Chapter 7
Elsa's toe tapped as she listened to the recorded message on the other end instructing her to choose an option. She didn't want to talk to anyone but the contact that Michael gave her. She tried that number but got his voicemail. She had no time for voicemail, and neither did Michael, Sam and the others. So she called the CIA directly and this was her reward. Her patience tried and snapping, she hung up the phone with a low growl deep in her throat.
"Information."
"Yes, I'd like the number for the Miami office of the Central Intelligence Agency, please," she said.
"Ma'am, there is no Miami office of the CIA," the operator responded.
"Like hell there isn't." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry, I..." She was interrupted by a light blinking on her phone. "Sorry to have troubled you." Elsa quickly hung up and pressed the button. "Hello, this is Elsa."
"Hello, Elsa. My name is Raines. You called and left a message about Michael being in trouble and needing help?"
"Yes! Yes, I did." She ran through the information she had and said, "Please, time is wasting. They could be at the island by now."
Raines sounded cool and confident as he declared, "It takes time to mobilize an extraction team, and we're spread kind of thin down there in Miami..."
"Michael doesn't need your pitiful excuses. He needs help, and after all he's sacrificed for the Agency, he damn well better get it!" She huffed out a breath. "Fine, if you won't help him, I'll get a team together myself somehow."
"Uh uh, wait! There's no need for that," Raines assured her. "After we get off the phone I'll contact my people in Miami. I'll have a team put together in an hour, and they'll just need a boat to get them there."
"Not a problem. I have a yacht. It's big, but it moves fast."
"Good. You work on getting it ready, and my team will meet you. Where is it moored?"
"At Brickell Key, at the end of Dock C."
"Thank you." Raines paused. "Don't worry, ma'am. We'll take care of this."
"As long as Michael, Sam, and their friends walk away safe, that's all that matters. Mr. Raines, this Larry character is... he's evil. Pure evil."
"I know. Thanks again for your help." Raines ended the conversation.
Elsa pressed a button and said, "Yes, I'd like the yacht ready to sail in an hour. That's right, you heard me. This is an emergency."
Everything was ready on the yacht, not that they needed much. The craft was fueled and the engine idling when six men approached with purposeful strides. Two wore dress shirts and slacks with flak jackets, and the four behind them were dressed in battle fatigues and their bodies bore all sorts of equipment and weaponry. Waiting on the dock, Elsa watched them approach. The two agents looked as if they wanted the world to think they were confident and on top of things, but Elsa knew body language, and she detected that they were anything but what they wanted to project. Butterflies of anxiety fluttered in her stomach.
The taller one with dark curly hair and a walrus-like mustache said, "You must be Elsa. I'm Agent Bailey, and this is Agent Menaro."
Those names rang a bell in Elsa's head and the memory associated with them was not good. Her instincts were right. If Sam got hurt or killed because of their incompetence, Elsa vowed to rain down her wrath on them. She pasted on a pleasant smile and replied. "Yes, I am, and you're the extraction team that Raines mentioned?"
"Yes, ma'am," Menaro answered. "Well, we're along to supervise. These guys'll do all the heavy lifting. Go on, get boarded." The agents made room for them to pass, and Elsa stepped back and watched them get on the yacht. "There's nothing to worry about, ma'am. We'll bring your pretty little boat back in good shape."
"As long as Sam and the others are okay, that's all I really care about," she said and turned her attention to the men. A look of steel came to her eyes. "But if that Larry is on my ship when you return, he better be in a body bag. I don't want him bleeding on my teakwood deck. Got it?"
Menaro and Bailey raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you got it."
The agents passed and she followed them with her eyes. "Excuse me."
"Yes," Bailey turned.
"I'd like to go along." No wavering, no entreating tone. She wasn't asking, she was telling.
Bailey and Menaro shook their heads in tandem and protested. "No, no way, lady. This could get dangerous."
"Really dangerous," Menaro added. "Civilians have no business in the middle of this."
"But my yacht is a different story."
"If it gets shot up, it won't die." Menaro countered.
Elsa planted her hand on her hip and a gave them a laser stare, and Menaro had to come up with something quick to appease her.
"What my partner meant was that a yacht is expendable. You are not, ma'am." His false, condescending smile only made things worse. "We better get going, Menaro. I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to stay here."
"Fine. But everyone better come back in one piece, along with my yacht."
"You have our word, ma'am," Menaro said. He and Bailey climbed aboard the yacht. The crew member slipped the ropes off the ties, and the craft moved away from the dock.
Elsa watched the back end get smaller as it moved away at a fast pace. This was no pleasure cruise. She knew how dangerous it would be, and didn't need a couple of hack agents to tell her that. Still, she couldn't help feeling that she should have gone along. But what would she be able to do? She wanted to help rescue her man, because she was so afraid that with this team he wasn't going to make it out alive. For a moment she considered calling a mercenary, but she didn't know any, and it would take too long for them to get together and find the yacht. It would be well on its way before she could get any support out there.
