Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) (2 page)

He heard a thump in his trunk, and the lid slammed down. Steve slid into the passenger seat. The night was as hot as the day, and he had the engine running so the air-conditioning would give him some relief. “You want me to go with you?” The old man never looked over at him. “Nope… best you get on home, boy… you don’t want no part of this collar.” He looked on as Steve sat motionless. He grabbed the passenger door handle and pulled but didn’t open the door. “You aren’t looking to arrest this guy are you?” He knew the question was rhetorical. The old man didn’t answer. “Well, old man, I think that’s a helluva stupid idea you’re planning. I would also be remiss if I didn’t warn you not to take the law into your own hands. Remember that college that you say messed up my head? I followed your lead, and you taught me everything I know, so I have to go on the record here as a special agent and tell you not to do this.” There was a pause and silence in the car as he continued. “I understand why you’re doing it, but you’re not going to come out on the success end of this one. I’ve spoken my piece. You do what you want to. I think you should leave this up to me and the Sheriff’s Department. We’ll catch him.”

Not a move, not a comment, just a dead stare out the front windshield. Steve pushed the door the rest of the way open. “As far as I’m concerned, we never had this conversation.” There was no response. He stepped out of the car then bent down and looked at the old man and said, “You know, I’ve got your back if you want it.” The old man just nodded as he stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. He never looked over at Steve. “You can ignore me ‘til the cows come home, old man, but you know as well as I do that if you go after The Iron Eagle alone he’s going to kill you.” He didn’t respond, just motioned for him to close the car door. “I’ll say my goodbyes to you now, and thank you for helping me become the man I am today.” Mullin didn’t respond; he just waved his hand and drove away. Steve got into his car and started to follow him at a distance. He knew the old man could pick up a tail with little effort, but he felt he needed to try. He lost sight of him, as he thought he would, as Mullin turned onto Elm Street.

Eleven thirty-two was the time on the clock in the old man’s car when he parked outside Sumner Mill Works. It had been a wood manufacturing plant until the recession hit and the owners shut it down. At one point in the history of the plant, half the population of Boyle Heights had been employed there. Hell, he even worked there as a kid just before he was drafted in ‘69. He sat watching the locked gates. The area was quiet, and there was no activity. Mullin knew in those moments that he wasn’t alone. He was out there, somewhere, watching.

Behind a wood pile, a pair of eyes with night vision goggles was watching the parked car. The black figure moved silently in the direction of the vehicle. The old man lit a cigarette and waited for movement, any movement, so he could take his revenge. He took a drag off the smoke and put his head back on the headrest – the red hot cherry tip of his smoke the only light in the car – when suddenly he heard the passenger side door handle being pulled. He reached for the gun on his right side, but he never got there as suddenly everything went black.

“You came to kill me,” said a disembodied voice out of sight of the old man. His head was foggy, and the voice was being disguised. He tried to look around, but he felt sick. “Are you confused as to where you are?” He tried to move, but he was restrained to a chair. He bent his head forward and threw up. The fog in his head was lifting, and he could see a light in the corner of the room. He felt a hand on his back patting him like a child, and then he felt the restraints being removed from his wrists. He moved to stand up, only to fall on the concrete floor into his own vomit. He moved his feet, but he had leg irons on. He lay for several minutes on the cold floor. It felt good against his body – the smell of his own stomach contents of no concern in the moment. He was now almost fully alert and called out, “Where are you, you sonbitch?” His voice echoed off the walls of what appeared to be an empty room. The voice responded, “I’m right over here, Barry.” He looked in the direction of the voice and saw the silhouette of a person in a doorway. From his vantage point he couldn’t make out any details, just a fuzzy figure with a very bright light behind it.

“How the fuck do you know my name? No one calls me that.” He saw the hulking figure dressed all in black head towards him, no discernible face with the light shining in the old man’s eyes. “Now now, Barry. Is that any way to speak to an old friend? I suppose you would prefer that I call you ‘old man,’ right? If you ask me, it’s just downright disrespectful for a man of your reputation.” The voice kept moving around, and the old man couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. “Your head is getting clearer, correct?” Mullin rolled onto his back and fought to sit up while yelling, “Fuck you, asshole! Where are you, mother fucker?” He felt a strong pair of hands grab him under his arms and start dragging him toward the door. He still couldn’t see his captor, but he could feel his feet dragging on the smooth concrete floor toward the brightly lit doorway. He felt his body being lifted into the air and then gently laid down on a flat, soft surface. “Barry, Barry, please keep the profanity down. I’m a sensitive person. I would never speak to you in such a manner.”

