Blown (27 page)

I
t felt
like a hot branding iron had been jabbed into his left thigh. The burning sensation from the bullet wound was ramping in intensity. Moss looked down at the ledge and wondered if the momentum of his landing wouldn't just carry him over the cliff and to his death. The pain in his leg made him think death wasn't his worst option.

He heard Kaplan in his earpiece, "Come on, Moss, we don't have all day."

The mission laid out by Kaplan was supposed to be fail-safe. Now it was beginning to look like a fiasco. Murphy's Law was chasing them and had finally caught up. Perhaps Kaplan should have anticipated that Tony would have attack dogs guarding his compound. Maybe Alan should have seen evidence in those ultra high-resolution spy satellite photos. This wasn't at all what he'd expected to happen on this mission. Kaplan made it sound easy, almost fun. That should have been a red flag. Fact of the matter, the entire mission was falling apart. And it was getting worse by the minute.

Moss heard two men in the distance trying to figure out which way he and Kaplan went and what had happened to their dogs.

He rolled over onto his belly and slid his legs down slowly lowering himself over the ledge until he was hanging on by just his fingertips. He glanced once more at his landing spot and pictured which direction he needed to roll when he landed. He released his grip and fell.

When his feet hit the ledge, his left leg collapsed, unable to support his weight. Pain shot through his body and he strained to suppress sounds of his agony. He fell to his side and his momentum rolled him away from the wall toward the drop-off. His big hands clawed the rocky ground, searching for a handhold, anything to keep him from falling off the cliff. He felt the edge of the ledge beneath him when his hand found a hold.

Kaplan had reached out, clasped his hand at the last second, and pulled Moss toward him.

"Damn, you're heavy," Kaplan said. "Ever thought about
Weight Watchers
?"

"You're just jealous."

Kaplan stood, gripped Moss's hand, and helped him to his feet.

"This way."

Moss followed the CIA operative, both men keeping their backs against the wall as they side-shuffled along the ledge. With each step, Moss dragged behind his injured left leg. For the first time, he felt the warm blood cascading down his leg to his boot.

"How's the leg?" Kaplan asked, almost as if he knew what Moss was thinking.

"I think I need to stop the bleeding."

"The ledge should be a little wider up ahead. We'll stop there and I'll take a look."

Moss and Kaplan were still wearing their NVGs, which enabled them to locate the ledge. Without the night vision goggles they would still be aimlessly searching for it. Or dead.

Oddly though, it seemed no one was chasing after them now. After they rounded the first turn on the ledge, everything grew quiet. No more yelling. No more barking. The only sounds filling the night air were the waves crashing against the rocks below and the whistling of the wind against the rocky cliff.

The wide spot in the ledge Kaplan referred to wasn't very wide at all. Maybe four feet at its widest juncture. It was enough room, however, for Moss to sit against the rocky wall and let Kaplan inspect his wound. Kaplan took out his knife and cut a long slit in Moss's pants. He put his hands inside the slit and wrapped them around Moss's leg.

"No exit wound. That's good."

"What do you mean,
good
?"

"It's good because the entrance wound is small. Exit wounds generally are larger and more destructive. We need to apply pressure and stem the bleeding though. You're lucky."

"How the hell do you call this lucky?"

"Could've hit the artery and you'd be dead already."

"Can you take the bullet out?"

"Hell no, Moss. This isn't the Wild West. I can't just dig out the bullet with my knife and patch you up. That's a job for a doctor. I might do permanent damage."

"What about infection?"

"Quit your belly aching. First, we need to stop the bleeding, so you need to hold pressure on the wound."

"Then what?"

"And then I need to find a way to get us off this ledge."

H
e and Moss
had been on the ledge for hours without hearing a sound. Neither man had spoken in over two. They had moved to the precipice of the escarpment. The three-foot wide ledge rounded a corner in both directions and led back toward the main section of the island.

Kaplan field dressed Moss's leg wound and wrapped a makeshift dressing around the man's huge thigh. The last time he'd checked the bleeding had stopped. The deputy kept his big hand clamped around the wound to help with the bleeding or maybe because of the pain. Perhaps both. Every few minutes Kaplan would hear Moss's breathing stop and when he'd glanced over at him, the big man was grimacing. He suffered in silence, refusing to make any audible sound. The man was tough and would not allow his pain to give away their position.

Kaplan leaned over and looked down into the dark abyss below. Earlier, he and Moss had removed their NVGs so he already knew what was down there, five hundred feet below. Rocks. Certain death for anyone who fell from this narrow ledge.

It had been nearly forty-eight hours since he'd slept. Focus diminished with every blink. His eyelids grew heavy and his field of vision narrowed. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in a futile attempt to clear the cobwebs. Anything to stay awake. Sleep was not an option. Sleep was certain death.

