Desperate Rendition - Chapter 7

They both remained nervous, constantly glancing over their shoulders, on the lookout for anyone following them, but no one else appeared. Taylor had continued taking a winding path to the airport, just in case, but it seemed like they’d managed to lose them.

After a few more blocks, he finally let himself relax.

“So who is this high-profile person in the U.S. government you did a job for?”

“Straight to business, huh?” she said with a small smile. “Can’t even buy a girl dinner first?”

“If it was up to me, I’d hand you over to those assholes and let them have their way with you. I’m only here because you’ve managed to convince other people that you’re not completely full of shit. So before I pull over and hogtie you for the Chechens, maybe you can start talking.”

“Still have that stick up your butt I see. Fine. I was hired to take out some guy named Darryl Casall, who’s apparently a minor celebrity, although I’d never heard of him before getting the contract on him.”

Taylor was vaguely aware of him, but only because he spent time around Washington types, and the guy had made a big splash by beating a popular Democrat for a Senate race where the Republican looked weak. Kara was supposed to have dinner with Mary Jane a few months previously, and her friend had been forced to cancel to do some kind of event with her mother because the party was worried about losing a valuable Senate seat. For the life of him, Taylor could not remember who the person he was running against was.

Or at least that’s roughly what Taylor knew from how Kara had explained it to him. Taylor himself didn’t follow politics or celebrities, so almost everyone involved had been an unknown name to him. His name popped up a few months later, and Taylor had remembered him from the earlier event enough for it to register.

“Didn’t he die of a heart attack a few months ago?” Taylor asked.

“Which is what I was paid to make it look like.”

“You gave him a heart attack?”

“Basically.”

“And someone in the government wanted him dead?”

“Yep. I actually didn’t know that at first. Usually, we never find out why the person is being targeted. We get a name, some info, and that’s it. Usually though, it’s not hard to figure out.”

“Like when it’s a witness for or against the mob,” Taylor said.

“Don’t tell me you’re still sour about that! It was just business.”

“Being shot at doesn’t feel like business.”

“Hey, most of the time I wasn’t shooting at you at all. Had I wanted to drop you, I would have.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it still didn’t do much for Taylor’s opinion of her.

“So how’d you figure it out?” Taylor asked, ignoring her point.

“So, something that isn’t really talked about in the business, but even though we’re not supposed to care about why someone’s gotten tagged, we still work it out. It takes a lot of time to follow these people and work out their schedule, especially on a stealth job like this, and we’re people. We can’t help but think about why they may have been selected, what they may have done. Anyway, for famous people, usually it’s about money, but this guy wasn’t rich by any stretch. At least not to make my fee worth it. His marriage seemed pretty happy and I saw nothing that suggested he was cheating, so that wasn’t likely either. No real business partners, no criminal activity I could find, nothing. Really, the only thing that made sense, the only person who looked like they’d benefit from it, was the guy he was running against.”

“Are you saying a US Senator paid to have his opponent killed?”

“He was behind in the polls and looked like he was going to lose. And these guys have a lot of money tied up in being a senator.”

“But you don’t know for sure?” Taylor asked. “You said you had proof that a government official was behind it. They’re not going to give you immunity for guesses.”

“I know that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was willing to let it go, ‘cause what do I care, but the middleman screwed up when confirming the client was happy with the job. It wasn’t direct, but it was enough to know I was right, and should be enough for your people. Your tech people should be able to verify the emails, and I can give you the middleman, who knows the guy who hired him. Besides, everything I read about you said you didn’t really care much about procedure and what’s actually legally chargeable.”

“Fine,” Taylor said. “So who is he?”

“Richard Ellsworth.”

As soon as she said it, he remembered that was who Casall was running against. Taylor didn’t know much about politics, but he thought that Ellsworth was somewhat high in the party.

“If the job was successful, why are they after you now?”

“Maybe he found out his contact let his name slip, but who knows? It could have just been Ellsworth tying up loose ends.”

“Does that happen a lot? The client trying to take out the hitman?”

“It’s not common, but it happens. It’s actually more of a risk on smaller scale jobs. Things high profile like this, and the level I work at, it’s almost never a problem. Which is why I lean toward his guy giving him up. Either way, he’s decided I’m a problem and has the money to try and do something about it.”

