Overkill (The Mammoth Book of Special Ops)

Overkill

by

EC Sheedy

© 2011 by Edna Sheedy

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This is a work of fiction.
 
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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.

“I want your best man, Holister. And that’s Tanner Cross.”

“Impossible. He’s in the Congo.” Holister tightened his grip on the phone, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Then get him out of the Congo and have him in London tomorrow.”

“I need to get this straight. You want Cross to come to London... to kill you.”

“Call it ‘euthanize’ if that goes down easier. Or better yet ‘neutralize’.”

“Jesus.” Holister didn’t like this order one bit even though it did come from Joseph Derek, his boss, and the man who, twenty years ago, founded the Raven Force. Financed by Derek’s billions, the Ravens were a covert, privately controlled, government-sanctioned squad created to destroy illegal weapons cartels.

“Joe, be reasonable. Chances are you’ll come out of this better than new.”

“They’re opening my skull, Holister. Poking around in my brain—and they won’t give me any guarantees.
 
There’s a chance of dementia, loss of memory, altered personality. Who the hell knows what else.”

“I’m just saying, what you’re proposing? It’s overkill.”

“It’s also an order.”

“At least wait until after the surgery—see how it goes.”

When he spoke again, Derek’s words were still heavy with intent, but more personal. “You think I want this? Going under and not knowing if I’ll wake up with the intelligence of a cabbage or, worse yet, not be in control of information that—if it fell into the wrong hands—would put all of the Raven Force at risk?” A pause. “I’d prefer not to wake up at all.”

“There has to be another way.”

“There’s no other way,” Joe said. “Let me know when Cross will arrive at Heathrow. My daughter will see that he is picked up. I’ve told her I’m expecting a replacement on my personal security team. That’s all she knows—make sure you keep it that way. The surgery is Thursday.”

“Can I ask you this, Why Tanner Cross?”

“Because he’s a lot like me. He thinks, but he doesn’t blink.”

He was right about that. Tanner was stone-cold effective working in the field, Raven’s best operative. But he was also unpredictable and insubordinate when it suited him.
 
“I think—”

“Don’t think, Holister. Just do.” A beat of silence. “And don’t let me down. Please.” Derek hung up, leaving Holister with no other option than to deploy his killer. He got up from his desk, paced for ten minutes—cursed the room blue—then picked up the satellite phone.

“This is a joke, right?” Tanner Cross sat on a cheap bed in an even cheaper hotel in Loubomo in the Congo Republic. He was counting money. He was also naked, tired, and as of two minutes ago, when he’d stepped out of his first shower in two weeks, actually clean. A month of sleep, a haircut, and he’d be human again, although last he heard humans weren’t called on to kill their superiors. Holister had to be smoking something. Either that or he was speaking in code.

“No joke. Book a flight. Laine Derek will have you picked up and taken straight to Derek’s home in Mayfair. Security knows you’re coming in as a guest. And it’s best you stay clear of Laine. She’ll ask questions. The woman is a tiger when it comes to her father’s security.”

“No problem. I prefer my tigers in my gas tank—or better yet, my bed.”

“Funny.”

“I take it she doesn’t know what her father does when he isn’t making billions for Derek Industries.”

“No. And it’s your job to keep it that way.”

Jesus! He tossed a wad of hundreds on the ‘counted’ side of the bed, and ran a hand through his wet, tangled hair.

He’d been with Raven Force for eight years, run ops from the seething East-bloc to war-infested Africa, but he’d never received an assassination order before. Abort mega weapons deals and kill the bad guys, sure. And get their money—that was the best part. But terminate the man who masterminded Raven Force? A man whose brilliant, Byzantine plots had saved thousands of lives—and taken down dozens of murdering warlords?

This order had to be bullshit.
 
Had to be. “You sure about this, Holister?”

Tanner heard a hard breath come down the line. “He specifically asked for you—says you ‘don’t blink.’ So get your ass to London ASAP.” Pause. “And clean up before arrival, okay? Suit. Tie. The works. The Dereks don’t do casual.”

“Oh goody, a shopping spree.”

Holister ignored the joke.
 
“And remember this is what Derek wants. This is his plan. And whatever that man wants, he gets.”

“Even to choosing his own time and place to die.” Tanner rubbed his jumpy gut.

Silence, a full five seconds of it, then a hard exhale. “Yeah, even that.”

Tanner took just as long to answer. “Shit,” he said, because there was nothing else to say, but a lot to think about. Like why in hell Derek asked for him.
You owe the man, Cross, maybe this is his bizarre way of calling in the debt.
One thing was certain, his brain was going to fry figuring this one out—if he even could. No one yet ever got the jump on Joe Derek or puzzled through his obscure way of thinking. Tanner wondered if he should even try, because like it or not, this was Derek’s order. Which meant it had to be for the benefit of Raven Force. And if Tanner had a passion for anything, Raven was it.
 

When Holister hung up, Tanner stared at the phone, working to get his thoughts in a line that made sense.

He didn’t know what was worse, being ordered to kill Joe Derek, or seeing Laine again.

He picked up his beer from the floor beside the bed and took a long pull. Hell, chances were good she wouldn’t even remember him. He didn’t know how he felt about
that
either.

Laine Derek waited in the stretch limo outside Heathrow, her legs crossed, the index finger on her left hand making slow circles on the leather arm rest. Her right held a chilled bottle of Perrier.

Tanner Cross—after all these years.