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Authors: Jack Silkstone
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body with his shoe. “Isn’t that right, my friend?”
Ramirez shrugged. “In that case, I’ve found your man.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Michael Saunders. He’s a Petty Officer with SEAL Team Five. My people are gathering intelligence. When we have enough information, we’ll strike.”
Barbosa rose from his perch and signaled for Ramirez to walk with him, between shelves stacked high with fragrant coffee beans.
“I want you to find what this man loves. Gather every detail of his life and find what he lives for. Then, when you have done that, I want you to take it from him.” Pivoting, Barbosa turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want him to feel loss like I have felt. I want him to grieve like I have grieved. Then, when he begs for his life, I want you to kill him.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning at 1035 hours, Ali sat beside Mike as he drove his pickup across a cattle guard and up a dusty road. Ahead, a gleaming white mansion materialized from behind a line of trees.
Ali thought it looked like a temple, more at home in ancient Greece than California.
“Please tell me you haven’t brought me to a country club when I’m wearing sneakers and leggings,” she lamented as they approached the multi-story, white-pillared structure.
“Nope, you’re good.” Mike turned onto a track that weaved through the freshly mowed lawns and lush green gardens that skirted the mansion.
Ali twisted her head to look back at the house. “What is this place?”
“It’s a country club for rich jerks. A buddy of mine’s old man owns it. He lets me use the facilities.”
The landscape dramatically turned from manicured gardens to the harsh, rocky canyons that Southern California was renowned for. The road snaked its way up a narrow valley for another half-mile before he parked the truck. “We’re here.”
Exiting the air-conditioned cabin, Ali inhaled a deep breath of warm, clean air, and surveyed their destination.
The valley was pristine desert with cactus, rocky outcrops, and stunted desert plants pockmarking the steep walls. Turning, she inspected the area behind the truck as Mike dropped the tailgate. It had been cleared out to about fifty yards, at which point there was a tall mound of sand.
“Mike, what is this place?” She joined him as he was unloading stakes with targets attached to them. “Ah, now it makes sense.”
“Yep, we’re going to do some shooting.” He opened the rear doors of the dual-cab truck and lifted Axe from the bench seat to the ground. The dog immediately limped around to the tailgate and sat next to Ali. “Buddy, I’m beginning to think you prefer her over me.”
“Well, I have been feeding him and you know that’s the quickest way to a man’s heart.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Stroking Axe’s head she watched as Mike set up two targets, twenty yards from the pickup in front of the wall of sand. Then he took a locked box from the cabin and opened it, revealing a black handgun. “You ever fired a pistol?”
Ali shook her head. “No. My dad wasn’t really a gun kind of guy.”
“That’s cool. It takes all types.” Mike took up the pistol. “This is a Glock nine millimeter. It’s the most common pistol used by police and military. Easy to use and very safe if treated with respect.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining how the pistol worked and how to manipulate the controls. Then using an empty magazine, he taught her how to load, cock and position herself to shoot. When she was confident he took a live magazine, loaded the pistol and positioned her facing the targets.
“Don’t be afraid of the weapon, Ali. Treat it with respect and never forget that you’re the one in complete control.”
She held the pistol in both hands, how he had shown her, and aimed at one of the paper targets. Squeezing the trigger, she flinched as the weapon fired. Dust spurted from the ground below the target. She lowered the pistol to her side.
Ramirez shrugged. “In that case, I’ve found your man.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Michael Saunders. He’s a Petty Officer with SEAL Team Five. My people are gathering intelligence. When we have enough information, we’ll strike.”
Barbosa rose from his perch and signaled for Ramirez to walk with him, between shelves stacked high with fragrant coffee beans.
“I want you to find what this man loves. Gather every detail of his life and find what he lives for. Then, when you have done that, I want you to take it from him.” Pivoting, Barbosa turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want him to feel loss like I have felt. I want him to grieve like I have grieved. Then, when he begs for his life, I want you to kill him.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning at 1035 hours, Ali sat beside Mike as he drove his pickup across a cattle guard and up a dusty road. Ahead, a gleaming white mansion materialized from behind a line of trees.
Ali thought it looked like a temple, more at home in ancient Greece than California.
“Please tell me you haven’t brought me to a country club when I’m wearing sneakers and leggings,” she lamented as they approached the multi-story, white-pillared structure.
“Nope, you’re good.” Mike turned onto a track that weaved through the freshly mowed lawns and lush green gardens that skirted the mansion.
Ali twisted her head to look back at the house. “What is this place?”
“It’s a country club for rich jerks. A buddy of mine’s old man owns it. He lets me use the facilities.”
The landscape dramatically turned from manicured gardens to the harsh, rocky canyons that Southern California was renowned for. The road snaked its way up a narrow valley for another half-mile before he parked the truck. “We’re here.”
Exiting the air-conditioned cabin, Ali inhaled a deep breath of warm, clean air, and surveyed their destination.
The valley was pristine desert with cactus, rocky outcrops, and stunted desert plants pockmarking the steep walls. Turning, she inspected the area behind the truck as Mike dropped the tailgate. It had been cleared out to about fifty yards, at which point there was a tall mound of sand.
“Mike, what is this place?” She joined him as he was unloading stakes with targets attached to them. “Ah, now it makes sense.”
“Yep, we’re going to do some shooting.” He opened the rear doors of the dual-cab truck and lifted Axe from the bench seat to the ground. The dog immediately limped around to the tailgate and sat next to Ali. “Buddy, I’m beginning to think you prefer her over me.”
“Well, I have been feeding him and you know that’s the quickest way to a man’s heart.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Stroking Axe’s head she watched as Mike set up two targets, twenty yards from the pickup in front of the wall of sand. Then he took a locked box from the cabin and opened it, revealing a black handgun. “You ever fired a pistol?”
Ali shook her head. “No. My dad wasn’t really a gun kind of guy.”
“That’s cool. It takes all types.” Mike took up the pistol. “This is a Glock nine millimeter. It’s the most common pistol used by police and military. Easy to use and very safe if treated with respect.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining how the pistol worked and how to manipulate the controls. Then using an empty magazine, he taught her how to load, cock and position herself to shoot. When she was confident he took a live magazine, loaded the pistol and positioned her facing the targets.
“Don’t be afraid of the weapon, Ali. Treat it with respect and never forget that you’re the one in complete control.”
She held the pistol in both hands, how he had shown her, and aimed at one of the paper targets. Squeezing the trigger, she flinched as the weapon fired. Dust spurted from the ground below the target. She lowered the pistol to her side.
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