Bishop's War (Bishop Series Book 1) (26 page)

“Dude, seek therapy. And if you ever see her again you best not hesitate. Put two rounds in her fucking head. You can feel bad about it later. Hold onto her sword while you jerk off to her memory, but make sure she’s dead first. You hear me? Make sure. Otherwise she’ll kill you, cuz.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Forget I ever said it. I’m bugging.”

“Yeah, you are. Remember, don’t hesitate. Two in the head. We clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Hey, another thing. I know Tio will take care of it, but find out where Boogie’s people are. We’ll go pay our respects in person when I get back.”

“Can’t believe you’re going right back to the front lines. Wish I could be there to watch your back.”

“Felix, listen. I’ve fought all over the world with the most highly trained professionals there are and I’d take you as my wing man any day. You were great. You’ve been great since I got back. Actually, you’ve been great my whole life. You saved me when I was a kid, went to prison for me, saved me from being shot by the cop in Union Square, and saved me again when that crazy bitch was about to cut my head off. What do I say? How do I thank you for all you’ve done for me?”

“Just come back safe. That’s all I need, bro.”

“You got it. Now let’s get some food and talk to Uncle Macho.”

“Seeing him standing next to his own grave was beyond heavy.”

“You know, it ain’t just revenge either. He’s willingly giving up his life to protect us all.”

“He’s some kind a man.”

“The best kind there is. Come on. Time to say goodbye to him.”

Though everyone tried to put on a good face the heaping platters of food were only picked at. The family was full of comedians and the few jokes that would normally have the whole table laughing were met with polite chuckles that quickly faded. Chris was dead, his father would soon follow, and John was heading into combat halfway around the world. It was a dark day for the Valdez family.

When the men gathered for a final meeting his uncle Macho was short and to the point.

“John, you do your part, and I will do mine. You get that ship.”

“We will, Tio… We will.”

“Tomorrow I fly to London to meet with our CIA friends. They’ll help set up the meeting with Aziz.”

“Listen, Uncle Macho, I know the chances are slim, but if you see a way out, or a place to hide, you go for it, okay? I’ll find you.”

“I’ve thought of that. I’ll be on his home turf surrounded by his men. I don’t see them letting me walk out of there, but like you said, if I can get out I will… Wait, what do you mean you’ll find me?”

“After the ship I’m headed back to Afghanistan with the team.”

“We both are,” Bunny said.

“I’m bringing you home, either way. Once we have your location there’ll be Marines and Special Ops on the ground in minutes. Find a hole and wait for the troops, Tio.

“Yes sir.”

“Good hunting, Uncle Macho.”

“Same to you. Love always.”

“Te amo, Tio.”

They could hear the helicopter in the night before they saw the lights.

“That’s our ride,” Bunny said.

“Bring him back safe to us, Valentino,” Gonzalo said to Bunny, gripping his arm and staring hard into his eyes.

“I will, Don Valdez. I swear I will.”

“Last thing before we go. We took out Amir and most of his men, but don’t any of you let your guard down.” John spread his arms wide to include everyone when he spoke. “He may have more assets, and me and Felix barely survived our meeting with one of Aziz’s assassins last night. We don’t know if she’s dead and there may be more where she came from.”

They said their goodbyes once more. John kissed Maria and then Grassiella before he raced after Bunny. They both ducked low below the rotors and jumped in. A second later they lifted off and were gone in the night. The family stood together staring into the darkness, straining for a final glimpse of the helicopter.

A single cloud rolled in obscuring the moon on the far horizon. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky like a camera flash revealing the helicopter in the distance for less than a second. A strong wind came out of the darkness, blowing hot across the lawn. The gust knocked the hat off of Gonzalo’s head, setting it down gently near Sesa’s feet. Sesa quickly retrieved it and placed it on his own head for a moment.

Suddenly, the lone cloud disappeared and the moon shone bright once more, sitting low in the clear night sky. The entire family was touched by what they had just seen and heard. For a moment no one said a word and no one moved until they each reached out and grasped the hands on either side of them creating a continuous connection. Everyone stayed huddled together staring into the night except for Felix who went to find to a chair. Just as Johnny had predicted, the pain in his leg was getting worse. It hurt too much to stand.

