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  The first shot hit Ben in the head, killing him instantly. The team moved as one with the sound of the gunfire. Three more shots rang out before Gustaf spotted the two men in the back of an old Chevy Silverado; their faces hidden behind the red and green bandanas the Matamoras Cartel soldiers were known for. In less than three seconds, Elijah and Gustaf were returning fire. Mumphord dropped the one on the left immediately. The other, hit by Gustaf, spun around but came up shooting. He got off three more rounds as the pickup pulled out into traffic. The team held fire; panicked civilians were running into the line of fire.

  *****

  Lazarus was lounging in a deck chair; Angelique asleep in his arms. He glanced at his watch; 3:17am. It was a beautiful night on the Gulf. Wind and water calm, high cirrus clouds occasionally backlit by the half-moon. He couldn’t sleep. The success of the mission was like a drug. It had the opposite effect on Lazarus as it did on Derek and his operatives.

  Lazarus was calm. As calm as the seas around him. He never had to deal with the adrenaline fall-out. He felt only satisfaction for a successful operation with no casualties on his side, and all the enemy were dead. He watched the clouds as he gently ran his fingers through Angelique’s hair, unaware the decision to leave the team in Key West was coming back on him with a vengeance.

  It was 3:28 when Lazarus heard a well-powered boat closing rapidly from the east. His eyes closed as he slowly turned his head, pinpointing the origin of the sound. He opened his eyes to see a light on the horizon moving in his direction. Lazarus recognized the sound; the deep-throated rumble of twin Mercury racing engines. He knew the sound because it was his 42X Ducati Cigarette boat – something had gone terribly awry.

  At 120 mph, it didn’t take the Ducati long to reach the Ziva. Angelique was now standing next to Lazarus, her arm linked in his as LJ deftly brought the 42’ racing boat alongside, quickly tying a line between the two vessels.

  The look on his face was contained. LJ wasn’t given to panic any more than his boss was. He climbed aboard the Ziva and walked over to Lazarus.

  “Give it to me straight, LJ,” Lazarus said softly.

  “Yes, sir,” LJ replied. “It’s bad.”

  “Go on.”

  “Derek’s team was ambushed on the street in Key West a little past midnight.”

  “Casualties?” asked Lazarus, unaware of the look of horror on Angelique’s face.

  LJ didn’t respond. Instead, he lowered his head and looked away. Lazarus picked up on it immediately and turned to Angelique.

  “Mon Cherie,” he said as he put his arm around her. “I am sorry you are hearing this.”

  “It isn’t just that,” she whispered through silent tears. “I know what it means.”

  “What it means?” he asked as he lifted her chin.

  “Yes, Lazarus. It means that you are leaving now. It means that someone is hurt, or LJ wouldn’t be here. It means you must go, and I have this cold feeling men will die because of it.”

  Lazarus didn’t answer. He pulled her closer and held her gently until her tears abated.

  “I understand, my love,” she said. “I truly do, and I accept you must go. I will be afraid for you. I can’t help that.”

  Lazarus smiled and kissed her eyelids. “Mon Cherie, my heart belongs to you. I give you my word, it will not be me who perishes.”

  Angelique kissed him on the cheek and went below, leaving him with LJ.

  “As you were saying…” prompted Lazarus.

  “Ben is dead, sir. Killed outright with a shot to the head. Val Wilson was hit in the left shoulder, just below her collarbone. She will be fine – a through and through. Sgt. Johnson suffered several lacerations to his face, neck and eyes from a shot that hit the glass he was holding. The bullet continued, striking a waitress in the upper right thigh. Her wound is not life threatening.”

  “Out with-it, LJ,” ordered Lazarus.

  LJ squared his shoulders and looked Lazarus in the eye. “Derek was struck in the upper back. The bullet is lodged near his spinal cord. General Fischer has him on a military flight to Walter Reed.” LJ took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Derek is paralyzed from the neck down, sir.”

  Lazarus didn’t react. His expression never changed. “Thank you, LJ.”

  He turned to the Ducati, “Is it full?”

  “It was when I left the dock. There’s about 150 gallons left in her – it will get you to Key West if you keep it under 80.”

