Book One (A Makaveli’s Prince Novel) Page 2

  A few seconds later Nia noticed a car pull across the end of the alleyway blocking their path. 'Is that the same Lexus?’ Nia asked.

  ‘Yes ma’am and we won’t be safe for much longer if that’s what I think it is.’

  The man driving the Lexus had stepped out of the vehicle and was standing behind it, his weapon rested across the roof to assist his aim.

  ‘Take him out!’ Marcus yelled. ‘That’s an anti-tank missile!’ The urgency in his voice was clear. Their armor plating would not stand up to a direct hit like that. Nia reached rapidly for the M4.

  The Hummer was approaching fast and the man lined up his weapon’s sights. He didn’t have time to see Nia leaning out the passenger side window.

  Nia only had time for a snap shot but it was enough as she fired off a three round burst. One shot hit its mark, striking the man’s left shoulder at the same moment he fired the launcher. It was enough to pull his aim wildly to the left. The rocket left the launcher with an incredible whoosh and the man stumbled off balance thanks to the simultaneous shot to his shoulder and the kickback from the launcher.

  Marcus gunned the engine of the Hummer and it roared ferociously like an attacking panther. He swerved as much as was possible and the rocket narrowly missed. It struck the wall of a building behind them, exploding with a shock-wave that was intensified by the narrow confines of the alleyway. Nia felt the intense heat pour through her open window.

  The wall crumbled, bricks blasted in all directions and dust bellowed out behind them. The Hummer shook in the blast and surged forward.

  It struck the Lexus almost head on with such force it slid easily out of the way. Nia tried to see what had become of their attacker but the car blocked her view. She wondered if he had been killed or simply knocked to the ground. Nia didn’t care either way, so long as he was no longer following them. ‘Fuck that was close!’ Nia cried out in relief.

  John Lloyd was still channel hopping when several news stations began reporting the breaking news. An explosion had ripped through a building in the North Miami Beach area. A delivery truck driver who had witnessed it described hearing a loud hiss followed by an earth shaking explosion. Lloyd flicked from one news station to another but he could get nothing more on Nia Rodriguez as the explosion became the dominant news story. There were already questions being asked as to whether this explosion had anything to do with the recent terrorist attack on the Miami Marathon.

  Clyde Roberts had narrowly avoided death when the bullet hit him in his left shoulder. When the Hummer struck his Lexus he was thrown clear and his head impacted the road surface, knocking him unconscious. He’d regained consciousness quickly, only to find he was bleeding from his shoulder and that he had a blinding headache. Feeling the side of his head he knew he’d probably need stitches but he could handle that. His hair was matted with clotting blood from his scalp, a part of the body that, even with a moderate wound, bleeds excessively. His main concern was his shoulder. The round had gone clean through the deltoid muscle of his left shoulder without striking bone or causing any arterial bleeding. He was extremely lucky and he knew it. It wasn’t his first gunshot wound. As soon as he could find somewhere quiet he could treat it. Despite that it hurt like hell as he tried to raise his left arm. At least the pain told him he was alive, he thought before cursing himself for allowing this to go on for so long.

  He pulled himself together and saw that the Lexus was a total wreck. He took a shoulder bag from the back seat and then popped the trunk. He took out a gas can and poured the contents over the interior of the Lexus. He tossed in a match and walked away as fast as he could, hoping no one had seen him or would remember his face.

  As he slipped into the back of a cab his cell phone rang. The display told him the call was coming in on a secure channel. He answered and listened to the well-spoken male voice on the other end as the cab driver pulled away.

  ‘What is your report Roberts?’

  ‘Operation MP is currently incomplete but, sir, I’m very close to a conclusion.’

  ‘Give me a time frame.’

  ‘Impossible to be precise but soon.’

  ‘Give me something God damn it!’

  ‘I estimate within the next twelve to twenty-four hours.’

  ‘You have had long enough. Finish it. I want that black bitch dead! You understand?’

  Before Roberts could reply the line went dead. He clipped the cell phone back onto his belt and started to plan his next move.

  Darkness had fallen by the time the Hummer finally drew close to its destination. Marcus had utilized his counter-surveillance training, doubling back several times until he was positive that they’d not been followed. Out of sight, they’d quickly switched their plates as a precaution before carrying on to their destination. Changing plates was the first step in beating a police BOLO. They didn’t have time to find another vehicle.

  Slowing right down, Marcus pulled the Hummer up to the security gate. It was a number of things that got them past the police officer on the gate. The vehicle looked like it belonged to any one of the private residences beyond the gate and when Marcus swiped an electronic security card the gates opened. The officer barely gave them a cursory glance from his seat in the gate house. He assumed from the vehicle, Marcus’ demeanor and the access granted by the card that they belonged on the inside of his security perimeter.

  Once through the gates the situation was much more within their control. The random chance that the officer could have stopped them or recognized Nia had been a huge risk and had anything gone wrong they would have had a whole force bearing down on them. The Hummer began the slow clockwise journey on the single road that ran around the island. Only seconds passed before they were at their destination.