With a shuddering breath, Elsa turned away from the dock and walked to a small restaurant and bar near the marina. She sat at the bar and ordered a drink, and she would nurse it until it wouldn't be proper to sit there without ordering another. If necessary, she would order something to eat, just so she could stay until the vessel returned. Her day was shot along with her concentration. She wouldn't be getting any work done that afternoon.
"Hi, yes, I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking the afternoon off." She smiled at her assistant's reaction. "Thanks for noticing, I have been under a bit of stress lately, but hopefully that will end soon. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Bye." She put her phone away and let out a long, deep sigh as she stared into her glass and swished the stick holding two olives and a maraschino cherry. She had a feeling it was going to be a long afternoon.
Jesse, Sam, and Maddie stood on the beach and waited for Larry, Michael and Virgil to get off the boat. They didn't know what to expect, what Larry had up his sleeve this time. None of them felt good about it, whatever the case. When Larry grinned like a Cheshire, that was a bad sign.
"Well, well, looks like everyone survived and is doing fine. See, Michael? I told you they would be safe."
The three stopped under the shade of one of the palms where the captives stood. He nodded at Sam. "You okay, Sam?"
"Just fine, Mikey. It's been kinda hot and sticky, but we're holding up." He turned his gaze on Larry. "What's this about? Why kidnap us and bring us here?"
"I needed you to get to Michael," Larry explained. "I knew he'd drop everything and come running to help his friends. With Fiona in the hospital, that just upped the stakes a bit." Larry smiled again and pulled out a gun. He pushed Michael to stand next to Sam and glanced at Virgil, motioning for him to join them. Virgil obeyed. "Nabbing you three also served another purpose. You see, I'm really, really disappointed in you, Michael. You were my shining star, and I thought you would become just like me, but you failed me. You kept trying to do what's right at the expense of yourself. Look what it's done to you."
Michael glanced down the short line at his friends and mother and returned his attention to Larry. "Other than standing around on a deserted island, I think things turned out okay. I'm working on putting everything back together."
"Yeah. Don't kid yourself, Kid. The second that Strong is done with you, you'll be expendable. You're not gonna make it past that last mission. Trust me."
"Trust you." Michael laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Trust you after you've messed with me, almost sent me down a dark path, and now this. You're a real piece of work, Larry." He shook his head. "I can't let you get away with this. You will face the justice that you should have faced a long time ago."
"And how's that gonna happen?" Larry grinned. "Looks like I'm the only one who's armed here at the moment. I hold the gun and the power, Kid." The sound of a small craft approaching distracted them for a moment, and Larry said, "My reinforcement is here." The craft glided in to park next to Virgil's fishing boat, the driver dropped anchor, and their eyes locked on him as he strode to the tip of the bow and jumped onto the sand.
"Nice timing, Strong."
"What's going on here? Larry..."
"We were just discussing Michael's not so bright future if he makes the wrong choice."
"Why don't you just get to it, huh," Sam blurted, annoyed at the two men and their dancing around the reason for all of this. "You know how this is going to work. You offer Mike a job doing black ops, he refuses, and then you shoot us. You can take us all down, but in the end, you're both gonna wind up bleeding on the sand. I guarantee it."
"Isn't it sweet how much confidence you have in your friend," Larry taunted. "You forget that I trained him in real world stealth and close combat. I know what he'll do, and I can counter it."
Sam shrugged and countered, "I don't think you do, but hey, your illusions will be your downfall."
"Can we just get to this," Strong asked with a beleaguered sigh.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have a tee time this afternoon that you're afraid you'll miss," Larry snapped. He ignored Strong and turned back to Michael. "It's so hard to find good help, isn't it, Kid?"
Michael stood silent, studying Larry, while in his mind he worked out exit strategies, searching for the right one. It was five against two, but Larry and Strong were armed. Since Michael had been working under Strong for the past few months, he knew the man was stressed out and ready to collapse. Larry must have given him one sweet deal to help in corralling Michael and his associates. But why? Before anything happened, he had to know.
"Why are you doing this, Strong," Michael asked as his eyes bored into the other man.
"I think it's pretty obvious. You were the super spy that everyone wanted for their missions, the go-to guy, and you were successful. I wanted to be like you, but I was tied down to support. The last straw was when I was up for promotion to a field position and you were getting burned." He paused and licked his lips, the disappointment showing on his face. "I thought that it was my chance, but in the end someone decided that I wasn't field material."
"So why blame me?"
"I don't blame you, Michael." Strong leveled the gun at him. "I just hate you for being the guy I should have been. I lost everything to this job, and I came away with nothing. Taking out the rogue spy will finally get me the accolades I deserve."
