Bait: A Novel by Messum J. Kent

Author:Messum, J. Kent [Messum, J. Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-08-27T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

“If they don’t move soon,” the tallest man said, “we’ll have to do something about it.”

Four men stood on the deck of the motor yacht, the obvious leader among them giving orders. He was older than the others, early forties, and he’d been in more battles than all of them put together. Even at a distance there was something not right about his face, discolorations marring the inhuman textures that passed for skin. His blue irises were so pale that at a glance it seemed only black pupils were centered in the whites. When he grinned it looked like a hideous wound. The cruelty that festered in his mouth was the product of years immersed in savagery. The others were unaffected by it. They were hard men, trained killers and skilled survivors. Buchanan, Reposo, and Turk, the remnants of a special forces detachment, now led by one man, and one man only: the one they called Greer. When Greer spoke, all ears listened.

“I want the radio and radar monitored at all times, and all of you keep an eye on the horizons. Just in case. When these folks decide to haul ass, I want no interruptions.”

Each man nodded once. Buchanan ran his fingers through his cropped blond hair and cleared his throat.

“Something on your mind, Buchanan?” Greer asked.

“Just wondering if you would like me to give our guests over there a little incentive to get the ball rolling.”

Greer gave another of his unnerving grins. “Let’s see if they participate of their own free will first. Then we’ll see what we can do about encouraging them.”

He turned his attention to the five stranded on the beach and watched their movements with disdain. Junkies, each and every one of them, the kind of parasitic lost causes Greer wouldn’t think twice about shooting in the back of the head and kicking into a shallow grave. Miami was full of these wasters now, the disease of addiction and AIDS spreading through city blocks faster than an epidemic of bedbugs. The rampant crime that followed in order to fuel the fixes of these bottom-feeders angered Greer even more. His hometown had never seen such pestilence. Greer had regularly dispatched far better men in third world countries. Seeing his homeland infested with such sorry excuses for human beings made his blood boil.

They’re nothing but paving stones on the road to ruin, Greer thought.

Damn scabs. He encountered them almost everywhere he went, hanging on corners with teeth knocked out of their heads and a stench about them, glassy eyed and willing to do just about anything for the promise of another hit. Dope fiends desperate for a dollar had offered Greer every stolen good and sex act known to man. Courage, strength, honor, discipline—these addicts knew no such things. They were weak, good for nothing more than to be fed upon. The weak would be the sustenance of the strong. Greer feasted on the inferiority.

“One down, five to go.”

“I can’t believe we lost one already,” Turk said. “What a waste.

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