Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (74 page)

By the time Perry arrived back at the warehouse, his patience had worn thin. While he still had the boy, the incompetence of Diaz and the pest of a bitch who was Cooper had pushed another thorn into his side, leaving him to dig it out himself.

The moment Perry stepped out of the car, he knew something was wrong. Sefkh, along with a large group of his lieutenants, marched toward him as one of the terrorists carried a lifeless Sean out of the car. The boy had seen Perry shoot his mother and since that moment had gone catatonic. Perry suspected the shock was just too much. “What is this? You should be in Chicago by now.”

“I need to speak with you.” Sefkh’s voice had authority to it, something that didn’t sit well with Perry. “Now.”

But Perry played it off calmly, leading Sefkh and his lieutenants into the small, makeshift office toward the middle of the warehouse floor. Along the way, he took inventory of how many men had joined Sefkh and the number of men who had stayed neutral on the sidelines as he passed. Once inside the office, Perry took a seat and casually leaned back in his chair, as if nothing were wrong or amiss. “What is it, Sefkh?”

“My brother-in-law. I want to know what you’re doing to get him back.” Sefkh’s English was thick and slurred in his frustration. “He is family, and I will have him returned to me. Dead or alive.”

Perry reached for a paperclip on the desk and twirled it between his fingers. “I can’t order his release, Sefkh. You know that, and Kasaika knew that when he got involved in this. What we’re doing is a risk, and with risk comes consequences of failure. Kasaika is dealing with that consequence now.”

Sefkh puffed up, while the men around him fidgeted nervously. “It was you who used the boat captain. Keeping his son here has led to this disaster. This consequence is on you.”

Perry had twisted the paperclip to where the edges pointed outward and the thin piece of metal had been lengthened into a single metal strip. “So what would your solution be, Sefkh, since my methods are so outdated and faulty?”

Sefkh straightened himself, no doubt having waited for the moment when Perry would ask. “We kill the boy.”

Perry raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingertip against the small metal tip of the clip. “And what would this accomplish?”

“The boy is all the boat captain wants. You take away what he wants most, and he will break. Once that happens, we’ll have what we need, and then we can have Kasaika returned to us.”

“Unless he destroys what we need once he learns his boy is dead,” Perry retorted. “But if this is what you think is best.” Perry rose, the paperclip still in his hand, then exited the office, heading for the shipping container that acted as Sean’s prison, with Sefkh and his men in tow.

Every eye was on Perry and the group as they walked across the warehouse floor. Perry opened the large metal door, and it swung and smacked into the wall. “Come here, boy.” Perry extended his hand as Sean cowered in the back.

Sean slowly made his way into the light, his face morphing from the darkness until he was standing right next to Perry. The boy said nothing, showed no emotion. He just simply stood and awaited whatever fate would befall him.

“I won’t have the boy killed with a bullet,” Perry said. “I’ll only accept a blade.” Perry looked to the hilt of the knife tucked into Sefkh’s belt, and Sefkh’s eyes slowly followed Perry’s gaze.

“So be it.” Sefkh pulled the knife from his belt and approached the boy, raising the knife, and just before he lunged to grab Sean, Perry shoved the boy out of the way and jammed the end of the paperclip into the pulsing vein along Sefkh’s neck then viciously dragged it down, tearing a gash in the artery at least two inches long.

The knife fell from Sefkh’s hand, and blood spurted from the vein, squirting through his fingers that tried to staunch the blood flood. He collapsed to his knees, gurgling for help, spitting curses in his native tongue with his eyes locked on Perry.

With their commander writhing on the floor, the other terrorists raised their guns but looked to one another with confusion, fear.

Perry dropped the paperclip and shoved the boy back inside his cell and locked the door. He stepped over Sefkh’s dead body and the pool of blood that had collected on the floor. Sefkh’s hand still twitched in what last seconds of life remained then stopped.

The terrorists around Perry took a step back and lowered their guns. He made sure to raise his voice for everyone to hear. “This is what happens when you lose sight of the bigger goal. And I will not tolerate a lack of vision.”

The entire warehouse floor had gone silent, everyone looking at Sefkh’s body. “You all know who has provided you with guns, with ammo, with provisions and bombs. Me!” Perry pointed to Sefkh’s body on the ground. “Not him! Does anyone else have a problem with my objective?”

The floor remained silent, a few shaking their heads but none speaking up or showing any sign of dissention. Perry nodded in approval. “Good. Now, do what you must with the body. Give him his prayers, put his bones in the earth. Then we will finish what we started. We will burn this country to the ground. We will give every person who calls themselves a citizen and a patriot a pain beyond anything they’ve experienced in their entire lives!”

