Carnival Of Mayhem Part 22

"Not if we're careful," Aaron said, "and we'll have the advantage of surprise. The enemy will expect to find ordinary FBI agents, not Spears operatives."

"Speaking of FBI agents, I don't think they'll like your plan. What are you going to do? Kill them to get them out of the way?" Smythe made a sour face.

Aaron sighed with exasperation. Smythe had made an annoyingly good point. A dog barked in the distance.

"Wait," Aaron said. "I have a better idea. Let's a.s.sume the Eternals know Santorini's location. How did they get that information? Same as us, from informants inside the government. That's the enemy's weakness. We can use the same channels to deliver misinformation to them."

"What do you mean?" Marina said.

"The story will be that Santorini was moved to another location for security reasons, a location we pick. We'll plant the story inside the FBI and tell our friends to spread it around."

"What if the Eternals don't believe it?"

"They'll have to check it out at least. All we need is a couple of curious rats to walk into our trap." Aaron nodded with satisfaction. "We can control the scenario and make sure no civilians get in the way. This will work."

She kissed him. "You're pretty smart sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yes, sometimes."

Aaron shook his head as he watched Smythe sneak over to the window. Smythe pulled aside a flower print curtain and peeked through the crack at the darkness outside. Then, he sat back down in his chair.

Marina's voice came through a speaker in Aaron's ear. "Smythe, was that you again?"

Smythe turned on his microphone. "Yes." Like Aaron, he wore a radio headset suitable for combat.

"Stop it. You're acting like a school girl waiting for her date to show up."

"I don't like being bait," Smythe said. "This sucks."

"Are you afraid?" she asked. "I thought you were a tough guy, a veteran warrior who battled terrorists in the mountains of Afghanistan."

"One thing you learn fighting terrorists is that it's a really bad idea to make yourself a target."

"If I ask Aaron to give you a tender hug, will that comfort you?"

Smythe's face turned red, but instead of answering her, he turned off his microphone. Aaron smiled.

He was doing a better job of hiding it, but Aaron was nervous also. Both he and Smythe were the bait in this trap. They wore blue business suits like regular FBI agents. However, underneath the suits they wore soft, flexible body armor, which trapped heat and sweat. To stay comfortable, they had turned off the furnace in the house.

The house was small. From his location in the main room, Aaron could see into the kitchen and the single bedroom. There wasn't much else. The cheap furniture was made of varnished wood and fabric. Apparently, the owner liked pink and blue flowers because they covered the wallpaper, curtains, and upholstery.

Aaron went into the kitchen to get a snack. He poked through cupboards that were mostly empty. He found high fiber cereal, cans of soup, tuna fish, a bag of rice, and dry spaghetti. Finally, he spotted a can of mandarin oranges.

"Do you know where the can opener is?" he called out.

"In the drawer by the fridge," Smythe replied.

Aaron quickly found the opener.

The owner of the home was an old lady. She had been told the FBI needed her house for a "top secret" operation, and an overly generous cash payoff had closed the deal. Now she was staying in the best room in a nearby hotel. Aaron expected she was telling all her friends about it, which was fine.

As he ate his oranges, he listened to the eerie quiet. Everything inside the house that might make noise was turned off, and cold weather had silenced the insects outside. If a mouse farted, he would hear it.

After he was done eating, he went back to his chair, which had several guns stuffed between the thick cushions. He checked to make sure all of them were in the right place. He didn't want to grope for his weapons in an emergency.

Smythe frowned at him. "I still have a problem with this 'working for G.o.d' thing. I just don't believe it."

"I know," Aaron said. "I had trouble with it for a while, too." He spat at the wooden floor, and his yellow saliva immediately bubbled into foam. Within seconds there was a clean hole. "Until the evidence convinced me."

Smythe stared at the hole. "There is a scientific explanation for everything."

"Why is G.o.d not scientific? Is there a physical law that forbids His existence? Just because it's fashionable for scientists to ignore G.o.d doesn't mean they should."

"Sounds like you don't like scientists."

"That's not true," Aaron said, "but n.o.body is smart enough to understand everything. The human brain just isn't that big. Mine sure isn't. So, I have a very simple philosophy these days. I follow Ethel's orders, I try not to get killed, and I don't ask questions that have no answer."

"In other words," Smythe said, "you're intentionally ignorant."

"I focus on doing what I'm good at. Nothing wrong with that."

Smythe sighed.

"And one other thing," Aaron said. "Your kind of science pertains to the natural world. We're unnatural monsters. Different rules apply to us."

"I can't believe that. The whole point of physics is that it's the same for everybody."

Aaron leaned his head back and tried to relax. The long hours had pa.s.sed very slowly, with only brief conversations to break up the monotony. They had to be ready to fight at all times. Even trips to the bathroom were hurried.

He wondered if Marina were as tired and bored as he was. She was sitting in a metal storage shed in the back yard. Her job was to watch a bank of video monitors fed by surveillance cameras placed all around the house. Light amplification in the cameras made starlight seem as bright as sunshine, so night was no problem. Thermal and motion sensors provided another layer of security. It would be impossible for anybody to set foot on the property undetected.

