The Demon Deception (9 page)

Lazarus pulled a paper from his pocket. He
pushed it over to Sam, “This is a list of things I think we’ll need
for this mission.”

Sam stood up, walked over to the trashcan and
dropped his empty bottle into the trash. He grabbed two more from
the refrigerator. He did the trick of opening them on the counter
again. He walked over to table and put one down in front of
Lazarus, “How about another one, Eli.” Lazarus finished the one he
had, then handed the empty to Sam. That bottle plus the caps were
also consigned to the trash. Sam sat down and looked at the list.
Sam whistled. The list was extensive.

“Talk about your World War III. Think you
have enough written down here?”

Lazarus smiled, “God helps those that help
themselves. Better to have it and not need it,”

Sam finished the saying, “Than need it and
not have it.” He studied the list, “Law rockets, okay, not sure
they make those anymore. Those were replaced by AT-4s.”

Lazarus shrugged, “That’s what I pay you for,
to keep me current.”

They discussed the relative merits of the
different items on the list, the different calibers, and different
weapons. The discussion stretched into four more beers each before
they finished. They settled on weapons that would be easy to
transport and conceal, which left out the Barrett .50 caliber.
Instead they opted for the .338 Lapua Desert Tactical rifle. They
also went with Rock River Arms LAR8 in .308. Kimber Warriors in .45
were on their list as well. For anything that wouldn’t be put down
with those calibers, there was the Smith & Wesson .500. That
was it for the small arms. There was also an extensive list of
explosives on the list as well.

“So, where we goin’?” Sam asked.

Lazarus wrote it down for him. Sam stared at
the paper, “I wasn’t expecting a road trip for this.”

Lazarus laughed, “Yeah, you and me, like Hope
and Crosby.”

“Who?”

Lazarus laughed again, “Sorry, before your
time.”

Lazarus grabbed a piece of paper, and started
writing, “The Desert Tactical rifles, and the ammunition for them
need to go to this address.”

Sam completed the list, then began doing the
figures in his head. Since he began working with Lazarus, he had
developed contacts who dabbled in some more dubious enterprises. It
was amazing what you could acquire if you had the contacts and the
cash.

Sam wasn’t foolish enough to call from his
own cell phone. He pulled a burner phone out of the drawer, walked
down the street, and called a number that he had memorized. Then he
waited. A text arrived with a series of numbers. He wrote them
down. He walked down an alley, away from his house, pulled the
battery out, put the phone on the ground, and crushed it under his
foot. He kicked it into a storm drain, and walked back to the
house.

As he was walking, he motioned to one of the
kids on the street and had him run down to get today’s New York
Times. Sam sat down on the stairs in front of his house to wait. It
wasn’t that Sam was too lazy to go get the paper. The kid’s family
didn’t have a whole lot of money, and this was one way Sam could
feed a little to them, without stepping on the father’s ego.

Sam wasn’t an ego guy. He didn’t need the
praise of others. He was happy to help families in the
neighborhood, glad to be in a position where he could do so. He
didn’t need recognition for the money he spread around. He was
happy knowing that he was helping one of the families on the
street. The kid ran down to the corner grocery, and then ran back,
handing the paper to Sam. Sam told him to keep the change, and
walked back into the house.

Sam walked back over to the table, sat down
with the numbers, and began looking for pages, columns, and words.
Lazarus watched him and recognized the book code.

“Smart, changes daily, and they can’t figure
it out unless they know what paper you’re using.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I introduced the code to
them. They have to travel around; otherwise the Feds’ll find them.
Not a good idea to stay in one place.”

Lazarus laughed, “By them, I guess you mean
the gun smugglers. Great, now you increased the OPSEC of the
weapons traffickers. I don’t think that’s necessarily a good
thing.”

Sam shrugged, “As long as I don’t go to jail,
I don’t care. Plus, they’ve narrowed their operations after some of
their less OPSEC capable associates were snapped up by the Feds.
Evidently somebody tipped them off.”

He paused, and spread his hands, a look of
innocence on his face, “I’m not sayin’ who tipped them off.”

