room before initiating his orders. He turned to the men moving forward.

“You guys ready to have fun?”

“Fuck yeah!” uttered the biggest most muscular cop in the bunch whose badge read NELSON. “I want this Synikil fuck!” He approached the calm man in the chair tapping his brass-knuckled fists together.

“What’chu looking at, pussy?” Synikil snapped at the big man. “You’re a pretty big dude? Tell me, did you get that big by eatin’ Ramirez’s cock?” Nelson raised his fist high to deliver the first of what he anticipated would be many blows.

“Wait one, Nels,” said Ramirez, “let me double check their knots to make sure they’re tight.” As soon as Ramirez knelt down and checked the bindings with a quick tug, Synikil suddenly stood up and threw himself at Nelson like a linebacker crushing a quarterback.

“FUCK!” yelled one of the men as Synikil began raining down hammer blows on Nelson’s face. In a blur, Shade stood up and jammed the palm of his hand into the nose of the man closest to him, ramming his nasal cartilage through his brain. The officer was dead before his body slumped to the floor. This made the others pause and take a step back.

“RAMIREZ! WHAT THE FUCK?!” yelled another man as they looked around in utter confusion. Ramirez just stood there looking at him as he calmly slid his own brass knuckles on his hands.

Then the lights turned off.

* * * * *

Chief Lotts walked through a long brick corridor. The smell of material decay, dankness and dust filled his nostrils. At the end of the hall, he made a right and maneuvered through a large back storage room filled with crates, dividing bookshelves, cabinets, broken appliances and sheet-covered office furniture, essentially the final junkyard room before the place was shut down years earlier. He opened the emergency exit leading out to the building’s sprawling backyard. He grinned thinking about the graves that waited out there.

He walked outside into the fresh night air only to find Freeman, one of his most trusted lieutenants and four of his precinct crew lying motionless on the ground. Their bruised and bleeding heads seemed twisted in awkward directions from their bodies, their eyes stared wide open. Lotts immediately reached down to draw his firearm but was forcefully pushed into the ground from behind by a foot in the small of his back. The burly 60-year-old hit the asphalt hard and rolled over in fear and confusion.

Standing above him was a tall man in black. Lotts’ eyes flew open in panic. There was no mistaking the uniform, the sleek and muscular battle armor of a PIPER’S, Inc. Ghost. His heart accelerated as he looked at the man’s stern face glistening in sweat. He no doubt was responsible for his men laying dead around him. The man was Asian, which elevated his heart rate even more.

“Temujin?!” Lotts asked on the verge of soiling himself. The man shook his head slowly.

“I’m Jason Heung, callsign Dragon.” He said nothing more, just stood there making no threatening moves to the panting police chief. Then the door behind him opened and to Lotts’ utter horror emerged Synikil. He was followed by Shade and Ramirez.

“Ramirez! What happened?! Where are the others?! Why are these two still alive?!”

“Three against 17. Not much of a fair fight, don’t you think, Chief?”

“You turned against me?!” Lotts asked in disbelief. “This was all a setup?” Ramirez smiled.

“You think I’d actually turn against my Ghost brothers and sisters for a corrupt mayor and his band of blue?” He shook his head. “You pathetic sack of shit. This ends tonight! And after you, I’m going to take care of the mayor.” He looked at Heung. “Did you bring the shovels?” The Korean nodded. Lotts, horror-stricken, got to his knees and pressed his hands together.

“PLEASE! PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS! HELP ME, RAMIREZ! PLEASE!” His pleas were ignored. Synikil stepped forward with an anticipatory grin on his face. He ripped the silver badge from Lott’s shirt. He looked at the trembling police chief whose urine had spread through the entire front surface of his trousers. Synikil turned the badge over playfully with his fingers, feeling its weight and finding its pointed corners. He nodded to Heung to go behind Lotts.

“Hold his head firmly. Hold open his eye.” Heung reached around Lotts’ face and gripped open the lids of his right eye.

“NO! PLEASE!”

“Hate to say this, Chief, but this is gonna hurt you more than it will me,” Synikil said in a soothing voice, then rammed the badge into Lotts’ eyeball with a sickening popping sound.