Solomon (Club Sin #6)

10. The Ice Queen Cometh

the ice queen cometh

Scarlett

M idnight. We're parked in a gravel quarry high above the city, spread out below us like a tangled net of string lights. We're stretched out in the truck bed, staring up at the sky.

It's been a hell of a day since we left the hostel this morning. Afternoon? I don't even know. We took down no fewer than four different kill squads. We even captured a guy. We brought him way the fuck up here to talk to him because up here, no one can hear him scream. Turns out, he didn't know shit. He was a street-level thug who took orders from a slightly higher-up thug, who took his orders from someone else...the chain was so fucked up that there was no feasible way of untangling it. Not without CIA resources, at least, and since I'm here alone, that's not an option. In the movies, the plucky hero/heroine would have a handful of key favors to call in. I have no favors owed me. If I were to call my CO or friends in various departments and ask for a lookup, shit would get messy. Questions would be asked. Sol's existence would be outed. So, no. Not an option.

Therefore, the thug’s body is a couple hundred yards away under a small avalanche of gravel.

Sol scrubs his face, staring at the burner phone he liberated from the dead guy back at the hostel. "Was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"Just call her, Sol," I grumble. “Quit putting it off." I glance at him. "What's the hang-up, anyway?"

A shrug. "Never been the one who needed to be bailed out. It's embarrassing. I should be able to handle this."

"You can't, Sol. I can't. We can't. It's too big. We've kicked ass so far, but it's only a matter of time before one of them gets lucky or they stop sending these stupid little squads and start sending real numbers. You need to call your boss and get some real solutions."

He growls. "I fuckin' know. I just don't want to." I hear the keys beeping as he dials a long string of numbers. "But, here we go."

It rings a few times. He's close enough that even with the phone to his ear, I can hear the ringing and then a smooth, cool, dry female voice that comes on the other end.

"Solomon," she says. "You're alive."

"I am," he says.

"Where are you?"

"Bogota."

A pause. "Are you alone?"

He hesitates. "No."

"Brief me."

"I think maybe you know."

A soft, dry chuckle. "I suppose I do, at that. Tell Ms. Gutierrez I said hello."

"You coulda just called me," I say. "Subterfuge wasn't necessary."

"This was the most effective method," she says. "You would have had a lot of questions before you even got to the questions of how, why, and where to rescue our dear friend, Mr. Cabot. This way cut all that out."

"What do you know, Inez? About the people who snatched me?" Sol asks.

"Very little. Did they ask you any questions?"

"No. They just beat the shit out of me. Never asked me question one. Not my name, nothing."

"And you're being actively pursued?"

"Very much so. So far, squads, trios, and pairs of amateurs. No real triggermen, thus far."

"Your oath?"

"Kept it. Scar's done all the killing. I've made some messes, but I haven't killed anyone. Old habits die hard, but they can die."

A long pause. "I haven't been entirely truthful with you, Solomon."

He goes very still. "Meaning?"

"I do not know anything for certain, but I...I think this may not be about you."

"Inez, you're gonna have to elaborate, here."

“It goes against my nature and my training and everything I am and everything I do, personally and professionally, to divulge more than absolutely necessary. But I think at this point, it is becoming necessary." She pauses again.

Sol sighs. "This is about you, isn't it?"

"Possibly," she answers.

"Inez."

"Like you all, I left a lot of enemies behind me when I went to work for our mutual employer. In the intervening years, I have...worked to eliminate the greatest threats. But there is one enemy that is beyond my capabilities of eliminating."

"You're being vague, Inez." Sol frowns at the stars. "Wait, did you take the same oath as us?"

"I have not."

Sol sits up. “So whoever it is, is either too well insulated for you to get close enough to eliminate them, or they're too big and too powerful to eliminate."

“Or both." A sigh. "This enemy is the type that can hire an entire terrorist organization to do its dirty work. Namely, putting out bait for me."

"Meaning..." Sol trails off, thinking. "You're saying I was snatched off the streets of Boston, transported to fucking Brazil, beaten, tortured, starved, and dehydrated in an attempt to get you out of hiding?"

"Correct."

"Who the fuck is your enemy, Inez? Fucking hell."

"Not someone I'm willing to discuss over the phone."

"Well, we need options," Sol says. "So far, we've come out ahead. But if this person or group or whatever is this powerful, it's not gonna stop. We need a way out of Colombia, at least. Or, we need a plan to put an end to this. Something."

She sighs. "I know. I'm working on it. Can you hold out a little longer?"

"Probably. But I'm gonna need some real motherfucking explanations, Inez. I think you owe me that much if I'm going through all this for you." He laughs. "Funny thing is, I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who the fuck could and would go through all this to get at me. And I've been coming up empty because the people who may have a grudge against me would just put a slug through my brain from half a mile away the first time I left the fucking Club. I can't think of anyone who would take me alive and kick the shit out of me just for fuckin' shits and giggles."