  Seeing the blinds were drawn and that they wouldn’t be spotted from inside, Marcus activated the property’s electronic gate with the touch of a button. He cut the Hummer’s lights and engine, silently coasting into the driveway. He pulled the vehicle to a halt once it was tucked neatly inside the open fronted parking port. There was already an Audi parked in one of the spaces but Marcus had just enough room to squeeze the large Hummer in alongside it. He would have preferred to reverse park it, a standard military drill for rapid escape but that would have meant more noise. He’d turn it around later at the first opportunity.

  They slipped out of the Hummer with minimal noise. From this point on they both knew silence was crucial as they depended upon the element of surprise to control the unfolding situation. Any number of things could go wrong and the risks were too great. Nia’s face was all over the news and she was risking jail or worse, death, but the secrets she held had to be exposed.

  The property’s grounds were average in comparison to the others on the island but it was bigger than any place Marcus had ever owned. They had originally planned to enter and then lay in wait for their target but a few lights were on. Nia had run though this scenario with Marcus several times on the way over and this was how it had to go down. They would expect the worst going in. Realistically they couldn’t afford to play it any other way. What they were doing was already risky enough.

  Both dressed in their tactical gear, Nia and Marcus blended into the semi darkness. There was little risk that they would be spotted. Every movement was expertly executed, the full weight of Marcus’ experience and Nia’s training showing. They shouldered their M4s and the only sound was the near silent patter of their boots on the driveway. Marcus carried additional equipment in a tactical vest that was integrated with his Kevlar body armor. His experience had taught him to be well equipped.

  The villa was built on three levels. The ground floor was made up of the large double parking port at the front and a utility room to the rear. To the left of the driveway was a stone stairway leading up to the front door on the first floor. There was a cast-iron gate to the rear of the parking port which led through to the rear of the property and access to the rear ground floor entrance.

  The gate was locked and required a five digit PIN to be entered on an electronic keypad mounted on the wall. Nia held the up the small device that had opened the driveway gate and again it defeated the electronic security. From his time as a Marine Marcus still had contacts that helped him get almost anything security related.

  Nia opened the gate carefully, lifting it slightly to take the pressure off the hinges and avoid any squeaking. Marcus made his way through and paused as Nia closed the gate behind them. They remained crouched for a moment, taking in the environment and making sure they hadn’t alerted anyone to their presence by opening the gate.

  Squatted just inside, Nia tapped Marcus softly on the shoulder. This was the all clear sign. Silently they began to move again. They moved in the shadows against the wall where they couldn’t be seen and stopped at the door. Marcus paused and softly tried the handle. It was locked. Behind him Nia listened and watched in the darkness, covering their position with her assault rifle.

  Marcus slung his weapon, letting it hang across his back so that he could get his lock picking kit from his chest pocket. He worked quickly and there was a noticeable click as the last tumbler fell into place, allowing the lock to turn. The door opened inwards and Marcus drew his P228 as he stepped inside. He didn’t switch on the lights because his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness and that was to his advantage. Nia followed closely behind, also slinging her weapon and drawing her handgun. She closed the door behind her, locking it in the process.

  Inside was a corridor running left to right connected to a room on the right hand side. Marcus stepped inside and found it empty apart from a washer, dryer and a pile of laundry. They moved down the corridor to the left and at the far end there was a set of stairs leading up to the main part of the house.

  Ll
oyd had seen enough news for the day. He switched it off and put on a Nina Simone CD. He wanted to clear his thoughts and the music helped him do that. So did fresh air, so he stepped outside to the pool and let the music drift out with him.

  Nina Simone took him back in time further than he could remember and he found it relaxing. He had been born much too late to remember her at the peak of her success. The black housekeeper who had substituted for his parents during his privileged white childhood had introduced him to most of the great African-American artists whose music he now enjoyed.

  He imagined how he would have been more at home during the fifties and sixties in a Harlem Jazz club or marching alongside Martin Luther King Jr than he was in this social networking internet age. Back then the news cycle didn’t run twenty-four-seven, flitting from one topic to another. People had views, deep principled ones that were worth believing in.

  The interior walls of his home reflected his romanticism of the civil rights struggle with portraits of Martin Luther King, Huey P Newton, and Malcolm X. To him they were all icons of an age where issues were more defined, in contrast to the present where he felt almost anyone could be bought for a price.

  He’d learnt this lesson first hand while making his documentary. He couldn’t help feeling regret at his own betrayal of his cultural investigation into rap music. All the awards he’d won did nothing but compound his feelings of guilt for the bias he’d shown. It had been hard to get a break and when his limited funds ran dry he didn’t want to question where the money started coming from and admit to himself what he was doing to get it. He took it and funded his documentary, sensitive to his patron’s requests for a specific edit. Lloyd had convinced himself that all he needed was one film to get him a break and then he’d have better executive control over his future productions. But in fact all he’d succeeded in doing was pandering to certain prejudices and betraying all that he loved and believed in.

