Roland and Susan

"No," she said. "It can't be true."

"Oh but it is true, dear wife," Roland said. "And I know that he told you because I have it all on video. I also have your response. Would you like to see it?" She shook her head. "So, what are you going to do? You still planning to go with him on your little cruise? You know which one I'm talking about, the cruise you two planned to take this weekend while telling me you have a meeting with clients out of town."

"So you know about that?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Roland said. "I've known for a while. I even took the liberty of packing your suitcase."

"How did you know?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that I do know," he said. He didn't tell her that Bill would be on the cruise keeping him informed of their activities.

"Mike's coming here to pick me up this evening," she said. Roland shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said. "In fact, if that fucker shows up here, I'll kill both of you where you stand and make it look like self-sefense. You'd better call him right now and make other arrangements."

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed. Roland picked up the pistol.

"You really wanna try me?" he asked. Susan backed away, shocked. "I didn't think so. Call your lover. Now." He cocked his pistol to drive home the point. Susan pulled out her phone and dialed. "Put it on speakerphone," Roland commanded. She obeyed, and soon, they both heard Mike pick up the phone.

"Hey, baby," he said. "You ready for me to come pick you up?"

"Uh, no, sweetie," she said. "I'll come to your place and we can go from there."

"Aw c'mon," he said. "We planned it this way."

"No, SWEETIE," Roland roared. "She's coming to you and I never want to see either of you again. If you step foot in my house, so help me God, I'll blow your fucking brains out."

"He means it," Susan said nervously.

"Yeah, I do," Roland said.

"Okay, okay," Mike said. "Calm down. I'll stay here. Promise me you won't hurt her, Mike."

"I won't hurt her so long as she leaves right now and neither one of you cross my path ever again," Roland said. He looked at his soon-to-be ex-wife. "Call me as soon as you get there and call me as soon as you get to the airport. I'll know where you are the whole time." He turned back to the phone. "And if you double-cross me again, Van Owen, I promise I won't miss. Got it?"

"I got it, Roland," he said. Roland grabbed the phone from Susan and ended the call. He handed her the phone and motioned toward the door.

"Get out," he told Susan. Susan took a step in his direction while reaching for his face. Roland backed up. "Stay away from me, bitch," he said. She recoiled from his words and his tone of voice. "You've lost the right to touch me or kiss me. Just grab your shit and get the fuck out." She headed for her luggage and looked back at her husband.

"I'm sorry, Roland," she said.

"Yeah, you are," he said sarcastically. "By the way, you should know that once Van Owen is finished with you, he'll double-cross you the way he did me. And believe me, he'll have no problem killing you. I'm not saying he will, I'm just letting you know who you're dealing with. Just know that I won't be there to pick up the pieces when he dumps you." Tears started falling down her cheeks.

"Don't you love me anymore?" she cried. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "I did once. I even gave you a second chance, something I almost never do. But then you decided to betray me. I don't associate with traitors, and that's what you are. Now go." She nodded her head and slowly walked out the door. A half hour later, she called to let him know she was at Van Owens' condo. Another half hour later, she called to say they were at the airport.

"Goodbye, wife," he said. "Enjoy what's left of your worthless life."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"You know the old saying about laying down with dogs," he said. "Just remember what I said." He ended the call and dialed Bill's number.

"They're at the airport," he said when Bill answered.

"Got 'em," Bill said. "I'll be in touch."

Over the next day or so, Roland got regular updates about Van Owen and his wife. It seemed they were having a grand old time on the cruise.

On the second day of their cruise, Roland went to a local bar and halfheartedly watched a game on the large television as he nursed his drink. A few people, including the bartender, tried to engage him in conversation but quickly left him alone after he made it clear he had no desire for company. After an hour or so, his phone buzzed. He looked, and saw it was a call from Bill. He answered and spoke to his friend.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Boss, your wife is in danger," Bill said. Crap, Roland thought.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Just as you predicted. I overheard Van Owen talking with some guerrillas," Bill said. "He's taking her to an island now and I'm following in another boat. He intends to hand her over to them as a sex slave."

"Do you know where they're going?" Roland asked.

"Shit, boss," Bill said. "There's only 700 islands in the Bahamas. But Van Owen let the cat out of the bag when he was talking to the guerrillas."