Cheers echoed through the warehouse, and the place was suddenly alive with a fervor that had been nothing a few minutes ago. Perry closed his eyes and listened to the rage and anger that coursed through the men’s bones. This was his orchestra, and he was bringing every note to life.

***

It took Cooper nearly an hour to finally coax out where Dylan was scheduled to meet Mark for the pickup. Once she finally got it out of him, she left him alone, which Dylan wasn’t sure if he wanted or not. He walked onto the boat like a ghost, Mark looking at him, talking, but Dylan couldn’t understand what he was saying. He just went below deck and sat down at the small table used for meals.

Cold. That’s what Dylan felt. And empty. Like all of his insides had been carved out and stolen. He rested his head on his hands and just tried to focus on breathing, but with each inhale and exhale, he saw the bullet that entered Evelyn’s head and each scream that preceded it.

Despite what had happened in the past, Dylan had loved her fiercely. He knew that if Zack had never died the way he had, they would have stayed together. He knew what he transformed into after their son’s death. He was distant, drunk, and bitter. Bitter about why it happened to him.

Dylan couldn’t count the number of nights that he cursed himself, cursed the world, cursed whatever God had allowed these things to happen. It wasn’t justice. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about the pain he’d experienced over the past three years made any sense. What men had thought they’d erected in the name of justice and order was nothing more than a façade that tumbled down at a moment’s whim.

“Hey.” Mark took a step down into the cabin, his head tilted to the side beneath the low ceiling. He walked slowly, but Dylan wasn’t sure if that was because he was still hurting from his gunshot wound or if he was trying to take his time to think of something to say. No doubt Cooper had filled him in on what happened.

Dylan scratched the top of his right hand mindlessly. “We should head out for a few miles and make anchor. Figure out a plan tomorrow.”

Mark sat across from Dylan at the table, settling himself into a comfortable position. “We’ll get him back, Captain. We will. You still have the computer chips. He knows that he’ll have to keep Sean alive. And what happened with Evelyn—”

“How are we on fuel?”

Mark shook his head. “Dylan, you need to take a second for yourself, you need—”

“We have to be running low.” Dylan finally noticed the scratching of his hand and stopped. “We’ll have to take a look at the maps, see what ports along the coast would be good to stop at, restock on supplies.”

Mark grabbed Dylan’s wrist and squeezed hard. “Dylan. Look at me. You need to talk about this. You withdrew into yourself when Zack died. You can’t do that again. It’s not healthy, and you need to have all your wits to get Sean back. So whatever you need to say to get into that space, say it now and be done with it.” Mark flung Dylan’s wrist back to him and took a moment to catch his breath.

Somewhere, underneath the armored layers of denial, self-loathing, and pain, Dylan knew Mark was right. “The last time I spoke with her, there was so much hate. I had never been so angry at her like I was then, not even when we were still married or through the divorce. I saw just how much pain I’d caused her, how much she had been hurt by me, and all I could think about was inflicting more pain on her. I wanted her to hurt as bad as I hurt. That was the last memory she had of me. That’s what I am.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Mark replied. “Whatever was said wasn’t from any rational standpoint. You were both hurting. You were both afraid. It wasn’t real, Dylan. None of it was. You two may have divorced, but she still loved you, and you loved her. You created three beautiful children, and one of them was taken far too soon. But you have a chance here. You have an opportunity to make sure that Evelyn didn’t sacrifice herself for nothing.”

“He’s right.” Cooper stood at the cabin’s entrance, blocking out the moonlight from above. “I went to see her yesterday, and when I showed up, Perry’s goons decided to make an appearance. They were after her. I tried getting her out, but she ran back to them so she could go and be with Sean, to make sure that if someone had to die, it was her. Make that death mean something.”

Dylan touched the now very tan flesh where his wedding ring used to sit. The gold band was still somewhere at his house, tucked away in a box full of old items from his marriage with Evelyn. He’d only stopped wearing it six months ago, long after the divorce was finalized. He looked to Cooper. “You still have any way of getting in contact with the DEA?”

“There’s one guy, but I can’t be positive he’s not in Perry’s pocket, too,” Cooper answered.

“Call him anyway. We don’t have a lot of options at this point. And unless you can convince your guy to have a full show of force, then tell him not to bother. If we can’t capture Perry, then we’ll have to expose him. Have you found anything else in regard to proof?”