  Lazarus nodded and went below.

  “LJ will take you home,” said Lazarus. “I’m sorry I can’t do it myself.”

  “No, Lazarus, you aren’t sorry,” said Angelique as she poked him in the ribs. “You are focused, and more than a little angry. It’s okay. I know you would take me if you could. You don’t have the time. So, kiss me and go.”

  He did just that. Two minutes later the Ducati was headed south at 70mph, the rooster tail visible for miles by the light of the moon.

  ~18~

  November 13

  3:52 am – EST

  Lazarus checked the fuel, running the numbers in his head. He backed off the throttle to 65, ensuring he had enough fuel to make it to the marina. It would put him into Key West at approximately 5 a.m. Sunrise would be around 6:45; plenty of darkness for what Lazarus had in store. Key West wasn’t large, and Lazarus had a safe house with a vehicle stored there. The house was near Mallory Square; small but perfectly suited to his needs. Two bedrooms, two baths and an attached garage on property well shaded by palm trees and surrounding taller homes and hotels. The secluded rear entrance allowed Lazarus to come and go without being seen. He was well-known in Key West; the billionaire philanthropist from Duck Key.

  The house also contained what amounted to a Hollywood wardrobe and make-up studio in the attic. A high roof pitch gave Lazarus plenty of headroom in the 14’x28’ attic; only accessible through the master bathroom ceiling. There was also a decent cache of weapons located there. You might think it risky to maintain all that in a location prone to hurricanes. Lazarus wasn’t concerned. The house was built to withstand 200mph wind driven projectiles. That, and the fact the home was registered to one, Mark Chambers – an elderly recluse. He was rarely seen, but seen he was. Stooped, walking with two curved canes with long handles wrapped in ribbons of cloth. His hair, long and gray like his beard, was often pulled back in a ponytail. He always wore long linen pants and baggy shirts, and a ragged looking Panama hat. You never saw anything on his feet but an old pair of Birkenstocks over black dress socks. Lazarus was good at building identities and with some, like Mark Chambers and Cooper Johnson, well-known in their respective locales.

  His first phone call was to General Fischer.

  “Fischer,” the General Answered.

  “How bad is Mr. Black, sir?” asked Lazarus unemotionally.

  “It’s not good, son. The bullet hit the table top first, which affected momentum. Derek was diving to his right and straight into its path. It’s now lodged about one quarter of an inch from his spinal cord, between the 4th and 5th vertebrae. The swelling and pressure have paralyzed him; neck down.” General Fischer didn’t sugar-coat it for Lazarus. He knew it wasn’t necessary.

  “Understood, sir,” Lazarus replied. He went on without prefacing his request. “I need access to a satellite with a view of Key West; yours or the NSA, whichever is closest. My operative will need one hour of time, from 5:30 to 6:30 EST. When we are finished, we drop out. You have my word we will not compromise any security protocols or utilize the satellite for any other reason. You control the access point, the temporary credentials, and time limitations.”

  “No one will ever accuse you of beating around the bush,” snorted Fischer. “That’s it? You just need access to one of the most secure assets of our nation for your personal use? I will assume you aren’t about to tell me why.”

  Lazarus’ voice took on a nasty edge. “General Fischer, if you really want to know what I am going to do, then ask me – straight out, man t
o man. Don’t go fishing for answers, it’s offensive. One more thing, General, don’t ask if you aren’t prepared for the answer.”

  General Fischer stiffened in his chair. It wasn’t so much what was said, but how, and it wasn’t sitting well with him. He answered with the voice of a Marine General, “I don’t like your tone, son, and it’s not going to help your cause.”

  “General,” said Lazarus coldly, “this is a courtesy call. I can order my tech-wizard to hack into your satellite. You couldn’t stop him if I told you when.

  “Having said that, I would prefer not to – you have some damn good techies. I don’t want to risk losing one of my best assets on the outside chance one of them might get lucky.”

  General Fischer knew the Chameleon wasn’t bluffing. He didn’t know how, but he knew. It was the way he spoke, like it was nothing. To the Chameleon, hacking an NSA satellite would be just another day at the office.

  “Understood,” the General replied. “Yes, I want to know what you are going to do.”

