Chapter Fourteen

Finally, that mother fucker, Faas, had returned. The bastard and his guards had ghosted from the Apogee. Anubis worked what information he had and leveraged a few favors from Bengal using the HR number he'd supplied. Faas had taken a whirl-wind trip to three different cities in the United States. Baltimore, Chicago, and Dallas. Unofficially, Guardian was tracking his movements because he'd been placed on Shadow's scope of vision. Officially, Bengal's woman along with all the other assets Guardian could muster were working to build a case against the bastard and bring him down. There was no chatter on the contract out on him, Sky and Kadey. It seemed the word had spread taking Faas's business would be a mistake a person wouldn't live through. He'd used the time Faas was out of town to visit Arnie, old buddy, old pal. A smile tugged at his lips. The memory of the man pissing his bed when Anubis woke him up in the middle of the night was something neither of them would soon forget. Good ole Trey. What a joke. The bastard was walking the straight and narrow now, and Anubis planned to make sure he didn't stray an inch. Sky would never have to worry about that fucker coming back into her life.

Anubis looked up at the old limestone façade. He'd cased the hotel five times with five different disguises, and spent countless hours over the last two days watching, waiting and learning. It took perseverance, but Anubis finally tracked down the limo company that Faas had contracted. Hacking the company's database to ascertain Faas's schedule was child's play for someone like Bengal's woman, but Anubis wasn't a computer expert, so he went after the information the old fashioned way.

He waited outside the limo company in his very ordinary later model Nissan. Parked across the street, he watched the expensive cars come and go. The car he waited for pulled into the fenced lot as the sun was setting. A telephoto lens aimed at the driver identified his mark. Anubis positioned an audio enhancer and turned on the device. He'd bought it online and had delivered overnight. The power of the American consumer who wanted access to everything, right now, and oh, by the way, screw the fact that what you were buying was made for only one thing-to breach a person's privacy. The small warning on the manufactures website that cautioned a person to use the listening devices, trackers, and other equipment on sale within the confines of the law really worked. Placing the cheap earbud into his ear, he zeroed in on his target-Faas's limo driver.

Another driver came up beside his target. "Hey man. Good day?"

"No, the fucker I pulled is a total ass." That was Faas's driver. Well, good to know the man was a decent judge of character. There was static every time a car idled by in front of his vehicle, and he lost the conversation for a hot second when a semi pulled past.

"Hector's for a cold one?" Anubis sat up and pushed the ear bud in trying to hear more.

"I don't know man. I'm beat." Faas's driver said.

"…only one…forget the asshole…"

Anubis lost the comms but saw his man nod and pulled the small parabolic dish down. He palmed his phone and did what anyone else in the world would do. GTS baby. He Googled That Shit. Finding the most likely establishment in the local area with Hector's in the name, Anubis headed out.

The bar wasn't a dive, but it wasn't a high class joint either. Anubis reached into the back seat and grabbed a ratty old San Francisco 49er's hat, a beaten up leather coat and his cash stash. He filled his wallet and locked the car after grabbing the equipment he needed.

He opened the thick wooden door and ambled into the dark interior. He straddled a stool and waited for the bartender. She made her way down to him and smiled. "Hiya. You're new. What can I get you?"

One glance behind the bar, and a real smile lit his face. "I'd like a bottle of your best IPA and give me a can of pistachios and a can of trail mix." The little display held a prominent position behind the bartender.

"You know you can have our bar mix, no charge?" She reached into the cooler and grabbed a local IPA. Anubis watched carefully as she opened the bottle and sat it in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm kinda addicted to that brand." Anubis tipped his head toward the display again.

"Hey, it's your dime." She turned around, and Anubis wiped the mouth of the bottle with a napkin he pulled from the middle of one of the small stacks that sat at intervals down the dark wood of the bar.

She dropped down the two cans. "That will be seven dollars each for the nuts. The beer is six. So twenty."

Anubis pulled his wallet out and fished out a fifty. "Start a tab for me?"

"You got it, sweets." The bartender took his money folded it lengthwise and laid it on a ticket where she annotated his order. Talk about old school. No computer inventory or point of sale system. Anubis studied the cans, and satisfied they hadn't been tampered with, he opened them and popped a handful into his mouth washing it down with the surprisingly strong and slightly bitter IPA. It was damn near perfect.

He'd almost finished his snack when Faas's driver and another man walked into the establishment.

"Hey, Karen." Faas's driver called out as they sat down a couple stools over from Anubis.

"The usual, guys?" The bartender called from the far end of the bar.

Regulars. That would mean they would know he wasn't.

"Yeah and a bowl of bar mix."

"Like I don't keep you two fed." Karen quipped from the far end of the bar.