“Then why didn’t you just get rid of him? Take him out before he could come after you.”

“You think I didn’t consider that?” she said with a humorless laugh. “Killing Ellsworth would put me on a whole different radar. A candidate was one thing, but an actual sitting U.S. senator. You kill someone like him, and suddenly every law enforcement agency in the country is breathing down your neck. Not to mention the heat from whoever else might have hired me.”

“Seems like you’ve been holding your own though.”

“This isn’t the first group our esteemed senator has thrown at me. He’s hired other professionals too.”

“Really?”

“Not the great ones. They generally don’t go after other professionals. The ones who were willing to take the job, I dealt with. But I can’t keep running. It makes it impossible to work. My other past clients are getting nervous. Some think I double-crossed someone or went to the feds. I don’t know if it’s just the situation or if the Senator spread rumors, but the word is out I turned state’s evidence, pushing some of them to take contracts out on me too. Ironic, that their fear I’d flipped was the thing forcing me to do it.”

“Fine, so you had no choice. But why me? Why demand I come out to get you.”

“Just playing it safe. I didn’t know who the senator had in his pocket, but I was pretty sure you weren’t one. You seem like too much of a pain in the ass to be bought.”

Taylor snorted, but didn’t argue. She had a point.

Taylor pulled into the airport and found a spot in the most crowded section. The sun was going down, so it was dark, which meant they’d be harder to spot, at least out here in the open. Looking around the car, he found an old hat Flores had left dropped on the floorboard and handed it to Bonnie.

“Put your hair up under it. It’ll help change the shape of your face,” Taylor said.

“That only works in the movies,” Bonnie said.

“Then why do so many celebrities do it? Besides, we don’t have a ton of choice.”

She made a sound but put the hat on as instructed. It did hide her face a little and make her look slightly different, but she was right, it wasn’t going to fool anyone trying to recognize her too hard. They got out of the jeep and made their way to the front of the airport, both on high alert. It didn’t seem like the mercs had followed them, but this was an incredibly obvious destination. Thankfully, there was no real sign of them. Getting to the terminal, they both kind of looked away from the pair of police officers by the front door and headed for ticketing.

They’d caught at least a little break, with the airport being completely packed, giving them a crowd to work with. Of course, that also meant a long line to get tickets, which had them standing in one spot. If Taylor had his choice, they’d stay on the move, not that it was that much of an option. The main check-in area was essentially one long hallway with some ticketing counters at one end, a security entry area at the other to get to terminals, and shops in between.

Neither had bags, which was going to make them stand out. Taylor’s was still in the hotel room, which he’d paid for a few days. He’d be able to call and have them ship him his clothes, which he packed back in his bag before heading out to find Bonnie that morning.

They’d have to use the shops to dump their guns before they went through the checkpoints, although knowing Bonnie, she probably had some kind of small ceramic thing she could sneak through security.

They’d made it almost to the front of the line when Bonnie reached out and gripped his arm hard. Taylor started to turn his head when she squeezed even harder.

“No. Do it slow. Six and four o’clock.”

Taylor turned slowly, leaning into her a little like they were a couple, being as nonchalant as he could. He tagged them instantly. One set of uniformed cops and one set of guys in suits with very obvious bulges on one side of the jackets. Probably some kind of airport security. They were searching the crowds, going from group to group, and it wasn’t hard to guess what they were looking for.

“Shit. Did they pick us up from the shootout at the market?” Taylor said, almost whispering in her ear.

“Or someone gave them my picture. It’s not out of the question that Ellsworth paid off the cops and brought in mercs to make sure he got me. But you don’t bring out this much just for regular security checks,” she said, nodding slightly in another direction.

Taylor had already picked them up. More uniformed cops and airport security. They were starting to build up, and it looked like they were setting up some kind of perimeter. It wasn’t just for the ticketing area though, and looking down the long hall, he could see more starting to flank either side all the way to security, which meant if they did know Bonnie was here, they didn’t know exactly where.

“We’re not going to make it through security. If they’re looking for you, they’ve got your picture and your name flagged. Even if we can buy tickets, security will flag you.”

“I have a clean passport that might work. You?”

“Just the one, but maybe they haven’t flagged me.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” she asked.