  “Do I have my access?”

  “You will. How do I get the info to your operative?”

  “You don’t. Text me the protocols. I’ll handle it from there.” Lazarus paused, “and General Fischer, I would strongly advise you don’t try and trace the access. It will be a waste of time and cost you a perfectly good satellite.”

  “I don’t respond well to threats,” growled the General.

  “It isn’t a threat, sir. It’s just one of those facts of life.” Lazarus chuckled at his comment.

  For some reason, it eased the tension in the General. He understood he was dealing with a professional; one whose limitations were unknown. He knew he was being told the truth. The unmitigated, unvarnished and simple truth.

  “You’ll get your hour, son,” said the General with an exaggerated sigh. “Are you always this direct?”

  “No, sir, only when time is critical to my mission.”

  “Okay, then. You get your time, now I get my answer,” said Fischer. “What are you going to do with this intel?”

  Lazarus answer chilled the General to the core. He was a soldier, a Marine. He’d been to war – to hell and back. Yet, the tone in Lazarus voice made the hair on his neck stand.

  “I’m going to do what I do best, General. I’m going to do what I was born to do, raised to do and trained to do. I’m going to kill. The only question is how many will I kill before I am finished with Andres Camacho and Los Zapatos.”

  The General was nodding to himself. He didn’t know if the man on the phone would be able to pull it off or not. He wasn’t going to bet against him. “Very well, then, Mr. Chameleon. Good luck and go with God.”

  Lazarus’ answer chilled the General even more than before. “General Fischer, if there truly is a God – he had better stay the fuck out of my way.” The line went dead in the General’s hand.

  *****

  Katsumi answered on the first ring. “What do you need, Sir?”

  “I’m sending you the access information for one of their satellites. It could be NSA or CIA, and you will have authorized access for one hour; 5:30 to 6:30 this morning, our time.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Katsumi. “Key West will be the target for the surveillance,” she stated more than asked.

  “Yes, for that satellite,” said Lazarus. “I will need eyes on the Los Zapatos compound in three days. Do you still have your back-door access to NSA?”

  “Certainly, Sir,” said Katsumi with pride. “They’ll never find it.”

  “I understand,” said Lazarus. “Those were quick ins and outs. Can you maintain your anonymity for an extended period?”

  “Please, define the time period,” Katsumi requested.

  “Best estimate at this time – 4 hours total, start to finish in worst case scenario. Two hours if it runs as planned.”

  “Do you have a plan, Sir?” she asked.

  The corners of Lazarus’ mouth twitched, almost pulling themselves into a smile. “Of course not, sweetie. Nothing is set in concrete at this juncture, but then again, you already knew that.”

  Katsumi did laugh. “Yes, Sir, I did. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

  Lazarus smiled. Katsumi had the ability to make him smile when he felt like doing anything but. She owed him her life, willingly dedicating it to serving Lazarus the day he set her free. “Okay, Kat, point taken. Now, answer the question smarty.”

  “Four hours would be hard, though not impossible. Two hours I can guarantee security.”

  “Then I better keep it to two hours, wouldn’t you agree?” Lazarus replied.

  “Yes, Sir, that is if you don’t mind,” said Katsumi with a quiver in her voice, barely containing her desire to laugh. “I don’t think I would look good in prison orange…Sir.” Then she did laugh.

  Even at time like this, with Lazarus filled with rage, planning to decimate a Cartel, Katsumi could make him smile. She knew what he was going to do. She knew men would die, probably a lot. They had killed his man, Ben and paralyzed his friend, Derek. Blood would be spilled. Katsumi had no illusions about her master. She also loved him without reservation. He was her father in every sense of the word. She simply wanted to ease his burden and lighten his spirit if only for the moment. She succeeded.

  “Thank you, sweetie, I needed that,” said Lazarus. “Now, back to the business at hand.

  “I need you to contact Esteban. There’s a man headed his way by the name of Clark. He may already be there. I need him to go back to Chihuahua and get his chopper ready to fly on a moment’s notice. Clark might be a bit confused, since I just sent him to Matamoras, so have Esteban inform Mr. Clark this is a personal request from me; I’m going to need him there.”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Katsumi.

