Brody Kinney’s head throbbed something fierce from all of the goddamn squinting he’d been doing. This was definitely a three-Excedrin headache. He fished around in the cargo pocket of his pants for the small bottle of migraine relief medicine and shook three pills out into his hand. Short on water and fresh out of patience, he chewed the caplets so that the medicine could work its way into his system faster.
Cupping a hand over his brow to block out the fierce glare of the relentless Floridian sun, he scanned everything in his field of view. He stood uncomfortably on the hot pavement near the main entrance to Bay Lake Tower—purposely far from the welcoming shade of the large portico, where his continued presence would be easily noticed. His usual strain of bad luck had caused his sunglasses to fall from his face and into the dark waters of the Seven Seas Lagoon earlier in the day when he’d bounced over another boat’s wake while using one of the Sea Raycers to zip around the lake.
He’d sped around the lake aimlessly for the half-hour he’d paid for. He’d made up a halfhearted excuse about wanting to survey the land with his own eyes and he’d fed the boss some bullshit along the lines of: “I never rely on technology; I only trust what I can see.” The entire thing was fabricated. In reality, he relied on technology most of the time; he trusted it more than his own eyes. Fortunately, the boss had been strangely distracted and had waved him off without objection. The old man seemed distant, as if something had been on his mind—but Brody was paid far too well to pry.
Regardless of his boss’s mental state, he was still furious that all of the squinting he’d been doing had given him a seriously bad fucking headache, and he’d been wasting his time standing in the sun all day for no real reason. The boss must have been punishing him for his mishandling of the situation the previous night. How was he supposed to know that Walker would be able to see through their cover? Brody wasn’t a goddamned Jedi. He couldn’t just wave his hand and make the detective forget. Walker was a smart little fucker. He didn’t waste any time in figuring out who they really were. Brody and Brent had played their parts well, but it just wasn’t good enough.
Next time I see that asshole detective, I’m going to beat him to death with my bare hands.
All day, he’d wished agonizing death upon the clever detective for making him look bad in front of the boss. After all, this guy was the reason Chaos Squad was here in the first place. Brody wished that the detective would magically materialize before him so he could break the little fuck’s teeth out of his stupid skull.
Brody may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was fully aware of this and he embraced it. Fortunately, people didn’t hire guys like Brody Kinney for their massive intellect; they hired guys like him for their ruthlessness, their muscle and their confirmed kill counts.
Brody was in his early forties, his age bolstering his abilities with a wealth of brutal experience. For almost two decades he’d made a living out of conflict, shipping off to wherever the fighting became too much to handle for the average foot soldier. Brody may have been the hammer of God with a firearm, but he was an absolutely unstoppable killing machine in hand-to-hand combat. Anyone could kill with a bullet, but few had the prowess to overcome an armed and trained opponent using nothing but hands and feet. He longed to pit himself against the detective. Walker was fit and capable, but he was still just a detective—a puzzle solver, not a fighter. Brody Kinney, on the other hand, was a machine, conditioned and programmed to kill efficiently and without remorse.
Just as he was fading into his fourteenth consecutive daydream about beating Walker into a thick red paste, his cell phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, he instantly answered. It was the boss calling—and nobody ignores the boss, no matter how tough they are.
“Kinney,” Brody answered.
“Kinney, recall your team immediately,” ordered Holloway. “Meet me in my villa in thirty minutes. There have been new developments that we need to discuss and there are plans that must be made. We may have been compromised.”
Compromised? But how?
This was unbelievable. Walker was clearly smart, but how in the world could one man compromise the cover of an entire highly trained unit? That kind of thinking was above Brody’s pay grade, yet he couldn’t help but wonder. Still, he held his tongue and remained calm.
“Affirmative,” was all he said, when he wanted to say: Compromised? What the hell are you talking about? You said this was going to be easy.
Holloway disconnected the call instantly and left Brody alone with his thoughts. Refusing to waste time with inefficient and fruitless thinking, Brody contacted his team using a secure communications channel. Tapping the small button on his earpiece that would connect him to the other eleven men, he spoke.