Taylor looked at the slowly increasing number of security starting to fill the terminal.

“No. We need to get out of here, but the front doors are out.”

There were already six sets of police officers on the front doors, checking everyone who came in or out. Maybe they got through coming in, but they weren’t going to just dip their heads and be able to sneak out.

“Follow me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him down the center of the hallway, so they were crushed in by people on all sides.

Stopping a few feet from the security check-in line, she let go and put a hand to his chest, telling him to stay there, and moved into the security line itself. Taylor had no idea what she was planning, but considering she’d managed to stay on the run her entire adult life without being detected, and got out of the US while on multiple federal watch lists, meant he could give her some leeway.

She bent down to tie her shoe and Taylor saw her lift up her pant leg and slip something that looked an awful lot like a small gun into the palm of her hand before standing back up. In front of her were two guys carrying backpacks that were completely tatted up. Taylor didn’t know South American gang symbols, but if he had to guess he’d say they were at least affiliated. They looked rough either way.

Which is why it was surprising when she kind of looked off in the distance like she was distracted and then leaned straight into one of them, bumping him hard, stumbling slightly and putting a hand on his shoulder for balance.

In a weird high-pitched and bubbly voice, she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The man’s expression went from annoyed and angry to slightly amused as he took actual notice of her and looked her up and down.

“No problem, gringa. You lost or something?”

“Maybe just a little. I haven’t been to this airport before except when I flew in last week, and I’m trying to figure out the gates. I’m headed back to Miami. Where are you guys headed?”

“You don’t say. Us too.”

“Ohh, are we on the same flight? I’m on … uhh, flight seventeen ten, I think. Whatever the seven pm one is.”

“Yeah, that’s us too,” his friend said, the two exchanging a glance.

“No way!” she said, leaning hard into the friend who she was still holding onto, her other hand grabbing his backpack slightly as she play shoved him. “Maybe we can all sit together and have some fun once we’re up in the air.”

“I could use some fun,” his friend said.

“Good. I love Latin men, and you’re both so strong,” she said, letting go of the backpack and reaching over with the hand that had been holding the gun a moment ago to stroke his chest. “I brought my stupid boyfriend on this trip, but he’s been such a drag lately. I was planning on dumping him when I got home, but let me see if I can get rid of him and change seats. Which one are you guys at?”

She grabbed at their tickets and looked real quick, not taking them out of the guys’ hands.

“Okay. Let me get rid of him and I’ll see you at the gate.”

“No problem,” one of them said, and they were both leering like they’d won a prize.

She gave them a little wave and flounced back to Taylor, pulling him back down toward ticketing away from the guys.

“How’d you know what flight they were on?”

“I saw the ticket one of them was holding. Now shut up and be ready.”

She’d slowed down and was leaning in close like they were talking while the guys got up to the front of security. They both kept looking back over to where she and Taylor were standing, so Taylor tried to look annoyed and not stare too much at security, lest he give away whatever game she was playing.

The guy whose backpack she grabbed walked through the metal detector, which started buzzing immediately. Both guys looked confused as he reached into his bag, trying to figure out what was going on, and coming out with a small gun, looking almost as shocked as the security guys were.

The police at the checkpoint reacted instantly, pulling their weapons and shouting in Spanish. The men who’d been setting up the perimeter around the departures area broke their position and ran toward the shouting and the alarm.

Bonnie had clearly scoped the place out because as soon as the guards against the closest wall ran off, she yanked Taylor hard as she ran toward a set of doors, saying “Now.”

It was a good call, as most of the police and security pulled by her little stunt had been from this side of the airport. The front door still seemed well covered.

Taylor followed Bonnie through the doors marked as an emergency exit and into a surprisingly dimly lit service corridor. The shouts and noise from the terminal faded as they moved quickly down the tight hallway.

“That was clever,” Taylor said.

“You pick up a few things when you’re always on the run.”

They rounded a corner and practically ran into two more security guys, who were hustling the other direction, probably toward the commotion at security. This was a secure area and the way he and Bonnie were running, there was no way to talk their way out of this, even if they didn’t have her picture.

In a flash, Taylor closed the distance to the first guard, pulling his gun and using the butt of it to smash upside the guy’s head, sending him bouncing off one of the walls before clattering to the ground. He needed to take these guys out, but starting a shootout seemed like a good way to tell people where they were. Besides, this was just a guy working his job. No reason to kill him.

