The DC Job by Milam Vince

Author:Milam, Vince
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

We turned onto the highway; the black SUV followed a quarter-mile back. One item stood clear—this conspiracy’s showrunners, the Guardians, wouldn’t quit until they planted my head on a stake. It smelled of classic Russian ops. Set the objective and keep coming until mission accomplished, nuance and subtlety be damned. It would stop, maybe, when I stopped my search for the girl, an act with strong possibilities. Or, maybe again, when I found Krystyna and her harrowing tale was revealed. But I knew all too well that either outcome was no guarantee the Guardians would back off. Russians held long memories, and “forgive and forget” wasn’t part of their makeup. But I’d been on and off their shitlist for a while, so nothing new there.

“Sorry about this, guys,” I said as we powered down the highway. “The whole hitters thing was always a possibility, but the prime mission remains connecting with Red. A mission you both fit into like a glove. So, here’s my preference with these hunyaks following us.”

“Stow that crap,” Marcus said.

“It is so endearing when he does his Lone Ranger thing,” Bo added. “A vibrant testament to our favorite goober’s character.”

I’d headed into “let me handle the bad guys” territory, but both blood brothers saw it coming and cut me off.

“Neither of you signed up for this,” I said. “The menu never stated sanctioned killers.”

“An ever-present side dish, my Georgia peach. A solid and continuous element. One we have dealt with often, and will do so again.”

“It isn’t a poor tactic having me handle those men while you two spread out and search,” I said.

“There may not be any handling necessary,” Marcus said. “We can’t confirm their intent.”

“I know their intent. So do both of you.”

“Then we shall proceed as planned,” Bo said. “The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.”

“Socrates?” I asked.

“Thucydides,” Marcus said. “Well put, Bo.”

“I’m glad you two learned gentlemen agree, as long as you both understand those folks after us don’t give a rat’s ass about Thucydides.”

“On that note, what’s your best bet on their background?” Marcus asked.

“I’d put money on Bulgarians. The Russkies like them as proxies for wet work.”

“Military experience?”

“Not necessarily. Thugs, killers for up close and personal applications.”

“Good,” Marcus said. “A wide-open area plays to our advantage.”

“You’ll want to turn off at Niland,” Bo said. “Slab City is a couple of miles from there.”

The small town of Niland had a grocery store, a diner, a gas station, and not much else. We took a narrow asphalt road leading northeast. After several miles, it petered out and turned into a hard-packed, rutted, dusty desert trail. The black SUV followed.

“They aren’t subtle, are they?” Marcus asked, eyeballing the side-view mirror.

“Nope. Waiting for their opportunity and don’t care that we’re aware. And I’m okay with that. Since Niland, my pissed-off factor has ratcheted up. Way up.”

As we traveled, two then three modern vehicles eased past, coming from Slab City.

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