Mullin realized that he was lying on a bed, and he felt the hands as they gently tied each of his wrists to it. “You haven’t answered my question, Barry. I asked if you came here to kill me.” “You’re goddamn right I’m here to kill you, you son-bitch.” He felt the arms release him and watched as the figure walked to the end of the bed. There, in front of him, stood a man dressed all in hospital white. He was wearing a surgeon’s hat and mask with a helmet on with a clear glass eye protector. “Nice disguise, asshole!” There was no response. He just stood there looking at him. He had no way of determining the height, weight or facial features of his captor. He had no idea how high off the floor the bed he was laying on was, and the voice was definitely disguised. “You said I know you, asshole. Who the fuck are you really?” He saw the man move toward a table and pull open the bag that the old man had packed at his office. He began unpacking the contents and laying them on two small steel tables, weapons on one table, tools on another.

“Barry, were you really going to use these things on me?” He didn’t respond. “Cat got your tongue, Barry? I asked you a question.” The old man didn’t say a thing. He could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest, and he was starting to have trouble breathing. “You know who I am, Barry, and if I didn’t know better I would think from the contents of this bag that you were planning to drug and torture me.” There was a bit of a laugh. “Tell me that I’m wrong.” Mullin laid there for a few seconds and then said, “You killed my granddaughter, you son-bitch, and I’m gonna kill you.” The man never turned; he just kept placing the tools on the tray, and once the bag had been emptied he placed it on a chair near the bed and rolled the table over next to him.

“I didn’t know she was your granddaughter when I killed her, Barry. If I had known that at the time, I would never have separated the two of you. She was a bad girl, Barry, and she was trying to cover up for you. You are a very, very bad man, and you have been covering up an even bigger secret for a friend, haven’t you?” “What the hell do you know?” the old man blurted out. “In all honesty, by a slip the three of you made. I know your friend’s depraved, Barry, and I know where to find him. Want to tell me about it? I will make this quick and painless if you will give me more details.” “Go fuck yourself. You don’t know shit. There’s no way you could know shit… I’m not telling you anything.” “Have it your way. I suppose I should allow you some time to think over the things I have asked you about.” The old man started to calm down a little. “You said I know you, but I don’t recognize you or your voice.” The man turned to face him and moved a bright light over him obstructing the view of his face. “You do know me; you know me well. You have been tracking me for several years. As I said, if I had known that Jill Makin was your granddaughter things would have been different; I do deeply apologize for the pain you must have endured. I certainly understand why you would want to kill me. It’s way out of character for you though, Barry. You have always pretended to be a law abiding person; however, pretenses eventually come into the light, don’t they? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Ashamed my ass, you son-bitch. You let me go now, and I will spare you your life.” The man reached behind the old man’s head for something while responding, “Ah, you will let me live, but you would still deny me my freedom. I have to admit, Barry, I don’t believe you. I’m quite certain that if the roles were reversed you would not be letting me go or even listening to any argument that I had in my defense.” “You have no argument in your defense, asshole. You are a murdering son-bitch, and I came to stop you.” “By murdering me?” He resisted the restraints and said, “I’d be doin’ society a favor.” He heard the sound of an electric motor behind his head, and he knew that it was the sound of a saw or a drill. “So you’re apologizing to me for killing my granddaughter, and now you’re going to kill me?” “Ironic, huh?” His heart began to beat fast again, and a sense of fear gripped him that he had never felt before. “Wait… we can work this out. Answer a question for me.” He heard the clink of metal hitting metal on the table next to him. “Of course, Barry, anything.” “Why did you kill my grandbaby?”

There was some rustling around, and he saw the man’s hands come toward him with a pair of scissors, and he begin to cut his shirt open.” “She was hardly a baby. She was a U.S. Marshal just like her grandfather, and she was getting a little too close for my comfort and my cause. She knew my true identity, and she knew that I knew what you’d been doing. She knew about the cover-up that you were assisting your friend with, but this is nothing new. You know all this.” He pulled the shirt open and then cut open his undershirt. “I see you still like to wear those ‘wife beaters.’” Barry started freaking out as the cold steel pressed against the skin of his chest. “Look… even if I know you, I will keep quiet, just let me go. I only know you as The Iron Eagle. I don’t want to see your face. If I know you, I can tell you that you have done a great job of disguising your voice and your appearance. There’s no way I could ever identify you based on what I’ve seen. So, if you do feel bad about my granddaughter, show your remorse and let me go.” He felt something cold being slathered on his chest, and he began to scream.

“Barry, Barry… calm down, calm down. You don’t think that I’m going to make you feel any pain, do you? You finally identified me by that nickname that has followed me for so many years – a nickname you and Jim O’Brian put on me in the beginning. At least Jim has had the decency to stay bound to his convictions. I bear him no ill will.” The old man was surprised by that response. “No… you’re not going to hurt me. You feel bad about my granddaughter and what you did to her. You’re going to let me go… right?” He felt a prick and then a sting in his right arm and looked down to see that an IV had been put in. He kept talking as The Eagle injected something into the IV, and he started to feel numb. His head was clear, but he couldn’t feel the restraints or the coldness of his chest or the room. The Eagle moved over to look in Barry’s eyes, and he could see that he was feeling no pain, but he wanted to be certain.