Page 66 of Stone Coast (Tyson Wild Thriller)
I felt bad about leaving, but Tyson was going to be okay.
Under normal circumstances, I would have stayed with him.
But there was nothing normal about our circumstances.
The less he knew, the better. I certainly didn't want him getting involved in this.
I had already pulled him in too deep, risking his career, his reputation, and his life.
I took the Porsche up to Pineapple Bay. I showed up at Olivia’s door in the late afternoon. She looked at me with bug eyes when she pulled open the door to her apartment. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you. You haven't been returning my calls or texts."
I frowned. "I know. Sorry. It's been kind of crazy.”
She stepped aside and invited me in. "What are you wearing?"
I was still dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, with a rat’s nest for hair .
"It's a long story. Mind if I borrow some clothes and get cleaned up?”
"What's mine is yours, you know that.”
I smiled and gave her a hug. "You're the best."
"Girl, you know I've always got your back."
"I know.”
We broke apart, and she said, "Make yourself at home. I've gotta run out about 7:30 PM. Dinner date.”
"Oooh, sounds exciting!”
Olivia had a devious smirk on her plump lips. "We'll see."
"You mind if I crash here tonight?"
"Take the guest bedroom. But it might get a little rowdy later.”
I laughed. "I can handle rowdy.”
Her eyes surveyed me. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. I just have some things to take care of."
Her curious gaze persisted.
"Don't ask," I said.
"Okay. You sure have gotten secretive. This new Savannah is much more intriguing than the old.”
I laughed. If she only knew. “It's been a long night. I'm gonna take a power nap and try to pull myself together."
"Go right ahead. ”
I stumbled off to the guest room, texted Xzavier, and asked him for a favor. Then I put the phone on do not disturb, fell onto the bed, and closed my eyes for a minute.
When I opened them again, it was dark.
Olivia had left for her date. A note on the counter advised me not to do anything that she wouldn't do. I didn't think Olivia was capable of assassinating a CIA officer, so I would have to ignore her advice. She had left a key along with the note.
I showered, got dressed, and raided her wardrobe.
There were a few calls and texts from Tyson. I felt bad about not getting back to him, but I needed to handle this on my own. I needed to insulate him from any repercussions.
Xzavier had texted me back. [I have the items you requested.]
[Fantastic. Where can I pick them up?]
[There’s a coffee shop around the corner from you. The Bay Beanery. Meet me there in 20 minutes.]
[How do you know where I am?]
He responded with a wink emoji.
I gathered myself, locked the apartment, and drove to the coffee shop.
It was an eclectic little place with plenty of cozy couches and chairs to get lost in.
The perfect spot to read a book or sip hot java.
Chill music filtered through speakers, and the sound of the espresso machine filled the air.
The smell of gourmet coffee and fresh pastries swirled.
The back porch had a nice view of a marina.
Xzavier sat in a booth at the back .
I joined him and slid across the bench seat.
“I probably shouldn’t ask what you intend to do with this,” Xzavier said.
“It’s probably best if you don’t know.”
He smiled. “Want some help?”
It seemed Xzavier was always up for a challenge.
“No sense in getting involved in this. It could end badly.”
“Think positive,” he said.
I’d have a more positive attitude if Ross was dead.
“You might find this interesting,” Xzavier said.
“It looks like Dirk Langston hired two thugs to kill his wife. He made a large cash withdrawal in the days before her death. There are phone calls and texts to a burner. That burner pops up on the grid in an apartment in Bayshore Heights. That apartment is leased to Eddie Rodriguez,” he continued.
“The guy’s a gangbanger and has a host of prior arrests. Won’t be hard to make a case.”
“How will you handle it?”
Xzavier shrugged. “Hand the information over to the authorities and let them take it from there. If that fails, we do what we do. That’s how it works. I bring it up because I don’t think Alec Stratton is responsible for the attempts on your life. But I think you already know that.”
I nodded.
“I suspect you’re going to take care of that problem tonight,” he said .
“It seems I’m back in the problem-solving business.”
His eyes narrowed with curiosity.
“I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”
“I look forward to it.” He smiled. “I’ll leave my backpack behind. Inside, you’ll find everything you requested. Completely untraceable.”
“Thank you.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Are you sure you don’t want help?”
“This is all the help I need. I’m not involving anyone else in this. I’m taking care of it my way.”
He started to leave, then hesitated. “I really do think you’d be an incredible asset to our organization. I suspect after you take care of your business, you’ll have a clearer head. You can let me know your decision in a few days.”