He continued, “Since those associates were
snatched up, less guns are going to gangs in the area, and gun
crime seems to have dropped. These guys seem to understand the
consequences of their actions and possible repercussions if they
stray outside the parameters that’ve been set for them.”

Lazarus was impressed, “Win for the
community, win for us, bad guys go to jail, and less guns in the
hands of gang bangers. Good solution for the problem set.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, now they mostly fence
stolen goods.”

Lazarus stared at him.

Sam looked back at him, “What? I had to leave
them something. If I didn’t let them do that, they’d turn to
something else that would either get them snatched up by the Po-po,
or get them killed. Either way, no supplies for us. So, I made sure
that they’d get a little something.”

Lazarus sighed, “No rest for the wicked, I
guess. No matter what we do, there will always be iniquity in the
world.”

Sam agreed as he finished the book code. He
wrote the location down and passed it over to Lazarus. Lazarus
looked at the location, “Not too far away. Do you want me to back
you up on this?”

Sam shook his head, “No, it’s just a dead
drop. I’ll leave the instructions for what we need, and they’ll
contact me with instructions on where to wire the money and the
location to pick up our supplies.”

Lazarus was becoming more and more impressed
by the level of security that Sam had initiated with the gun
runners. Still, he wasn’t pleased about wiring money to an unknown
account. He didn’t want to throw his money away, “Are you sure you
can trust these guys?”

A sharp guttural laugh erupted from Sam’s
mouth, “No, I don’t trust them at all. We send one quarter of the
payment, we get one quarter of the supplies. If we’re satisfied, we
wire another quarter, receive another location, and then proceed
until the transaction is complete. Trust is not a commodity to be
dealt in with these guys.”

Lazarus was satisfied with the answer. Now
that the particulars were settled, and he knew what safeguards Sam
had in place, he was happy with the plan. There was only one
important thing to talk about, “So, can I crash in your spare
bedroom?”

Sam smiled at him, “Yeah, sure. Just as soon
as the money hits the bank.”

Lazarus laughed. He deserved that after
California.

----------------------------------------------------

Lazarus was heavy
into his workout for the morning, trying to work up a good sweat.
He stood in the back yard, two Eskrima sticks whirling through the
air. He spent his morning doing yoga, stretches, calisthenics, and
a variety of different katas from many different styles of martial
arts. He was limber and fast. His katas were flawless, the product
of centuries of practice.

Now he used the ironwood sticks to go through
his Filipino Eskrima Sinawali exercises. The two sticks flashed
through the air as they weaved in and out in the stylistic katas.
Lately, he put emphasis on his Krav Maga and Filipino styles of
fighting. They were more direct, with less movement, aimed at
destroying the enemy as quickly as possible. He still had other
techniques that he gleaned from Aikido and Wushu. He enjoyed
running through the various styles to keep himself limber, and
maintain his mastery over them. He was worlds away from where he
began, with the simple Greco-Roman style of grappling and the Roman
method of using the shield and gladius.

He was starting to sweat, his body steaming
in the cold of the October morning. A cloud rose from his body as
he whirled through the different stages. He heard leaves crunch as
somebody entered the yard through the side gate. He shifted and he
was facing the intruder. Sam stood there, watching him, “So Eli,
looks like you aren’t slowing down in your old age.”

Lazarus smiled, “Old? You’re calling me old?
I don’t feel a day over one thousand.”

Sam snorted, “Yeah, well, you may not feel
it, but you do have a few millennia on me. So, yeah, I have to put
my money down on old.”

Lazarus stood up straight and pointed one of
the sticks at Sam, “Care to put your money where your mouth
is?”

Sam laughed and started taking his jacket
off, “What are we going to bet?”

Lazarus thought about it, “I haven’t had
Jamaican food in a while. How about loser buys?”

Sam nodded, “Okay, you’re on.”

Sam stripped down to his undershirt. He
grabbed two sticks and they faced each other. Sam moved towards his
left, and the two began circling. They were relaxed, arms and
bodies loose, the sticks held in front of them. The first move was
made by Lazarus, testing his pupil to see if Sam had continued with
his martial arts studies.