“No. The one witness I had who could have identified him in bribing the harbormaster was killed by my partner. Perry’s reach is deep, Dylan. All we have to go on right now is the computer chips.”

“And this.” Dylan picked up the piece of hardware that he’d stolen specifically on Perry’s instructions and tossed it over to Cooper.

She rolled it over in her hands. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but Perry wants it more than the other stuff. I don’t know if it’s true, but he told me that he hadn’t told anyone else on the mission about that device. Regardless, whatever it is, it must be important.”

“I’ll make some calls.”

Dylan handed her the satellite phone, and she ascended to the deck. He wondered what the DEA would ask in return. With Dylan’s face on every federal most-wanted list in every agency across the country, he could guess what they’d want. “Mark, if I don’t get Sean back, I won’t make it out of this alive.” He watched Mark’s face turn white then a fierce red as he tried to dismiss Dylan’s words. “Peter’s a good man. Mary will be well taken care of. But I’ll need you to keep an eye on her, make sure she’s okay. She’ll need a familiar face if things get worse.”

“You need to quit talking like that, you hear me? You’re going to make it out of this. Sean is going to make it out of this, and the two of you are going to live long after this old man is dead.”

Dylan wanted to believe Mark. He wanted to believe that they’d overcome, but he still wasn’t sure what that would cost him. The night Zack had died when they were stuck in the cabin, with the boat capsized, a small portion of him believed that his son died so that he could live. Evelyn died so Sean could live. Death always seemed charge one life for another. But Dylan didn’t know what Death’s price would be this time.

It wasn’t a large group that showed up, but those who were there, Cooper vouched for personally. The director of the DEA sat across the small table and watched Dylan as he looked over the paperwork they’d typed up. “We’ll make sure you’re in solitary and that you have ample opportunities to visit your children, Mr. Turk.”

Minimum security. Life in prison. Visitation rights. All of it was there, in addition to Director Moringer’s signature and that of the Massachusetts attorney general, who’d even made the effort for the trip to see Dylan in person.

“I can assure you that these terms will hold up, Mr. Turk.” The attorney general was a skinny man and somehow managed to look like he was balding even with hair covering his entire head. It looked thin, like a stiff wind would be able to scatter each individual hair like dandelion fluff. “The public eye will hate you for a while, but once the trial is over and you’re locked up, you’ll be forgotten.”

Except for in the eyes of my children. Sean and Mary would also carry the weight of the accusations made in court and the inevitable conviction. His stained name would become theirs, but at least they would be alive, and Dylan considered that better than the alternative.

Dylan set the papers down and rubbed his face. “I sign once Sean is out of Perry’s hands and far away from any place Perry can reach.”

Moringer looked to the attorney general, who nodded in agreement. “We already have a unit that picked up your daughter and your ex-wife’s husband, Peter. He’ll be listed as the primary guardian once you’ve been charged.”

“Is there anyone else you would like to have partial custody of your children, Mr. Turk?” the attorney general asked.

“Yes. Mark Hurley. Make sure he has visitation rights and that Peter can’t block him out of seeing them,” Dylan answered. If he was going to be behind bars, then the knowledge that there was someone looking out for his kids in addition to Peter would make the time a little easier.

“We’ll add that in for the final draft.” The attorney general picked up the papers and tucked them into his briefcase. “For the record, Mr. Turk, I don’t think there is a father in this country who wouldn’t have tried to do what you’ve done to protect their children. I have two of my own, and I would hope I’d have the resolve you’ve shown.”

The attorney’s consolation did little to ease Dylan’s nerves. He wasn’t doing this to set out to be a martyr for fathers or set some shining example of grit. There was an overwhelming debt that needed to be paid, and this was the only way he knew how to pay it. And if it meant his life, then so be it.

Now, with the support of the DEA, the only thing left to do was contact Perry, set up a time and place, and prepare for the exchange. Neither Dylan nor his newfound allies were sure what Perry would find out about their deal. They assumed that with Moringer allocating much of his resources, something would tip Perry off, but they had no idea how much of that information would be passed along to Perry or who was still working for him.

It was odd watching the officials know just about as much as what Dylan had. For the longest time, he’d always assumed that the government knew everything, tapped into their homes, their lives, corrupt and cruel. But in the end, those establishments were only made up of men. Men who experienced fear and doubt, men susceptible to greed and the faults of power. They were not the figures Dylan had expected. They were only the shells of men he’d once thought they were. And this altercation with Perry could mean the death of many of them, perhaps all of them if they failed.