Xzavier slid out of the booth. After he had left the coffee shop, I moved to the other side of the table, grabbed the backpack, and peered inside.
There were two weapons—a black 9mm pistol with suppressor and plenty of ammunition, along with a modular SK-7 Specter Sniper Rifle.
It was a state-of-the-art weapon that broke down into five components.
The barrel, receiver, stock, optics, and suppressor could all be assembled in under 90 seconds, with no tools required.
The barrel was a titanium alloy wrapped in carbon fiber.
The receiver was made from a reinforced composite polymer.
The collapsible stock had an adjustable carbon fiber frame with a recoil-absorbing gel pad.
At 6.7 pounds, it was light and capable, firing 7.
62 mm NATO rounds. With a thermal scope and laser rangefinder, it was a killing machine.
Xzavier also included a pair of nitrile gloves.
He had thought of everything.
By his tone, I could tell this was the last bit of free help he would give me unless I decided to join his organization.
He’d gone above and beyond, and I suspected that was all in an attempt to make me feel like I owed him something.
How could I possibly say no after such generosity?
Maybe it was a tactic, maybe it wasn't. But I did get the sense that Xzavier genuinely cared for his team members.
They were a tight-knit family that would do anything for each other.
I left the coffee shop, climbed into the Porsche, and drove across the island to Windswept Harbor. With bits of my memory intact, I remembered an abandoned fishing trawler the Company used as a black site for interrogations and detainees. Silent Catch.
I parked the Porsche in the lot, climbed out, and hustled down the dock. I climbed a chain-link fence that surrounded an abandoned warehouse, not far from the vessel. From the rooftop, I would have a perfect line of sight to the old fishing trawler and the dock.
The red brick building had been tagged with graffiti.
The windows were broken out, and doors pried apart.
Bubbling with rust, the hinges squealed as I pulled the door open and stepped into the dark warehouse.
I spiraled up the staircase to the fourth floor, then climbed an access ladder that led to a hatch that opened to the roof .
From there, I crawled across the asphalt roofing to the parapet and assembled the sniper rifle.
The stars flickered overhead, and the moon presided over my mission of doom. A few clouds drifted on the breeze.
The weapon clicked into place with a satisfying clunk. It was a process I had done thousands of times before.
The weapon was light and perfectly balanced. I swung it over the edge of the parapet and took aim at the dock through the thermal scope. It felt good against my shoulder—way better than it should have. I was no stranger to this kind of thing, and the memories were all coming back to me.
Pineapple Bay and Coconut Key were major hubs for narcotics and weapons trafficking, along with human trafficking.
The agency had used the location to track and monitor underground networks and develop assets involved in the smuggling trade.
It also gave them an opportunity to exploit black market economies for off-the-books funding.
If you needed $100 million dollars to topple a regime in a Third World country and instill a new political puppet, it wouldn't be hard to move dope through the Keys and generate funds—all under the guise of national security.
It gave them the opportunity to recruit all kinds of unsavory characters in the trade and use them as intelligence assets.
The memories flooded back. To be honest, I think I was happier without knowing the truth. I was learning a lot about myself.
I decided to confront this head-on and called Ross. He picked up after a few rings .
"Hey, it's me," I said.
"Savannah? I’ve been worried sick about you. We lost track of you.”
"I had to go dark there for a minute."
"Is everything okay?”
"Yes, I'm fine. I need to talk. But not over an open channel. This device is not secure.”
"Okay.”
“Meet me at the Windswept Marina.”
“Why there?"
"I don't know," I said. "It feels familiar."
"Your memory is coming back.”
“Bits and pieces, but I have questions. You're the only one I trust," I said. It may have been too much.
"What about Tyson?"
"We don't see eye to eye on some things. Besides, he's out of the picture."
"I heard he was attacked last night on his boat. Were you with him?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who is responsible?”
"I haven't been able to ID the assailant. But I’m hoping you can help me with that. ”
"Certainly. I'll do anything I can. Doesn't Tyson have intelligence contacts with Cobra Company?”
Ross was suspicious. I didn't blame him. He knew damn well who the assailant was, and he knew I’d be able to figure it out, if I hadn’t already.
"His contact has been out of touch,” I said.
"That's odd.”
"In the last few days, multiple people have tried to kill me. I need to know who my friends are.”
“Do you think I’m your friend?”
“If you’re not my friend, I’m in big trouble.”
“You can say that again.”
“I’ll be at the Silent Catch for the next half hour,” I said. “Then I’m going dark. For good.”
If I knew Ross, I’d be too tempting of a target to pass up. And this time, he’d want to see me dead with his own eyes.