Gator
Wednesday, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
Davidson followed the host out the back to the covered terrace. The two were alone. But Gator, looking through the window in the door, saw a single table set for four, Obviously, the patio had been reserved for the meeting. Gator pushed into the corner as the host made his way back inside. Then Gator positioned himself so he had a clear view of front and back of the restaurant.
Davidson sat facing away from the door, looking out over the park. He must be used to taking the beta seat, Gator thought. His personal protection team probably insisted on the positions that gave them the view of the room and the exits. Davidson probably didn’t realize how his seating choice might put him in danger. Gator turned and watched through the front window as Davidson’s chauffeur crossed the sidewalk. Gator pushed through the exit to the terrace. He let the door snick closed, then he lifted a metal pole they used to extend the awning and stuck it into the door handle, rendering this door useless until he removed it.
A car screamed to a stop on the road, five feet below them. Gator stood on his toes and looked over the rail, it wasn’t Blaze. He didn’t think it would be.
“Here we go. Incoming.” Gator whispered into his phone from the shadows. Davidson, didn’t notice anything awry.
“Roger. I’m pulling up now.”
Four men bounded up the hill, grabbed hold of the railing and swung their legs over the side. Davidson didn’t have a clue. He was caught up with whatever he was looking at on his phone.
Gator waited in the door frame for the move that would make Davidson feel fear — the thing that would make his adrenaline surge, the heart-stopping moment when he would believe with every fiber that his life was on the line. That terror was key to mission success.
Completely engrossed, Davidson didn’t look up until the bald guy behind him slipped a quilted bag over Davidson’s head and pulled it down around his shoulders.
Davidson’s screams were muffled in the fabric.
The doorknob rattled, there was a thud as someone threw a shoulder into the door, but it held.
Blaze should be in place by now. Time to get this show on the road. Gator leapt forward. “Yo, what the heck are you doin’?”
All four men stopped for a split second while they assessed the new player. Davidson flailed ineffectually, yelling, “What is this? Help! Help! Call the police!”
“I think there’s been a mistake here. I think you all should leave,” Gator said reasonably as Davidson emerged from the sack in time to see two of the CIA operations officers, with grimaces on their faces, go after Gator. They swung, and he ducked and spun. They threw punches that he didn’t let land. Gator threw his share of soft blows. Okay one connected harder than he’d expected, but it was a slow as molasses hay maker that the guy should have shuffled back from.
Davidson was being held in a choke hold by one of the CIA who dragged him backward toward the railing when Blaze leapt into the fray. Davidson got free and ran behind Gator, tried the door, missed the fact that it had been jammed, and hid in the corner of the terrace when he couldn’t get it open.
Gator turned just as the CIA op swung a wrought iron chair at his head. Gator dropped and rolled. Whoowie, that one was close! The chair swung full force into the CIA guy’s buddy. That guy was down and was out for the count. Gator grabbed the chair guy by the collar and wrestle him back against the wall, pinning him there. “Hey, sorry about your pal, but that’s on you,” he said.
The CIA operations officer threw a hook toward Gator’s eye, Gator turned his head just in time for the guy’s knuckles to graze his cheek bone. “Dude, that’s going to leave a bruise. I think you’re getting’ yourself a little overheated.”
The man swung at him again. Gator leaned to the side and listened as the guys knuckles crunched against the cement wall. That was no play punch, this guy was out of control. Gator knew that could happen to the best of people once they got their fight adrenaline flowing. Sometimes the brain just kind of snaps. But it seemed to Gator like it was a good time to take this party to the ground. Gator dove for the guy’s knees dropping him with a football tackle and tied him into a wrestler’s knot. He bent down. “Deep breaths. Calm the shit down,” he hissed in the CIA operations officers ear. “We can make this look real without me sending you to the hospital with a broken back.” Gator held the man in place while he scanned the scene. Gator spotted Davidson cowered in the corner. Blaze was fighting two guys, the guy who got walloped by the chair, lay on the ground moaning. So alive. Iniquus may still be able to keep their contract after this stupid stunt was over.
The man under him, was screaming out things in a foreign language. Gator bent in next to the guy’s ear. “Nice touch,” he said. “But looky here, if you don’t settle down a little, I’m going to end up hurting you, and that’s not what I want to do here.”
