Blowback, p.1
Blowback, page 1
part #12 of Nathan K Series
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Also by Stuart Jaffe
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NATHAN K WILL RETURN SOON!
About the Author
Copyright Information
Blowback
a Nathan K thriller
Stuart Jaffe
For Mom and Dan
complained enough so you got another dedication
Also by Stuart Jaffe
Max Porter Paranormal Mysteries
Southern Bound
Southern Charm
Southern Belle
Southern Gothic
Southern Haunts
Southern Curses
Southern Rites
Southern Craft
Southern Spirit
Southern Flames
Southern Fury
Southern Souls
Southern Blood
Southern Graves
Southern Dead
Nathan K thrillers
Immortal Killers
Killing Machine
The Cardinal
Yukon Massacre
The First Battle
Immortal Darkness
A Spy for Eternity
Prisoner
Desert Takedown
Lone Star Standoff
The Puppeteer
Blowback
The Ridnight Mysteries
The Water Blade
The Waters of Taladoro
Waterblade
The Malja Chronicles
The Way of the Black Beast
The Way of the Sword and Gun
The Way of the Brother Gods
The Way of the Blade
The Way of the Power
The Way of the Soul
The Parallel Society
The Infinity Caverns
Book on the Isle
Rift Angel
Lost Time
Pages of Glass
The Bold Warrior
Gillian Boone novels
A Glimpse of Her Soul
Pathway to Spirit
Stand Alone Novels
After The Crash
Founders
Real Magic
Short Story Collections
10 Bits of My Brain
10 More Bits of My Brain
The Bluesman Complete
The Marshall Drummond Case Files: Cabinet 1
The Marshall Drummond Case Files: Cabinet 2
The Marshall Drummond Case Files: Cabinet 3
For more information, please visit www.stuartjaffe.com
CHAPTER ONE
Laws only work because people obey them. One of Nathan K’s law professors had taught him that little nugget. The point, he learned over the course of that semester, was that any law can be willfully broken without fear provided one accepted the consequences. Robbery, assault, even murder — so long as a person had either no concern for or fully acknowledged the repercussions, the law itself held no weight.
But that philosophical argument had been presented to Nathan years ago. In another life. A mortal life.
As he entered the Queensland Curio, a tourist shop south of the center of Brisbane, he wondered if those concepts still applied. After all, he had murdered Russo, one of the top Immortals in existence. Not only had Nathan killed the man once, but he watched as his former partner, Altman, shot the man in the head. In doing so, he had participated in breaking a key rule — a law — of the Immortals. Fighting and killing between Immortals was allowed, but no Immortal should kill another twice. No Immortal should cause permanent death.
Robin entered the shop behind him. She wore a pair of jeans, a pale-yellow T-shirt, and kept her hair its natural black. She had shaved it tight to the scalp in order to remove the latest dye job, and to anyone looking, they appeared like a typical American couple enjoying a vacation in Australia. Certainly not a hardened killer and a colorful-haired hacker.
At least, that was what they hoped for.
Ever since Russo’s murder in Korea, they had run into one obstacle after another. The consequences of his actions had finally caught up with them. Robin had tried to get them back to the States via a direct flight, a cruise ship, and a private plane. Clockwork, her tech-nemesis in the Immortal world, had stymied every attempt she made. She pivoted by setting up a land route through Russia that would take them over a month to accomplish but would end up tossing them into Poland. From there, they would make their way toward France and then, hopefully, home. But the day they planned to hop a cargo ship for Nikolayevsk-on-Amur, a gang wielding pipes and bats blocked their way. By the time Nathan had dispatched these punks and erased all physical evidence of the altercation (including the disposal of a body), the ship had left. A route through the Philippines, one via Japan, and one even daring to traverse China were all attempted. Each time, either Clockwork or a paid-for gang thwarted them. Finally, Robin did something Nathan had never expected. She unplugged.
“If that bastard Clockwork is going to track everything I do,” she said, speaking faster than her normal breakneck speed, “then I’m not going to play his game. It’s like the Kobayashi Maru, though I’m about as far from a straight, white dude as you can get. Still, maybe I embody the spirit of Captain Kirk. You think a hot, black lesbian like me could lead the Enterprise? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know if you agree with the hot part. Point is that the only way to beat a no-win scenario is to change the rules. Don’t play the game the way it was intended.”
That led them on a short, somewhat seaworthy fishing boat willing to slip into Australia and from there to this trinket shop full of ridiculous souvenirs. Three digeridoos graced the walls while everything from Australian-themed postcards to T-shirts to flags and board games filled every corner. A wide glass window looked upon the hot midday sun, and a middle-aged aborigine woman stared out from behind a counter on the opposite side of the store.
Nathan checked his watch. “He’s late.”
“Relax,” Robin said as her shaking hands reached for a snow globe.