“Hi kids, it’s Dad. Grandfather has requested a family reunion ASAP. Put in your two-weeks’ notice and catch the nearest ride to the estate.”
Affirmatives all around. Chaos Squad was efficient, brutal and ruthless yet still retained a healthy respect for the chain of command. When Brody spoke, they listened and acted. As light and absurd as their call-signs and radio chatter were, they took their work very seriously with responses as quick and professional as possible. Brody said nothing else, expecting each of his men to follow their orders and report back.
Hand once more raised to his brow, Brody turned his gaze toward the upper floors of the Tower. Scanning the windows absently, he pondered what the meaning of this recall could possibly be. Beginning his walk inside, his mind raced with possibilities.
•••
Brody was the first member of Chaos Squad to arrive, being the closest to the building when the recall order was given, and he entered his boss’s villa while the old man was fastening the buttons on what appeared to be a new shirt.
“Hello, Kinney. Please, have a seat,” Holloway said, motioning to a high-backed chair at the dining table. “Since you’re here ahead of the others, I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment before they arrive.”
Brody nodded and made his way toward the proffered seat, noticing as he did so that one of the window sections in the great glass wall was severely cracked; the remnants of a glass bottle lay nearby in a puddle of dark liquid. He smelled alcohol.
What the hell happened in here?
Taking a seat, Brody sat with his practiced ramrod-straight posture and looked toward his boss, eagerly awaiting whatever it was that the old man had to say.
Sighing, Holloway placed his palms on the table and kept his head down while he spoke.
“We have a very serious problem, Mr. Kinney,” he stated, his voice still a bit strange.
“How serious?” Brody asked.
A pause. Holloway took a sip from a mug of coffee sitting on the table in front of him
“My daughter,” Holloway stated.
“The Fed?”
“Central Intelligence,” Holloway corrected.
“What about her?”
Holloway looked up, his eyes narrowing as if the light hurt them.
“She’s here.”
Brody scowled. “Now we’ve got the Company to deal with—on top of Walker?” he asked, mildly annoyed.
“Not on top of—in conjunction with,” Holloway corrected again. “She has come to the aid of the detective, and she has brought a team along with her. I do not currently know the size of their force. So, not only do we face Detective Walker but my daughter and her confederates, as well.”
Brody thought about this for a moment—the girl’s presence certainly did complicate matters, but they still had cards left to play.
“Well, we’ve still got Walker’s family,” Brody offered. “And the bomb.”
“Not really,” Holloway countered. “We can’t execute the family or detonate the bomb. Those are the only reasons Company agents haven’t stormed this room already.”
“Let them come,” Brody challenged, his words laced with bravado. “Chaos will destroy them.”
“You have good intentions, but you’re failing to think. My daughter and Detective Walker are two of the most fiercely intelligent people on the planet, rivaled only by myself. No amount of muscle can stop them, should they wish to eliminate us. The mind is a dangerous weapon, Kinney. Never underestimate it.”
Brody’s hands clenched into fists as he leaned forward in his seat, gritting his teeth. He respected Holloway, but did the old man really think some egghead could outthink a bullet to the face? It was absurd. Charlie Walker was a human being, not some deity; he could—and would—be killed.
“Boss, just let me take out Walker. I could do it in no time at all.”
“Sadly, Jeremy thought the exact same thing—and attempted to do so against my wishes. He is no longer breathing.” Brody’s surprise must have immediately shown on his face. Holloway arched an eyebrow at him.
For the first time, Brody began to feel a bit of apprehension at the thought of facing Walker. Brody had seen Jeremy in action and, while not a military man, the kid had top-notch abilities. Jeremy O’Neill had been a world-class combatant and if he had failed while trying to eliminate Walker, then perhaps Brody was dangerously underestimating the detective’s abilities. Brody had no doubt that he was the more highly skilled fighter, and therefore could succeed where Jeremy could not, but he still had a newfound grudging respect for the detective and he took a mental note not to underestimate him again.
“So, what’s the plan?” Brody asked.
“The plan is to wait for the rest of the team. However, I wanted to run over a few things with you before they arrive.”
