Somewhere in Southern Baja
The insanity had come to a close, as Mark smoked a cigarette, gently taking a draw as the light aircraft lifted off the ground, the Caravan taking Ross and Ellie out of there at the teeny airport. Mark had to say, it was strange to be back in business like this. He was a greedy bastard, after all. But perhaps there was something underneath it all, something that gave him a purpose to it all. On the sunset sky that filled the sky of Baja Sud, sitting in the shade of the teeny little crapshack they were outside.
He had to think how it had gone down. He'd set up some fire at the front and given them an opportunity to slip away, and then he did. Ross had followed Athena, to the letter, and kept up the fire. And Ellie had gotten out. After they'd found a car further down the road in another villa, they'd gotten out, and left no trail that could be traced. There were a lot of dead bodies, and all of them meant that the line was cut. The anchor was gone. Whoever had done this, was dead as a doornail. Mark had seen to it very personally.
Mark heard Athena walk up behind him, as he slowly turned in his plastic chair, case in hand.
"Well, I'm taking this away. For starters. But then, I don't know. There's a lot of questions we didn't ask each other still, I think partly as we're far too polite." Mark added, as he stood up, looking up at the aircraft, watching it fully lift away into the horizon, getting further and further. Mark had to wonder how much he had really said to anyone, at this point. The underworld criminal, the scumbag who was like John Wick and killed people like it was nobody's business. Heading over to his other case on the table he sat by, his Sig inside, he looked back up at her.
"Athena, I have a question for you. Maybe let's just say we should clear the air on this." He asked, knowing he'd pique her interest.
"Did you look up my service history? My medals? What I did as a Royal Marine, a decade ago?" He asked, shaking his head, taking in Athena once more.
"I looked you up. You are good at your job. Several years of service, the model operator. You follow authority, procedure, paperwork, saving lives, not ending them. Cops do that. You follow the rules and make it work. I have a very healthy respect for that." Mark said, nodding, the ginger-bearded bald man unwavering in his Scots accent, more so than even Ross.
"And you did look me up. And you found that thing that really annoyed me too. Dishonourable Discharge, in 2008. I broke a Lt Colonel's nose on a training exercise because he bent the rules and they...did not like that. It seems really strange that they let someone who seems to have no remorse, no moral boundaries or concern for the standards of the higher ups." Mark looked onto the horizon, then back at her.
"What happened after that? Strange that it seems so....quiet, right?" He asked, knowing what the response would be. Nothing did. He went blank, seemingly self-employed into what any man of his repute would. He had a Linkdin, for crying out loud. PMCs, Security, Consulting. Boring, shitty jobs. Perhaps she'd say the other thing. Being a hardened criminal, robbing and stealing and taking scores, and having Ross as his main getaway driver. But Mark, to his credit, knew that Athena was not Ross. A man he had trusted for almost half a decade, if not more wasn't going to hear this. Best it was kept that way.
"Well....Athena, you may think of me as a criminal. I'm a greedy fucker by tool and trade. That's what you would expect of someone like me. I wanted to help my friend when he needed it, so that added fuel to the fire when I saw that there was a co-benefit in my favour too. Right?" Mark shook his head, gently patting the case.
"Except, I do serve someone. I can't tell you who I work for. It has a lot of redacted on it anyway. What I do was the only way to find out about transnational criminal networks, far, far bigger than just some crappy little gang of thieves. A Transnational Facilitator, or TNC for short. The criminal organisations that are your full-fat criminal organisations, think your multinational corporation but with guns and drugs. The kind that corrupts third world governments, and can create rogue states, if they don't already. Way above your paygrade, believe me. It helps when you have the right mask on, and don't play by the rules. Makes you seem like ideal cannon fodder." He added, chucking the cigarette onto the floor with a light chuckle, and gently rubbing his boot against it.
"A similar incident happened in Paris, but the case got delivered. Ross and Kimberly got caught up in the crossfire. The Panamanians wanted to ship it to the first bidder that wanted it so they could scalp a lot of people. A routine, clandestine transfer of tracking equipment used to monitor a number of individuals at two separate meetings on two separate continents. The people I work for that made the move didn't have many choices there and then for how they did it, so street racers were their best bet. Well, it was their best bet, till it turns out that somebody fucking leaked. Someone that they're going to probably throw in prison very soon indeed. Poor bastards suddenly have their trousers pulled down. So naturally, they wanted their cases back." Mark added, patting it once more.