There would be no relaxing until this meeting finished. While Robin’s reasoning was sound enough, the idea of being smuggled into the United States did not sit well. Nathan’s knowledge of trafficking people brought images of Mexican coyotes locking weary souls into the back of a stifling truck or Chinese traffickers packing families into the hull of a leaking ship. Yet what choices did they have?
As Robin had pointed out earlier, “People like this work off-grid. I know what I’m talking about. Just because my life is digital doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about going analog. Dieter Muller is our best analog method. And he’s the only way we’re going to get anywhere without your Immortal friends finding us.”
With a cheery, electronic chime from the door sensor, two people entered the store. Nathan kept his hands at his sides — non-threatening but available for a quick punch or to reach behind and grab Maggie, his 10mm Wilson Combat Classic. That weapon had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he trusted it almost as much as he trusted Robin.
The man was tall — his bristling blond hair scrapped the doorjamb as he came in — and he bore a classic German jawline. Handsome, middle-aged, with a crooked nose broken long ago. He wore jeans, a straw hat, a floral shirt, and sunglasses — as if he sought to portray a similar image as Nathan and Robin. Germans on vacation. Except the lady behind this man looked far too young to be a girlfriend or wife. A beautiful, long-haired woman who stayed close enough to his back that Nathan picked up a distinct family vibe.
The man’s sharp eyes surveyed the room before settling on Robin. “You’re her?”
“You expecting any other African-Americans today?”
Without even a hint of amusement, he glanced at Nathan. “Him, too?”
“I told you there would be two of us. But you didn’t mention that you’d be bringing company.”
Nathan’s hand inched towards his back.
The man’s face brightened as he stepped aside and gestured toward the girl. “This is my daughter, Becka. She’s recently joined the business.” He then smiled as he put out his hand. “I’m Dieter, and I’ll be happy to help you in your time of need. Becka, say hello.”
With a bashful bow of the head, the daughter said, “Hello.”
Nathan did not like any of this. The man’s sudden shift in attitude, the unexpected addition of his daughter — the word amateur painted every inch of it. Not that Nathan had a great amount of experience smuggling himself into his native country, but he had dealt with underworld types before. To the best of his knowledge, they did not have a Bring Your Daughter to Work day.
Keeping her voice low, Robin moved closer to the Germans. “We need undetected passage to America. Not just undetected by the government, either. We don’t want anybody knowing who we are, when we go, when we arrive, or where we’re going. Oh, and we can’t use our
“All of this, I can handle.” Dieter laced his fingers in front of his flat stomach and tapped his thumbs. “It is a lot, though. Secrecy from the authorities is one thing — that is to be expected, no? — but from all others, too. That makes matters more difficult. A lot more people to bribe, security cameras to evade, shipping weights to be forged beyond an official glance. But you seem like nice people who find themselves in a difficult situation. I will not charge for the extra documents. So, it will be twenty per person.”
Robin glanced back at Nathan, and her wide eyes confirmed what he already knew — they didn’t have twenty thousand for even one person. Clockwork had seen to that. Back in Korea, he had frozen their assets. Each time Robin attempted to create new bank accounts, brokerage accounts, or even eBay accounts, he blocked them all. Getting to Australia had involved strong-arming a few decent folks and stealing cash wherever they could manage.
“That’s a bit high,” she finally said to Dieter.
He opened a wolfish grin. “What would business be without some negotiation?”
Nathan wanted to whip out Maggie and scare the man into working for free, but that would be an unreliable tactic. Satisfying but unreliable. Even if it worked, the chance of a mid-trip betrayal would rise exponentially. Instead, he checked the store clerk to make sure she had not decided to eavesdrop — except that didn’t matter because, Nathan now understood, there had to be an agreement between the clerk and Dieter. Otherwise, this tourist shop made for a poor meeting place.
What did matter, however, was that the store clerk had slipped away. She had not left with any acknowledgment toward Dieter. In fact, Nathan had the chilling thought that she had done all in her power not to be noticed leaving.
What mattered even more — the loud growl of motorcycles approaching.
“Pay attention, sweetie,” Dieter said to his daughter, “this woman understands how to drive a hard bargain.”
Nathan stepped away to look out the large front window. Three riders rumbled up the street and crossed over to the other side, backing up so that they stared directly at the store. None of them wore helmets — all men — and they had the distinct look of a gang. The one leading off the line of bikes, the one that the others looked toward, had brown hair to his shoulders, a scar down one cheek, and an eyepatch over the left eye. His friends were a portly, tanned man with a barbed-wire tattoo on the side of his neck and a young guy who looked strong enough to bench press his ride.
A click caught Nathan’s ear — the lock on the door leading into the back office or storage area. No chance now for the clerk being on Dieter’s side. But how did the clerk know about Nathan and Robin?
Pulling Maggie free and holding the weapon low, Nathan barged into the negotiations. “Who did you tell about this meeting?”