His forearm still throbbed from the crushing force of the Rottweiler's bite. That damn dog was
not
man's best friend. He would rather have been shot.

Fatigue was taking its toll. More so on Moss who wasn't accustomed to the washout effects of adrenaline overload. The effects were not so pronounced for Kaplan; he'd learned to cope with it years ago.

Kaplan noticed Moss's eyes close and his torso start to waiver. He jabbed the deputy in the ribs and the big man jumped almost losing his balance and falling off the ledge. Kaplan's arm was all that stopped the man.

"What the hell?" Moss said. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Just the opposite. Trying to keep you alive."

"By pushing me off this ledge?"

Kaplan smiled. He had raised the man's alertness level. Temporarily snapped his mind awake.

"How long have we been on this ledge anyway?"

"Too long," Kaplan replied.

"What do you think the odds are of us getting out alive?"

"We both can agree jumping is out, right?"

Moss nodded.

"We're trapped in the middle and, I figure, outgunned at least six or eight to two…so, I'd say the odds are still in our favor."

"We should have waited on backup."

"I made a promise to Tony that I intend to keep."

"Kill him? No wonder you were so anxious to get here right away."

Kaplan said nothing in reply. He made Moss aware of his intentions from the beginning.

Kaplan watched the big man feign a smile and then grimace. "Hurt much?" Kaplan knew it was a stupid question as soon as the words passed his lips.

"Nah," Moss said in a sarcastic tone. "After Valkyrie shot me I thought to myself,
hey, why not try this again.
Kinda feels like someone sliced my leg open and poured hot sauce inside. You should give it a try."

"Been there, done that. First bullet I took was in the gut."

"Special Forces?"

"No, never got shot in the Army. Happened in civilian life where the enemy was a little harder to recognize."

Kaplan heard the sounds coming in both directions along the ledge. He glanced at Moss. He'd heard them too. Their position was no longer safe. They would soon be discovered and they had nowhere to go. He and Moss were trapped. Their chance of getting off the ledge alive had seemingly dropped to zero.

He glanced again into the abyss and then to each side as the danger approached.

He and Moss looked at each other and instinctively knew what had to be done. They picked up their silenced weapons, leaned into each other, and pushed themselves to their feet.

How in the hell it came to this was beyond him. Less than a week ago he was loading his Harley for a two-day ride to El Paso, Texas. If he'd minded his own business and not gotten involved, if he'd only stopped somewhere else to eat, if he'd only passed Little Rock by, then none of this would have happened.

And if it did, he wouldn't be the one involved.

Or maybe he would.

Maybe some perverse predestination had drawn him in and this was his fate all along.

Either way, it ended now.

He heard the voices and then shadowy figures appeared on both sides.

He heard the voices again, but this time they were calling his name.

"
M
r. Kaplan
," the voice rang out. "Mr. Gregg Kaplan."

There were many things he expected. Like a shootout on the ledge, or being shot, or falling into the abyss, but he didn't expect someone to approach in this manner.

"Mr. Kaplan, please respond."

Kaplan glanced at Moss. The deputy shrugged his shoulders and whispered into the comm system, "What have we got to lose?"

Kaplan turned toward the direction of the man calling his name. "This is Kaplan."

"Mr. Kaplan, please drop your weapon. Tony Q wishes to speak to you. To you, and Senior Inspector Moss."

"And if I don't?"

"Mr. Kaplan, my instructions are not to harm you, but to help. We saw blood, one of you is injured and in need of medical attention and Tony Q told me to tell you that neither of you are in any threat of harm. Actually, he says he wants to help."

"Bullshit," Kaplan said. "If that's true, then throw me
your
weapons."

"That won't be happening, Mr. Kaplan, but please believe me, we mean you no harm."

"What do you think, Moss?" Kaplan asked in a hushed voice. There was no response. Kaplan turned and saw Moss sliding down to his seat. He was losing consciousness and perilously close to falling off the ledge. Kaplan grappled for the deputy and pulled him against the wall.

He looked in each direction and could see both men.

"Please, Mr. Kaplan," the man said. He pointed at Moss. "That man needs our help."

M
oss was strapped
in a harness and lifted to safety from above, he was conscious, but barely. Kaplan followed the man who spoke to him around the ledge and back to the top of the escarpment where Moss had been lifted. That man was Bruno Ratti.

The last time he'd seen him, Bruno was escaping from the raging warehouse fire in New Jersey. Right after he killed Martin Scalini and Angelo DeLuca.

Kaplan and Moss were relieved of their handguns and were taken to a sterilized room beneath the main level of the residence. A man Bruno claimed was a doctor cleaned and bandaged the puncture wounds from the dog bites on his arm. Moss was pumped full of painkillers and antibiotics, both of which temporarily restored most of his strength and lucidity.

