Chapter 14
PART OF A PATTERN
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"So…" my mind is racing and spinning as Nico weaves his improbable tale.
"Let me see if I have this straight. You live and work in a nightclub.
But not just any nightclub, a secret, exclusive nightclub in a hidden location somewhere in Las Vegas, and you can only get in via invitation from someone else who has been there.
This nightclub has a secret underground MMA cage-fighting venue, three stories of bars and dance floors, a more secret and even more ultra-exclusive brothel where the hookers are contract employees who lease space from Jakob, who is your boss, whom you've never met, never spoken to, never even seen, but you're sure he exists despite having zero evidence. And also by the way, I’m not sure if his name is Jakob or Caleb or something else entirely.
" I frown, tapping my chin with a fingernail, thinking, trying to keep straight everything he's told me so far.
"What else? Oh, right, we can’t forget your buddies, who are all super badass special forces dudes, except three brothers, two of whom worked for a super secret organized crime gang called The Syndicate, and the other for the CIA.
You all had some sort of betrayal or super deadly enemy who wanted to kill you, and Jakob, via a woman named… shit, I forgot. Something with an I…"
"Inez. But her name is Sophia, now."
"Right, right, because half of you changed your name for some kind of ritualistic reason.
" I wave both hands to slow him down before he can plow onward with more insanity.
“Just…just hold on. Let me put it all out there so I can try to process it. You all took a vow to never kill again, and you sealed that vow, despite your training to the contrary, with a fucking brand as if you were cattle, and then fucking tattooed over it? But you still go on Tom Clancy rescue missions all over the globe, taking down cartel bosses, Syndicate assassins, doomsday militia preppers, Indian billionaires, petty drug dealers, a psychotic warlord cartel kingpin whacko who was also Inez's forced-arranged-marriage husband—and we certainly can’t forget everyone’s favorite supervillain, this Roberto Pugli fuck-face who seems to be invincible, invisible, and unkillable.
And as you guys do all this, you also have time to find true love with equally fascinating and badass women? Do I have all that right?"
Nico scratches his jaw. “Hmmm. Yes. You have summed it all up rather succinctly.” He glances at me. "It does sound somewhat…unlikely, put as you have."
"Unlikely?" I stare at him. "If I weren't sitting in this seat with you, having experienced everything I've been through over the last…? God, is it even seventy-two hours? I don't know." I shake my head. "I would have you committed to a loony bin."
Nico chuckles. "I understand your skepticism. It is warranted and entirely valid."
"You killed those men back there," I point out.
He nods. "I did. For reasons which have never been entirely clear to me, I was exempted from the vow against taking lives. I think somehow The Boss…Jakob…knew we would need a…what is that phrase? A jack in the box?"
I snicker. "No, I think you mean an ace in the hole."
He nods. "Yes, indeed—that is what I mean. An ace in the hole. I have spent much of the past few weeks in Europe speaking other languages, so my mind is not yet fully readjusted to English."
"How many languages do you speak?"
He rolls a shoulder with suspicious casualness. "A dozen or so, depending on your definition of fluency."
"Good lord."
"So…not that I’m ungrateful for having met you, but…are the rest of your crew of killers-who-don't-kill going to join this little party?"
He eyes me. "That is uncertain."
I frown at him. "Can I ask why? Jakob, your boss, the man who saved all of you from your respective fucked-up pasts, gave you a place to live, a job, and a found family…
he needs help. He's injured, possibly dying, and has been taken by the man you've all been alternately chasing and running from for weeks now, if not months—and in your case fucking years. "
"He only called for me. It is I who has suffered the most at Pugli’s hands."
I splutter my indignant disbelief. "Who the fuck cares who he asked for? HE NEEDS YOU ALL! This is not the time to honor his self-sacrificing wishes, Nicolai. It's time to rally the goddamned troops, call in the fucking cavalry, and rescue the man who has given all of you your fucking lives back!"
"Self-sacrificing?"
"Yes, self-sacrificing! He redeemed you, right? That was your word. Not just you, but your brothers. The women who are in love with you. He finances your entire existence. And now he's the one in trouble, Nico. What was the vow you took?"
"Once you're in, there's no going back. Never take a life. Loyalty to the brotherhood above all."
"I'd think the man who created your little club would be the number one brother in the brotherhood, the one most deserving of your loyalty.