Dieter’s scowl promised an argument until the rest of his brain registered the concerned edge to the question. “Nobody,” he said. “I have used this place before. They do not care as long as I pay them, and I pay well.”
Nathan nodded toward Becka. “You told her, didn’t you?”
“She is part of the business. She is not going to tell anybody.” Dieter glanced at his daughter, a slight shake developing in his jaw. “Right, liebchen? You certainly did not speak anything about this with anyone?”
Becka shook her head.
“Good. You see? My daughter knows better.”
Putting out her hand, Robin said, “May I see your phone?”
Becka stepped back.
“Liebchen?”
Nathan checked the window again. Two more gang members on motorcycles arrived, both wearing black helmets. His grip tightened on Maggie.
Robin said, “Your daughter is still a teenager, and they love to put their lives on social media. If she mentioned anything about this meeting, anything about us at all, the slightest detail, there are people who monitor all communications for just that kind of thing. They would know in an instant that we’re here.”
“And,” Nathan said, “they have more money than you’ll ever see. No problem for them to pay your friends at this store to betray you.”
Dieter’s eyes narrowed. “Rebecka. Is this true?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say anything specific.”
“Damnit.” He slapped the back of her head. “Ever since that boy, I told you — nothing online.” Forcing a smile at Robin, he said, “I am sorry about this mistake. But I promise, it will not change —”
“It already has,” Nathan said.
Before he could elaborate, the motorcycles roared. They were making their move. He peeked over his shoulder and saw the flash of a weapon.
“Down!” As he dropped, he grabbed Robin’s arm, letting his weight force her down as well. No need, though. She had been through enough to respond as bullets smashed through the glass.
CHAPTER TWO
The growling motorcycles clashed with the steady stream of gunfire. A shattering racket. Glass tap-danced upon the floor. Toys and books, plastic stands and wire racks tore off the shelves, raining debris.
Becka shrieked, cowering under the protective arm of her father, while Robin covered her head and waited. That bothered Nathan more than anything — that Robin had become comfortable with being shot at. When she peeked over at him, however, he saw tension and worry. So, not comfortable. Good. But he also saw a special confidence. He knew he might be reading too much in the flash of a look, yet he felt sure that any calm she displayed came from the belief that he would protect her — far better than Dieter’s arm, anyway.
When the gunmen halted to reload, Nathan held Maggie above the lip of the windowsill and opened fire. He hated to shoot blind, but he doubted anyone other than the gang members were out there. The second the conflict had started, those walking by would have high-tailed for safety.
After only three rounds, the motorcycles thundered once again along with another blasting of gunfire. With fewer objects in the store to hit, bullet holes pocked the walls. Soon, these men would tire of suppression and the order to move in would be given. If this had been a drive-by or a warning, they would have left already. But then, this was never going to be a warning. At best, the Immortal that hired these men wanted them to take Nathan to a secure location to be dealt with later. That would give Nathan time. At worst, they were to keep him locked down in the store until their new boss arrived. That would mean fighting another Immortal on the busy streets of Brisbane.
Staying flat on his belly, Nathan crawled over the glass-strewn floor toward the back counter. When he reached the door, he stretched up and tried the knob. Locked. He knew it would be but had to give Hope and Luck an opportunity to surprise him.
The barrage of gunfire lightened. Not a good sign. Once they finished this round of attack, they would enter the building.
Shouting across the store, Nathan said, “Dieter, you have a gun?”
“Of course. This is not a friendly business.”
“Then shoot back. I need cover.”
Nathan gave the man some credit — no argument, no hesitation. Dieter pulled out a SIG P6. Unmodded magazine only held eight rounds, but he laid down enough sporadic fire to buy Nathan the precious moments needed. In that short break, Nathan popped to his feet and kicked the door in. Cheap and thin, it splintered into pieces.
“Everybody to the back,” Nathan said.
Robin grabbed Becka’s hand and yanked her along. The young woman moved in a stunned stupor – maybe she didn’t know all that Daddy did. A few more bullets winged the shop walls while Dieter backed up, squeezing off the final two rounds in his weapon.
They entered a small area that had a cluttered desk, a counter with a coffee machine, and stacks of boxes along one wall. Basically, a combination office, storage, and break room. No sign of the clerk. She must have bolted which meant that there was definitely a back door out of this place. Nathan pressed through the group and headed down a narrow hall. Just a few steps by the restroom, he found the security door leading to the back alley.
Light from outside crept in at the edges. Strange. Nathan glanced down and spotted a mop handle wedged at the corner to keep the door open. That clerk kept screwing them over more and more.
As Nathan turned back to warn the group they might have trouble getting out, leather-clad fingers gripped the edge and flung the door open. One of the gang members wearing a black helmet stepped in. He filled the doorway, leading with one arm stretched out and brandishing a Glock G17 pistol — light-weight, professional weapon with seventeen rounds and more than enough firepower for such an enclosed area.