In the distance, behind Larry and Strong's shoulders, Michael saw a large boat tearing through the water coming their way. His gaze slid to Sam and Jesse to his right. They saw it too, but their faces didn't show it. He just knew by the squint of Sam's eyes and Jesse's slow blink that they acknowledged the yacht's arrival. He heard a short gasp come from his mother, so he slipped a hand around her back, giving her a reassuring caress and a squeeze of her shoulder to calm her. He met Larry's eyes and he didn't like what he saw there.
"You don't care whether I agree to go with you or not," Michael said, his voice even and cold. "You just want me. You only want to kill me, am I right?"
"You're my main target, Kid, but hey, I wouldn't mind seeing Sam Axe go down." His grin was just as cold as his words and he aimed the barrel at Sam. "He's given me a lot of grief the past few years."
"Unfortunately, it wasn't enough," Sam grumbled.
Strong was getting impatient. "Come on, Larry, let's just shoot 'em all and get out of here! Even the old lady."
The agent's disrespect of his mother was the last straw. Strong had his head turned as he addressed Larry, and it was the perfect time. Michael released Maddie's shoulder and sprung forward, catching Strong off balance. He fell into the sand and dropped his gun. Unable to go for the weapon, which dropped out of reach, Michael concentrated on choking Strong and getting him to his feet.
At the same moment, Sam lunged forward and dove for the gun. The sand half buried the barrel, but he grasped the butt and rescued it from the grit. A shot rang out and missed him by a couple of inches, followed by another, but he wasn't sure where it had gone. He scrambled to his feet and saw Jesse had Larry in a hold, and Larry was firing wildly at anyone he could. A shot missed Sam and someone cried out in pain. Something wet hit the back of his shirt, and he turned to see Strong with a bleeding hole in his abdomen, as Michael struggled to keep him upright. Sam turned back to Larry and Jesse with the gun raised.
"Drop it, Larry! You don't wanna wind up like your buddy there, do you?" He heard the soft thump of Strong's body hitting the beach.
"It's the end of the line, Larry," Michael said with a calm, almost mournful tone.
By now the yacht's approach created a churning sound and everyone turned to watch it approach the beach. Four heavily armed men stood on the bow, prepared to jump off and take over. Michael wondered if they were friends or not. If they were on Larry's side, he and his friends could just kiss their butts goodbye and wait for the onslaught. A gunshot brought him back to the scene where he could still have some control. Jesse stood back from where he'd been holding Larry, rubbing his wrist, checking his arm. Sam still had the gun raised. Michael gaped when he saw the dead look in Larry's eyes as his body lay crumpled on the sand, and he knew this time it was real.
"What the hell happened," Michael barked.
"I'm sorry, Mike. He pulled a move on Jesse just when I turned around, and he was going for you, so I shot him," Sam replied. "He had another gun, Mike, and he was gonna use it on you."
Michael looked down and saw the weapon in Larry's dead hand. Dark, shiny crimson flowed from a hole in his chest, right where his heart was, staining the sand where Larry lay. Despite all the hardship and grief that Larry handed to him over the years, Michael still felt a lump of sadness in his chest. He knelt on the sand near his body and reached for his carotid. The stillness at his neck was almost too much to believe. He'd faked his death before. Maybe he was doing it again? If he was faking it, with that injury he didn't have long before it became real. No, Michael was convinced that Larry was gone.
"You okay, Mike," Jesse asked.
He looked up at Jesse and gave him a wavering smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Did anyone get hurt besides him and Strong?"
"Nope, that's it. We're all in one piece," Jesse answered.
Michael glanced toward Sam and saw him holding Maddie, her face buried in his shirt. She wasn't crying, which surprised him, yet it didn't. Madeline Westen had proven over the past seven years that she was one tough broad. No doubt it was a sense of relief that drew her to Sam, and his embrace was a show of support because Sam understood that everything had probably been overwhelming for her.
"Hey, is everybody okay," Bailey asked from the deck.
"No way, they sent the two stooges to rescue us?" Sam spoke over Maddie's head as he released her. "If that isn't a sign you need to quit the Agency, I don't know what is."
Michael ignored Sam's statement, but his eyes sparkled and he smiled in agreement. He turned toward the yacht that dropped anchor farther from the other boats and replied, "We're fine. Larry Sizemore is dead. Strong..."
"He's alive, but barely," Jesse reported. "We gotta haul butt and get him back to Miami."
"We'll take him aboard," Bailey said.
In no time, the CIA extraction team loaded Strong onto the yacht. As promised, Larry wound up in a body bag and was placed in the lower deck living area on the floor. Strong was put in a bedroom. Sam knew Elsa would be upset with all the blood, but there wasn't a lot he could do. By the time the yacht was on its way and Virgil followed in his boat, Sam had him semi-stable using the meager supplies he had on board. He didn't hold out much hope of Strong making it back to Miami. He did what he could and went topside to join his friends.