"When is this hand-off supposed to take place?" Roland asked.

"From what I heard, in about 12 hours," Bill said. "There's just enough time for you to get here if you want to extract her." Roland hated what his wife did, but he couldn't live with himself if he let her get put into that situation, or worse yet, dead. There was no other choice -- Van Owen had to die. And he would deal with Susan's betrayal later.

"Text me the coordinates and line up transportation," Roland said.

"Already done, boss," Bill said. "Details are on the way to you now." Roland smiled. That was one of the things he appreciated about Bill. Not only was he loyal, he knew how to plan ahead.

"Thanks, Bill," Roland said. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll be here," Bill said, ending the call. Roland put his phone away, paid his tab and headed home. Once there, he went to the attic, where he kept his gear. He unlocked the large chest and opened it. There it was -- his Thompson gun, covered and oiled, waiting for his touch. He picked it up and inspected it. Everything was still clean, oiled and in good order.

He grabbed a loaded drum and a large magazine. He figured 130 rounds should do the trick. If not, he was sure there would be other weapons lying around if it got to that point. He grabbed the rest of his gear and dressed for work.

Once done, he headed out to a small landing strip where he knew a small Lear jet was waiting for him. He spoke with the pilot for a minute and gave him the coordinates Bill texted him along with an envelope of cash. A few minutes later, the plane was airborne.

Roland examined the map Bill sent him and got a lay of the land. Although mostly uninhabited, the small island had a landing strip that was mostly used by smugglers and guerrillas. He studied the map carefully and had a good idea of what he would do.

He went into the lavatory, finished applying his camouflage paint and donned his fighting gear. He looked at himself in the mirror before he left and mentally prepared himself for the bloody work ahead. He double-checked himself and his gear and left the lavatory.

Sometime later, he looked out at the darkness and could make out the island below him. Looking carefully, he could see what appeared to be a campfire. The jet began its approach and landed on the dirt strip. After the plane slowed to a stop, he opened the door. The pilot came into the cabin and looked at his passenger. Roland looked back at him.

"Wait for my signal," he told the pilot, who acknowledged him with a nod of his head. Roland stepped off the plane to find Bill running up to him.

"This way," Bill said, turning back the way he came. "Can't miss it -- Van Owen has a nice fire going."

"Saw that," Roland said quietly. "Stupid fuck. I could see it twenty miles out." They quietly worked their way through the vegetation -- mostly to help keep the rounds in the drum from rattling too much -- and, 10 minutes later, found themselves on the edge of the camp. Roland and Bill knelt down and looked the campsite over. Susan was naked and tied to the ground, her arms and legs spread wide. In addition to Van Owen, Roland spotted three guerrillas. Susan was crying and begging to be let go.

"Please, Mike," she cried. "Don't do this. Don't I mean anything to you?" He laughed.

"Yeah," he said. "You mean about $250,000 to me right now," he added, flashing a stack of wrapped-up bills. "Once the boss makes it here, we'll make the exchange -- you for the other half of my bounty -- and you'll be off to live your new life. And there's nothing your stupid wimpy husband can do about it." The three guerrillas laughed in response. One of them stood over Susan and started unzipping his trousers.

"Put that away," Van Owen said. "El Capitan wants her fresh. You know that." The guerrilla zipped his pants back up, unhappy.

Roland looked at Bill, who was holding his .45 caliber pistol, then consulted his watch. It was time to move. He gave Bill a hand signal and the two moved out quietly.

They approached the camp as Van Owen and the guerrillas gathered around the fire. Roland motioned for Bill to stay behind him and take cover. Bill obeyed without question as Roland slowly moved into the camp.

The four men heard Roland as he placed the weapon in automatic firing mode, which required two switches to be turned -- one to take it off "safe" and another to place it in full auto mode. Without saying a word, he pulled the charging handle back and before the guerrillas could react, he unleashed several short bursts of automatic fire from the hip, sending the guerrillas flying back. A couple of the guerrillas managed to get some rounds off, but they missed Roland by a long shot.

After the guerrillas were dispatched, Roland placed the gun in his shoulder and took careful aim. Before Van Owen could react, Roland sent a three-round burst at his head, effectively blowing it off. The whole incident took just a few seconds.

