Shot at Redemption Read online

  Ken W. Smith

  Shot at Redemption

  A Jay Mendes Thriller

  Copyright © 2021 by Ken W. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Ken W. Smith asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Ken W. Smith has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  This book is dedicated to our everyday heroes.

  Our military, homeland security, first responders, and private citizens

  who risk their own lives for the public good.

  Also, in memory of Westwood friends:

  USMC Lance Corporal Michael J. Devlin, 1962-1983. Killed in action, Beirut, Lebanon

  Cadet Julia Babineau, 1960-1981, US Coast Guard Academy

  “True redemption is seized when you accept the future consequences for your past mistakes.”

  — Edwardo Macedo

  Contents

  Preface

  I. PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  II. PART TWO

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  III. PART THREE

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Also by Ken W. Smith

  Preface

  It was a beautiful, sunny day in the peaceful Italian village. The view of the blue-green water of Lake Albano was eye-candy for all who visited. But Ivan focused on one site—the third-floor balcony of Castel Gandolfo—summer home to the Pope. He focused the scope of his powerful sniper rifle on the balcony window—nothing in sight. There was a slight breeze, and he adjusted his rifle to compensate. If successful, this shot would bring home the biggest paycheck of his career.

  The third floor of the apartment building on the Corso Della Republico housed several units. Ivan lived in a two-bedroom suite with one bedroom serving as a small command center. The second bedroom housed computer workstations and sophisticated electronics for eavesdropping. Ivan made sure no message entered or left the small village without his knowledge.

  To maintain his cover, Ivan worked as the cafe’s general manager on the first floor. It opened at five in the afternoon and closed at two in the morning. The schedule suited him well, allowing him to get to know his neighbors while gathering intelligence about the local political scene.

  * * *

  The tall, dark-haired woman was considered one of the most beautiful people in the world. People magazine proclaimed that fact at least three times. As a child actress raised in Hollywood, Angelica Bonham won several acting awards before launching her solo music career at the age of fifteen. With a light and distinctive voice, her pop album sold millions of records. She went on to star in situation comedies on the Disney Channel. Then, at eighteen, she had an affair with a movie executive twice her age. While the scandal ended his career, Angelica rode the wave of tabloid news to fame. As an adult, she starred in several action blockbusters, becoming one of Hollywood’s most sought-after and highest-paid actresses. Once again, Angelica gained notoriety for a steamy relationship with one of the hottest leading men until a nasty drug problem derailed her career and forced her to escape to private life. Now she had a new mentor. One that had no cares about fame and wealth, only retribution.

  In the street below Ivan’s apartment, Angelica browsed the designer storefronts wearing a large sun hat and dark Gucci sunglasses. She kept her face hidden as she listened in on a conversation at a local cafe. Her targets were two uniformed police officers and a plainclothes detective.

  The detective spoke first, “I heard the Holy See would be making a series of clandestine visits to our village. He is working with senior officials on a more liberal direction for the church. However, the Vatican wants to maintain secrecy until the final draft is complete. Therefore, we will need all uniformed officers to be extra-vigilant to secure his safety. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” one of the officers replied. “How will we know he is coming?”

  “The local pastor, Father Cavatelli, will let us know. He is in communication with the Swiss Guard and the Vatican travel office.”

  “Very good. We will do everything we can to keep our Holy Father safe.”

  Angelica smiled and walked away.

  * * *

  Ivan observed movement behind the balcony window. This could be the chance he had been waiting for. Ivan opened the window enough to allow the barrel of the rifle to protrude between the wood shutters. He picked this location because it was one story higher than the adjacent building. His spot offered a clear view of the balcony without being exposed to security personnel in the piazza below. Ivan lay prone on top of his wooden dining table, released the trigger, and chambered the round.

  The window began to open. Ivan took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose. The doors pulled open a bit further. Ivan closed his left eye to help him see better through the scope. A person wearing black opened the window. It could be one of the guards or servants since the target would never open the door himself. Ivan turned on his laser designator, and a small red dot appeared on the person’s forehead. He pressed his finger against the trigger. The guard stepped onto the balcony and waved at a few tourists. He scanned the cafes, shops, and buildings along the perimeter of the piazza. Ivan knew to stay still and patient. The guard
was not his target. But if the guard spotted him, he would fire to prevent himself from being discovered and invoke his escape plan. The man continued scanning and waving, but luckily, he never looked directly at Ivan. He turned and stepped inside, leaving the doors open.