“Shoot.”
“The coming hours are certain to test Chaos Squad to their limits. It’s a definite possibility that there may be casualties on our side. Are you willing to accept this?”
“I never accept casualties on my side, but I am prepared for the worst—if that counts for anything.”
“A well-spoken answer,” Holloway said, thoughtfully. “Truth is: we are facing an enemy unlike any we have crossed swords with before. With Victoria and Walker at the helm, even a small team of trained operatives can deal heavy damage to our organization.” Holloway looked somber, but still spoke with hope.
“Are you trying to tell me that a cop, a half-assed spy and a team of Company muscle can stand a chance against Chaos Squad?” Brody asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. Understand this, Kinney: if you do not abandon your ego, it will be the death of you and your team. I understand the need for confidence in your line of work, but an overinflated ego can only be detrimental to your success. Assuming you have won any battle before you’ve begun to fight is the surest way to fail.”
Still irritated, Brody sat in silence for a few moments, thinking about the implications of what his boss was telling him. His team had been together, training and operating, for nearly two decades. In that time, they’d never lost a man and they’d always come out on top. It was tough for Brody to ignore eighteen years of constant successes—successes that were a direct result of his team’s training and hard work.
“Then what do you suggest I do?” he asked.
“I suggest you go about this differently. Smarter. Brute force alone cannot win this for us. We must think, and then act.”
The sound of the door opening drew their attention and they watched as the other members of Chaos Squad entered the room. Brody caught Masters’ eye and told his old friend everything he needed to know with one look: the situation is bad—get pissed. Brody eagerly awaited Holloway’s reveal as the remainder of his team found various seats throughout the villa.
When everyone was settled in, Holloway cleared his throat and began.
“Gentleman, thank you for making such excellent time in arriving. I’ve called you here due to some unfortunate developments that I regrettably must inform you of.”
Holloway went on to explain the circumstances surrounding Jeremy’s death, as well as the news about Victoria’s presence and the threat she presented. Eventually, he’d filled Chaos Squad in on all of the recent developments.
“This brings us to our course of action,” Holloway began, taking a seat and gazing at his mercenaries. “As I’ve already explained to Mr. Kinney, a brute force assault will be exactly what they’re expecting. We must fight their cunning with an equal amount of guile.
“It is not my intention to offend, but I feel as if you’ve all been with me long enough to know that I do not insult. I merely deal in pure facts. The fact of the matter is that Victoria is more intelligent and resourceful than any man in this room, save myself. Detective Walker—even more so. The threat that these two present is very real.”
One of the men on Brody’s team, Purefoy, spoke up during this pause. “What’s the big deal? We’re in good shape. We have Walker’s wife and kids. We own him.”
“Is that what you think? Do you have children, Mr. Purefoy? A wife? Anything?” Holloway goaded.
“No, sir.”
“Then you do not understand what it is to have your family taken from you. I admit that I also do not fully understand the emotional attachment that a man has to his family, but I have studied the human condition long enough to know that a protective father is as dangerous as any cornered animal. We cannot wait him out—Detective Walker will not simply give up and go home. He will pursue us until his family is safe or until he is dead. All of you know that Walker killed my son, but do any of you know why?”
Heads shook all around.
“Walker put himself between my son and the woman that he was about to murder. The detective took a bullet in his throat and nearly died to protect a perfect stranger. Can you fathom, now, what he would be willing to do to protect his wife and children? Gentlemen, our bargaining chips have now become our greatest threat.”
“Why don’t we just let the wife and kids go?” asked another merc.
“A reasonable idea, but they are still our bargaining chips—the Company team would assault our location the moment they confirmed the Walker women were safe. His family is both the reason we have yet to be attacked and the reason that we are certain to be—if that makes any sense. Victoria and Walker will come for them, have no doubt in your minds, but the detective is clever, and he will surely have a strong plan. This is the reason why we must think, and then act.”
Brody spoke up, losing his patience for his boss’s theatrics. He was ready to finally confront the detective.
“So, what is our plan?” he asked.
Finally, Holloway laid out his plan.
The old man had really thought of everything.