Bonnie disabled the other with a lot more style, spinning and kicking out, placing a boot straight in the center of his chest. He was a big guy, but it had enough force it looked to knock the wind out of him. She followed that up with a jab to the throat and then a mean right hook that sent him gasping to the ground. A last kick made him go slack.

There was another exit sign at the end of the corridor after the turn with the guards, and the two of them sprinted for the door. They both knew the sooner they could get out of these tight confines and into the open, the safer they’d be.

The doorway led outside into some kind of delivery or loading area where a chain link fence separated it from what looked like the main part of the parking lot.

“At least we’re close,” Bonnie said.

They started toward the fence when Taylor heard the rumble of a poorly tuned engine. He started pulling Bonnie down into a stack of some boxes and containers, pulling her in close. She grunted as she hit the ground and started to complain before Taylor put his hand over her mouth. A second later they caught a glimpse of an open air cart thing a worker was driving, hauling some kind of container.

They held their breath as he stopped a few feet from them and unhooked it. After what seemed like an eternity, especially considering they’d left two unconscious men in the hallway not a hundred feet away, the guy got back on his trolley and drove away.

“That was too close,” she said.

“No kidding. Let’s get out of here.”

They managed to pull their way over the chain-link fence and began to fast walk to the parking lot. The last thing they needed to do was actually run, since it would draw attention.

Not that Taylor thought they were going to get away clean.

“Cameras,” Taylor pointed out, nodding towards the surveillance devices mounted on light poles.

Bonnie shrugged. “Not much choice. We had to get out of there.”

They got into the parking lot and sped up, weaving between the cars to where Taylor had parked. And where the next bump in the escape plan showed up.

Several of the mercs, some of whom Taylor thought he recognized from the shootout at the boarding house, were at the vehicle, rifling through it.

“Thought we lost them,” Taylor grumbled.

“They had to know this is where we were headed,” Bonnie said. “And they knew what the jeep looked like.”

They slowed their pace and Taylor started to divert them back toward the airport while he tried to figure out something to do, when he saw police officers coming from the terminal toward them.

“Great, just what we needed.”

The last thing Taylor wanted was to get caught in a shootout in a very public place.

“We can use this,” Bonnie said, grabbing his hand and leading him surprisingly to the police.

As soon as they saw her, the police started shouting and running toward them. Bonnie stopped cold and ran the other way, Taylor hot on her heels. He saw her plan, and it might work.

As they got close to the jeep, the two ducked low, putting cars between themselves and the police and veered off, crouch-walking to stay hidden as they tried to cut a wide angle left.

This wouldn’t have worked if the police alone were chasing them, since it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what they were doing, but just about the time they ducked down, the shouting officers drew the attention of the mercs, who reacted just as stupidly as Bonnie probably hoped. Considering how the mercs reacted the last time they’d run into the locals, it was almost a foregone conclusion how each group was going to react.

Both sides didn’t even bother to negotiate or figure out what was happening. Everyone just drew guns, with the police, who’d at least been ready for trouble, getting off the first shots. The mercenaries responded with their unusual wanton destruction, sending a flurry of bullets back that dropped one officer instantly. The remaining cops dove for cover and returned fire.

“Let’s go,” Taylor whispered, already moving.

They made their way low through several more rows of cars, checking handles. It was a long shot, but people were careless. It paid off as Bonnie pulled on one of the cars and the door opened. She was inside and her hands were already under the dash before Taylor got in. Thankfully, these were all very old model cars without the electronics and fancy anti-theft devices found in newer models.

She had it hotwired and they were pulling out of the parking lot, still staying low, while the shootout was happening behind them.

“Let’s hope they’re too busy with each other to follow us,” he said.

Bonnie didn’t respond, her focus on the road as she navigated out of the airport, slowing down as a line of police cars came roaring in from outside of the airport, although if they were in response to the gun at security, the unconscious officers, or the firefight in the parking lot, Taylor would never know.

They drove like people who were trying to get away from a scary situation would drive, just running civilians. Or at least that’s what Taylor hoped it looked like.

And then they were out, back on the streets of Caracas, right where they started.