Bullet Catchers

Chapter 9

Bullet Catchers

Nine

Moses adjusted the clasps on his suit cuff for probably the twelfth time in the past thirty seconds. There were few things he hated more than waiting, especially right before something important. It was time for the annual Circuit meeting, so he found himself thousands of miles away from his Bullet Catchers. Located in Miami, United States, the hotel they were using as a conference place was famous for also housing drug lords and pushers. Drug enforcers would shuffle in and out, but they never actually took anyone in for questioning. It was too much work for the government to risk dealing with the bigshots.

With him on this journey were two women he trusted more than anyone: his lovely lady Rita and team-mom Jibaro. Both no doubt noticed Moses's odd ticks and the excruciatingly long elevator ride. To make it worse, he was sweating something fierce. Hey, with a frame like his, it couldn't be helped! It wasn't as though Moses was obese – no, not even close. The legend was that Moses had arms as big around as trees and a chest twice as round as a barrel. It was all muscle. Of course, he wasn't quite that big, but his 196cm height helped add to the myth.

While it was nice to be intimidating and legendary, it also meant it was nearly impossible to find suits and shirts that were comfortable. Whenever he had to wear a tie, he'd always been seen pulling on it in a desperate bid to make himself more at ease. As a result, more than a few men had underestimated him. A handful of those men lived to talk about it; some lived but could never speak again; and the rest of them were dead.

The "ding" of the elevator signaled their ascension was complete. The trio stepped out confidentially toward the conference room. All three were stopped by a uniformed security officer that patted each down. Jibaro presented her right-to-carry permit and the security officer let her pass. After all, it was common knowledge that guys like Moses more often than not needed armed security and that was a privilege no one messed with.

Moses was the first to enter the room. Already seated with her dirtied boots on the slick glass table top was Boss from Payload. Upon seeing Moses she merely nodded in his direction before turning her attention back to picking at her nails. Seated next to her was a young, wiry framed man known as Rascal; he headed the notorious firm known as "Bandit." Often contracted by the United States government, they were sent in to do the dirty work that the army brass didn't want on their hands. Most members of Bandit had no issue slaughtering a hundred innocent to pave the way for the regular military.

Speaking of the military, positioned next to Rascal was a stern-faced and broad-shouldered army officer. There was no way to tell he was military aside from how he sat, but Moses had been around enough to know without needing a uniform. Besides, the United States government never failed to send a liaison for these meetings.

The last to catch Moses's eye was Koala. Bandages covered part of his head, which he attempted to cover with a black ball cap. His arm was in a sling and it looked like his entire body was stiff. Moses had heard a bit about the runaround Koala had put Pluto through, but seeing Koala injured made it seem more real. Pluto could've gotten drunk and sunk a boat on his own, but Koala had the reputation of being above injury.

Moses wanted to crack a joke at Koala's expense but he bit his tongue. As he took his seat at the table he asked, "Looks like I'm almost late. Who's left?"

"Jefferies of Nightwatch. The rest can't make it," Boss answered. A piece of paper from her hand was flung across the table and landed upside-down in front of Moses. Before he looked at it, she said, "That's for you."

He turned it over and found himself staring at an invoice. His eyes scrolled past the details and landed on the bottom, where the total read: "1,962,300USD."

"The hell is this for?" he asked.

"Guatemala," Boss said.

"The f**k? What - ? Why does everyone keep asking me and talking to me about Guatemala? Check the Circuit records. I haven't taken no damned contracts for South America in the past three months!" he yelled. The invoice was shredded into a dozen pieces and flicked back at Boss. It didn't matter to her; she could always send another one.

"There's been a lot of movement in that place recently. Lots of activity. Mainly by groups I wouldn't care much about but I'm getting worried," Rascal said.

"Worried about what? Someone moving in on your turf?" Moses challenged.

Rascal scoffed and said, "Hardly. We've barely done any work down there in the past few years. We're needed more in Eastern Europe and the Middle East. We don't have time to play party crashers like the rest of you."

Moses didn't bother to respond. Even a mere shrug wasn't spared for Rascal. All he could do was attempt to stare down the younger man. Apparently, the stern look was enough as Rascal turned his head away from everyone present. The silent showdown must've been picked up on by the army commander, as he cleared his throat rather loudly before speaking.

"The United States would prefer it if you all could just stay clear of Guatemala for a while," he said.

"What'n the hell for?" Moses asked. He had no reason or desire to take in contracts there, but boy did he hate being told not to do something.

"I can't discuss it any further. Just try not to get involved for the time being," was the only explanation the commander would offer. No matter how hard Moses stared, the commander wouldn't back down. That trick only worked on sneaks and snakes. Just to prove he wasn't about to crack, the commander revealed his trump card immediately when he said, "Nice job in Malta, by the way. Got exactly what we wanted."

Koala shifted; Rita felt that shift and responded by jerking slightly herself. Upon feeling Rita bump into his arm, Moses looked down the table to see Koala doing his best to not display emotion. Despite using all his might, Koala couldn't stop his lip from twitching. Intrigued and unconcerned, Moses pushed, "Oh? And what was that? A war?"

There was a smug tone in his voice. Moses was teasing. After all, he had read that contract over and over again. The United States had nothing to do with it. The girl they were kidnapping was the daughter of a Russian diplomat, and the last he'd heard, there was no eminent battle between the two nations. As was explained to him, the move was meant to unsettle the population enough that the Russian government could sneak in a few more moves as it attempted to take over a couple more inches of former Soviet territory. Hell, they even requested that Pluto slip in some Czech when speaking to the daughter in public, just to give the witnesses something to believe in.