"I'm telling you, Massey was a dick to stick me with this guy, man. He knows I can't handle cigarette smoke." Faas's driver sat with his elbows on the bar and ran his fingers through his hair. "I picked him up this morning and did what we always do, ya know? I trot around to the door to open it and introduce myself. I'll give you ten bucks if you can guess what the fucker said."

Karen placed a large bowl of bar mix down in front of the men along with two domestic brews. She popped the top and grabbed their credit cards.

"Tab?"

"No."

"Yes."

They spoke at the same time and then looked at each other and laughed. "Okay, yes. I need to forget today." Faas's driver was a young kid. Maybe mid twenties and Karen winked at him making him blush.

"That's my man, Jamie."

Karen shook her head and placed the cards, number side down on two tickets jotting down what they'd purchased. Anubis filed the driver's name away. Jamie.

"Seriously, guess what the fucker said?" Jamie downed half his bottle in a single draw.

"Ummm… Good morning?"

"No. Try, 'I don't give a fuck who you are. You are being paid to drive this car. My bodyguards will open my doors. Now get the fuck out of my face.'"

"You're shitting me?"

"Nah man, I'm not. And like I told you on the way over, the fucker's smoking in the car even after I told him it was against company policy."

"Did you tell Massey?"

"Yeah, he's giving me the Lincoln tomorrow."

"The one with the separate rear ventilation system?"

"Yeah, I can at least breathe. I had to shower at work because I smelled like a fucking ashtray. I guess this guy is somebody with enough scratch that the company won't mind the cleaning charges."

"Do you have him again tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"You need another beer, or twenty."

Anubis turned in his seat. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear. Let me buy the next round. Call it a sympathetic gesture. I'm in sales and dicks like the guy you describe make my life miserable."

"Fuckin'-A, man. We're just trying to make a living." That came from the other driver. Jamie nodded his head in agreement.

"Karen, a round for all of us, on my tab." Anubis gestured toward Jamie and…

"Name's Rick." Anubis held out his hand as Jamie introduced them.

"Jamie and this here is Don."

"Pleased to meet you."

"You from around here?" Jamie glanced at the Niner's hat.

"Nah, love the team, though. Grew up watching Montana and Young."

"The glory days." Dan held up the beer Karen had placed in front of him.

"Amen." Anubis echoed and handed Karen another fifty as she placed his beer in front of him. She raised her eyebrow at him and dropped the money on top of the fifty he'd already ponied up.

Anubis had most of the information he needed, except what time Jamie was picking up Faas tomorrow. They discussed football, politics and made their way through three more rounds before Jamie pushed his empty away. "Guys, it's been real, but I have to pick up the douche bag at two sharp," He cleared his throat and mimicked Faas's accent, albeit poorly, as he spoke, "I will be at the west side entrance at exactly two p.m. If you are not there, I will have your job." Jamie groaned as Don and Anubis laughed at his mimicry. "Fuck, and I have to detail the Mercedes for Jenkins because I lost a bet… so as much as I would like to have another one, I'm tapping out."

Don threw in the towel, too, leaving with his friend. Anubis said goodnight and watched as they left. He leaned on the bar and took a drink of his beer. Jamie was a good kid. He hoped that rear ventilation system worked well.

Anubis walked down the busy San Francisco sidewalk. The normal hum of the city ebbed and flowed around him. He kept his eyes forward as he shuffled past the entrance to the hotel. His hair was now auburn, and he'd fashioned a disheveled Mohawk with some cheap gel. His ripped jeans displayed the stains he'd engineered. The chains that hung from his belt slapped his thighs and made a distinct counter sound to the stumbling step of his unlaced combat boots. The old, tattered leather bomber jacket he wore kept the cold, wet San Francisco weather from reaching him. The lead lining of the right pocket also kept his own weapon from killing him. Anubis shrugged the filthy backpack he carried by one strap back up onto his shoulder.

He turned the corner and walked down to the middle of the block. A side entrance to the hotel was located about five feet from where he took up residency. Anubis leaned against the building pulling one leg up and resting it against the wall. A half smoked cigarette from his left pocket made its way to his lips. His eyes roamed up and down the block, casually taking in every scrap of information revealed to him. Housed in an old building, Apogee appeared to be an easy mark, but the security installed by the new owners was impressive

He watched as Jamie drove by. The long grey Lincoln pulled up to the curb and parked. Anubis ran the gambit of what events could transpire in the next three hundred and sixty seconds. Granted, Anubis's preferred method of assassination was poison, but he was deadly with any weapon and today he hid that weaponry in plain sight. His garrote looped from his belt amongst the chains, and he'd tucked his three guns in his clothing, one behind his back, one inside his unlaced combat boot, and one under his arm in a shoulder holster. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to use them today. He hated counting on luck, but for this bastard, only the worst kind of death would suffice. If this event didn't work, he'd find the son of a bitch again and slit his throat.

