Connor Fitzgerald author of THE B-SQUAD

Extract from The B-SQUAD Part two REVENGE

In that very ranch where it all began stood Terry ready to give the signal and enter the room of the man who started it all, not to end what he had begun but to begin to recreate what he had promised but not delivered. ‘A man who doesn't keep his word is not a man’ was Mike’s last words to Terry before he set off and that phrase was on his mind when he lifted the first of his fingers, then the second and then on lifting the third Jake and Bruce simultaneously kicked in the doors to the bedrooms either side of him.

Bruce saw only a lump in the bed before him and delivered a burst of four rounds into it. As his weapon fired the empty casings of each bullet danced on the ground with the only sound in the room being ‘clink clink click click’ as each bounced off the floor at his feet and the silenced rounds entered the mound on the bed leaving only smoking holes.

When he stepped forward he yanked off the sheet to see the crumpled heap of the overpaid ex-soldier lying in his own blood with his hand on his own Beretta, the weapon he kept under his pillow. Close one, thought Bruce to himself then wondered what might be next door.

Jake’s door flew open to reveal not a sleeping man but a half-naked man who was sitting up and with the light on. Jake had to quickly remove his night goggles before he could fire, blinded initially by the brightness of the lamp that was sitting on the bedside cabinet and one he hadn’t expected to be lit.

The stunned man was then revealed to him with his dick in one hand and a copy of Playboy in the other. The man first looked up at his intruder then down at the dick he had been tossing off. Jake couldn't help but also look but in that hesitation the mercenary’s other hand reached for the weapon he kept under his pillow. Jake stared at the sight before him then let off two silenced rounds into the man’s chest. His head fell forward as if he was bowing in prayer and he died still holding his cock and sitting upright in the bed. Again the only sound in the room were the casings that clinked as they bounced off the floor.

Terry waited a few seconds to ensure both were dead before entering the room that was Griffin’s and he too was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. Lying on the bed before him was the belly of a fat old man with more legs and arms that he should have had. He hesitated again for only the second time in his life as he watched one of the naked women that lay either side of the fat man jump up. She was jet black from head to toe and as she jumped up she hissed at him like the Na'vi from Avatar. The fat man and the blonde on his other side still lay sleeping on the bed and as Terry took his eyes off the naked black female he stared at the naked ass of the other women but in that brief second the naked Na'vi had grabbed the knife from the lavish cheese board on the bedside table and lunged at Terry who lifted his left arm up to defend himself and took the force of the Brie and Stilton blade that nicked his forearm.

The woman was wild, fuelled by the desire to defend and the cocaine that occupied the opposite bedside cabinet. She stabbed and jabbed the knife at Terry and the tip of the blade ripped the material on his body armour that was protecting his chest as he tried to fight her off. She was skinny but fast with large breasts that flapped about as she continued her frenzied attack. Terry was stronger, more powerful but the speed of her attack was phenomenal and it wasn’t until her cute face met the butt of Bruce's MP5 that her attack ended and she fell to the floor. 'Phht Phht Phht' was the next sound as her naked black body jerked three times when the rounds from his MP5 entered her chest and the knife stained with cheese and blood finally fell from her hand. 

The noise of her assault woke Griffin whose eyes were widened from the sleepy heavy way they opened by the sight of a black Beretta pointing at him and he could just make out the shadow of a ninja standing in the light of the door way. 'Get up you fuck!' commanded Terry as Bruce removed his goggles and moved swiftly round the bed to spin the blonde away from Griffin’s body and onto her back. He pushed the silencer on his weapon into her face but she didn't wake. Terry stood firm pointing his weapon at Griffin when Bruce noticed a trickle of blood hardened under the nose of the blonde who looked East European. He felt her pulse. 'She's dead' he then growled before turning his weapon to Griffin just as Jake walked in.