The commander said nothing, he just returned the smirk that Moses displayed. A paper was slid across the table to him; he prayed it wasn't another bill. Flipping it over, he was surprised to see a flyer. In the top corner was the seal of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation; in the center was a frighteningly accurate sketch of Pluto; beneath that was an incredible sum of money offered as an award. The amount of zeroes nearly made Moses's eyes glaze over in greed.

Harshly he snapped himself out of his stupor by shaking his head and then violently ripping the flyer into pieces. "Good luck finding a dead man!" Moses shouted. He didn't make eye contact this time; his eyes were focused out the window and his arms crossed over his chest.

The commander didn't display his satisfaction. His calm and nonchalant voice spoke evenly when he explained, "Every dumb ass in the Circuit knows that Jan Basko works for the Bullet Catchers, so of course we knew. It was just a matter of proving it. Putting a known and wanted Czech terrorist in an international scandal would give us enough pull to put operators in Eastern Europe. Take out a few enemies. Secure some intel, some resources… and maybe get work done against the Russians."

Moses didn't hear all of what the commander said. Sometime during his ramble, Rita had nudged Moses and whispered, "They've made a mistake. Only Boss looks uninterested."

Just to be sure, Moses scanned the room. Sure enough, Koala's agitation was clearer than ever before, with his entire face tightened up and his one good hand was gripping at his slacks. Rascal, who should have had no investment in the situation at all, had half of his body on top of the table as he leaned in as much as he could; his wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression said it all. He was just as blindsided by the news as anyone. Boss, however, had yet to look up from her nails.

"How the hell would a Czech going after a Russian give us leeway?" Rascal asked. There was a thick thread of irritation in his voice that he couldn't mask.

"He went after an American, you dumbass. We set up the entire thing, even planting fake documents so if it was looked into it would confirm what was said. There is was no Russian diplomat in Malta that week."

"So now you want us to do what?" Rascal inquired, the tension still obvious.

"Don't worry about it. Just get me Jan Basko alive," the commander ordered.

It was clear Rascal had more to say, but he merely clenched his fist and his jaw shut in order to avoid making an ass of himself. He never would have had a chance, anyway, as Moses made a lot of noise as he rose to his feet. The chair he had been sitting on scrapped loudly against the floor until it toppled over. Fist met with glass and the desk's top shattered as Moses smashed his hand in frustration. "No one is getting Jan! You f*****g snake! Consider this the official withdrawal notice of the Bullet Catchers from the Circuit!"

Blood droplets flew across the table and showered the remaining glass as he flicked his wrist at the commander. Rita rose from her seat as well, this time much more eloquently than Moses could ever hope to. Both turned to leave; Moses waved his hand at Jibaro and she prepared to follow.

"If you leave this room, you're going on the list next," the commander threatened.

Moses stopped; he glanced over his shoulder to gauge how serious the threat was. It was very evident it was legitimate. Fortunately, before Moses could retort, Rascal butted in. "You can't do that! What about the rest of us?!"

"I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the most powerful military force in the history of mankind. You think I can't 'do that?' Do you honestly think I give a s**t about any of you? If you have any sense you're going to apprehend him before he exits the room. Or do you forget that in this month alone you have nearly two-hundred war crimes hanging over your head just in one town alone?"

"And what about the war crimes of the United States?!" Rascal argued. Agitated, he had leapt from his seat as well. There was no way the lanky man was going to attempt to punch through the glass like Moses had, however.

"Don't be ridiculous. We hire you fuckers for that."

"Oh, so we're worthless to you? The men and women that I send into battle zones are worthless to you?"

"They don't wear the same uniform as me, do they?"

"Enjoy your lovers quarrel," Moses called out before daring to give a sarcastic wave. Jibaro stepped in front of him and had cracked the door open when a faint noise from behind caused all three to halt. From her position, Jibaro could see the commander pointing a pistol at Moses's back. When she reached for her weapon, Moses put his hand up to stop her.

There was no need for her to use any force. A loud crack from a forty-caliber pistol sent everyone's ears ringing. Rascal had pulled out his own firearm and shot the commander in the neck. It took only a few seconds for him to stop thrashing.

That finally caught the attention of Boss. Within a blink she was out of her seat and had Rascal by the collar. As she shook him, she demanded, "What the f**k, dumbass?!"

Sometime in the middle of her curse the door was forced open and several armed security guards rushed in. The sight of a bloodied body on the floor would have been cause for alarm, but the pistol that resided near it meant it was probably in self-defense. Such incidents were too common in that particular hotel.

The intruders didn't bother Rascal. He used his free hand to rip himself free from Boss and adjust his collar and tie. "No one f***s with the Circuit! And no one f***s with me!" he screamed. Boss huffed and turned away, determined not to get herself shot as well. Rascal was often times too hotheaded for his own good. As he put his sidearm away he said to Moses, "Don't worry about Jan. I'm not after him."

Moses was afraid the goodwill gesture was there to give Rascal some wiggle room with the Bullet Catchers. However, he was still very young and probably idealistic. It was possible he truly thought comradery within the mercenary circle was more important than anything. So all Moses did in response was offer a nod.

It marked the last time the Circuit would ever met with an American military officer present, and one of the last times they would converge as a group.