Piranha (The Falau Files Book 4) Read online

The boy smiled and extended his hand to Tyler to shake. “Well, if you’re ever looking for help come on down here and just yell out for Harrison and I will take any work you can give me. You know seeing the opportunity.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” replied Tyler shaking the boy’s hand and then turning back to the car.

  Dropping down in the passenger seat Falau looked over to Tyler “So are you going to give them a show?”

  “Oh ya.”

  The engine came to life with a roar and the car’s hood rose up with each pump of the gas pedal. The kids pulled themselves up to the sidewalk and started to cheer with anticipation.

  Dropping the car keeping the car in neutral Tyler pounded down on the gas raising the RPMs then dropped it into first gear causing the car’s tires to spin as it moved forward. A small waft of smoke came from the tires as Tyler shifted up into second gear, but the performance of the BMW’s tires was too much to keep skidding. The tires grabbed the road and the car lurched forward ripping up the street. Tyler shifted to third gear and took the corner at full speed leaving a small rip of rubber and a squeal behind him.

  Falau grabbed the seat belt that wrapped around him and hung on not wanting to slide into Tyler as he was driving. The oncoming cars made Falau instinctively press his foot to the floor trying to use an imaginary brake. After clearing the corner Tyler let his foot off the gas and the car’s engine became close to silent and the speed dropped to normal.

  “Bet they liked that!” exclaimed Tyler breathing faster than normal.

  “You do love cars.”

  “Yes I do. The master class between form and function is the great automobiles of the world. We can learn a lot from cars and how the good ones have no waste. Efficiency and targeted application.”

  “To think I just use mine to make a few bucks and to go to the store sometimes.” said Falau still reaching with his foot for the imaginary brake.

  “This car is a lot like the System. All its parts need to be working in tip top form to get the best out of it. If the turbo is having problems you're screwed. If the tires are cheap your screwed. If the brakes fail, if the alternator fails, if the alignment is off it all fails. That’s what we are like. We need everything to be in perfect working order for the best result. I have seen it the other way and trust me you do not want a mission like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It all goes to shit.” said Tyler taking another corner tighter than he had to. “Someone in the chain of command takes things into their own hands and makes a change and screws everything up. Just a cluster fuck.”

  “Why do I think this has something to do with me?”

  “Because it does.”

  “Is this the get your life together chat or is this the I have work for you chat?” asked Falau with a hint of seriousness in his voice.

  “You know we are on this little ride to talk business.”

  “I know. They can’t track what we are saying in the car and being on the move helps with that.”

  “And it’s fun to drive this car.”

  “You could have let me drive.”

  “What fun would that have been for me?” asked Tyler with a smirk on his face. “Besides, you need to think about what I am going to ask you.”

  “Ok. Go ahead.” replied Falau becoming more serious in an instant.

  “Do you really want to go back to Guyana and finish the job?”

  “Ya!” said Falau perking up in his seat. He shifted himself around to look at Tyler more straight on and convey his acceptance of the job. “No doubt about it. You know how bad I want back in on that. I can’t wait to put that scum Whitmore into a trunk and ship him back here and fix his ass for good.”

  Tyler sat silently in the car as Falau pumped his fist with the closing of his statement. Tyler’s mouth opened, and nothing came out as he turned his head to Falau. Searching for the right words was a fruitless endeavor that had Tyler speechless for the first time in a long time.

  “Hey, what’s wrong? There is something more isn’t there?” questioned Falau.

  “Ya. The judges reviewed all you had to say, and they agree that Whitmore is about as bad as they come. He kills and tortures for nothing more than money and to make his own life better. They want to see him go down as well.”

  “Ok. We are still on the same page. Is there some problem getting by their government because I have all kinds of ways I could move him without anyone knowing. I am sure my friend in Colombia with the police could help out with that.”

  “There is no need for a trial.” said Tyler keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “The trial happened a few days ago and I just got the word last night. The judges felt that taking Whitmore was too high a risk, so they held his trial without him. On the eye witness account from you they were able to come to a guilty verdict.”

  Falau sat back in the seat and looked out the front window of the car not taking in the things as they went by. His mind jumped from one scenario to another always landing back on one final thought. “He got death. That’s why they don’t need him to come back. They want him dead.”

  “Yes. He got convicted and sentenced to death by whatever means instituted by the executioner.”

  The car came to a stop at a red light and Tyler looked across to his friend. “The judges think it is the only way and they are letting me pick the person to do the mission. I thought about Gabriella, but I wanted to ask you first after all you have been down there.’

  “You’re talking about killing him, right? A hit.” asked Falau with a slight bit of confusion in his voice.

  “I know it is a lot but let me lay the facts on the plate for you, so you can make an informed decision. This would be a solo mission. No team. You would have your pick of weapons and full information we have to plan what you need to do. Payment for the job is seventy thousand dollars.”

  “Tyler, I don’t know. I have never done anything like that...at least not as planned out as this. I am not sure I could pull the trigger when the time came or if I would just freeze up.”

