Black Onyx (10 page)

The village below him wasn’t really a village. It was a compound
. A warlord named Sabba controlled this region. Inside that compound were the result of years of mining in Sierra Leone, both diamonds and precious gems. Dillon didn’t doubt that there would also be an ample supply of gold and silver but that was more than he could carry in a gym bag.

He observed the compound. About twenty g
uards on the exterior, maybe thirty on the interior, all armed with semi-automatic rifles. He saw a tank and several jeeps with massive guns secured on top.

Most of the compound
was barracks and training facilities, but at the center, guarded by the bulk of the men, was a cement bunker. He knew of this compound like he knew about most things of the world: from James, who should be getting back to the house by now and wondering where Dillon was.

James
would complain about this, but would retire as a millionaire. Forget renting a condo on a beach; when Dillon was through and he gave James his cut, he and Niles could retire on their own island.

Dillon sprinted through the dense jungle, entire trees breaking and collapsing as he came through. As he neared the compound, he leapt into the air, held up in the night like an owl observin
g mice, and hurtled himself toward the cement bunker. The men jumped out of the way, only vaguely aware that something very fast was coming directly at them.

The bunker
exploded in a hail of cement chunks and steel. Fine, powdery dust went up in clouds and shielded the view. Underneath the rubble, Dillon began to dig. The jewels wouldn’t be on the first level: they’d be hidden underground.

He came through into a chamber and flung his way
past a wall into another room. Shelves upon shelves bolted to the walls. Filled with gems and diamonds, weapons, gold, cash in euros and dollars… the list went on and on. A treasure from decades of robbing and killing. Dillon began filling his gym bag. He couldn’t help but prance around quickly and it must’ve looked ridiculous in a seven-foot onyx suit…

Onyx. That’s what the material appeared like to him.
A deep, shimmering, onyx. Darker than any he had ever seen.

As he was filling the bag with a particularly lucrative shelf of rubies and sapphires, he heard something from a room next to him. He paused and looked over.
His blue eyes illuminating the darkness. A door was there. Behind it, he heard a voice.

He walked to the door, hesitating a second before opening it. He prepared himself to repel anything that came at him.

Strapped in a chair was a woman in her early twenties. She was nude except for some rags thrown over her and her body was bruised, her face a mass of swelling. He walked to her and saw the fear in her eyes.

“Oh, no. I’m a friend. Friend.”

He bent down and tore away the ropes binding her. She fell out of the chair and crawled to the corner of the room. Behind her was another door. Dillon walked to it as the woman closed her eyes and chanted something, like a prayer. Behind that door were more women. They were chained to cots and didn’t yet appear beaten. Some were just little girls, no more than ten or eleven.

He turned to the woman on the floor. Every inch of her
was bruised. Looking back to the other women in the next room, a young girl walked over to him. She smiled as she touched his suit. He stood over her, feeling the warmth of tears in his eyes as she spoke something to him.

They were slaves.

“Ggrrrahh!”

He b
urst through the ceiling and layers of dirt like they weren’t there. On the surface, men were standing around trying to figure out what had happened. Shouting filled his ears and then the pop of rifle fire as they saw the entity in front of them.

Dillon held up his hands as the slugs raced toward him. Though they moved too fast to see, from the small pops surrounding the men he knew the slugs were being turned back on them. One
man was hit in the shoulder and another through the side. The men began to run.

He looked to his right and saw two men preparing a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher. A burst of flame as the rocket shot toward him. He faced it head-on, holding up his hand. The rocket began to turn around. He pulled his hand back and the rocket froze in mid air, the propulsion flaming and fizzling. He lifted it into the air higher and then lower, and then side-to-side. The men sat shocked, and Dillon smiled as he flung the rocket back at them. They scattered and the rocket flew past them into a truck, blowing it six feet into the air and turning it into a mass of flaming metal.

A round struck him in the shoulder. He turned toward it. A sniper, up on one of the compound’s buildings. Dillon flew into the air and then rushed forward with his fists. The man had to jump off the building, breaking his legs from the fall as Dillon burst into the structure where he had been standing, tore through the rooms, and came out the other side.

A tank fired into the night. Dillon moved out of the way as the HEAT round from the
tank’s main gun went off into the darkness and disappeared behind him into the jungle. He flew down and grabbed the tank at the base. Lifting it into the air, he flung it across the compound and it bounced twice before slamming into a building, collapsing it.

Men were shouting and scattering out of the compound now. He walked casually over to where the bunker had been, and began digging out a path. He cleared away most of the rubble and created a slope out of the cement. He went below to where the young girl was standing and held out his hand. She took it, and he helped her climb out of the bunker, into the warm night.

20

Dillon landed on top of his house and then jumped into the backyard. He walked inside and the suit clanked loudly on the floor as he made his way into the garage and slipped out of it. He took the gym bag and went inside to find James on the couch watching television. Without a word, Dillon came and sat next to him, placing the gym bag on the coffee table.

“What’s that?”
James said.

Dillon unzipped it.
James was silent a long time.

“With the diamonds I already have,” Dill
on said, “I’m guessing about twelve million. That should be enough that we’re all rich.”