  “Hold on a second,” said Lazarus as he reached for his other phone.

  “I just got the access protocols from General Fischer for your satellite link. I’m forwarding it now. The attachment is encrypted and the note from Fischer reads, ‘Here’s what you need. If your man is as good as you say he is, he can crack the encryption to get the info. Good luck.’” Lazarus chuckled.

  “Everybody thinks you’re my main man, Kat. That is a never-ending source of humor for me,” he added.

  “It is for me, too, Sir,” laughed Katsumi. “I love kicking their butts, and they think it’s a man. Boy oh boy, can you imagine how ashamed they’d feel if they knew it was a girl?”

  “Easy, sweetie,” said Lazarus. “We have a lot to do, and it’s time to get serious.”

  “Understood, Sir,” answered Katsumi. “Thank you for letting me lighten your soul, if only for the moment.”

  “Always, baby girl,” said Lazarus. “I love you – now crack that code. I’ll be in Key West around 5:00. I am going live at 5:30 with my very-well-thought-out plan, and I need your eyes.”

  Katsumi smiled, but didn’t laugh, “As you wish, Sir,” ending the call.

  *****

  His next call went out as soon as Katsumi finished.

  “Hello, Lazarus,” answered Dan Grimsrud, NSA Analyst and Derek’s father.

  “Hello, Dan,” said Lazarus. “I don’t have the words to express how I feel right now. I have no children. I’m responsible for what happened in Key West. I should have anticipated there would be reprisals. I didn’t consider the Zapatos presence, and left them unprepared, all so I could go home and get laid.”

  Dan sighed. “Lazarus, I know you. I also know you’ll never admit to simply being human, so I won’t go there. Derek is a grown man; an ex-Navy seal. He runs ops for the CIA. He lives with danger every day. This wasn’t your fault. This wasn’t your doing. It was Andres Camacho. We both know that, despite the bullshit Matamoras Cartel disguises.”

  Lazarus let Dan’s words sink in. “Thank you, Dan. I appreciate your words, but it changes nothing. This is on me.

  “How is he doing, Dan; mentally that is?”

  “I don’t know Lazarus, he’s been unconscious since I a
rrived. I’m told he’s in the best possible hands, and I want to believe it,” said Dan. “They’re taking Derek to surgery wing in about 15 minutes. General Fischer flew in a surgeon from Chicago. He specializes in gun-shot wounds. God knows he gets enough practice in Chicago. His name is Dr. Mohammed Islam. He’s optimistic. The bullet was slowed by the deflection. He doesn’t like to do odds, no doctor does, I suppose. Anyway, he said he felt the prognosis for Derek was good once the bullet was removed and the pressure taken off the spinal cord; no guarantees.”

  “The news is better than I expected, Dan,” said Lazarus. “I also believe General Fischer will do everything in his power for Derek. There’s a deep connection there, well beyond the CIA.”

  “Yeah, there is,” said Dan, who didn’t elaborate.

  “Give my best to M.J., Dan. Tell her I will come when I can.”

  “I know you will, Lazarus. Not that it will do me any good to say it, but I will anyway, be careful out there. We don’t want to lose you any more than Derek.”

  Lazarus didn’t know what to say to that. Sure, everyone said ‘Be safe’ at times like this. He didn’t understand the correlation with Derek.

  “I’ll be okay, Dan’ but you know I have to do this,” he stated flatly.

  Dan picked up on the change in Lazarus voice. “I know you do; that’s not the fucking point, Lazarus. I should be there with you. They shot my son, god damn it; ambushed him in the middle of the street, in my country!” Dan was angry and couldn’t contain it. “I want them all to pay for what they did, but it should be me going after them, not you. I’m his father. I should be the one to make them pay.” Dan was close to tears; tears of rage.

  Lazarus did the one thing he was just as good at as he was killing. He changed like the Chameleon he truly was. He turned off the anger like throwing a switch. When he answered, he spoke softly, the edge gone from his voice. In its place were compassion and kindness. “Dan, please listen to me. Mary Jo needs you there. Derek needs you there. I need you there. That is your family, Dan. You need to be there, for your own good as much as theirs.