Moss was given some old crutches by the doctor while Bruno held them at gunpoint with an AK-47. Kaplan looked at Bruno who was pointing the assault rifle at him. “I thought you said you meant us no harm.”

“Yeah, I did. Tony Q warned me about you. Said not to get too close. Stay more than arm's length and to shoot you if you moved.”

Bruno then escorted the two men to the main floor.

When the doors opened, Kaplan was staring out of a large plate glass window overlooking the island of Martinique. Dawn was breaking and the sky was getting lighter.

The old man appeared in the doorway and walked in.

"Mr. Kaplan, Inspector Moss," Tony said. "Welcome to Villa de Quattrocchi."

"Hell of a greeting party, Tony," Kaplan said. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

Tony stared at Kaplan then turned to Moss. "I was not expecting either of you. I take intruders seriously…as you well can understand when so many want to kill me. One can never be too careful, you know."

"You should have expected me," said Kaplan. "I warned you at the SSOC."

"Yes. Yes." Tony laughed. "To hunt me down and kill me if I double crossed Inspector Moss here." Tony pointed at Moss. "So you did, Mr. Kaplan. So you did."

Tony walked over to the large window and gazed outside. "The thing is, I did not double cross anyone. I lived up to my part of the agreement. I provided testimony. I produced evidence." Tony looked at Moss. "Your Department of Justice got what they wanted."

Moss raised his voice. "You disappeared from your relocation area. You cost the U. S. Government a lot of money."

"What I should have done, what I wanted to do, was kill every one of those bastards I testified against. That would have saved the government millions of dollars. Just think, no court costs, no appeals, no legal wrangling. Hell, I could have done your government a favor. Only the risk of getting caught and sent to prison kept me from this. Instead, I did the right thing…in accordance to my contract with Justice. And what do I get in return? You track me down, trespass on my property, kill several of my men, and then have the audacity to come in here and threaten me. A lot of thanks I get for saving your life."

Kaplan took a few steps toward the window. Bruno raised his gun as a warning but Tony waved him off. Kaplan stopped at the opposite end of the large window, still fifteen feet from Tony.

"All this because of Scalini's son?" Kaplan asked.

Tony looked at Kaplan for a few seconds and then a hint of a smile crept across his lips. "I might have lied to you about that."

"What do you mean?"

"That's not the reason Scalini was after me. Martin and I were partners.”

Kaplan and Moss looked at each other.

“Had been for many years,” Tony continued. “He gave me my start and I eventually made enough money to buy half interest in the family business. A silent partner if you will. He knew his son was a worthless piece of crap. The first and only time that little punk drew a gun on me, Bruno whacked him. Did Martin a favor actually. Believe it or not, he harbored no ill will, not about his son anyway."

Tony kept talking. As if he was trying to justify his past.

"I had been skimming Martin's share for years. Decades really. How do you think I could afford all this?" Tony waved his arms. "When Martin finally figured it out and came for me, I knew I had to do something or I'd end up in Martin's acid bath. So I cut a deal with the Marshals Service and the Department of Justice. The only reason I agreed to go with Angelo DeLuca that night was because I knew Bruno was my protector." The old man stared at Kaplan. "Like you had your gun, I had Bruno."

"But you did kill Martin," Moss said.

"Technically, no. Bruno killed Martin before Martin killed me. I'll give you that. As my bodyguard, that was his job. I think I have a good argument for self defense…especially with two federal law enforcement officers as witnesses."

"What about the men in the restaurant?" asked Kaplan. "One of them muttered four eyes…did he work for you?"

"Very astute, Mr. Kaplan. That was Marco, and yes he worked for me. As do many others. At least two with each of the six families."

Then it occurred to Kaplan what this was all about…every bit. From the beginning, it was orchestrated by the old man. And it was a brilliant move.

Almost.

"In reality though," said Kaplan. "This has been one big takeover scheme."

"You're on a roll, Mr. Kaplan. And thanks to you two, I am now in a position to seize control of all six family businesses and turn them into one giant corporation. As I explained in the car a few days ago, I devised this plan decades ago. A long-range plan with a vast and intricate corporate structure with so many failsafe layers, that it can never be brought down entirely. Yet it seems I was the only one with enough patience to wait and make it work."

Moss hobbled on the crutches next to Kaplan, followed closely by Bruno brandishing his assault rifle. "The men are your Trojan horses," Moss said. "Get them inside the gates and wait for the villagers to fall asleep and then attack."

Tony smiled. "A crude analogy, but close enough. It's all about trust. My men had to be trusted by their families and that meant years on the inside as a sleeper. Without trust, I could never have gotten the information I needed to take them down and see my plan come to fruition."