Which I'm not doubting, Nico. What I'm questioning is why you're the only one out here helping hunt down this vicious motherfucker. He’s threatened all of you, and now he's using Jakob as bait. "
Nico seems stunned. "Perhaps you have a point." A beat, a slow breath. "I have operated alone for so long that it is difficult to consider other strategies. Hunting Pugli is…"
"A group project. So call the boys, Nico."
He reaches over me to open the glove box and withdraws an old school flip phone.
From his hip pocket, he produces a SIM card—he ejects the battery, puts the SIM card in place, replaces the battery, powers it up, and hits a saved speed dial number without putting it to his ear; it rings three times—tinnily, distant—and then clicks to dead space.
"Operator," Nico says. "Roll call—laser, alpha, sedition, calculator.
Time of recording is—“ he glances at the dashboard clock.
"Sixteen-twenty-four Echo Sierra Tango."
After that mouthful of nonsense, he claps the phone closed, removes the battery and SIM card, tosses the SIM card out the window, and then tosses the battery and phone into the cupholder near the dash.
I eye Nico. "Are you going to explain what that was?"
"A coded messaging system. It notifies my people that I'm reaching out."
"Why not just call them?"
His expression doesn't say I'm stupid, but it suggests that I'm probably missing something obvious.
"Pugli has resources you cannot imagine.
Tapping and tracing phone calls is easier than child's play.
That is reason number one. But more to the point, none of us has a cell phone.
Not like you, or other people whom you would consider normal citizens.
Cell phones are the single easiest way to track a person.
The phone doesn't even have to be engaged in a call—with the right software and expertise, one can triangulate a cell phone's location as long as that device is powered on. "
"So, but…" I frown again, shaking my head. "You took the battery out and threw away the SIM card. How will they be able to reach you?"
"They do not reach me; I reach them. Sophia will receive a notification, power on a specific device, and wait for me to call again within a specific window of time."
"And that window of time is what?"
"Seven minutes and thirty seconds from the end of the coded message."
I glance at the dashboard clock. "Three minutes have elapsed."
"I know." He opens the console between our seats, produces a plastic card containing multiple SIM cards, punches one free, and hands it to me as the dot representing the car Jakob is in leaves the freeway, a few miles ahead. "Put that into the phone, if you would, please."
"Um, sure." I reassemble the phone, but do not power it on.
Nico watches the dot closely, taking the same exit and remaining several miles back, well out of sight. When he's sure they're continuing down the state highway, he indicates me with a flicked finger. "Power it on, if you please, and then give it to me."
I do so, and he dials another pre-saved speed dial entry. This time, he puts the phone to his ear as it rings. "Sophia, hello. Are you with the whole crew?"
He listens, glances at me, and then puts the device on speaker. "Sophia, you are on speaker. With me is Brys Bennet, who has been… traveling…with…Jakob." He pauses before he says the name again, as if saying it were strange and unnatural.
The voice that greets me isn't exactly cold, but it is cool and professional, faintly Hispanic-accented.
"Miss Bennett." I think she intends this as a greeting.
"When Nico says traveling, I assume that means you have been unwillingly drawn into our ongoing web of difficulties involving one Roberto Pugli. "
I snort. "Ongoing web of difficulties," I echo.
"That's one way of putting it. But sure, yeah, call it that. Jakob literally ran into me, tried to act like we were just a couple making out in an alley, and now people are shooting at me. I've seen the contents of not one but two men’s skulls. I’ve been chased, shot at, and pulled out of cars.
But yes. Ongoing web of difficulties is certainly one way of putting it, Sophia. "
The silence that ensues is thick and tense. "He kissed you?"
"To distract the killers pursuing him through the streets of Manhattan, yes."
Another pause. "Jakob Kasparek…kissed you."
"That's his real name, huh? Jakob Kasparek? Not Caleb Indigo?"
More stunned silence. "Where did you hear that name?" It's whispered.
"The fat ugly fuck who pulled me bodily out of the car and almost killed me before Nico sprayed his brains all over the garage door."
"She fought like a trapped lioness," Nico says. "And he was a very large, very ugly, very frightening individual. He shot out her window, cut her seatbelt off, and threw her out of the car. She did not go quietly into that good night."
I glance at him. "Dylan Thomas, huh?"