Out of respect for their privacy, Kevin, Ed, Danny, and Christmas were all standing quietly in the back, well behind all the Valdez family members. Everyone turned towards them when Ed shouted out a warning and Christmas pulled his pistol and fired a shot in the air.

Chapter 31

Connie

It was a
combination of home-grown skills and years of training that allowed a man of Constantine Bellusci’s size to move so easily and silently through the woods. His father and grandfather were hunters. He spent his childhood in the forest with them and they taught him what he believed were the three keys to success. Be prepared, be patient, and be quiet.

Preparation meant training your mind and body and planning for the unexpected. Know the terrain. Study maps or see it firsthand. Always have extra food and water in case of emergencies. Always look for an edge by finding the weakness in your prey and using it to your advantage. Never carry less than three weapons.

Patience meant knowing how to wait. Though contrary to the nature of modern man, the ability to wait for the right moment for hours, even days, is one of the most critical requirements for the successful hunter. Always focus on the target with calm and clear intentions, but never lose an opportunity by rushing or acting too soon.

Quiet. Quiet was the hardest. He would spend days upon days out in the wild with his grandfather without a single word being spoken. Every time he would try to speak a calloused and crooked finger would press against his lips, then gently touch his ears, then his nose and finally his eyes. He understood his grandfather’s message. Speaking, noise of any kind, masked the other senses.

The tough and weathered old man taught him how to move without disruption, like a ship slicing through water without a wake. He taught him how to hear the story being told by the land. How the rustling leaves indicated wind speed and direction. How birds were the guardians of the forest, their constant singing giving the all clear, while their silence was an alarm bell that put every creature on high alert. How to smell the rain long before it came. The quieter you were the more you were tuned in to the natural world.

He called his childhood lessons PPQ and he made them the foundation of his life. Mastering them gave him the edge he needed in a profession where failure was not an option. Success offered great rewards, failure meant death. Before he began a new “project” he checked his PPQ status to make sure he was ready.

He grew up in Albania, raised by his father after his mother abruptly moved back to her native Greece when he was four. Constantine was mercilessly bullied and tortured for his name and the local kids shortened it to Connie to add to his humiliation. Then he began to grow and by age ten he was nearly six feet tall. He paid back the bullies in full, but kept the name as a badge of honor.

His father died of a heart attack when Connie was fifteen and he buried his grandfather a year later. He was a big angry teenager alone in the world and he quickly joined a local gang to find a home. He loved the violence, but soon realized that gang life wasn’t about brotherhood, it was simply about money. Money that enforcers like him didn’t get to enjoy since all the cash got kicked upstairs to the gang leaders. Within a year he moved on. Hopped on his motorcycle, hit the road and didn’t stop until he reached Germany. At eighteen he was a drunken bar brawler living life from day to day on a fast train to prison or the morgue. That all changed when he joined the army.

The army gave him purpose and clarity. Connie excelled at everything they threw at him and two years later he was a member of the Kommando Spezialkraefte, the elite German Special Forces. He fought in Croatia, Iraq and Afghanistan until he walked away after eight years of service. He was tired of taking orders and tired of killing civilians. Then the Bundesnachrichtendienst, the German foreign intelligence service, came calling, offering him big money to eliminate threats contrary to national interests. He excelled at this too and quickly left government service to become an independent operator.

At age thirty two he was at the top his game. A professional hitman that chose his jobs carefully and guaranteed success. All thanks to preparation, patience, and quiet. PPQ.

He worked on a careful client referral basis only, meaning that if any former client passed on his name without his consent they immediately became his next target. He cautiously researched potential employers before ever agreeing to meet with them to avoid dealing with fanatics or the mentally unstable.

He almost passed on talking to Mike Meecham. He was ambitious, ruthless and a loose cannon. After meeting him, Connie still wasn’t sure if the man was crazy or not, but Meecham hadn’t even blinked or haggled over the fee, which was triple the normal rate.

Connie was a pragmatist. He would take out Bishop, his cousin, and Don Valdez, but he would stall on General Palmer and Director Kolter. Hitting those two would make him famous, but quickly end his career and his life. He wasn’t into suicide. He took the million for a job that he couldn’t do and wouldn’t do even if he could.