The stick whipped out and Sam easily blocked
the blow. He followed with a strike of his own. He was large, with
a muscularity that drove the sticks with great force. He also had
reach on Lazarus. Lazarus was incredibly quick, though, and his
blows were very precise. His strength was in his forearms, the
result of millennia of using weapons, and he was able to divert the
force of the blows that Sam delivered. They moved at full speed and
force, relying on each other’s mastery of the weapons to avoid
injury. The sticks slammed against each other in a staccato rhythm.
The rhythm sped up as they enjoyed the competition. Soon, they were
both surrounded by a cloud of mist as their bodies heated up in the
cold air.

The staccato sound of Eskrima sticks echoed
off of the surrounding buildings, and drew observers. Faces looked
out windows from adjacent buildings, watching the competition. As
the sound penetrated into the street, kids came around back to see
what was going on. Several boys and two girls watched as the men
tried to best each other. Soon, everybody in the neighborhood was
rooting for their home boy.

Breath frosted through the air as chests
heaved from exertion. The sticks were moving so fast that the crowd
could only see a blur. Sweat coated them, soaking t-shirts.
Suddenly, a mistake was made and a stick whipped forward to tag Sam
in the stomach. Lazarus pulled the hit so that he wouldn’t hurt
Sam.

Sam stepped back, leaning towards the side
that had been struck. Catcalls followed as he stepped away from
Lazarus. He glowered at the faces in the brownstones, “Hey, if you
think it’s easy, come on down and try your luck!”

The heads pulled back into the windows,
nobody willing to take up the challenge. One of the girls asked,
“Sam, are you going to do that again? Can we watch?”

He looked at the little girl, “Sarah, you’re
always welcome to watch. But I think we’re done for today,
sweetheart. Maybe next time.”

The children looked disappointed. They
wandered back to the street in front of the brownstones to find
something else to occupy their interests. Sam leaned back against
the fence, “So, old man, I guess you haven’t lost your touch.”

Lazarus didn’t want to tighten up, so he kept
moving, “You aren’t too bad either. I guess you kept up your
studies since I saw you last.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I took your advice and
stuck to Krav Maga and Filipino Eskrima. I like to do a bit of
Brazilian Jujitsu as well.”

“It’s done you well. Your stick work is much
better. You’re faster, and you’re able to anticipate my moves.”

Sam smiled at the praise from his mentor.
Lazarus motioned towards the back door of Sam’s house, “What say we
go in before we start cooling down too much. If we can avoid a
cold, I say we do so.”

Sam gathered up his coat and shirt while
Lazarus grabbed the ironwood sticks. They walked up the stairs and
into the house.

Lazarus put the sticks on the kitchen table
and picked up a towel that he laid out previously. He toweled the
sweat off his body. Sam moved past him to his bedroom, hung up his
coat and dumped his shirt and t-shirt into the plastic hamper in
his closet. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to wipe
the sweat off. He walked past Lazarus, grabbed the towel from him
and walked into the laundry room and dumped both towels into the
washing machine.

From the kitchen, Lazarus asked, “Did you get
the directions to the first pickup?”

Sam walked back into the kitchen, “Yeah, I
got the directions from the dead drop. Our first stop is in the
Poconos. We have to wire the money to their offshore account
tonight, and it’ll be there, waiting for us. I gave them a city in
the general direction, and they have the four caches geo-located.
Each location will be available as we pick up a cache, then wire
the next set of money.”

Lazarus was impressed, once again, by his
protégé, “Do you have a pistol? As soon as we get out of New York,
I think we need to carry.”

Sam pulled out two of the ubiquitous Labatt’s
Canadian Ales, popped the tops, and sat one in front of Lazarus,
“We can do that. My Springfield XDM is hidden downstairs. I have
extra magazines, if you need some. And, I have my concealed carry
license for the pistol.”

Lazarus shook his head, “No, I have plenty,
but we’re going to have to exchange your regular bullets for my
frangible ones.” He paused, “How did you get your concealed carry?
You live in New York. I thought concealed carry was only available
for the politically connected.”