"Correct."

"But what I'm not following is why me? You're my boss, not my friend, not my partner, not a lover or an ex. You give me orders, and that's it. What makes them think you'd come after me?"

"Solomon, if you think that you mean that little to me, I'm insulted."

"I don't know the first fucking thing about you. Not even your last name. You don't hang with us. You don't talk to us. So forgive me if I assume our relationship is business casual at best."

Inez sighs. "I am not someone who is given to shows of emotion, Solomon, any more than you are. But I care about you. I care about all of you. Who do you think followed you and watched you and assessed you before bringing you into the Broken Arrows, Solomon? Who do you think made sure there was a medic on that helo in Caracas? Who made sure your brothers were brought in as well? Each and every one of you Broken Arrows is here, alive, and part of the brotherhood because I chose you. I brought you in."

"I thought we were chosen by the boss?"

"You were. I was given a selection of portfolios, but he left the final selection to me, and then he approved them. He gave me seven slots to fill and twenty-one options. I chose the seven of you, and together, we arranged each operation to retrieve you and bring you in. I am invested in each of you. I am invested in seeing you succeed. In seeing you move beyond the traumas that brought you all to me in the first place." A tense pause. "I care , Solomon." Her voice shakes on the last three words. “I care very much.”

He seems stunned. “O-okay, Inez. I hear you."

“Good." Back to cool, calm, and collected. "I am going to clean this up. You have my word."

"You gonna get the guys on this?"

A pause. "I do not believe so. I think between the three of us, we can resolve the situation."

"Meaning, you're going cowboy on this."

"Indeed."

Sol growls. "Inez..."

“I am already en route. Our employer is aware of the situation."

"So what's the plan?" Sol asks.

"I cannot be certain that this is a secure line, Solomon. Retain this phone. Stay alive at all costs. When I land, I will make contact."

"Wait, hold on. You're coming out to play? You, personally?”

"Correct."

Sol cackles delightedly. "Fuck yeah. This oughta be good."

"My presence is only going to exacerbate the situation. You got free, but you're still the bait. They hoped I'd come to get you myself. Well, they succeeded in luring me out." She lets out a long, slow sigh. "It's going to get messy, Solomon."

Sol laughs. " Get messy? Inez, babe, it's been messy."

"Please do not refer to me as babe , Solomon."

"Sorry."

"Indeed. My point is that when my presence there is known, the mess you've encountered thus far will seem like a walk in the park." She pauses yet again. "My plane lands in a few hours. I’ll be in touch. Stay alive till then."

"Inez, wait."

"What is it, Solomon?"

"This isn't just business for you, is it? The people doing this. It's personal, not professional."

She doesn't answer for a moment. "Yes. It is personal."

"I hope you understand that you owe me some very clear and thorough explanations, Inez."

"I understand."

"One last thing."

"Yes?"

"Scarlett wants the brand."

"You wish to take the oath and join the brotherhood?" This is, obviously, addressed to Scarlett.

"Yes, I do," I answer.

"That can be arranged once this has been settled." She clears her throat. "I assume Solomon has explained what that means. What it entails?"

"He has. And I’m ready. I’ve been ready, I think."

"Why do you think I chose you to retrieve Solomon, Ms. Gutierrez?"

"Because I have the skills?"

"As well as the motivation. I'll let you in on a little secret, Scarlett. Your file was one of the twenty-one. But in my assessment, you were not ready, then. You are, now."

“Ready for what?"

"To start a new life. To take the oath and keep it."

I go silent at this revelation.

Inez clears her throat again. "I have other calls to make. I’ll contact you when I’ve landed."

"See you soon, Inez," Sol says.

"Yes. Until then."

Click.

Sol pockets the phone.

I look at him. "Well, that was interesting."

He barks a laugh. “You could say that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, until this, I always sort of half-suspected she was, like, a robot or something. There's never been so much as a hint of who Inez is as a human being. She's the literal textbook definition of an ice queen." He shakes his head and laughs again. "And then I get snatched as bait for her? What the fuck. You mean to tell me none of this is even about me?"

"Are you pissed off about that?" I ask.

He frowns, rolls a shoulder. "I dunno. Sort of? Part of me thinks that if I’m gonna go through all this bullshit, it should damn well be my own fuckin' enemies."

"But?" I prompt.

"But, the only organization that could make someone like me disappear is the federal fucking government. And you and I both know that when they want you gone, you're gone and you stay fucking gone."

"Right," I say. "So with that being the case, it's probably a good thing this isn't about you because this doesn’t smell like The Company to me. Too clumsy."

"Way too clumsy," he agrees. "No, this feels like a cartel, maybe. Or something like The Syndicate that my brothers worked for. That kind of thing."

