Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Candy’s sights were set on Mohammed, who quickly dropped his weapon when she ordered. Jenny swept the room with her .45, poised to kill anyone seeking to interrupt the women’s plan of action.

Jake, still crouched on the floor, his arms around Gracie, quietly addressed Jenny: “You’ve got to be kidding me. I risked my life for you and now you’re part of it.”

“What can I say?” said Jenny, shrugging, a growing smirk on her face.

“Is the pregnancy a lie, too?” asked Jake.

“How’d you know about that?”

“Reid told me.”

Jenny looked toward Candy and the two laughed, both cunning and composed. “Yeah, that was a lie. Reid tried to buy it off cheap but I was negotiating for a little bigger payday.”

Kareem’s face bore defeat as he realized he’d been played, betrayed by those he trusted, even loved. He looked toward Mohammed and saw the look of a cornered animal seeking a way to escape.

Jenny sneered, her weapon now pointed at Jake. “My father made me a widow. He had my husband killed because he thought Michael was stealing from him. He made Gracie an orphan when her parents got in the way of the hit on my Michael. Daddy Dearest lied to me about how they died and tried to buy my love and affection, but I knew he was responsible.

“Now it’s payback time. Candy and I have been planning this ever since he ran his mouth about the three million coming in. He thought I never paid attention. I heard him scheming with Tommy. Thanks, by the way, for helping him get the container across the border.”

Candy laughed. “Tommy say you reliable.”

Jenny, poised and assertive, continued: “I guess he was right. Too bad he’s not around anymore to help us spend it.”

“But this money is going for a greater cause. This is for Allah,” pleaded Kareem.

Jenny shook her head. “Sorry about that, Ali Baba, but this is not Al-lah’s. This is all-ours.”

Candy laughed at Jenny’s effort at humor.

Jenny’s focus was now on Kareem, her muzzle pointing at his chest, center mass. “I figured a street-smart guy like you might realize what was happening when we got you to eliminate Sonny and Gabe. They could have ruined this for us. That’s why Candy accompanied you on your little nighttime romp to take out Sonny. Besides, I think she made it worth your while. You celebrated that night, right?”

From the hallway Jake heard the squeak of the boards and suspected the next phase of what now appeared to be his ill-conceived plan was about to be implemented.

Jake’s whole strategy was based on a false assumption: that the kidnapping was at Yeong’s behest. He planned to have Yeong and his bodyguards show up at the hotel after Jenny and Gracie were gone. Then, with the help of Trey and Brian, he would take down two Korean crime rings and shut down a North Korean — Iranian conspiracy to circumvent the new UN treaty on nuclear arms. And he had hours of audio-video recordings and $3 million in Supernotes to make the case.

From outside the door he heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being racked. Crouched down and holding Gracie closer, the thought occurred to him: Katie would know the verse in the Bible about pride going before a fall.

As the doorknob began to turn, Jake’s eyes darted around the room, seeking cover or concealment from what was now inevitable, unstoppable carnage, and he said to himself, Oh dear God, help me and this child to survive this!

In that same instant, Jenny looked at Candy, who smiled and nodded. When Jenny returned the nod both women opened fire; the crack of gunfire in the small room deafened everyone.

Jake grabbed his Glock 19 from his right hip and dove on top of Gracie, pressing their bodies tightly to the floor, protecting her from the barrage of bullets, refusing to join in the erupting chaos.

Mohammed reached for his weapon, seeking cover behind the couch, his combat experience prevailing. Staying on his feet meant certain death. Prone on the floor, he reached up without exposing himself, firing blindly over the arm of the couch in the direction of the women, his shots ringing out in a semi-measured pace of two- and three-round bursts.

Kareem, still coping with Candy’s betrayal, was slow to grab his weapon. Jenny’s first three rounds hit him in the chest. The bartender’s prison-tuned physique was no match for the hollow-point ammunition ripping through his internal organs. He bellowed just once as he fell to the floor in the kind of agony he had so often inflicted on others. He briefly struggled to breathe, coughed up bright red arterial blood, and convulsed as his eyes went lifeless.

