D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) (11 page)

SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA, USA

April 20
th
, 2017

20:37 PDT

The day had passed by quickly. Jericho and Julie had gone to a local bar that was a half mile east of the base, just before the gas station they’d both stopped at the day before, during their staged escape. She’d told him the place was a regular haunt of many GlobaTech employees, given it was the only option for miles if they lived on base and wanted a drink.

They drank, ate, and drank some more. They had spent the first few hours discussing the 4/17 terrorist attack, before moving on to slightly more light-hearted topics of conversation.

Jericho had just returned to his seat, having gone to the bar for two more beers. He slid across the seat opposite Julie, in the booth they’d occupied since arriving there several hours earlier, and passed her a beer across the table, which she took with a gracious nod.

He regarded Julie silently for a moment, then asked, “So why GlobaTech?”

“What d’you mean?” she asked, taking a long pull on the bottle.

“I’ve seen you in action—I’m guessing you were military before this? What made you go private?”

Julie shrugged. “Better money, better benefits... I know it ain’t exactly patriotic, but whether people like to admit it or not, money makes the world go round. Back home, my mom got sick, and we had medical bills that needed paying. Even with all the special allowances, military pay isn’t the greatest. Plus, I had to leave her for weeks, sometimes months, at a time and risk my life... and for what? Here, I earn five times what I used to.”

Jericho nodded, understanding completely where she was coming from. Back when he was military, before he joined the CIA, he knew plenty of men and women in similar situations. “What happened?” he asked, delicately. “With your mom...”

Julie gave a taut smile. “She passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jericho, genuinely.

“Don’t be—you didn’t give her cancer.” She smiled, warmer this time, to lighten the mood. “So, come on, what’s your story?”

Jericho shrugged. “Not much of a story... I was a Captain in the army, and then I was recruited by a guy called Julius Jones to join the D.E.A.D. unit over seven years ago. If it wasn’t for the last couple of weeks, I’d still be there, probably.”

“Takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it—this whole
not having to salute
thing.”

Jericho smiled. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Still, forgetting the financial benefits for a second, we’re in an incredible position to help people here. We’re more than just a private army and a bunch of glorified guns-for-hire.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know I had my doubts—and maybe I still do, to an extent—but I’m inclined to agree that GlobaTech are as close as you can get to the good guys at the moment.”

Julie smiled again, and then stood and stretched at the side of their table. She was wearing a tight-fitting black vest top and cargo pants. Her brown hair was in a ponytail. She cracked her knuckles and looked at him. “Wanna shoot some pool?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind getting your ass kicked...”

She grabbed her drink and walked backward away from him, pointing her finger. “Oh, it’s
on
, big guy!” she said, before turning and strolling over to the vacant table, situated in the back corner of the bar. She racked up while Jericho chose his cue from the selection resting against the near wall.

“My break,” she said, standing and taking the cue off him.

Jericho stared at his empty hand, and then up at her. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

She leaned forward, bending over the table and lining up her shot. Jericho stared at her toned legs and hips. She turned and winked at him, seemingly oblivious to his gaze, and then hit the white ball into the pack, scattering them and sinking three. “Yeah... get use to it.”

Jericho shook his head and looked on as she continued clearing the table.

He took another pull on his beer and glanced around the bar, letting out a heavy sigh and allowing himself to relax. He was feeling almost human again, after everything that had happened to him recently. It felt good to unwind for once, and not worry about being in charge; being responsible for anyone.

“Head’s up,” said Julie, appearing next to him and distracting him from his thoughts.

“What?” he asked.

Julie gestured over to the bar with the neck of her bottle, at three guys who had just walked in and congregated there. One of them distracted the barmaid, while the other two shared a joke.

“These three assholes work for our internal security,” she explained. “Everywhere they go, they cause trouble—either hitting on women, starting fights... they give our company a bad name.”

Jericho looked over as three surly-looking men in tight-fitting T-shirts and combat pants walked in, quickly surveying the place before moving over to the bar. They were talking loudly and laughing.

Despite the last day or so being evidence to the contrary, Jericho still prided himself on being a good judge of character, based on first impressions. And he had no doubt about the three security guys.

“Pricks,” he replied, with a shake of his head. “This is supposed to be like a regular job, right? Can they not just discipline them, or sack them or something?”

Julie shrugged. “No one will rat them out—too afraid. The internal security team is a close group. You get your schoolyard bullies everywhere, I guess. But they could make your life hell, given half a chance.”

“Huh, and here’s me thinking I’d signed up to help protect the world. Turns out we
are
just like everyone else.”

“Come on, ignore those douchebags,” she said, leaning over to take her shot and potting the black ball to win the game. “Rack ‘em up, bitch!”

He shook his head and smiled, moving back over to the table and setting it up for another round. He looked over as he heard the doors open again, and another man walked in. He was wearing an impossibly bad Hawaiian shirt and Aviator sunglasses. He headed over to the bar, standing next to the three security guys. He gestured to the barmaid, and Jericho could see quite clearly, even from where he was standing, how her eyes lit up as she saw the man. The place wasn’t too busy, and there was no music playing, so he could just about hear the conversation.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the man said, in a gravelly, Irish accent. “Can I grab a beer from ya?”

“Sure you can,” replied the barmaid, excitedly. “First one’s on me.”

“Ah, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’, ya really are.”

Jericho rolled his eyes at the man’s transparent charm.

