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Following a deadly shootout on the banks of the Potomac River, Moy, Alec and Jack flee the country, seeking seclusion on the lovely Caribbean island of Hispaniola — in La República Dominicana.
But this is no luxury vacation with a team of killers hired by The Committee hot on their trail. With danger and betrayal lurking at every turn, everyone moves down the coast to La Romana, where the action heats up and the consequences become explosive.
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Musical Inspiration: Five Alarm Funk – March of the Latin Zombies
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They’re all in a corner room. Bank of windows to the south overlooks a palm-studded park, the beach and the Caribbean. Windows to the west offer views down the broad avenue and next door, an almost gothic-looking office building. Those west windows suddenly erupt in a maelstrom of flying glass and buzzing slugs.
The first thought crossing Jack’s mind is that the shooters are most likely positioned in the office building next door, probably a floor or two above. He hits the floor. The room is a hornet’s nest, only a hundred times more lethal.
As they crawl toward the exit, the room’s furnishings turn into confetti. Jack and Alec upend the couch and the dining room table, giving them meager shelter from the rain of death. Catching Alec’s eye, Jack says, “Two M5’s is my guess.” Alec nods. Next, the buzzing, snapping, whining frenzy is accompanied by a high-pitched warbling screech.
Moy trips the fire alarm, pops open the door and dares a peek into the hallway. Expecting to be greeted by a hail of bullets, she’s pleasantly surprised to find the hallway filling with guests — some in only their underwear — but no shooters.
“C’mon,” she shouts. “Let’s get the hell outta here.” Once in the hallway, they can still hear rounds slamming into the other side of the wall. Every couple of seconds a slug breaks through and bounces around the hallway.
Now they face two choices: go left or go right. Left leads to the elevators. Right leads to a stairwell thirty feet away. Oddly, the guests run for the elevators — a bad move in a fire situation. Moy, Jack and Alec go for the stairs, and a probable ambush. Guns drawn, they enter the stairwell. It’s clear—so far.
“Okay, Alec,” says Moy. “You were right. The Company, the police or whoever the fuck they are, least we know they’re not Delta.”
That draws a smile out of Jack and Alec. They knew what she meant. Delta would have had them cold in ten seconds, probably less. At least whoever the hell wants them dead now is not able to put the very best on their trail. Nevertheless, they did manage to find them easy enough.
“So does this mean we’re all friends again?” asks Alec.
“Don’t be so sure,” Jack answers.
“We’ll talk about it,” says Moy. “Remind me to get back to yuh, if we make it outta this fuckin’ mess.”
They head down, clearing two floors with no problem. Jack and Alec take turns popping out, with Moy covering their rear. Jack, about to speak, catches movement—the muzzle of a suppressed M5. The shooter had just popped the door one floor below and is bringing the muzzle of his weapon up and around. A bad move. Pushing forward one step, Jack fires a three-round burst. The shooter doesn’t have chance. He’s blown off his feet and dead before he hits the floor.
At the sound of Jack’s shots, Moy charges back up the stairway. Her attention is on the stairs above and behind her. If they hit from the front, there’s a very good chance another shooter will come up from behind. Moy knows what she’s doing and is ready to react.
The new shooter, so startled by her appearance, bounces a shower of rounds off the floor directly in front of him in an attempt to shoot down the stairwell. Moy takes him down with a three-round burst. When she reaches him, she yanks the guy’s M5 off him, along with a bag of ammo. She trains her gun on the door the shooter just emerged from. She can’t believe there isn’t another one. Before heading down stairs, she notices a small radio clipped to the shooter’s jacket, and snatches that up, too. Suddenly, things are looking much better.
She finds Jack and Alec searching the body of Jack’s victim. Jack has snatched the guy’s gun, ammo bag and radio. Alec has the guy’s wallet, but it contains nothing incriminating. He’s local talent. Probably the shooters across the street are, as well.
On their way out, they swipe some luggage suitable enough to contain their new-found weaponry. When they hit the alleyway behind the hotel, they head south, away from the office building and the shooters up there. Ducking down into a dark, narrow passageway between two buildings, they drop from sight.
“Damn. I really liked that hotel,” Moy says.
Jack and Alec look at Moy and smile. Once clear of their attackers, they head to the beach and exchange their clothing for informal beach attire at the first shop they come to. Alec, however, insists upon keeping his Panama hat.
Following the clothing switch, they take a table at a beachside café, order food and Corona longnecks all around.
“That joint’s a little over the top for somebody on the lam, don’t you think?” Alec asks Moy.
“No, not really. Not at all,” says Moy, “You go your way. I’ll go mine.”
“Not so fast,” says Alec.
“Listen. I was doing perfectly fine until the two of you showed up.”
“Whoa, what’d I do?” Alec says. “You’re not suggesting that I brought all this heat down on us?”
“No. No. ‘Cause your ridiculous disguise couldn’t fool a blind man,” says Moy.
“Moy . . . Alec . . . it’s time to put aside our differences and get our act together,” says Jack. “Somebody wants us dead here.”
“Okay, Jack,” says Alec. “Like I was trying to tell you guys in the first place, the lobby of that hotel was crawling with Company operators.”
“But they send a bunch of amateurs to take us out? That makes no sense,” Moy says.
“No it doesn’t,” Alec replies. “I never said there was geniuses down there . . . just Company operators is all.”
“Well, Christ. How many were there?” Jack asks.
“Uh . . . one or two,” says Alec.
“So which was it, then?” Moy leans forward in her chair to challenge Alec.
“Okay,” Alec says. “It was one . . . yunno, for sure. Another, maybe.”
“So not literally crawlin’ with ‘em, then?”
Alec looks down a moment before confessing. “No, not in that sense. Only I could tell that something was up . . . trouble, yunno. I had to warn you.”
“Okay. Okay. Thanks a lot, Alec,” says Moy. “So, how’d you make the one guy?”
“Oh, that was easy. The mystery is how I managed to fool him so well. Yunno, my cheesy red beard and all. You see, the guy I spotted down there is actually my brother, Maury,” Alec replies.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Moy says. “Guy’s name’s really Maury?”
“Well, Maurice. He prefers Maury.”
“Yeah. I can see that,” Moy says.
“So how you doin’ with your brother? Can’t you just call him off us?” Jack asks.
“ ’Fraid not, guys. He hates me. He’s our worst nightmare come true, a real hardcase. I mean a real hardcase.”
“Christ. What’d you do to him?” Moy asks.
“Took out his wife and his two little kids is what I did. So yuh can’t blame him for being sore . . . even if it was only business.”
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