Roland looked around to make sure everything was secure. That's when he noticed Susan. One of the shots fired by the guerrillas managed to hit her in the side. Bill knelt over her as Roland watched. She looked up at Roland with sad eyes.

"I'm... sorry," she wheezed. Soon, her eyes glazed over. Roland had seen enough death to know she was gone. Bill checked for a pulse and looked up at him.

"She's dead, boss," he said. "Do we take her back with us?" Roland hawked up a glob of phlegm and spit on her face. He thought for a moment as he observed the sputum covering her left eye, then shook his head.

"No," Roland said. "El Capitan is expecting to pick up a blonde. I think he should get what he paid for, don't you?"

"Damn, you're cold-blooded, boss," Bill said. Roland chuckled at that.

"You know it, my old friend," he said. "C'mon, let's get her over to the fire. She wanted to be with Van Owen, she can burn with him. Forever." They dragged her lifeless form to the fire and Roland used the wads of cash to stoke the fire, handing one bundle of bills to his friend. "Consider it a bonus," he said as Bill pocketed the cash.

They put Susan's nude body on the growing fire, followed by Van Owen and the three dead guerrillas.

"Help me police up this brass," Roland said. "No sense in leaving too many clues." After he and Bill collected the spent .45 caliber shell casings, they headed out to the plane. The pilot was waiting for them and took off as soon as they entered the cabin.

Bill watched his old friend as the plane headed back to the States. Roland sat in a back seat looking out the window, drinking a beer while smoking a fairly expensive cigar. Bill had seen this many times before and knew better than to interrupt -- at least until the first beer was finished.

"Mind if I join you?" Bill asked when Roland opened his second beer. Roland handed him a beer and a cigar and motioned for him to sit.

"We've been through some shit, haven't we?" Bill asked. Roland nodded his head as he looked out the window. "You know I'm really sorry about all this."

"I know, Bill," Roland finally said. "I warned her. God dammit all, I warned her this would happen. Stupid bitch just wouldn't listen."

"So what do we do now?" Bill asked. "You thinking about going back in the business?"

"Nah," Roland said. "I'm getting too old for this shit. Too sentimental."

"Sentimental?" Bill asked. "You? Sentimental? That'll be the day." Roland chuckled.

"Yeah," he said. "You notice I didn't even cut anyone's head off?"

"I noticed that," Bill said. Roland was known for decapitating his defeated enemies as a way of striking fear in the hearts of anyone who might oppose him.

"I couldn't do it," Roland said. "Even after everything that cheating cunt did, I just couldn't bring myself to do it." Bill nodded his head in understanding.

"I understand, boss," Bill said. "I remember a time when I would've skinned her alive and played with her bones like tinker toys. Whatever you decide to do, you know I'll always have your back." Roland looked at him and raised his beer. Bill returned the gesture, touching his beer to Roland's.

"I know, Bill," Roland said. "You always have had my back. You and I are the last of our team. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, boss, I do," Bill said.

"Someone has to survive," Roland said. "Someone has to be around to tell the tale."

"You're not going to do what I think you are, are you?" Bill asked. "Please don't do that." Roland shook his head.

"No," Roland said. "Besides, you know old mercenaries like us never die."

"Yeah," Bill said. "They just go to Hell to regroup." Roland laughed and took another drink from his beer.

"You got that right," he said. He didn't speak again for a couple minutes. "We're going to have to put on a good act for the next few weeks, you know."

"Yeah," Bill said. "I know. Some people are going to want to know what the hell happened."

"But we don't know anything, do we?" Roland asked.

"Not a God-dammed thing," Bill said. "I'll make sure the pilot understands as well." Roland nodded his head. It's amazing how much silence money can buy. Along with the threat of a bullet in the back of the head.

After the plane landed, Roland gave the pilot another envelope of cash and Bill stayed behind to ensure the pilot's continued silence. Roland drove home, cleaned up and put his gear away, hoping he would never have to use it again. Exhausted, he finally fell asleep in the bed he once shared with Susan.

Roland went about his business as normal, putting Susan behind him as much as possible. When the ship reported that she was not on board, he filed a missing person's report and put on a good act for the officers who eventually questioned him. They accepted his story and left, wishing him good luck.