"They thought all hope was lost till we found a lead. And when Ross called, it seemed too inconvenient not to let him join in. Not when I knew just how deep he was. It was risky to talk, especially after I'd cut him out of the system. Indirectly, I was always watching, always knowing what he's up to. The amount of fines he's racked up on an illegally fraudulent account is genuinely staggering. Anyway.....he wanted revenge. And revenge is a powerful motivator. One that I knew he'd want me on board for, his trusted friend. It brought you here too. And you had to know that I was the wrong kind of scumbag with the wrong kind of connections to even consider coming here. Giving that up would be dangerous, after all." He could see the anger on Athena's face, as he looked up, clarifying it quickly.
"I suppose owed Ross a favour too, after....well, Ross was hugely useful to me as an asset, driving faster than anyone, cop or criminal could get him. Thing is.....he didn't even know. Robbing, racing and stealing shit to him was all he knew. And he was good, deep down. Just has a passion for going fast and well, what he is involved in isn't exactly big-time. Not my operation to catch. He's not worth the hassle. Neither is Kimberly. They'll be fine, and I know that from knowing the lad. It's best that they never do know...if they did, it's only gonna get more messy." He added, checking his watch, and looking back to Athena.
"The point I'm trying to make here is, this is bigger than you think. Getting this sorted works for a lot of people. Us too. The organisation we are tracking works in Central Asia, for fuck's sake. And a bunch of Panamanian thieves nearly gave them our monitored recordings of them, if they'd have even known. This organisation has its tentacles in things from as diverse as supplying guns to Islamic terrorist cells in exchange for heroin in Afghanistan, distributing ecstasy in Western Europe, to creating political corruption in Bulgaria and running human trafficking networks in Mali. All connected through smaller organisations, but ultimately, creating a network that fuels crime on a scale you won't believe. There's people richer, dirtier, and more fucked up than you can believe. This isn't the Mafia. This is a crime organisation that works on the same metrics as Apple here." He said, pausing momentarily.
"I'm telling you this because you're a cop. You want to do the right thing, and you have rules, logic, procedure, paperwork. You take down criminals that you see and want to make the right call. I deal in the ones that you don't even know exist. And that means we do things on a very different scale. A scale that requires a mask so watertight, it makes you more than a bad guy. It makes you the scary bastard that fits every single picture, that these people haven't paid off or killed yet because they don't even know you're coming for them. I don't work often well with other people. But you, Athena, I respect. I might need you again someday. And I will contact you if that time comes." Mark added, the noise of the plane engine now fully gone, as he stood up, taking case in hand.
"I'm going to drive out of here. There's a domestic flight arriving in about half an hour, flies to Mexico City. I'd recommend you take a link to Newark after that." Mark took the other case, shaking his head, standing up as he headed to the car, turning his head. He was blunt as ever, and felt like he cared for Athena. In some weird way, he felt like it was a strange twist for her to hear, after what he had projected. But after the others had left, perhaps only something felt right, felt comfortable here and now, to tell her what he thought.
"What I just told you is strictly confidential. You do not tell anyone what I just said. Mostly because it'll make you sound like a raving loony and none of the evidence will really fit. Partly because your record is so good, I don't want you being pulled up when they ask why the hell you went and shot up a Mexican villa with a suspected armed robber. You are a smart girl, Athena. Someone who helps people more than you think....so I don't think we'll have any problems with that, aye?" Mark said, chuckling, taking his pack from off the table, and the keys for the Jeep Cherokee that they'd stolen to get here.
"Goodbye, Athena." He added, unlocking the car as he opened the passenger door, throwing his bag and cases inside, before getting in. He'd made his goodbyes. Now, he was going for a long drive into the sunset. And done his bit. Perhaps it would have come as a bit of a bombshell to her. Sitting there, near that airport confused as hell. Not a clue what the hell had just happened. But Mark had played even someone he'd known for half a decade, pretty much everyone. At that point in time, the criminal that had gone and killed an awful lot of people was leaving.
