Black Onyx (11 page)

He nodded. “You know it’s okay to accept help sometimes. I’m just saying.”

“Thanks, Vu, but I’m fine. Just get me as many guys as you can.”

He shrugged. “It’s your party.”

22

Dillon sat on the edge of the
Grand Canyon as the sunlight broke over the horizon. The suit was behind him, towering over him like a giant. Jaime lay next to him, a blanket pulled over her. She was sleeping and he lightly touched her hair, feeling each individual strand. She stirred as the sun came up, illuminating her face.

Last night had been a blur. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben,
a midnight meal in Barcelona, watching the lights at the docks in Lisbon, then drinks at a nightclub in Manhattan. Jaime smiled as she woke and he smiled back. She sat up and scooted close to him. They looked at each other a moment before he leaned in and kissed her.

Her eyes were closed, her head tilted just perfectly to the side. It was exactly as he had imagined a thousand times in his head.

“What a night,” she whispered, pulling away with one more peck on his lips.

He looked out over the horizon. The sun was painting the sky purple and pink, golden rays of orange
scorching the clouds. “I have everything I could want,” he said. “I never thought I would. I thought I would have to fight my whole life. Claw for everything.”

She paused. “
James told me about your past. About your dad and how you lived on the streets most of your life. It had to be awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. You learn things on the street you can never learn in school or textbooks. You learn people, how to read them. What they want. But mostly you learn what horrors they lock up from the rest of the world. They hide who they really are and it only comes out behind closed doors.”

“I’ve always believed people can be what they choose to be. They can change from bad to good or good to bad.”

He shook his head. “Not from what I’ve seen.”

She lay her head on his shoulder. “What’re you gonna do now?”

“I think I’m going to buy a house. I’ve always wanted my own house.
On the beach, probably in Honolulu. And then I’m buying a Rolls Royce Phantom, the most expensive I can find, and I’m going to drive you around and show you off.”

She chuckled. “How bout first you come to a barbeque and meet my parents?”

“That too.”

“What’s
James gonna do without you?”

“He’ll be fine. He’s getting older and he’s sick of running around the world. I always pictured him retiring on a yacht and sailing, but I think he just wants a quiet little place where he and Niles can be alone.”

“He loves you a lot. I don’t think he would ever say it, it’s not how people from his generation are, but I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. You’re his son in every meaningful way you can be.”

He nodded. “I owe him everything. I’ve always been curious what he saw in me. I was just a little street punk who broke into his house. I don’t know why he thought he should waste his time with me.”

She took his chin and pulled his head around toward her. “Because he sees in you what I see in you. A good person who thinks he’s a bad person.”

She leaned in and kissed him, and the world disappeared.

23

El
Sacerdote sat in the back of the rented Cadillac in a white suit and watched the Hawaiian countryside. Lush greens and reds and yellows broken with the fragmented red rocks and pineapple fields. He cared nothing for it. Any beauty in nature was lost on him.

Miguel sat in the passenger seat as Ramon drove. Another car of four men was behind them as they drove up the winding streets, the road enclosed with palm trees. Few other cars were out this evening as the sun was setting and they headed toward the docks. He could see ships coming and going and he watched them passively.

“El Padrino,” Ramon said, “maybe you should stay in the hotel? It’s not too late.”

“No, I want to be here. I’ve known Nicolas for twenty years. He won’t do business with anyone else.”

“I don’t like this,” Ramon said. “You’re out in the open.”

He shrugged. “So what? What can they do Ramon? Arrest me? Do you know how much we pay for the judges and prosecutors? Evidence will be lost, my lawyers will win motions they shouldn’t…I have no fear. The hypocrisy of the system guarantees it.”

The docks weren’t crowded. They passed the yachts and pleasure boats and got to the pier. The ship, a mid-sized cargo vessel, was already there. El Sacerdote waited until his door was opened before stepping outside. He walked to the front of the car and put his hands behind his back and waited.

Miguel was behind him, looking around nervously, and Ramon was on the other side, his fingers on the handle of his weapon.

“You seem nervous, Miguel,” El Sacerdote said.

“No, El
Padrino. I’m just nervous for you. I don’t like you risking yourself like this.”

“Nicolas
would never betray me. We have an understanding.”

It was only a few moments before they could see the black Mercedes coming up the road and parking in front of them. A man in a black suit and shirt got out of the back, two other men with him. El
Sacerdote walked to him and they embraced.

“It’s been too long, Sebastian,” the man said. “How have you been?”

“I have the world by the balls and it doesn’t know it.”

Nicolas smiled. “The shipment’s here. Do you want to see the sample?”

“Yes.”

They walked to the trunk of the black Mercedes. Nicolas opened it. Inside were a plethora of firearms. Handguns, assault rifles,
shotguns, laser scopes, infrared and hollow point ammunition.

“Hard plastic shell,” Nicolas said, lifting one of the assault rifles and tapping it. “Won’t set off even the most sensitive metal detectors.”

“What about the ammunition?”