'Holy shit what went on in here?’ he questioned as he looked down at the naked woman at his feet. 'This is not what it looks like' pleaded Griffin as he sat up looking to see if he recognised the three ninjas in his bedroom. 'I can explain, look I have money let me call my lawyer’ and as he reached for the phone which sat behind a mound of cocaine Terry let off a round from his Beretta which echoed around the room as the sound bounced off each of the walls and travelled out of the room throughout the ranch and beyond carried by the dead of the night for miles as a faint echo that no one would ever hear but in that room the noise was like an explosion.

The deafening crack from his pistol sent waves of shock into the air and like the sound waves they too filled the room. Jake and Bruce felt a chill down their spine and the cocaine puffed up from the table in a cloud of smoke to rival the Icelandic Volcano (that grounded flights with its grey plume) as the bullet travelled through it and into the bedside telephone. Griffin did not know who these men were but the seriousness of why they were there was apparent and the noise filled him with a fear that released his bodily functions and eased his sphincter involuntarily allowing his urine to escape into the sheets around him and forcing him to squeeze his cheeks to avoid an accident at the rear.

Terry watched as the echo from his shot turned to a buzz in his ear and bubbles of piss boiled up from the sheets when Griffin wet himself and realised these men were not DEA it was not a drugs raid and it was unlikely he would be arrested. What followed was a quick yank from the bed as Terry instructed the others to remove him and set him on his knees before him in his piss stained oversized boxer shorts before Terry removed the machete from its scabbard. The large knife that had been acquired in Somalia and had sliced its way through the Columbian jungle. Mike thought, if left behind, might lead the authorities to determine that the hit on Griffin was carried out by either the Somali Militia, their sympathisers or hired hands. Before Terry used the curved blade to end the life of the man that brought the squad together he told him who he was by speaking his name and then the names of each of the squad members he worked with.

‘Terence Carter’ he said reciting his own name first then, ‘Bruce Bay’ he continued looking to The Bear on his right who had removed his black hood to reveal his large beard. ‘Jake McKenzie’ he continued further but Jake kept his weapon trained on the man who started it all. ‘Gerard Foster’ Terry then said but was interrupted by, ‘You’ve gotta be joking?’ coming from Griffin as he turned his gaze from The Bear back to Terry which worried Terry as it was Gerry’s face he’d seen in the picture downstairs, one of his own with his arms round Griffin. What did that mean? he thought but he continued, ‘Michael Ryan’ and it was then that Griffin’s demeanour changed and he said, ‘Look if this is this silly little B-Squad thing I have money I’ll pay you.’

Terry was incensed by the man’s lack of disregard for the squad and the men and women who had given their lives to it and just like Mike on that day when he first met Griffin his anger took over and before he could complete the list of names he unleashed the machete, the machete that had been collected in Somalia, the same machete that Mike had used to fight his way through the jungle and with one swift and fast movement he swung the large blade and gritted his teeth as he sliced through Griffin’s neck removing his head from his body in one fast swing like Tiger Woods on the longest fairway swinging for his life and to rekindle his career.

Griffin’s head rolled along the floor before settling face up and his eyes blinked once before staying open and staring towards his body which spurted blood like a fountain from its severed neck. It gushed like a Yellowstone Geezer, warm, hot, blood like red paint flew out of his twitching body and the three stood in awe off the sight before them. Growing up on a farm Terry had witnessed many a head removed, mostly from chickens, and he knew the body would continue to work afterwards as the headless chicken would continue to run around but Griffin’s body just twitched as the pumping from his heart continued for a few seconds that seemed more like ten minutes until it fell forward in a headless lump.

Terry left the machete in the room so it could be traced to its origin in Africa and the massacre that was the Texas ranch would be put down to the men in that war torn country who wanted the head of the man from Griffin Oil.

Back at The Malmaison Mike lay on the bed looking at the expensive blue suede, high-heeled shoes with their blood red soles that Rachel had stepped out of before heading to the bathroom and wondered if blood had indeed been spilt that night. Just then his phone buzzed in his pocket and he lifted it out to see he had a message from Terry;

IT IS DONE

Mike knew that one out of the three men they vowed to kill was now dead and he sent his reply;

GOOD JOB

That text to Terry was like a great big pat on the back from his boss filling him with pride and the acknowledgment that he too was becoming a great leader.