Candy got off several rounds before Rostam, frozen by the madness, finally reacted. As the Hezbollah terrorist attempted to drop to one knee and return fire, he was hit in the head, never engaging in the gun battle, never firing his weapon. For all his bravado in the back room of the mosque, he lacked the skills to survive on the street. His reward would have to be elsewhere. He would not find it on the second floor of a battered Los Angeles brothel.

As the room erupted in gunfire, Henry Yeong and his men burst in, firing indiscriminately, spraying shots throughout the confined quarters, rounds striking in every direction — including the walls, floor, and ceiling.

Candy and Jenny were both hit but refused to go down. They continued firing, shooting into the void, exchanging shots with Yeong’s men.

Yeong hesitated too long when he realized it was Candy shooting at him. His mind failed to register the peril. Before he could grasp the full extent of the situation he was hit multiple times, Candy having little concern with his authority or their perceived friendship.

Jake didn’t join the battle. Instead, using his body to shield Gracie from the errant rounds flying around the room, Jake shuffled the child along the floor toward the adjoining room. The shooters, more concerned with firing at each other, ignored Jake and the little girl. Though it seemed like a lifetime, and for some it was, it really took just a few seconds for Jake to low-crawl out of the carnage, dragging Gracie through the doorway to relative safety in the adjoining room.

Mohammed continued firing, hoping a round would find its mark. When he emptied his first magazine, he quickly slammed in a second, releasing the slide and chambering a new round, to continue the battle.

Trey heard the first gunshots through the transmitter taped to Jake’s leg, two floors above. He glanced at his watch — noted that it was two minutes before eight — and pulled the fire alarm, activating the sprinkler system throughout the hotel and automatically alerting the fire and police departments. Then Trey and Brian raced upstairs into the madness.

As they ran to the sound of the gunfire, high-pressure water from the sprinkler system sprayed in their faces, nearly blinding them. They could hear shots mixed with screams and moans, some trailing off into mere whimpers. Lives were being wasted and the two agents could only hope Jake and the kidnap victims weren’t part of the bloodbath.

Jake pushed Gracie beneath the bed in their new refuge and crawled toward the open doorway, his Glock at a suppressed firing position. He did a quick peek around the door frame and saw Kareem was down, as were Rostam, Yeong, and two of Yeong’s men. The weakening cries of Jenny and Candy flooded the room; both were on the floor, their weapons as empty as their lives.

Mohammed got off a shot just after Jake retreated behind the door. The door frame splintered, the round mere inches from finding its mark. Jake waited a prolonged three count, then took a second look and fired one shot just as Mohammed rose from behind the arm of the couch. The economy of a well-placed round was evident. Jake’s aim was perfect. The terrorist cell leader’s head pitched backward. He collapsed, his skull split open by the slug, his brains leaking onto the worn carpet. By the time he hit the floor he had already joined the others in the dead pool.

One of Yeong’s men retreated down the hallway. He was immediately met by Trey and Brian coming up the stairs.

A ragged chorus of “Freeze, FBI!” rang out but the gunman continued, raising his weapon to engage the two agents.

Brian, no stranger to urban combat, dropped to one knee and fired a three-round burst; each one on target. Yeong’s henchman was dead before he hit the floor, without getting off a shot at the approaching agents.

“Trey, Brian, they’re all down in here!” shouted Jake, knowing it’s not over until the enemy is neutralized.

“The hallway’s clear!” hollered Trey.

The entire violent confrontation had taken less than two minutes.

Trey and Brian ran into the room, weapons at the ready. Seeing only bodies, Trey shouted, “Jake, we’re in! Jake!”

“Roger, coming in,” Jake responded from the adjoining room. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you; my ears are still ringing.”

The three agents immediately began collecting weapons before administering any aid. Jenny, the only one of the assailants left alive, quickly drew her last breath and joined Candy, Kareem, Mohammed, Rostam, Yeong, and his three associates.

With Trey and Brian securing the room, Jake ran back to Gracie, who was sobbing, scared, and confused. He grabbed her in his arms and held her tight, trying to comfort another innocent victim of evil.