“Made from a Kevlar and glass mesh. The tips have a small sliver of razor, not enough to set off the detectors. The round slides into the body and the mesh shatters into pieces. Not quite the impact of a traditional round, but I’d say probably more deadly if you hit in the center of the body.”

“Amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased. I have the order on the packing slip, you can look it over if you like.”

“No, I trust you. My men should be here with the ships in the next few hours. They’ll transfer everything to the mainland.”

“California?”

He nodded.

“You have someone picking them up there?”

“Yes, a shipping company we’ve secured. From there they’re going to Canada.”

“Really? I didn’t think there was much of a market for it there.”

“The difference between a millionaire and a billionaire, Nicolas, is that the millionaire finds a market while the billionaire creates one. I’ll sell everything in Canada and they will begin to trickle into the United States. When the demand begins to rise, we’ll begin with more shipments here.”

“Not enough profit in narcotics?”

“Plenty of profit, but that’s not what this is.” He picked up one of the assault rifles. “More people die from small arms than all of the nuclear and chemical and biological bombs in history. This,” he said, holding up the weapon, “this is the weapon of mass destruction. And I will put them in the hands of every crazy thug that has a few dollars. If you want chaos, you do it in small steps. Revolutions are done gradually over time.”

Nicolas shook his head. “Once you buy it, you do what you want with it. But I would recommend—”

“Shh,” he said, holding up his finger.

“
What is it?”

“Quiet…we’re being watched.”

Nicolas looked around. He could hear it now. The sound of boots in the distance, surrounding them.

El
Sacerdote grabbed a box of ammunition and began loading the plastic TAR 21, one of the deadliest assault rifles in the world. Of Israeli design, now that it was made of a hard plastic shell, it felt as light as a toy in his hands. Nicolas began loading them as well and passing them to his men. He threw several of them over to Miguel and Ramon and the men from the other car that were running over.

“
Make sure your weapons are ready. They haven’t been fired before,” El Sacerdote said.

“What’s happened?” Ramon said.

“Someone has betrayed me.” His eyes scanned his men. They were staring at him in confusion, gripping the TAR 21’s tightly. All except Miguel who was looking at the ground, a sheen of sweat on his brow. El Sacerdote walked to him and placed the barrel of the TAR 21 against his head.

“El
Padrino, please. I have children.”

“What did they give you, Miguel? What did they give you to betray the man
who took you into his home, who gave you money to feed your family, who flew your children to the best hospitals when they were sick. What did they give you?”

Miguel was crying now. “I didn’t tell them
nothing, Padrino. Nothing.”

“How long have you been talking with them?”

He was crying so badly now he was unresponsive. “Please, please…”

El
Sacerdote lowered his weapon. “I’m not going to kill you, Miguel.”

He looked up, wiping his eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“I never give them
nothing, Padrino. Nothing. I work hard for you. I work without pay. You are a saint. You are a saint, Padrino.”

“Ramon, I’m not going to kill him. But you can shoot him in the face if you like.”

Miguel screamed as Ramon aimed the assault rifle at his head. Before he could pull the trigger, men were shouting around them.

“Don’t move!”

Uproar and screaming orders filled the space around them as police and DEA agents swarmed onto them. Miguel ran off in the confusion.

El
Sacerdote smiled and said, “I’ll get him later.” He looked to the officers surrounding them. “None live.”

The men raised their weapons as the officers closed in, and the docks erupted in gunfire.

24

yoss
Dillon had just dropped Jaime off at her house when he went home and saw that the house was dark and James was asleep. He decided to let him sleep and go out over the ocean for a while. He wanted to be alone for a few hours and just think.

He went outside and drifted up into the air and then sped away. He saw some of the neighbors out and a few people on the beach that saw him, but he didn’t mind. It was doubtful
they knew what they were looking at and news reports from Sierra Leone of robbed warlords wouldn’t reach here.

Before long he was on the coast, drifting down the beach and watching the waves lap the shore. Some people were having drinks and a
late dinner on a yacht and they began waving and cheering for him. He waved back. That would be a story to tell friends when they got back: a man in a flying suit.

As he passed the docks, he heard something. Small pops. He looked down into the semi-darkness and could see the flashes of gunfire. Men in police uni
forms and Kevlar vests that read DEA or SWAT were surrounding three cars in the middle of the road. Several men had taken up positions behind the cars. The police had shotguns and handguns and the men by the cars had weapons he’d never seen before. They were firing at such a rapid pace the police couldn’t run away fast enough without at least a couple of rounds hitting them and knocking them off their feet.

Dillon could see at least three officers were already down, their fellow officers trying to get to them and being shot at with every attempt.

He flew down.

The suit flashed downward and he slammed into the ground feet first, causing vibrations to go through the cement in every direction. The gunfire stopped. Dillon looked up and saw that they
were all watching him.

“So why are you guys shooting at police officers when there’s hundreds of good reality TV stars that are going
unshot?”

The men looked to each other and then turned their weapons on him. They opened fire. The round
s bounced off the suit, ricocheting in every direction. Dillon thrust his hands out, the magnetic field expanding dozens of feet in front of him, throwing the men on their backs and flipping over one of the cars.