"Which means these squads aren't trying to kill us," I say, the realization hitting me all at once. "They're keeping us moving while we draw the real target out."

"Fuck," Sol groans. "You're right. You're goddamned right. So whoever it is has no problem throwing people away like they're expendable. Because how many have we dropped so far, you think? Thirty?"

"Oh, yeah, at least."

"That's a lot of manpower. And even the chump change you pay street thugs like this adds up when you're talking the kind of numbers they're sending against us." Sol scrubs his face with his hand. "Begs the question, then, who the fuck is Inez?"

We both doze, then. We’re isolated, and there's no way to sneak up on us, so we feel comfortable allowing ourselves to relax our guard a little bit.

Night fades to dawn.

The burner rings. Sol answers sleepily. "Inez. You touch down?"

"I have," she answers. "But I'm certain that the airport is being watched. The moment I step foot off this jet, I'm dead. I'll need you and Scarlett to provide a distraction."

"Send me your coordinates," Sol says.

"Sending now. When you're in position, let me know."

"Will do. Be there ASAP."

"I look forward to it."

He ends the call, and a second later, the device beeps with an incoming message: a set of coordinates. Fortunately, the burner phone he liberated is a smartphone with a native GPS map app that turns the coordinates into a physical location and directions to get there.

We set out, both of us silent.

"You feel it, too?" Sol asks, after a while.

"The feeling that we're walking into a trap?" I ask. “Yeah, I feel it."

"We just walk into it then?"

I laugh. "We make 'em think we are, at least. I'm not sure they realize who they're fucking with, though. You know anything about Inez's capabilities?"

He shrugs, shakes his head. "No. I get the feeling that she can hold her own, though."

An hour later, we're parked on the roof of a parking garage. Half a mile away, a private jet idles on the tarmac, on its own far from the rest of the passenger jets and private prop planes coming and going. We've been watching.

The situation is...not good.

We've ID'd a sniper on the roof of a Quonset hut on the far edge of the airport's grounds, with a direct line of sight to the private jet. We’ve also watched several squads of armed and armored soldiers move into position, cutting off all egress points from the jet. They're clearly expecting heavy resistance. What's less clear is whether they're expecting us.

"Plan?" Sol asks me.

I shrug. "I've got a pretty good spot right here. I can provide overwatch while you light 'em up."

He nods. "Works for me." He calls Inez, who answers on the first ring. "We’re in position. Lots of marks, Inez. A whole fucking lot."

"I am aware."

"Well then, all that's left is go time. You'll know the distraction when it happens." Sol chuckles. "It won't be subtle."

Inez snorts. "I don't imagine so. I'm ready."

"See you soon, boss."

"Yes. Quite. Do be careful, Solomon. Scarlett, you as well."

“Locked and loaded,” I say. "Just be ready to fuckin' run."

"I am ready. But there will be no running. I have done enough of that, I think."

Sol hums thoughtfully. "Gotta say, Inez, my curiosity is at an all-time high."

She laughs, then. "And it shall be assuaged as long as you two can provide enough of a distraction to get me off this jet. On that note, my friends, the time for talk is done. Let the violence begin."

"Let the violence begin," Sol echoes. "See you soon."

Click.

I look at him. "She's an odd duck, you know that?"

He shakes his head. "She's a fuckin' mystery, that's what she is."

I set about stripping and cleaning the Dragunov. "You'd better get going. Once you start, I'll pick off around the edges. Get close and pull them away from the jet. I'll provide covering fire for her to make her break for it. Once you have her, swing by this way and grab me."

"Got it," he says.

We spend the next couple minutes silently cleaning our weapons and checking our mags, a pre-op ritual we've done side by side countless times.

It feels different, this time.

He finishes first and tosses his AK into the cab. "Hey."

I look up at him from reassembling the rifle. "Yeah?"

"Got you, Scar."

"Got you too, Sol."

He cups my jaw and tilts my face to his, claiming a quick, hot kiss. "Stay frosty, sweetheart."

“You too, hot shot."

Sol drives away in the truck, the engine rattling noisily as it fades down the garage ramp. With my rifle cleaned and reassembled, I set up on the rim of the rooftop. Check the windage. Distance from my location to the jet, and then dial in on the sniper. The forces on the ground have all taken up spots out of sight, inside Quonset huts and hangars, behind luggage carts and stacks of luggage.

Now, I wait.

It's not a long wait, though. I watch Sol park the truck and jog on foot toward the tarmac.

"What's your plan, Sol?" I murmur to myself.

Something still doesn't feel right.

Maybe it's just the fact that it's Sol, Inez, and myself against at least two dozen. I don't know. But something isn’t sitting right in my gut.

It's been wrong before, but not often.

Nothing to do about it now, though—things are in motion that cannot be stopped.

Sol vanishes from sight between a pair of buildings.

Silence.

And then...all hell breaks loose.