He was already following the events on the news and his network of informants helped him fill in the blanks. He knew it was Bishop and his crew that blew away the terrorists at Con Ed and he figured they’d all head to the Long Island estate to recover and regroup.

He studied maps of the area and found two potential locations to set up shop. The first was a hilltop four hundred away from the house and Connie immediately ruled that one out. It was too close and too exposed. Valdez security would be all over it. Not that he couldn’t by-pass any alarms and take out the sentries, but it wasn’t worth the risk when he could work from the second position farther out. Fourteen hundred yards farther out, making it eighteen hundred yards, or just over a mile to the main house.

At six-six and over two hundred-eighty pounds, Connie drove big SUV’s whenever he could. He needed a spacious interior and extra leg room. He parked the dark blue Navigator at a public beach lot more than three miles from his destination. Camouflaged as a surfer wearing a cut off wetsuit with a short board tucked under his arm, he took the long hurried strides of a wave rider trying to catch the final set before nightfall.

The first part of the walk was easy, following the bike paths over mostly flat terrain. It was the end of the day and the few cyclists that were still out were all headed in the opposite direction towards their cars. When the last of the bikes passed him he stepped off the path and into the woods. Leaving the board hidden behind a tree, he moved slowly, carefully, and silently, while the world around him changed from green to gray in the dusk before the full dark of night.

He arrived at the tree exactly as he planned it, right after the sun set and before the moon rose too high to provide maximum cover. He took night vision goggles out of his back pack and put them on to scan the area and look for the best way to climb the giant spruce that rose over a hundred feet straight up. Moving carefully and quietly, it took him twenty minutes to make the ascent and find a perch that met his requirements. He needed to stand on a heavy branch at least fifty-five feet up that could take his weight without too much bend or sway. Then he needed a second branch at chest or shoulder height above the bottom one so he could use it to steady the sniper rifle.

He checked his surroundings once more before hanging the back pack on a broken limb and removing the scope and range finder. Looking through the scope he was pleasantly surprised to see all three of his targets standing with a large group of people on the big lawn at the back of the mansion.

Assuming you have the right gun for the job, which he did, long range shooting combines marksmanship, training, and mathematics to calculate distance, trajectory, wind speed, humidity and elevation. Factoring in the moonlight and his standing position high in a tree made it a near impossible shot that only a few other people in the world could make. He regularly practiced night shooting in environments just like this to keep his edge. Preparation! Connie knew he’d make the shot.

Connie forced himself not to rush. He took his time assembling the Accuracy International L115A3 Long Range Rifle. He had just finished attaching the telescopic sight and sound suppressor when a helicopter came in fast and landed at the house. He punched home the clip, set the rifle in his shoulder and peered through the scope just in time to see Bishop run towards the bird. It was up and moving the second he got in.

Your lucky day Mr. Bishop.

He scanned the crowd for the other two names on his list: Gonzalo and Felix Valdez. He could see Gonzalo wearing his Panama hat near the front of the group, but he was partially blocked by a taller head in front of him so Connie zeroed in on Felix. He aimed, exhaled and fired just as a bolt of lightning momentarily blinded him.

The fuck was
that?

He’d checked the weather and knew there was no chance of rain. He was baffled by the rogue lightning strike, but had experienced nature’s unpredictability time and time again. He looked up at the clear night sky and shrugged before pressing his eye back into the circle of the scope. He knew he’d missed because everyone was still standing huddled together. Large gatherings of people don’t remain calm when there’s a body at their feet. He looked for Felix again and let out a soft sigh of frustration as he watched him limp from the front to the back of the group. Felix sat down heavily in a chair and there was now a woman standing right in front of him blocking the shot.

Connie moved on, breathing easy and maintaining the second P in his PPQ philosophy. Patience. He eyed the Valdez family from high in the tree and over a mile away until he finally found his man. This time there was no blinding flash of light to spoil his aim. He steadied himself, slowed his breathing and fired on the exhale. He watched the man in the white straw hat crumple to the ground from the head shot.

The old Don, rest in peace, must be
slipping.

He smiled at the private joke as he methodically disassembled and packed up the rifle. He hurried down the tree and made his way back to the car. Driving off into the night he was already planning how and where to take out John and Felix.