"What if the Eternals never show up?" Smythe said. "Are we going to stay up all night?"

"Have some faith," Aaron said. "The address of this house is the worst kept secret in the history of the FBI. We d.a.m.n near posted our location on the internet. If the Eternals are looking for Santorini, they'll come here."

Smythe sighed deeply.

Aaron considered going out to visit Marina. She had a tiny electric heater in her shed but it wasn't enough. A nice hug and a kiss would warm her up. However, if the Eternals were watching from the perimeter, and they saw him go to the shed, it would wreck the operation and put her in danger. She was the ace in the hole.

"You mentioned you were a Chicago cop," Smythe said.

"Nine years of proud service," Aaron said.

"Why did you quit?"

"I was fired."

Smythe raised his eyebrows.

"I fingered another cop for bribery," Aaron said. "Some senior officers felt I should've handled the situation less publicly. Cops are supposed to protect each other. Eventually, they found an excuse for getting rid of me."

"Is that the whole story?"

Aaron scratched the stubble on his chin. "You could say I helped them find an excuse. The department had its rules and I had mine."

"You were dirty?"

"No, I was more interested in justice than proper procedure. They called me a renegade and a thug. Maybe they were right. Doesn't matter. In the end being a cop was just training for this job."

The radio in Aaron's ear crackled. "A car just parked on the street," Marina said. "It approached with the headlights off."

Aaron turned on his microphone. "Can you read the license plate?"

"Yes, and I'm texting it to Edward right now. Two men are stepping out. Big guys in dark sweat suits. They have a.s.sault rifles."

"Huh? Wise told us the Eternals don't like guns."

"That's right," she said. "Maybe these guys aren't Eternals. They look Italian."

"f.u.c.k." Aaron rolled his eyes. "Of course Santorini has other enemies. He's a snitch after all, and we told the world exactly where to find him."

Smythe sneered but had the good sense to keep quiet.

"They are trying to peek through the windows," Marina said.

All the blinds and window curtains in the house were closed, so the attackers wouldn't see anything. Aaron furrowed his brow as he considered his options, but he really only had one.

"Call Ethel," he said. "Tell her I'm using deadly force. If she doesn't like that, then she has about ten seconds to give me a better idea."

"Calling now."

He reached between the cushions and took out a Glock 30 pistol with a large suppressor. The .45 caliber cartridges packed enough punch to knock a man down, even if he were wearing a vest. The suppressor wouldn't make the gun silent, but it would keep the neighbors from hearing any shots.

Smythe took out a Beretta 93R, which could fire three round bursts. He clicked off the safety.

"We're going to kill these guys?"

"Better them than us," Aaron said. "Those a.s.sault rifles aren't housewarming gifts."

"Just don't accidently shoot me."

"I should tell you the same, rookie. Pick your spot."

Aaron went to a corner of the room and crouched behind a reclining chair. From this location he had a clean shot at the front and back doors. Smythe pushed the couch around and kneeled behind it to achieve a similar result. They could also cover each other's backs.

"I talked to Ethel," Marina said through the radio. "You're authorized to protect yourself."

"That's nice," Aaron said.

"And Edward ran the license plate through his computer. These men are mobsters. We don't need them alive for questioning."

"Also nice. Where are they?"

"Coming around to the back of the house," she said. "You'd better kill them quick. The neighbors will hear the a.s.sault rifles."

"They'll be dead before they fire a shot."

"Hey," Smythe said. "I'll bet you a beer I get the first kill."

"Beer?" Aaron said. "Too cheap. The winner gets to pick the booze."

"Fine."

Aaron settled into a solid firing stance. He had a clear view of the back door in the tiny kitchen. He aimed at head height and sighted down the barrel.

"A few more seconds..." Marina said. "Here they come."

The back door burst open and two men rushed through. Aaron fired at their faces. He pulled the trigger as fast as he could until the targets went down.

He jumped up and ran over to verify that both men were dead. One glance confirmed it beyond any doubt. Blood and chunks of brain tissue had painted the back wall of the kitchen to create a grotesque form of abstract art. Aaron closed the door in case a neighbor got curious.

"Not only merely dead, but really most sincerely dead," Smythe said. "Who won the bet?"

Aaron bent down for a closer look. Smythe was using lighter rounds than Aaron, which meant the bullet holes were slightly smaller.

"Hard to tell," Aaron said. "We both placed some good head shots."

Smythe nodded. "Let's call it a tie for now."

"That's fair."

A pool of blood was spreading across the floor, oozing into the cracks, and staining Aaron's shoes. He quickly searched the mobsters for wallets and found none. Then he backed out of the kitchen.

"No identification," he said.

"Do you want to check the car?" Smythe said.

"Too risky and a waste of time. We don't care about these guys. They're just ordinary mobsters."

"The Eternals will see the car. It might spook them."

Aaron shrugged. "What can we do?"

"Not much, I guess."