His nose burned with the smell of alcohol. He glanced at his watch and lit the half-smoked cigarette. The stench of the alcohol he'd splashed on himself this morning swirled with the smoke that he exhaled from his lungs. He hadn't showered or brushed his teeth. He'd calculated his bedraggled appearance to project an intentional misrepresentation of his economic status and physical condition. He prayed the fucker, Faas, was the sadistic, greedy bastard his dossier and Jamie depicted.

Anubis reached into his lead lined pocket and palmed the pack of cigarettes with his lead lined glove. Faas was a chain smoker, and he was addicted to a cheap brand of American cigarettes. You'd think that a person with a medical degree would know better. Obviously, some people felt they could defy the odds.

The door beside him opened and Anubis made his move. He bounced off the wall and stumbled down the sidewalk colliding with Faas's bodyguards.

"Fuck, man… why don't you watch where you're going? Do you think you own the fucking sidewalk?" Anubis pushed one of Faas's bodyguards off him dropping his pack of cigarettes as he did. The bodyguard shoved him backward into the limo. Anubis made a showing of sliding down the side of the car. "Fuckers made me drop my smokes." He leaned forward and reached for his cigarettes. A foot stepped on his hand, grinding it under an expensive Italian leather shoe. Anubis hissed and reached for the foot in a pathetic attempt to move it off his hand. He watched Faas bend down and retrieve the pack of cigarettes.

"Hey… give me back my smokes, man. You can't take them, they're expensive! I ain't got any money to get more."

Anubis watched as Faas shook out a cigarette and put it to his lips. "Fucking gutter scum." Faas spoke the words in his native Dutch. Anubis moved his hand in a futile attempt to get to the cigarette pack. The bastard brought out a gold lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette inhaling deeply. Anubis ceased his struggling and swallowed a triumphant smile. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. As soon as Faas took a pull off that cigarette, he'd killed himself. The bastard just ingested a lung full of Polonium 210 and that radioactive shit sealed the fucker's fate. Faas was dead. He just didn't know it yet.

The bastard pocketed the rest of the pack and purposefully used all his weight to tread over Anubis's hand. The position of his hand under the fucker's weight was awkward, and the pressure pulled a true grimace from him. "Asshole, you broke my hand!" Anubis let spittle hang from his lips, hopefully enhancing his already disgusting appearance. Faas laughed at his anguished outcry and took another deep pull from the cigarette as he waited for the first bodyguard to open the limo door for him. The second bodyguard kicked Anubis in the ribs as Faas entered the limo and once again attempted to kick him in the head, but Anubis rolled just in time to cause the fucker to miss. The man spat on him. Anubis let it run down his cheek as he laid on the sidewalk and grinned as he watched the limo pull out into traffic.

"Hey, I'm calling the cops if you don't get up and get out of here. We don't want any trouble. Go get your drunk on somewhere else."

Anubis glanced over at the uniformed door attendant. He raised an eyebrow at the man and vaulted to his feet, wiping the fucker's spit off his face as he did. "Not a problem, I'm done here." Anubis's cultured voice accompanied a jaunty salute in the attendant's direction. He tucked his right hand into his pocket and headed down the sidewalk. Now to get to Suriname, because he was going to have a conversation with a dead man.

Anubis stopped long enough to reach into his boot and grab his cell phone. He palmed it and pressed in the numbers. Asp had called him twice in the last three days. The phone rang once before the man answered.

"Go."

"Your ass in trouble?" Anubis asked without preamble.

"Nope, going fucking stir crazy."

"I'm heading out of the country." Anubis smiled at the thought.

"Out of the country?" There was a long pause, so much so that Anubis looked at the face of the phone to ensure the call hadn't dropped.

"Where and when?"

Asp offering back up was unusual, but not unheard of, especially if the man was on medical leave. "Paramaribo, Suriname. Two days."

"Rally point?"

Anubis thought for a moment. "Café Suriname. 2100 hrs."

"Roger that."

Anubis hit the button ending the call and thumbed the back of his phone opening the battery compartment. He popped the battery out, and flipped it into the street. The sim card pulled out easily, and it snapped in half with minimal pressure. He chucked the phone in the next trashcan, scattering the sim card as he walked. The long trip back to his hourly rate hotel room was a necessary precaution. About a block away from the hotel, he ditched his modified jacket underneath several plastic bags about halfway down in a dumpster that over flowed with rancid waste. The trace amounts of radiation would dissipate quickly, but he didn't need to endanger anyone who might pick it out of the trash and put their hand in the pocket without wearing lead lined gloves. He took off his gloves and shoved them into the fetid mess with the leather jacket before he pushed his filthy, odorous hands into his jean pockets and headed to his room.