Dead Six

have, you know . . . taken you out, but you surprised me is all.” Carl and I both openly scoffed at him. Reaper couldn’t fight his way out of a cardboard box. “Whatever.”

“My dad owned a martial-arts studio. He taught us how to defend ourselves. I grew up in kind of a rough neighborhood, so it came in handy a couple times. Dad was a good teacher, used to fight professionally even.”

Carl scowled. His favorite thing in the world, other than chain-smoking and complaining, was to watch people beat each other bloody senseless on TV. There wasn’t a lot of televised bullfighting, I suppose. “Del Toro . . . Tony ‘the Demon’ Del Toro?” he asked. Jill nodded in the affirmative. That must have been impressive or something from the approving look Carl gave her. “Like ten years ago, I watched him on pay-per-view almost tear this guy’s arm off. I hate those Brazilian jujitsu guys. Guy needed his arm tore off, cocky fodas, so I remember the Demon.”

“Being able to punch out Reaper is great and all, but we’re talking about a team of assassins who’ve been ripping through fundamentalist murderers like it’s nothing,” I said coldly. “Do you even know how to shoot?”

“Dad taught me how to use a gun,” Jill said defensively. That alone meant nothing. There were lots of people that thought they knew how to shoot. Usually if they could hit anything, they were too slow, or if they were fast, then they couldn’t get reliable hits under stress. The kind of shooting I was good at was all about putting a bunch of bullets into my opponent before they could do it to me, and that was not how most recreational types did it.

“Uh-huh. Do you speak Arabic? Can you pass for a local?” In fairness, I already knew the answer to those. And with a little bit of coaching, I could easily get her to pass for one of the local imported Filipina workers: she had the features. Worst-case scenario, the women in the old part of town all wore hoods, and in the most traditional didn’t even let their eyes show. “Can you not stick out like a tourist?”

“Well . . . no.”

“Ever killed anybody?”

She shook her head.

“Thought so. You’re going to stay here, keep your head down, and do exactly what I tell you to. When we come up against Dead Six, they won’t hesitate. You run into that guy with the .44 magnum from the video and he’ll eat you.”

“Phrasing!” Reaper injected. Jill scowled at him.

“So to speak,” I corrected.

“Your old man retired now?” Carl asked, trying to return the conversation to something more interesting to him. “Haven’t seen him fight in forever.”

“Passed away,” she said. “I lost both my parents in a car accident. My brother was a Marine, just like dad had been, but he was killed in the war a couple years ago. I’ve got no close family left. So there won’t be anybody demanding to see my supposedly dead body, either.”

“They burned the embassy car anyway. If these guys are as professional as they seem, they probably found another girl to stick in the car before they lit it up. Nobody is going to recognize that body anyway,” I said. “Hell, that’s probably why they burned the car. They wouldn’t have bothered if they’d nailed all of you.” I didn’t add that that was how I would have done it.

“And if I was missing, presumed taken by the terrorists, then that would have forced a big response from the government,” Jill added. She caught on quick. Dead Six was running quiet. I’m guessing having the American populace watching the news and demanding a rescue mission was not on their itinerary.

Reaper chimed in. “There won’t be an official investigation anyway. These black ops always squash that. There won’t ever be an autopsy to show it isn’t really you, either. Dental records won’t matter. I bet you ten bucks they already cremated them all!”

Reaper was talking out of his ass. “When did you become such an expert on secret government operations?”

“I tell you, man, you really need to listen more. The truth is out there.” He was getting defensive. “Roger Geonoy had an expert on Sea to Shining Sea last night. See, there’s an Illuminati plot to control the world’s oil supply, but that’s just the beginning.“

“Oh, not again,” Carl muttered.

“Seriously,” Reaper said, wide-eyed. “A cabal of powerful European bankers and stuff, it all makes sense. Did you know that the US government couldn’t account for billions of dollars last year? Where do you think it all goes, man? It’s for the secret war against the Illuminati.”

“And they’re going to release Loch Ness Monsters into the Gulf to disrupt the tankers,” I added. “How nefarious.”

“Only if the aliens from Roswell he’s always talking about say so,” Carl said. “Shut up already, Reaper.”

“What is it that he does for you . . . exactly?” Jill asked.

“He’s the brains of the operation.”

But the kid wasn’t going to be deterred. “Okay, so you don’t believe in my conspiracy theories, but we’re conspiring to break into a thousand-year-old secret vault for a mythical crime lord, so we’re trying to track down a secret government death squad that kills witnesses, and there’s apparently a conspiracy to overthrow the emir, but the second I say Illuminati, I’m the crazy one.”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

Jill looked around the table. “Maybe I was better off with the terrorists.”

Chapter 10:

Hurt

VALENTINE

Ash Shamal District

April 16

2345

Ash Shamal was the poorest of Zubara’s three urban districts, and the most dangerous. Parts of this district were hotbeds of Islamic fundamentalism, and the streets weren’t safe for Westerners, especially at night. Much of that was our fault. Since Project Heartbreaker had begun, it had stirred up a hornet’s nest on the poor side of town. The locals were outraged over Dead Six’s dirty work. Most of them seemed to think it was the Israelis. Certain people used this misconception to their own personal advantage.

By certain people I mean General Mubarak Al Sabah. The emir considered the popular general to be a threat, but for whatever reason couldn’t just have him shot. Word on the street was General Al Sabah’s faction of the army was making deals with local terrorist cells. Now, most of these so-called cells were just groups of angry, ignorant locals that claimed to stand against “Zionism” and “American Imperialism” and all that bullshit. In reality, they had no training, no equipment, no organization, and