  “I don’t blame you for having second thoughts on this one. I am asking a lot and all you have to do is say no. I just wanted you to have the first chance at this. I know you would have more in play than just going down and pulling the trigger from five hundred yards away like Gabriella would. I know you’re thinking of the people that work for him and their futures.”

  “I know...I just... maybe, but to kill him in cold blood. It has been different when I bring the guy in and they find him guilty and he is taken away and killed. This is me looking at a living person and then taking their life with no fight between us where I have to do all I can to survive. Even that is hard to live with.”

  “You don’t need to make up your mind right now. I can give you twenty four hours but then I have to let Gabriella know the job is hers. She is looking for more work and I want to make sure it is with us. Are you cool with that?”

  “Ya. I understand. I will think about it tonight and have an answer in the morning for you. If I say yes, what is the start time for the mission?” asked Falau.

  “Tomorrow. Due to the nature of things and the ongoing assaults we felt it is best to have this become the top priority. We want Whitmore gone as fast as possible with no trail that leads back to us.”

  “I understand. You will have my answer at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 21

  THE BASEBALL GAME PLAYED on the sixty inch flat screen hanging on the wall of Falau’s living room. His eyes watched what was taking place on the screen, but the information was lost to the swirling thoughts that gathered in his brain. The idea of a kill mission was new to him. Even in the military the kill was part of combat. It was not something that got planned out for one man to be killed. A plan that was to extinguish a life with no remorse or emotion. It was to be plain and simple with no mistakes. People talked about it like it was second nature to do this kind of thing.

  Falau pulled the baseball of t
he coffee table and leaned back on the sofa his head looking directly at the ceiling. He tossed the ball up seeing how close he could get it to the ceiling without hitting it and then caught it with his bare hand. Somehow tossing the ball into the air helped him think. He could shut out the rest of the world and focus on the ball freeing up his mind to work on the larger task. This time it was seeing if Falau had the ability to kill a man in cold blood that provided no threat to him in the moment he killed.

  The ball clunked hitting the ceiling and the rotation of it stopped and it fell flat back to his hand. The big man looked at the ball spinning it in his fingers.

  “Hitting the ceiling stops everything doesn’t it.” Falau said aloud to nobody but himself. His mind raced wondering what was his ceiling. What would stop him in his place and cause him to drop back down? Would it be the finger on the trigger? Would it be seeing Whitmore through the scope maybe sunning himself in his backyard? Would he stand face to face with the man in his own home and have to look into his eyes as he killed him?

  The ball launched into the air again and again and again as the big man attempted to rationalize his feelings to himself. The money was good. Almost too good. It’s being used to sucker me in and then the judges have another killer to use, thought Falau trying to punch holes in his own rationalizations. They’re using you Falau. They are using you to do the dirty work and money is the temptation. After this you’ll lucky to get half the money...or worse they could kill you to cover their tracks. After all, you’re now a loose end if you kill the guy.

  The ball bounced off Falau’s oversized hand and banged off the coffee table and on to the hardwood floor. Falau kept his eyes trained on the ceiling not reacting or caring where the ball went. Closing his eyes he could see the crosshairs of the scope and the view from where Father Locke took him on the hill outside the fence of his home. Dropping the crosshairs onto the man sitting in the wicker back chair Falau thought about the moment of pulling the trigger. Seeing the burst of blood coming from the man and his body slumping over. He would then slide back down the hill and be on his way never to be seen again. A cold and ruthless killer for hire and nothing more.

  The distant sound of knocking made its way up the stairs pulling Falau from his concentration. Grady’s feet clomped loud on the stairs as he went for the door and then the mumbling of two people started. One was female.

  “Yo, Falau. You got a visitor.” yelled Grady up the steps as the soft sound of feet hit the wooden stairs. Falau dropped his right leg to the floor, so his pants would cover the nine millimeter that was strapped to his calf. He had no idea who was coming to him at this time of night and he was not expecting anyone.

  The feet hit the top of the stairs and turned to make their way down the hall. They hit the floor softly. The shoes were not formal. They had rubber bottoms making less sound. Her clothing did not ruffle in the air. They fit close to her body. She was not overweight and had solid balance from the rhythmic movement her feet made. No slight stumbles of dragging of a foot. Falau’s mind took it all in and awaited who was ready to get to his door. He shifted on the sofa facing the door ready to roll to the floor and go for his gun if needed.

  A white hand with painted green nails came through the door and knocked on the frame.

  “Falau, you in here.” said a familiar voice. A voice that he had come to have faith in and respect for. It was the Mantis.

  “Gabriella? Is that you?” exclaimed Falau getting up from the sofa.

  Gabriella stepped through the door smooth and confident. She wore simple tennis shoes, tight jeans, and a sweatshirt. Nothing fancy or ready to take the eye of someone on the street. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail but, as always, her green eyes shined through everything she looked at. Falau admired her gentle beauty as he approached her for a hug.

  Gabriella’s hand reached out to shake Falau’s, thwarting off any hug. Falau reached for her hand taking it with both of his and shaking it up and down. The big man felt no insult from Gabriella for not accepting the hug. She showed little to no affection on the mission they shared and seemed always to keep her guard up. One mission with Falau was not going to change that.

