Dead Six

watched Lorenzo get out of his car, and I could tell he was surprised.

Anxious, I got out myself, my hand hovering over my pistol. All four of us had on body armor and other assorted battle rattle. I hoped like hell it wasn’t a cop. At best, he’d think we were a bunch of militia nuts or mall ninjas. Or maybe we could pass ourselves off as airsofters. Anyway, I doubted most militia nuts were nearly as armed and dangerous as we were.

From out of the Suburban stepped a big guy, tall, barrel-chested, and muscular. He and Lorenzo were exchanging words as I approached, and the bald man seemed none too concerned that Lorenzo was dressed in full tac gear. I could tell they knew each other. Was this the “Bob” guy Lorenzo had been talking to on the phone? Why would he be here?

That’s when I noticed the government plates on the Suburban. “Well, fuck me,” I said to myself. There were Feds here. Lorenzo had called a Federal Agent. Was this a setup? Had this entire thing been some overcomplicated scheme to turn me over to the government? It didn’t make any sense. My mind raced. Adrenaline surged.

“Lorenzo, you need to tell me what the hell is going on here,” I said calmly. My right hand had reflexively found its way to my chest, resting on my plate carrier. My left hand was on the butt of my .44. “Why is there a Fed here?”

“No! It’s cool! It’s cool!” he said excitedly. “This is my brother, Bob. He’s—”

I unsnapped the retention device on my thigh holster.

“Listen to me!” Lorenzo insisted. “It’s not like that. He’s my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be getting his family to safety!” Lorenzo glared at the other man.

“So,” I said, Calm wavering as I grew angry, “you called a Fed. Your brother the Fed. You idiot! Why in the hell didn’t you just have me call the cops if you wanted the Feds involved? Jesus, why don’t we just the ATF and the Secret fucking Service while you’re we’re it! Hell, we can get the DEA and the Coast Guard in on it, too, and have a giant fucking federal law-enforcement jamboree!”

“Look, kid,” the big man said, “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I’m here to help my brother get his girlfriend back.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Lorenzo sputtered. The big man grinned. I relaxed slightly. Though they didn’t look anything alike, they sure acted like brothers.

“This is Bob,” Lorenzo sighed “Bob, this is—”

“Don’t you dare tell him my name!” I yelled, wheeling around.

Lorenzo laughed. “I’m just kidding, relax.”

It was going to be a long night.

LORENZO

Valentine stomped away, muttering and swearing. I turned back to Bob and whispered, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve got a contact in Vegas I was going to see. Let’s just say he’s outside my chain of command, but he’s really good at hiding people. Don’t worry. I’ve got things moving to protect everyone from your boss.” My giant of a brother nodded after Valentine. “Your friend seems a little tense.”

“He’s wound kind of tight. But back to the question, what are you doing here? What about the family?”

“The family will be fine. I’ve put some things into motion. You should have come to me sooner.” Bob shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon. “Look, Hector, this Gordon Willis you asked me about, he’s not just a low-level chump. He’s more important than that. I don’t think you realize just who he works for, but it’s bigger than you can imagine. If he has your friend, she’s in big trouble.”

“You can’t do this, you’re the law. You’re a cop!”

“I won’t be for long if anybody ever finds out about this,” he answered. “Maybe we can share a cell.”

“But these are your people.”

He raised his voice. “These are not my people. My people take an oath to defend the Constitution, and I’m sick of watching men like Willis shred it. People like him work in a different kind of government than the one I signed on to. Black, secret, unaccountable. We’re not even supposed to ask questions about his operation. He’s had suspects taken in, no evidence, no investigation, no trial, and they just disappear into thin air, forever. These aren’t even bad guys they’re rolling up. They’re regular folks who’ve asked too many questions about the wrong powerful people.”

This was kind of a scary paradigm shift. Bob had always been the good one and I had been the bad one. Simple. “But you’ve always been so . . . law-abiding.”

“There’s a higher law, and it’s time that these men had to answer to it.” Bob was truly angry, red-faced and nostrils flaring, like the very idea of Gordon’s outfit offended him to his core. “I’ll take the risk.”

“You’re familiar with them?”

“You have no idea,” Bob stated coldly. “Let’s just say that you don’t know as much about me as you think you do and leave it at that. I can’t let you go in there with just these guys.” He gestured at the other three. “Who are they, anyway?”

“You can call the big kid Nightcrawler since he’s so worried about me telling you his name. The old guy is Hawk. The other kid goes by Reaper.”

“Okay, then I’m Colossus and you can be Wolverine. Doesn’t anybody have a normal name in your business?”

“Actually, I go by Lorenzo,” I responded, slightly embarrassed.

Bob just stared at me. “Seriously? Wow, man, that’s devious. And what part came as a surprise when Big Eddie found his way past your masterful secret identity? You were only raised by Lorenzos.”

Reaper walked up. “If we’ve all got superhero names, then Jill should be Aquaman since she’s been kidnapped twice.” I just looked at him like he was stupid. “What? Didn’t you ever watch Super Friends? Aquaman . . . you know, always got captured? Never mind.” Reaper wandered off.

“Super Friends was off the air before that kid was born,” Bob said.

“I know, but he spends a lot of time on the Internet.”

“You guys done screwing around?” Valentine growled as he approached. “Let’s get going. We’re kind of conspicuous hanging around in all of this crap,” he said, indicating the pouch-laden plate carrier and battle belt he wore.

He was right. We needed to get going. “We’re not here to arrest them,” I warned Bob.

My brother shook his head sadly. “Willis’s men aren’t the type you can arrest. They’re a bunch of professional killers. Castoffs who’ve gotten kicked out of every reputable organization there is because they’re too violent, too crazy, or too corrupt. Operations like his attract them like flies.”

“How do you know all this?” Hawk asked suspiciously. Switchblade hadn’t always been a respectable mercenary company, so Hawk had developed an appropriate paranoia about the law.

Bob shrugged. “A man has to have a hobby. Mine is collecting trivia about scumbags.” My brother was being evasive. Somehow he knew exactly who Gordon Willis was, knew something about his organization, and apparently hated them with a passion. “The old work-camp is over that rise. We used to use it to hole up Mafioso witnesses out of Vegas. Word is that Willis’s men are using it for something now.”

“Let’s get these cars hidden, then sneak up on the camp and see if we can spot Jill,” I suggested, hefting my AR-15. “If we’re lucky, maybe we can get her out with minimal shooting.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” Bob turned, opened the back of his Suburban, and pulled out a long black Remington 700 sniper rifle, with a suppressor, bipod, and US Optics scope. He worked the bolt and chambered a round. He put the heavy barreled rifle over one shoulder. Bob almost seemed to be looking forward to this. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. “When the shooting starts, take them hard and fast.”

“That’s what she said!” Reaper quipped.