‘Holy shit! What the hell was
‘
Kozlov’s forces, once unified in their assault, were now thoroughly confused. Most of the gunmen retreated to the house. They knew protecting their boss was their first priority, and whatever this was — whether a diversionary tactic or the start of World War III — could be dealt with
However, a few hard-core assailants held firm in their pursuit of McNutt. He watched in amazement as they fired aimlessly toward him.
‘Persistent pricks,’ McNutt said under his breath before turning his attention to Cobb and Sarah. ‘You guys alright?’
Cobb answered. ‘We’re fine. What about you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. I have one more surprise for these bastards.’
‘Do I want to know?’
‘Probably not.’
Cobb glanced out into the water where two single-rider jet skis were anchored in the surf. He and Sarah would use them to flee the scene.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m better than okay,’ McNutt bragged. Then, as if to prove a point, he fired one more shot at the guards. In the distance, one of them squealed in pain.
Cobb nodded. ‘Nice shooting. See you soon.’
‘You got it, chief.’
Whistling to himself, McNutt dismantled his rifle while Cobb and Sarah swam toward their jet skis. Once they were out of range, McNutt flipped the second row of switches on his controller. In a flash, a wall of flames rose from the sand. It stretched the entire length of the beach — Cobb, Sarah, McNutt, and Callahan on one side, the fleeing mob on the other. It was as if the coast had been hit with a strafing run of napalm. In reality, it was all the devices he had planted while he was pretending to look for treasure.
McNutt cackled with glee as he jumped from the roof of the lifeguard shack. He jogged over to a nearby fence where he uncovered the motorcycle he had stored there hours before. He stowed his rifle in the saddlebags then climbed aboard his bike as if mounting a horse. He even patted its side while making horsy sounds.
To complete his charade, McNutt tipped an imaginary cowboy hat toward Callahan, who was still trying to figure out why the mysterious stranger had saved his life. Then, before the Fed could see his face or try to question him, McNutt revved his bike’s accelerator and roared up the beach into the darkness.
10
The early-morning sun streamed into Terminal 1 at the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. The overworked air conditioner tried to compete, but it was fighting a losing battle. During the summer months, the local weather forecast rarely changed: temperature in the mid-nineties with a chance of afternoon thunderstorms. And when it did change, it was only because a hurricane was passing through.
Needless to say, Cobb wasn’t thrilled about the locale.
He had spent enough time in Iraq to be an expert on stifling heat, but there was something about the shirt- drenching humidity of Florida that really pissed him off. He was dressed comfortably — black T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers — yet he could already feel his clothes sticking to him as he strolled up the walkway.
Of course, Cobb had no one to blame but himself. If he had used the first-class ticket that had been bought for him, his flight from LaGuardia wouldn’t have landed until later that afternoon. But due to his careful nature, he decided to fly in several hours early under an assumed name. And he wouldn’t be traveling from New York.
This was his first chance to meet the man who had assembled the team for the job in Brighton Beach. Having passed that test with flying colors, Cobb had been summoned for a meeting with his new employer. Perhaps to discuss another job.
Cobb planned to control the terms as much as possible.
In the military, this kind of advance jaunt was known as a ‘rekky’ or ‘recce’, short for reconnaissance. As time went on, a rekky came to mean any preceding trip to scope out the locals, but originally it meant surveying a region to obtain information specifically regarding enemy troops.
With that in mind, Cobb had used money from his personal stash to purchase the redeye ticket from Las Vegas, where he had been decompressing for the past few days. He spent the majority of the flight learning as much as he could about the airport and region from the mini-computer that was still laughably called a cell phone.
Within minutes of takeoff, Cobb knew he’d be landing in Broward County, three miles southwest of Fort Lauderdale’s central business district and twenty-one miles north of Miami. Although his arrival in Florida would be well concealed — the airport was ranked the twenty-second busiest in the US and one of the fifty busiest airports in the world — he knew he had a full day of work ahead of him.
If it had been, he could have checked out the much smaller airport in ten minutes and would have had plenty of time to grab a newspaper at Circle Books and an early lunch in Saint Armand’s Circle before his original flight had even landed. But here in Fort Lauderdale, he’d have to cover four terminals, six concourses, and fifty-seven gates. He’d even have to ‘look for a friend’ in three private airline clubs. Not bad for a place that was originally built on an abandoned nine-hole golf course.
While deplaning, Cobb didn’t race ahead with all of the others. Instead, he stepped out of the crush of passengers and took a moment to get his bearings.
‘May I help you?’ someone said.
Cobb wasn’t surprised by the question, but he was pleasantly surprised by the woman asking it. He turned to see an attractive ground attendant standing beside him at the line where the gate becomes the concourse. In the earliest morning light, her red hair was lustrous, and her green eyes sparkled. She looked professional but sexy in the blue skirt-suit and starched white shirt of the airline uniform.
He read her nametag. It said TIFFANY.
‘I’m okay. Just trying to get my land legs.’
‘So,’ she said, ‘what brings you to Florida?’
‘Work,’ he answered. ‘Were you on this flight?’
She nodded. ‘I worked the first-class cabin. I saw you through the curtain. You were the only one not sleeping.’
‘Who can sleep when he has three flight attendants all to himself?’
‘Three? There were only two in the rear cabin.’
Cobb shrugged. ‘Math was never my strong suit.’
In reality, his math skills were fine. He was simply testing her. He hadn’t noticed her on the flight, and he wanted to make sure that she had actually been on it.
She laughed and handed him a business card with her cell phone number written on it. ‘Well, I’m stuck in town until tonight. If you’re bored or need some help with your land legs, just give me a call. Maybe I can show you a thing or two.’
He took the card with a suspicious smile. It could be the layover loneliness that he knew all too well. Or it could be that his new employer had anticipated Cobb’s rekky and had sent Tiffany to meet him at the gate. Although it wasn’t likely, it was possible.
Mercenaries survived by considering everything.
‘Thanks, Tiffany. Maybe I’ll give you a shout.’
‘Great,’ she said. ‘I hope you do.’
Cobb moved away, cursing his luck. It would have been nice to get to know her better. On any other day, at