The firm she and Van Owen worked for also questioned him about their absence. He was able to put them off successfully and managed to get a few digs into them as well. Surely they knew about her fling with Van Owen, right?

He waited patiently and, one year after Susan left for her cruise, he filed for divorce on the grounds of abandonment. Sixty days later the divorce was final and Roland was a "free" man. Still stinging from her actions, however, Roland refused to consider another exclusive relationship with a woman.

Things went on as normal for Roland until a week before Christmas, when he heard a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole and saw two men in dark suits and glasses. Feds, he thought. He opened the door and one pulled out a set of credentials.

"Roland Waters?" the man asked.

"Yes?" Roland asked in response.

"Special Agent Smith," he said. "This is Agent Jones. FBI. Can we come in and talk for a moment?"

"Sure," Roland said, letting the two men inside. They looked around the house as they came in. "Please have a seat," Roland added. "May I get you something to drink?"

"Thanks but that won't be necessary," Smith said, taking a seat in Roland's favorite recliner.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Roland asked.

"Have you ever been to the Bahamas?" Smith asked. Roland shook his head.

"No," he said. "Why?"

"What about your wife?" he asked.

"Ex-wife," Roland said. "She left me over a year ago with her lover and I have no idea where they went."

"Would that be one Michael Van Owen?" Smith asked.

"Yes," Roland said.

"We received a tip from Bahamian authorities who found their remains on one of their islands," Smith said. "They've been identified as being your ex-wife and Mr. Van Owen."

"Oh?" Roland asked.

"Yes," Smith said. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Mr. Waters?" Roland shook his head.

"No," he said. "Nothing. Why?"

"Just wrapping up some loose ends, that's all," Smith said. "We've had Van Owen on our radar for a while. Then he suddenly disappeared. It seems he was involved in human trafficking while pretending to be an upright citizen. From what we could tell, it looks like he may have had a, uh, disagreement with one of his business associates."

"Disagreement?" Roland asked. "What kind of disagreement? And what does Susan have to do with all this?"

"Please, Mr. Waters," Smith said. "Don't insult our intelligence. We know all about you. You're something of a legend in certain parts of the world with your Thompson gun, you know. Personally, I can't imagine why anyone would want to carry a noisy old relic like that, but I guess to each his own."

"You don't believe I had anything to do with what happened to Susan, do you?" Roland asked.

"No," Smith said. "Your ex-wife was shot with a 9mm, not a .45. There were four other bodies found including Van Owen and they all appear to have been shot with a .45. That's a fairly common round, though, and we're pretty certain it wasn't you."

"And why's that?" Roland asked.

"All the brass was policed from the area and none of the victims were decapitated," Smith said.

"I see," Roland said.

"We just wanted to make sure you hadn't decided to go back into business," Smith said. "You haven't, have you?"

"No, not back into that business," Roland said. "Getting too old to be out trudging through some jungle somewhere." Smith nodded his head.

"Good," he said. "Because I'd sure hate it if I had to arrest you."

"Yeah, me too," Roland said. Smith and Jones stood up and shook Roland's hand.

"That's all we have for now," Smith said. "If you hear anything, give me a call," he added, giving Roland a card.

"Thanks, I will," Roland said. Smith nodded his head.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Waters," he said as they left. He considered calling Bill, but his friend beat him to the punch.

"Hey, boss," he said. "I wanted to give you a heads up."

"I know," Roland said. "They just left here."

"They spoke to me as well," Bill said. "I told them nothing. They said they were just wrapping things up."

"Told me the same thing," Roland said. "Hey, why don't we go have a beer?" Bill agreed and the two men met that night at a local bar. Their beers had just been placed on the table when a song began playing on the jukebox.

"Roland was a warrior,

From the land of the midnight sun.

With a Thompson gun for hire,

Fighting to be done..."

"Merry fucking Christmas," Roland said as song he hated so much played on.

"Merry fucking Christmas, boss," Bill said, lifting his beer. Roland looked around the bar, wondering if he could see who played the song. In one corner sat two men in dark suits. One of them smiled a crooked smile as he raised a beer in his direction -- Agent Smith. The fucker...

Roland smiled back as he raised a middle finger with one hand while lifting his beer in the other. Smith laughed and drank his beer. When Smith and Jones finished their beer, they came to Roland's table.