"Not enough", he reminded himself. That was because contrary to his calm demeanour, that the case didn't matter, it did. And if they'd have lost it, no doubt the Panamanians would have been dead in a matter of days anyway. The Cartel would have sold them up shit creek when they realised, and the trace they had on Ross and Kimberly could have been worse. That wasn't going to happen. As he set off on the dusky tarmac road, he thought what he had really done. Ross, Kimberly, Ellie, Seb, Athena, Michael, shit, all of it was out of the picture now. They could live their lives, like nothing happened, and be completely unaware of the boogeyman that they had nearly ended up with.
And yet here he was, thinking to himself, wondering just how to go on. There was more shit he had to do back home, more leads to follow. Maybe the underworld that thought he was doing this for his own greedy needs. To do a sale himself and Ross was probably thinking that right now. Ironically, that was exactly the point. This case was a MacGuffin that would actually bring out who they was looking for, recovering and yet exposing a paw of the TNC that they were hunting down. And that was worth far more than any money, any small-time gang, anything. It was substantive, real and a chance to put some bastards away in The Hague even. Somehow, this whole operation had gone exactly as it needed to, and Mark's own criminal connections had primed the trap in only a way a masterful chess player could compare to, without even knowing. And yet Mark wouldn't even be rumbled, if anything, it'd reinforce him. And if successful, Mark knew that this was the beginning of the end for an operation that had gone beyond just him, lasting almost a decade and a half. This was the end of those evil bastards. Only way to do that was carry on being the bad guy that the bad guys fear.
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Part Eight: Reunion
Los Angeles, California
Ross had been busy working in the garage. The truth was, that after Mexico things had calmed down. Mark had called, and he had gone back to England, seemingly back to his life and whatever he did now. Ross didn't ask any questions, but had more thanks than he could give. He didn't ask questions, and he didn't expect any answers.
He was happy just to be back with Kimberly, back with family and what mattered. No more criminality or gangs or anything like that. He was a stay at home dad, helping his wife at her work when she needed a technical mind, and running errands here and there too. Part of him of course felt uncomfortable. In some ways, he felt a little useless, he couldn't do the things she did. Not that he wasn't capable, but well....he came from a very different background. And with the skills he had, he couldn't really go and get a perfectly legal job, not when he had a family. So he found his own way. Tinkering on things, looking after his little bundles of joy and relaxing felt like the way to be, especially after the hell they had gone through.
Looking after Kimberly had been an enormous challenge to him. It was a lot more than hospital runs and physiotherapy. It was a lot he had to learn, and he had changed dramatically for it. A lot for the better, he thought. And well, it had taken a toll on him. He didn't take risks as much, he was calmer and seemed to have grown a different kind of charm. The kind that wanted nothing to do with danger but everything to do with doing better than who he was before. Adjusting to this normal, that he could do.
Coming in for food, he felt Ruby run up to him, woofing as Ross chuckled, almost having the dog jump up onto him, slobbering. He was a very intelligent dog, but he was a puppy at heart, so young and little. The smell of Lasagna was wonderful, as Ross took a seat, the plate ready. She cooked a mean feast, he reminded himself, as he tucked in, chuckling as he saw Kimberly look.
"I think I know exactly what you're saying. But the kids aren't going to look after themselves, are they?" He giggled, Mia almost understanding Kimberly's look, that look of "speed" screaming out. Ross sighed, looking through his restricted angle into the garage.
"Hmm.....think your sister can pop by?"
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Somewhere above Lake Tahoe, The Rockies, Nevada
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlS6JQ0w5o4OST- Ride or Die - The Knocks ft Foster the People
Seb looked over, chuckling as he heard Ellie kit up. He'd lost a little more hair in the time, and spent a lot more climbing and freeskiing, rather than doing this. Sitting in a mostly black wingsuit, with light blue accents on the tail and zips, he seemed tanned, adjusting to the beating sunset in the distance.