“Hey, you shooting pool or checking out the customers?” asked Julie, distracting him.

Jericho leaned forward to line up his shot. He looked down the table at the triangle of balls. Julie was standing in his eye line, one hand on her hip. He smiled to himself, determined not to be put off by her. He took aim and slammed the cue into the white ball, scattering the triangle and sinking five balls.

“Can’t I do both?” he asked as he stood up and smiled at her.

She shook her head and laughed. “Fucking asshole!”

They continued playing pool for another ten minutes before trouble erupted in the bar.

“Hey, dickhead,” shouted one of the security guys to the Irishman in the Hawaiian shirt. “You honestly think you got a shot with
her
?”

Jericho and Julie looked over to see him gesturing to the barmaid.

The Irish guy turned and stared at him. “With Jess here?” he asked. “Oh, me and Jess go way back,” he glanced at her and smiled, “don’t we, darlin’?”

She returned the smile, her cheeks flushing red. He looked back at the security guy. “Now if you could do me a favor and leave me your sister’s phone number before you fuck off, that’d be grand.”

Jericho smiled to himself. “Brave sonofabitch, I’ll give him that,” he whispered.

“Or stupid,” countered Julie.

He shrugged. “In my experience, it’s a pretty thin line between the two.”

They stood transfixed, along with the few other people in the bar. The Irishman appeared unaware of the attention. And the security men probably didn’t care.

“What the fuck did you say?” the guy replied, leaning in close and getting in his face.

The Irishman turned away from him. “You heard. Now piss off, would ya? I’m tryin’ to appreciate a well-earned drink here.”

Another security guy stepped forward, tapping his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, I know this guy,” he said. “This is Ray Collins. The loud-mouthed, womanizing drunk with a gambling problem. Typical fucking Irish prick. You’re a disgrace, Collins!”

Collins stood, knocking his stool over. He pointed his finger at the man who spoke. “Hey! I resent that,” he said. “I’m not a fuckin’ drunk!”

Jericho smiled and placed his cue down on the table, crossing his arms across his chest.

Julie looked at him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just watching.”

Collins stood his ground, keeping his right hand raised. “Back the fuck off,” he said. “Walk away now, the lot of ya.”

The three men formed a line in front of him and spread out. The first guy who spoke took a step forward. “Or what?”

Collins looked along the line and sighed. “Ah, bollocks....”

He stepped forward, dropping his shoulders and whipping his head toward the nearest man to him. The headbutt connected—his forehead smashing into the guy’s nose, causing blood to splatter across both their faces.

Over by the pool table, Julie nudged Jericho. “Imagine if
you
did that?” she asked quietly. “You’d kill someone.”

Jericho raised an eyebrow. “Hmm... yeah, must remember that,” he replied absently, looking on at the ensuing bar fight.

The remaining two men rushed Collins, taking an arm each and pinning him against the bar. The recipient of the headbutt scrambled to his feet, standing in front of him. He unleashed four big punches to Collins’ ribs and sides, alternating left, then right, with each one.

Jericho tensed his arms and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and talk himself out of intervening.

Julie turned her back on the proceedings and placed a hand on his forearm. “You look like you’re fixing to do something stupid,” she said, quietly.

Jericho looked at her with a humorless smile. “Or something brave...”

She shook her head and smiled. “Is this that line you were talking about?”

“It could well be, yeah.”

Suddenly, Collins pushed himself off the bar, breaking free of the grip they had on his arms. He pushed the guy to his left, putting a little distance between them. He then turned and threw a left body shot to the guy on his right, catching him in the stomach. Finally, he launched a right kick at the guy in front of him, catching him in the balls, causing him to double over.

It looked like he might get the upper hand, but the guy on his left jumped him, slipping a chokehold on him from behind and holding him steady. The other two men recovered and took it in turns launching horrendous shots to Collins’ body and face.

He had no chance.

“That’s it,” said Jericho, pushing past Julie. “Wait here.”

He strode over toward the bar, his eyes fixed on the nearest of the two men punching Collins. As he approached, he threw a straight right hand of his own, connecting flush with the guy’s already busted nose. The impact sent him staggering backward and over a table, sending it, and the chairs around it, scattering across the floor.

“What the—?” managed the other guy throwing punches, before Jericho grabbed him by the throat, heaving him effortlessly over the bar and sending him crashing down onto a shelf of dirty glasses. The guy grunted as they shattered from the impact, and Jericho glanced over and watched as he rolled to the floor, bleeding from a thousand tiny wounds along his arms and face.

He looked at Collins, who met his gaze and raised his eyebrows in silent thanks. He then bent his knees suddenly, dropping his weight and freeing himself from the choke. He lashed his right elbow back, hitting the remaining guy in his stomach. He turned as the guy was keeling over and delivered a strong left knee into his face, sending him sprawling backward.

He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“You alright?” asked Jericho.

“Aye... am alright...” replied Collins, standing up straight and extending his hand. “I’m Ray.” He nodded at Jericho’s eye patch. “And you must be Blackbeard?”

“It’s Jericho,” he replied, shaking his hand and ignoring the attempt at humor. “You can take a beating, I’ll give you that.”

Collins shrugged. “I can hand them out even better. It’s just these limp-wristed fuckers travel in packs. Shouldn’t have let ‘em get the jump on me.”

“Anyone ever told you that mouth of yours is gonna get you killed one day?”