  “Nice to see you again.” she said letting go of his hand and walking into the room. “I wish I could say this was a friendship call, but it is not. It is for work.”

  “You have something that I can help with. Might be a bad time. I have something going with Tyler.”

  “From what I hear you have not answered Tyler yet.” said Gabriella raising one eyebrow letting Falau know she had information about the situation. “Tyler says that you’re trying to decide if you can complete the mission. It may be... outside your comfort zone.”

  Falau smiled at his one time partner knowing she was sizing him up for the mission. “Yes. It is my understanding that if I say no to the mission that you’re the next pick.”

  Gabriella smiled and looked down attempting to be bashful but having no effect on Falau. “Right you are. Seems Tyler gives us each enough information to push the other. So are you taking the mission?”

  “Why do you want to know? I told Tyler I would let him know tomorrow?”

  “$70,000 is a lot of money and I could use it. If you’re out I take this mission. If you’re in I will be moving on. Waiting for you is the only hold up.”

  Falau knew that Gabriella was pushing for the answer and was also trying to gain control of the relationship between them. Having him answer the questions put her in a place of power that once she had she would not let go. She had resisted his leadership in the past and was laying groundwork for the future.”

  “What difference will twelve hours make? I plan on sleeping on it and then telling Tyler in the morning.”

  “You’re wasting time Falau. You know what you want to do so why not just say it.”

  “And what is it that I want to do?”

  “You want to say no, but you don’t want to back away. Your male pride is getting in the way. You’re not a killer, Falau. You’re a good guy that can help a lot of people, but you're no killer. I am a killer.”

  “People in my past say differently. There are bodies behind me. I don’t like killing, but if I have to I will.”

  “Well, this time you do not have to. I will do it and you can keep your peace of mind.”

  A twang shot through Falau’s head at Gabriella’s words. The thought of having peace of mind ever again was out of reach to him. He felt Jennifer shoot the pain across his skull as a reminder she was still there.

  “Did Tyler send you here?” questioned Falau letting his voice rise. “Is this just a way to get me worked up to push me into saying I will do it? Hit me with pride. Then old Falau will fall in line and kill for us. Is that what this is?”

  Gabriella tightened her jaw and the corners of her mouth dropped. Her eyes tightened, and her face became rigid. “I am no puppet for Tyler, the System, or anyone. I work for me and me alone. I have no interest in coming up here to you to play some petty bullshit game for Tyler and if that is what’s going on with The System then I want no part of any of it.”

  The stunning woman started to walk to the door with the anger still painted on her face. Her feet hit the ground harder now and Falau had no interest in reaching out for her to slow her down.

  “Gabriella, I did not mean to insult you. This is just strange, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to come here and ask about this.” said Falau standing in the doorway as Gabriella made her way down the hall to the top of the stairs where she stopped and looked to Falau.

  “You and Tyler have to come to some kind of trust. Until then there will be all of these games between you. You do not trust him if you think he is sending people to push you to do things! If that’s how your mind functions you’re never going to make it in this line of work or you better go freelance like me.”

  “Why? You don’t trust anyone?”

  “Never have and never will. It is time for you to shit or get off the pot, Falau.” said Ga
briella with a slight sadness washing over her face where the anger had been. The beautiful woman then walked down the stairs and out the front door leaving Falau with nothing but a decision to make.

  Chapter 22

  THE OSCILLATING FAN moved its head back and forth scraping out a small sliver of relief wherever it faced. The heat in the small mining outpost in Guyana had jumped higher than it had in years. Over 110 degrees. The outpost had come to a crawl to deal with the heat. Even the bar was without its normal ruckus and the prostitutes in front of the hotel waved hand fans to cool themselves making no effort to earn a day’s pay.

  The fan marked its breeze of hot stagnant air inside the makeshift church for Father Locke. The heat kept the parishioners away for the first time in weeks. Entering into the poorly ventilated church was more than anyone wanted to endure. But kneeling before the altar at the front center of the church Father Locke prayed. His knees pressed on the wooden floor and his thighs came up at a right angel from his calves. He found it disrespectful to sit back on his calves. His back was rigid, and he clasped his hands in front of him with a golden crucifix between them that was on a chain from around his neck. Father Locke’s eyes held tight as he mouthed out the words to prayers that he whispered to himself. The sweat beaded up upon him and ran down his face and back, but no amount of heat was going to stop him from his commitment of prayer to his God.

  Creak! Sounded out the door in a long methodical call to anyone who could have been in the room. The heat from the street poured into the church and Father Locke felt the fan push a section of it onto his back. His head did not move staying deep in prayer and focused on his calling.

  Three sets of feet walked into the room and closed the door behind them. The priest knew they were not mine workers from the area. These people were wearing shoes and not boots or bare feet. The sounds of the smooth cobbled shoes gave a distinctive sound. These were not people who spent their time in the jungle and they were not regular parishioners who knew the times that mass was held each day.