The guy spit in Gator’s face. “That wasn’t called for. All right, I guess it’s nighty-night time.” Gator flipped the guy over and bent his arm around the guy’s neck, burrowing the bone of his forearm against the man’s carotid artery. “You’re going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. But you cain’t say I didn’t warn you.” Gator flexed his muscles, squeezing his arm in tighter. “Just a little tip for the rest of your stay here in Tanzania, though,” Gator whispered into the writhing man’s ear. “You should avoid wearing these clothes again. Blue and black attract the tsetse flies and if they bite you, you can get African Sleeping Sickness. It’s a damned sight worse than what I’m doing to you now.” With the blood flow cut off from his brain, the CIA operations officer passed out.
Gator rolled the man away and jumped to his feet. Davidson was hunkered in the corner his arms covering his head.
“Are you hurt, sir?” Gator asked, reaching out a hand toward Davidson to help him up.
“Gator!” Blaze yelled.
Gator swung around to see that his partner was being held by one of the operatives and the other was pummeling Blaze’s ribs. Blaze could easily kick this guy in the head and put his lights out. But this was supposed to be a dog and pony show. Blaze didn’t have options that wouldn’t seriously hurt the two men. If this were happening in any other operation, these guys would be toast.
Gator jumped over the downed operative. He grabbed the guy using his battle buddy as a punching bag and lifted him up by the belt and the back of his collar and tossed him over the railing. The three watched as he rolled down to the street. One lone CIA operative stood arms wide, hands open. His eyebrows stretched to his hairline as he looked between Blaze and Gator. Gator to Blaze. Over to the two men on the ground. This couldn’t have been part of the plan. They were all supposed to dust off and go home at the end of the day. If Blaze and Gator left the operatives here, the men would be arrested for attacking Davidson. No wonder the guy looked like he was in shock.
Blaze came to the same conclusion. He and Gator went over and grabbed the guy who had taken the full swing of the metal chair. He was sitting, but groggy. Gator snagged him under the armpits, Blaze grabbed his pants cuffs, and they tottered over to the rail and as gently as they could, rolled him over. They waited for a moment while he started the slow slide to the bottom. Then they went back for the second guy and repeated the toss. Before the Iniquus men could right themselves, the last man standing from the CIA’s side jumped over the rails himself and scooted down to the road to help load everyone up and hightail it out of there.
It wasn’t the fabulous movie star choreography that Gator had imagined. The whole thing was kinda spastic, to tell the truth. He was glad it wasn’t caught on tape. He hoped it hadn’t been caught on tape. His eyes scanned the area looking for cameras. None visible. Then he remembered Nutsbe had focused a satellite on them. Gator waved toward the sky then swung his head back toward Davidson. Did he buy it? That was all that mattered.
Davidson had his handkerchief out and was wiping his face when Gator slid the metal rod out of the door, so no one would wonder how the door got jammed.
Blaze had turned Davidson away from Gator’s actions and was asking him earnestly. “Sir, were you injured?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m…” He ran over to the railings and looked over. “They tried to kidnap me in broad daylight.” His face went from tomato red to ghostly gray, giving Gator a scare. He wasn’t sure about Davidson’s heart health.
“
Gator thought they should probably call in a medic to take a look at this guy.
The door burst open, and there was the food-covered Fire Hydrant and his chauffeuring buddy, hands wide, legs bent like they were going to pounce on someone. Gator had to duck his head to hide his wide grin. Man oh man, they are some kinda ridiculous.
Davidson ignored his security staff and focused on the Iniquus operatives. “Gentlemen, I am duly impressed. You came to the aid of a stranger. You fought two to one against some very strong and determined men. I am indebted to you.” He held out his hand to Gator.
When Gator grasped Davidson’s hand, emotions fought through Gator’s system. Sensations that belonged to his sixth-sense. This man had a connection to the woman Gator wanted to protect. Needed to keep safe. Yes, someone Gator must guard as though his life depended on it — like oxygen and sustenance. That was all he could cull from the sensation. “Gator Aid Rochambeau,” he said, trying to smooth over his reaction “My colleague, Blaze MacNamara, from Iniquus.”
“William Davidson.”
As soon as the man released Gator’s hand, the odd sensations subsided.
Davidson turned, reaching for Blaze’s hand. “Owner and CEO of Prime Global.”
Gator watched Blaze closely, but his battle buddy didn’t have the same reaction. Blaze didn’t take a body slam like Gator did.
Man, he wanted to have a private talk with Lynx. Gator needed a better handle on what was going on. Whoever this woman was who was hanging in his periphery, teasing his senses, riling his nerves, he wanted to meet her now. Waiting for her to show up was a constant adrenaline surge. Whatever this was, it felt dangerous as hell.