"You used the U. S. Marshals Service to protect you while the Department of Justice moved in and eliminated your competition," Kaplan said. "That's a very sly move."

"Another Sicilian meaning for the word Quattrocchi," Tony said as he looked at Kaplan. "Someone who is particularly shrewd or diligent."

"It seems the United States government played into your hands," Moss moved closer to Bruno and stopped.

"They did make it quite easy," the old man replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then Kaplan asked, "Did you not think anyone would come for you?"

"Actually," Tony said. "No." He looked at Moss. "Senior Inspector, my agreement with the U. S. Marshals Service was to testify. I have done that." He paused. "Martin Scalini is dead, the others are all locked away. Quite frankly, I don't consider the Marshals Service witness protection even remotely close to adequate so I opted out…which, by the way, I have the right to do. Your WitSec inspectors have reminded me of that numerous times. My number one priority was to seek safety, and that meant here." He waved his arms at the glass window overlooking the big island. "Which brings up another issue." He looked at Kaplan. "How did you find out about this place?"

"Something you said in the car," Kaplan responded. "About French Creole cuisine and Martinique."

"But that didn't cinch it," Moss added. "It was that rare stamp you purchased this morning. Your WitSec file mentioned your prior involvement with several philatelic societies and your reluctance to give up your stamp-collecting hobby after you entered the program. So we did some digging." Moss turned to Kaplan.

Kaplan finished. "You see, you're not the only one who can devise a sinister plan and have the patience to wait it out. The stamp was a setup. The CIA put that stamp on the market as bait. When you bought the stamp, it confirmed your location."

All four men turned when two dogs barked outside. Then the animals went silent.

"I almost balked but I could not resist. It was a once in a lifetime buying opportunity."

"And now it will cost you your life," Kaplan added. "And just like everything else in your life, the location of your secret hideout has been blown."

"I have heard all I care to hear." Tony turned to Bruno and said, "Kill them. And then throw their bodies off the cliff. Let the birds peck away at their dead carcasses."

Bruno raised his AK-47 and swung the barrel toward Kaplan. Moss countered by throwing a crutch at Bruno's gun. The impact was enough to deflect Bruno's shot and the bullet shattered the large plate glass window. Wind swirled through the room.

Kaplan dropped to one knee and retrieved the knife from the specially designed pouch in his boot. Tony's men failed to search his boots when they confiscated his handguns. He grabbed the old man and used him for a shield, holding the tip of the blade against Tony's throat.

Bruno pointed the barrel of the assault rifle at Kaplan and then turned it on Moss.

"Let him go or I'll shoot," Bruno shouted over the wind whistling through the broken glass window.

"Hand over your weapon or I'll kill him. You have my word." Kaplan countered. He pressed the blade tip firmly against Tony's throat, enough to draw blood. "And I always keep my word."

Tony screamed. A trickle of blood ran down his neck.

Kaplan leaned near Tony's ear and said, "Tell him to give up the gun or I swear on everything you hold sacred, I will slash your throat from ear to ear and let you watch your own blood spill from your neck. We're not in the quiet room at the B & B. There is no one here to stop me from killing you this time." He yanked up on the old man's body. "Tell him now."

"Give him the gun, Bruno. For God's sake…give him the gun."

Bruno hesitated then released his grip on the trigger and held the AK-47 out to the side with one hand on the stock.

Moss limped over to Bruno, took the rifle, and pointed it at him. He took a few steps back.

Kaplan lightened the blade's pressure from Tony's neck yet held it in place. He kept a tight grip on the old man. "Remember our Quattrocchi, old man. I warned you not to double-cross Deputy Moss." Kaplan pressed the knife blade just below Tony's left ear.

"Kaplan, no," Moss yelled without taking his eyes off Bruno. "Let him go. There's no need for this. You got your man. Why kill him when you can let him rot in prison?"

Moss was right. He knew that. But he'd made a promise to the old man. One he desperately wanted to keep.

"Let the Marshals Service take it from here," Moss urged. "The old man will get what's coming to him…I give you my word."

Kaplan relaxed his grip and allowed Tony to push himself a few inches away.

Moss glared at Kaplan and as he did, Bruno reached behind his back, drew a handgun, and pointed it toward Kaplan.

Kaplan yanked Tony's arm and pulled the old man toward him.

Bruno's gun fired.

Kaplan felt a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. His shirt turned red and he felt the instant flow of warm sticky blood streaming over his armpit. He and Tony fell to the floor.

Moss turned toward Bruno, took aim, and fired three shots.

Tony's body went limp in Kaplan's arms. Blood oozed from a gunshot wound to the old man's chest. Dead center of the heart.

Kaplan lowered the dead witness to the floor and then clutched his own shoulder. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and walked to where Moss was standing. The two men hovered over Bruno the Rat.