Page 41 of Sor

“Relax, Mr. DeWitt,” said the Asian man. “We only wish to speak with you.”

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter my name. What matters is that you promised our country something, and you haven’t delivered. Where are the weapons?”

“I’ve got them. I’m headed to get them now and bring them over,” he lied. He wasn’t sure whether they would be there or not, and he damn sure wasn’t certain that he would be able to get them overseas. He was hoping Beck could help, but so far, he hadn’t answered his calls.

“Mr. DeWitt, this might be just another business deal to you, but to us, it’s life or death. Ours and yours. You allowed the children to be taken, stopping the work in the caves. The damage was so severe we can’t even dig down with the right equipment.”

“I didn’t,” he started, but the man held up a finger, the other man pressing a sharp blade against his ribs.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t know or do. I care that we are out millions of dollars and still have no weapons. Get those to me, Mr. DeWitt, or you’ll find yourself digging through the caves on your hands and knees.” The man who had done all the talking stepped out of the taxi, but the second man only stared at DeWitt, then plunged the knife between his ribs.

“It won’t kill you, but it should make you think twice before screwing with us.”

As quickly as they’d arrived, they were gone, and his driver was suddenly back in his seat, and the traffic was moving once again. DeWitt pressed his scarf against his side, hoping to squelch the bleeding from the narrow wound. When they arrived at the airport, he reached for his credit card, and the driver grinned at him.

“It’s alright. Those men took care of it,” he smiled.

“I’m sure they did, you asshole. Fuck you!” Grabbing his overnight bag, he entered the airport, got through security, and rushed into the bathroom to check his wound. Opening the small first-aid kit, he grabbed his trusty superglue and sealed the wound.

He made the gate just as they were boarding, taking his seat in first class and closing his eyes. He never felt the jet take off, and he damn sure hoped he wouldn’t feel it landing. He needed sleep. Sleep and time to think.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“We found Beck and turned him over to command,” said Frank. “Bastard’s been selling everything from high-end purses, clothing, and jewelry to luggage and rocket launchers.”

“Fuck,” muttered Hex. “Did he sell weapons to DeWitt?”

“Yep,” said Sor.

“What’s his deal? What is he trying to gain by all this?” asked Luke.

“It’s the same as it always is. Money, power, in a sick, twisted way, fame,” said Ben.

“Hey, we got a hit on DeWitt,” said AJ. “He went through security at LaGuardia and boarded a flight for Los Angeles.”

“Wasn’t he flagged?” asked Sor.

“He should have been. TSA was a little slow in figuring it out. He landed in L.A. almost two hours ago. We got the camera feed and saw him leave the terminal. He boarded the bus for short-term parking, got in a new Audi A3, and drove southwest out of the airport. We’re working on following him from there.”

“Southwest?” frowned Sor. “He could be headed to Long Beach, Miramar, San Diego, any of those places. Does he need more weapons?”

“He needs weapons, money, all of it. According to Beck, he’s in deep shit with his partners. He promised things he can’t deliver, including those kids to help with the mining in the caves,” said AJ. They all turned to look at him.

“Oh. While you three were eating your hearts out, I was in touch with base, following up on what would happen with Beck.” They all stared at AJ, who only stared back.

“For fuck’s sake, AJ, what is happening?” growled Cam.

“Sorry,” he smirked. “He’ll be tried with military, federal, state, and local laws. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He did offer up some helpful ideas on DeWitt that he didn’t share with all of you. DeWitt’s stepmother works for the Department of Defense.”

“Are you fucking with us?” said Eric.

“Never, my big angry friend,” smiled AJ. “DeWitt’s father died six years ago, and Jenna DeWitt remarried two years later to William Collins.”

“Wait. Jenna Collins. Why does that name sound familiar?” asked Luke.

“Because she writes the defense contracts for the DOD. She’s responsible for the initial writing of the contracts and passing them off to someone else for signatures and review.”

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