[b]Center City, WA
11:52 PM[/b]


Tracy stood out in the chilly night air and smoked a cigarette. Center City's harbor area was one of the few safe parts of the city. Tourists flocked to the water during daylight hours and filled the piers with activity. Tonight, it was nearly deserted. Tracy counted himself as just one of four people on the expansive pier that jutted out into the Pacific Ocean. The other three people on the boardwalk were all Belyakov's men. The Russian crime lord's men started filtering into the area a half hour earlier. He made them all thanks to their Slavic looking faces, thick beards, and tracksuits. Tracy got there two hours earlier and watched the comings and goings ever since. His military training taught him the value of patience. When it came to work like this, be it assassinations or covert meetings, patience is what separated the pros from the amateurs. A serious operator would stake out the place sometimes twelve hours in advance. Tracy once spent two days in a wadi in Iraq, watching a road until a specific vehicle showed up at a certain time. When they showed up, Tracy killed the driver and the four passengers in the car with a sniper rifle before quietly disappearing into the desert.

He finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, stomping it out. Thomas Flynn and his group of armed thugs were two blocks away, waiting Tracy's confirmation that the coast was clear before moving into the area. The fact that Belyakov's men hadn't showed up until a half hour before the meet spoke volumes to Tracy. The chances of a wrinkle happening in the hostage exchange was very slim. If a double-cross did take place, Belyakov's men would have beaten Tracy here... or so he imagined. Tracy pulled his flip phone out and texted the number Flynn gave him to contact when he was ready.

Right at midnight, the black SUV carrying Flynn, his men, and Anton Belyakov rolled down the street and parked by the harbor entrance. Tracy stayed where he was and watched the party of five climb out of the car. Flynn walked by himself with two guards flanking him while one carried Anton. The boy seemed spooked and unsure of what was going on. Tracy felt for the kid. Hopefully this would all be over.

Tracy went still when he saw one of the men he marked as Belyakov approach Flynn's party. Words were exchanged between the man and Flynn that lasted for nearly twenty seconds. Tracy read the displeasure in Flynn's face at once. The party started stalking back to the SUV. Tracy gave them a long leash before walking towards his car. The Russians were sending them somewhere else. That made sense to Tracy. Flynn's choice of the harbor would upset a lot of criminals because of its openness meant plenty of room for a double cross or police interference. Belyakov was trying to get the upper hand by moving the venue on them.

He followed the SUV distantly in his Charger, never losing sight of the car's taillights. His phone rang just as he followed the big car onto the freeway.

"These cocksuckers are fucking with us," Flynn said loudly into his phone. "They moved the meet to Rucka Park!"

"I'm right behind you," Tracy said. "I'll be there when you do the exchange."

"You better be."

The phone went click and Tracy tossed it into the passenger seat as he accelerated to catch up the SUV.


--


Tracy led the procession to the middle of the empty soccer field. Flynn, Anton, and the goons walked close behind him. At midfield was another small group of people. The faces Tracy recognized well, Konstantin Belyakov and his goons with Linda Flynn. Her tight club outfit with torn in spots and she was barefoot. The thick mascara from the night before was all runny and made her eyes look like the rings around a raccoon's eyes. Konstantin Belyakov carried a thick briefcase in one hand.

"Boris I presume," Flynn said once the two parties had met.

"Here is money," Belyakov snarled, holding up the briefcase. One of his men pushed Linda Flynn forward. "Here is whore daughter. Now, give me son."

One of Flynn's guards walked Linda over to the other side of the meeting while Tracy took the briefcase. He began to start Anton back over towards his father when Flynn held out a hand.

"Not yet," he said with a finger wave. "I want to count the money."

He took the case from Tracy and opened it up. Tracy saw the nervous look on Belaykov's face and knew trouble was coming. The Russian mob was successful, but not successful enough to round up a million dollars in cold, hard cash in under twelve hours. Flynn laid the case down and started to sort through the money. Tracy saw about half a million dollars on top... followed by shredded newspaper below.

"You motherfuckers," Flynn said as he looked up. "You lying motherfuckers!"

"I could not get that much money in so little time," Belyakov shouted back.

"But you expect me to get fucking five million dollars in the same about of time?!"

Tracy pushed Anton Belyakov behind his back as both sides started to reach for their weapons.

"You bit off more than you could chew, Boris! Somebody kill this asshole."

Tracy pushed little Anton down and fell on top of him as the shooting started.