  He knew he hadn’t done the right thing and had hoped it was his opportunity for a second chance when he was offered his own talk show. But a few months passed by and the reality of the television media agenda caught up with him. He’d been pigeonholed by the stance he’d taken in his documentary. He tried to make a difference to some people but began to feel he’d never have the second chance he really craved, one that would undo the damage he’d done.

  Nia signaled to Marcus and he inserted a device into the electrical socket at the bottom of the stairs. They climbed the staircase slowly, following it as it turned ninety degrees to the right approximately two thirds of the way up. Marcus signaled a pause, crouching as he looked around the kitchen. Still several steps from the top, his eyes were level with the Rosa Aurora marble floor and no one was to be seen. He signaled to Nia that the kitchen was clear. She acknowledged and pointed her fingers to the left indicating for him to move.

  The ground floor was an open plan design, high ceilinged and the lounge ran straight off the kitchen. Marcus checked the lounge was clear, noticing the expensive furniture. He stopped on the far side of the kitchen with his back to the wall. On his immediate right was a set of open doors leading outside. He saw the target, holstered his P228 and nodded to Nia. She saw his signal and pressed a button on the remote control for the device Marcus had plugged into the wall socket. Instantly the house fell into complete darkness.

  The nervous tension building inside Nia was now at its peak as she contemplated the imminent confrontation. It was long overdue and she’d spent too much energy avoiding it. The darkness was enveloping her again and her mind flashed for a split second back to the nightmare. Death felt tangibly close but she prayed this move would be the first step to lead her away from that nightmare.

  Lloyd fumbled his way a little in the dark. It had been a few years since his last power cut and he’d never had one in this house. It was probably the circuit breaker, he thought. He found his way to the door using the weak light from his cell phone. It helped him find a clear path a few feet in front of him and stopped him falling into the pool but had the effect of making everywhere beyond that appear much darker.

  For a second at the doorway he thought he heard a sound that was out of place but dismissed it as nothing without thinking, worrying more about the circuit breaker. He crossed the threshold into the lounge and before he could react he felt an arm around his neck, so tight he couldn’t make a sound. His larynx was being crushed by an inhuman force. Lloyd struggled with his attacker but lost his footing as he was pulled sideways. This caused the vice like-grip around his neck to tighten as it took his full weight. His feet scrabbled at the floor to try and regain his footing. He could barely breathe and any fight in him quickly faded. Scared, he realized he had no chance of escape and his life was in the hands of his attacker. He hoped this was just a robbery. His fear intensified as his mind ran through all the possibilities.

  Nia pressed the button again and power was restored throughout the house. The lights came on immediately. The sound system came to life taking a few seconds to spin up the CD before music once again filled the house.

  Nia’s ear was caught by the music that started to play. She wasn’t a fan of Nina Simone but reflected upon the lyrics of the song that had begun playing.

  ‘Don’t you know that no one alive can always be an angel?

  When everything goes wrong you see some bad.

  But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good,

  Oh Lord please don’t let me be misunderstood.’

  Nia knew what that felt like and wondered if Lloyd would understand her actions given the troubled history they shared. She walked around the lounge double checking all the blinds were closed. She didn’t want anyone to see what was going on inside.

  Part of her half expected some young groupie of Lloyd’s to appear from upstairs at any moment. Nia knew how charming he could be. Standing in front of Lloyd Nia extended her arm gripping her P228 and pointed it at his face, which had begun to turn a light shade of purple. His eyes locked with hers and Nia could see the fear in them. She raised her index finger to her lips signaling silence and looked at Lloyd questioningly to check he understood. He nodded, encouraged by both the pistol aimed at his head and the fact that he wanted to be able to breathe again. Marcus let go, setting him down on the diesel brown leather sofa and took up a position behind him. He drew his handgun, aiming it at Lloyd while his eyes watched the entire room.

  Lloyd was beyond confusion. He could barely believe he had only moments before seen the news that Nia Rodriguez was wanted for drug trafficking and now here she was standing in his lounge dressed like a member of SWAT. He opened his mouth to speak and Nia assertively motioned for him to stay silent.

  With the music still playing she holstered her handgun and lent in close to Lloyd. Her lips came so close to his ear that, in any other circumstance, it might have been seductive. ‘Nod or shake your head. Is there anyone else here with you?’ Nia said. Feeling her soft breath on his ear he shook his head quickly. Nia walked to the other side of the room, turned the music off and then waived Marcus to go check the upstairs. Nia turned back to Lloyd whose eyes were open wide questioning the situation. ‘You’ve seen the news?’ Nia paused, Lloyd’s face was now pale but it registered with him. ‘You’re gonna help me.’

  ‘You just stuck a gun in my face and now you want my help?’

  ‘Careful, I came here because you owe me.’

  ‘What makes you think...’

  ‘You used me John! And all the people I introduced you to. You misrepresented us all with that so called documentary,’ Nia said fiercely. Her anger was a sure sign elements of the betrayal were still fresh and she tried to calm herself.