James
reached into the bag, coming up with a handful of sapphires. “Where did you get these?”

“I have to go.”

“Dillon, we need to discuss this.”

“Not right now. I need to shower and then I have a date.”

“A date with whom?”

“Jaime.”

He ran upstairs, showered, changed into a T-shirt and jeans and then went over to Jaime’s house. She was sitting on the couch surrounded by family as he watched through the sliding glass doors on the patio. One of her legs was thrown over the other and she was smiling her cute smile with a drink in her hand. He didn’t move: he wanted to remember her exactly like this.

Dillon knocked and she saw him and waved and came over.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Listen my mom and dad took off to a restaurant so you’ll have to meet them when they get back.”

“No prob.”

“So where we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

They walked to his garage. He opened the door and they walked to the suit. She stood there a moment and looked at it.

“Is it a statue?”

“Do you trust me?” he said.

“Ah, yeah, of course I trust you.”

“Close your eyes…go on, close ’em.”

She closed them and he slipped into the suit. He picked her up and she made a surprised yelp as he ran out of the garage and darted into the air. She opened her eyes and looked down and screamed, holding him tighter. He laughed.

“Relax, it’s fine.”

“Dillon!”

“Hey, it’s fine. I promise. You said you trust me.”

“You’re flying!”

“I know. Just try and relax, I’m not going to drop you.”

She struck the suit with the back of her fist. “How am I supposed to relax you’re freaking flying!”

“Maybe this’ll be better.”

He propelled them directly up into the air as she screamed. The air grew colder and he press
ed her closer to the suit, to feel its warmth. In a single moment, they were covered with darkness as they passed through a cloud, and came up over it. They were high enough that you couldn’t hear the city below. You couldn’t see it either and she calmed a little.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a little toy I picked up in Antarctica. Wrap your arms around my neck…now put your legs around my waist…holding on tight?”

“Yeah,” she said, fear still in her voice.

“Okay, hold on. Just close your eyes if you want.”

He rushed forward like a gunshot, the world turning to blurred images around him. She was screaming again but Dillon held her tightly with one ha
nd as they sped over the Pacific and into Asia and over Europe.

Within minutes,
Jaime having kept her eyes closed the entire flight, they were in Paris. Dillon set down on the least crowded side of the great lighted pyramid of the Louvre. When they were on solid ground, he gently removed her legs and arms and set her down, holding her up with one hand to make sure she didn’t faint.

“Where are we?”

“The Louvre. I know you always wanted to go. Come on. We have other places to be after.”

21

Dana Gladstone stepped off the plane at Honolulu International and went to the luggage claim. She had only brought one bag with her and she loaded it onto her lap and wheeled out of the terminal. A black Chrysler 300 waited at the curb. The driver saw her and stepped ou
t and took her bag.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Agent Cortez. I’ll be driving you to meet with the ASAC.”

“Thanks.”

“Um…I wasn’t told to bring a…”

“It’s all right, we don’t need a special van. Just help me get into the passenger seat and then load the wheelchair into the trunk.”

Cortez did as he was asked and Dana sat in the passenger seat as he folded her wheelchair up and placed it in the trunk with her bag. He got in and they began driving. She had been to Hawaii once before, and she remembered long hikes and swims with her then husband Richard. They had made plans to come back in the next few years, but circumstance
s hadn’t allowed for it. She wondered where Richard was now.

“
You been to Hawaii before?”

“Once, with my ex husband. I really love the
malasadas.”

“I know the best place for
malasadas on the island. An elderly lady who makes them at her house every Saturday. That’s the only day you can get ’em. I’ll take you there on Saturday if you’re still around.”

“I appreciate it
, but hopefully I’ll be out of here by Friday.”

“Hopefully? You’re the first person I’ve heard say that about an all expenses paid trip to Honolulu.”

They drove in silence until reaching the DEA field office. Cortez got the wheelchair out and tried to help her in. She pulled herself out and climbed into the chair and began wheeling into the building.

It was a white office building with seven floors and she went up to the DEA’s floor, the fifth
, and got off the elevator. Two men—one Asian, one white—were talking at a desk over some files. The Asian man said, “Be back in a sec,” and walked over.

“Dana,” he said, shaking her hand. “Got your message. Where’s Michael?”

“Taking a later flight. Did you get the file I sent over?”

“Yeah, we were actually just discussing it. It checks out. A container is coming in from Kiev tonight. Should be on the docks about eight o’clock.”

“How many men can you give me?”

“We’ve only got six agents here, Dana. Two of ’
em are off tonight. I can give you two and one surveillance unit. What do you think it is they’re shipping exactly? Michael didn’t say.”

“I don’t know, but I got a bad feeling about it.”

“Well,” he said, exhaling and placing his hands on his hips, “we’ll get everything set up for now. If you think this is gonna turn ugly maybe I should hit up the HPD and get some men down there for you?”

“
I don’t know how it’s gonna turn, my CI won’t answer my calls.”

“I’ll get a few guys there, just in case.” He paused. “Um, Dana, if this gets bad, I don’t want you near it.”

“What’re you my father? I can take care of myself.”