Seb had to think how it had all played out. Ellie and him had argued, argued like hell and it wasn't fun at all. He couldn't talk to her for months, and he could see she was pretty visibly messed up, even from afar. Something at first- not like she'd been injured or seen someone else get hurt, but more like she had an uncomfortable gaze, one that stuck with him. They'd stayed away, done their own things, and his end had been strangely quiet. Almost weirdly more than usual, given he spent a lot of time travelling, and he'd travelled far and wide. Australia, Asia, remote parts of Greece, mostly for just calm and quiet. He felt like it was needed, given him and Ellie had been so close. Like best friends, but more. He'd watched two friends of his own die in a BASE accident, and whilst it didn't stop him, it had seriously taken him aback. And he travelled, and travelled, skiing, surfing, diving, doing whatever. The sponsors stopped calling after they realised he wasn't taking their calls. In some strange way, Seb had gone and had a gap year.
Till he came back, that is. One day, it flicked back on in his head. Footage started going. He contacted Ellie, and got things back together. Said sorry. For all the horrible shit he said, and wanted it back the way it was. Not out of desperation, out of a lack of money, or anything. But because in spite of it all, he didn't want to carry on living without the only person that really mattered. She looked like she had been through a lot too. And in that way, they could get it back together. Perhaps it was a test of their relationship. But while Ellie never told him, Seb didn't feel he really needed to ask. It was things way beyond his control, way beyond everything. He'd seen his own shit, but he knew somehow, it wasn't the same thing.
And after a few videos, they were back on it again. Things were normal. It felt like a new normal, if that, but it was normal. Jumping off cliffs, skiing in the winter, it was awesome. And right here now at sunset, the run down to Lake Tahoe seemed incredible, if not dramatic. Taking his open face helmet, Seb put it on his noggin, the black helmet and navy blue-tinted goggles going over his eyes, as he adjusted the chest stap on his rig, looking to Ellie.
"Nearly. Just give me a look over?" He asked, spreading his arms and legs, the suit new from the sponsorship windfall they'd made. GoPro were back on board, which was always an exiting prospect. They always loved an exiting project, and Seb and Ellie were always keen to get involved. Grinning at her, he gave her a brief check, nodding.
"I think we're all good then." He pecked her back on the cheek, looking back at one of the cameramen, who was getting into position.
"Don't." He chuckled, Seb's comic timing as good as ever, as he looked back at the edge, stepping down gently as he got his own camera gear set up.
"I'm all good. Drone follows us off but won't even come close to catching us up. Good push and we'll be clear of that ledge below us. DZ's in that clearing there, remember. We've got a thin landing area between the trees, but winds are nice. You have the lead, m'lady. They are live." Seb added, gently patting her on the butt, knowing he was getting the shit slapped out of him when they got down, as he finalised his last zip.
"On your go...." He added, watching her and letting her start this all off.
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Sonoma Raceway
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exbmKes0IM8 OST- Be Here Now (Fred V and Grafix Remix) - Hybrid
The NSX sat in mostly green and white, an impressive GT3 car to say the least. The Castrol-liveried GT3 machine was fine, and a proven breed. A 1.2 tonne machine with 500 horses, out of a 3.5L turbocharged V6 was a scary tool and under throttle, Ryan had felt it too. Honda, Acura, same thing he had to remind himself. But under it all, it was a fierce machine. Practice had proven that. With a white and green helmet in hand, and a appropriately liveried race suit, the Brit felt confident to make that machine fly, in the way he knew how to. And the best part of this team....well, the best part of Forge that was, had also come along.
"Ryan, she's set to go. You and Gina are on evens here. Upper brass want to see podiums here in this series. With a car like this, it's way ahead of what we had before, eh?" The Canadian added, Lucas as chirpy as ever, Ryan nodding.
"Yup. Grips absolutely peachy. Let's see what we can get sorted in qualifying." He replied, looking across to Gina, still in her zone. He didn't interrupt her. He had been there, in that position on that bit of the sofa in front of the map doing just the same thing. Taking his white balaclava and Simpson helmet, he gently started to get himself prepared, feeling the heat beat down in the afternoon sun outside.
"Good stuff. I'll be on the comms. You should have a nice window- remember, get the tyres bedded in and don't push this thing too quick. The aero's really well dialled in, so you'll have a lot more grip at speed...almost seems like the car is way better to setup here." Lucas added, Ryan nodding, patting his car. #42, McKay. Back to what he did best.
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