  Ivan waited. Would his target step out on the balcony? He often traveled to Gandolfo at night to spend a private weekend away from the Vatican. His public holiday would not happen for several months in July. But this Pope liked visiting Gandolfo, unlike his predecessor, who preferred staying in Rome. Ivan watched as another person stepped onto the balcony. This one wore a white robe, a white skull cap, and a large gold chain and cross. Ivan’s red dot fit cleanly behind his target’s eyes. He blew out his breath and began to apply pressure to the trigger. The young priest, a local pastor, waved his hands to the audience below. Ivan relaxed and lifted his finger off the trigger. Ivan was shocked to see the priest, Father Cavatelli, look at him and smile, then stepped back off the patio. Ivan smiled, too. The priest provided intelligence for an extra weekly offering and received a donation to an offshore bank account. Ivan pulled the rifle out of the window and closed the shutters.

  There was a knock at the door. Ivan stowed the rifle and mattress in a closet. He moved the table back to the middle of the dining room and returned the chairs to their proper place. The knock repeated.

  “One moment, please,” he said in Italian. “I am coming.”

  He opened the door to see Angelica’s radiant smile. He embraced her as they kissed. The scent of her perfume and the touch of her lips sent a wave of pleasure through his body.

  “I’m glad I can get your attention, Ivan,” Angelica whispered into his ear. “I have some good news. Do you still have time for a little afternoon pleasure before the cafe opens?”

  “Always, my dear,” Ivan replied as he pulled her inside and closed the door.

  I

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Jay woke up in an empty bedroom. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. Without warning, the door to the bedroom opened, and a tall slim man with graying temples walked in.

  “Where are we?” Jay said.

  “In Kuwait,” the man replied. “I can’t say anything else.”

  “What the hell happened last night? I must have passed out from drinking.”

  “I can’t tell you for your own good. Some friends helped us out of a hairy situation, and now you have a plane to catch. I’m giving you a ticket, a new passport, cash, and a cell phone.

  “Where’s my stuff?”

  “When you are on the plane, you’ll receive a phone call that will answer your questions.”

  “Why am I here? The last thing I remember, I was awaiting my trial verdict. Did I get off?”

  “Yes, but you’re wanted for questioning by a bunch of people, including the Iranians, who placed a bounty on your head. Follow my instructions, keep your head low, and this whole episode will blow over.”

  “I’m a SEAL. I don’t run from fights.”

  “This is different. Trust me. Follow my instructions, and when you return home, this situation will be gone.”

  “How will I contact you?”

  “You won’t. I’ll find you when you complete the job.”

  Jay was shocked and confused, “What about my friends? My girlfriend, Natalie? I need to call them.”

  “I’ll reach out to them and let them know you’re safe.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Jay said. “What did I do wrong?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. They want you to stay alive. It’s better that you don’t know.”

  The man walked out.

  Jay wondered, who are they?

  * * *

  Forty hours later, Jay strained to see the shoreline of the distant archipelago from the window. The pilot said they were on the final approach—their destination, the Mount Pleasant RAF base on East Falkland Island.

  The self-governed British territory was best known for raising sheep and breeding penguins. That was until 1982 when Argentina tried to reclaim the island from the Brits. A short but bloody war followed, taking over 800 lives. The history books called it the Falklands War.

  The plane crossed over the cluster of tiny islands on its final descent into the RAF airbase.

  It had been a long trip. Jay flew commercial from Kuwait to Amsterdam. From Amsterdam, he traveled straight to Buenos Aires. Then after a twelve-hour layover, he flew the final leg to Mount Pleasant.

  The jetliner stopped near the terminal. The flight attendant, doubling as the baggage handler, handed Jay his two duffle bags. One filled with clothes and the other with dive gear. Jay departed the plane, stretched his legs, and breathed in the Falklands’ cool, dry summer air.

  A rusty, blue Land Rover pulled up next to the plane. An overweight, dark-haired woman stepped out. She wore a ratty navy pea coat, a black knit cap, and ragged blue jeans. In her hand was a small cardboard sign with Mendes scribbled in red crayon. Jay walked over. He could smell the alcohol on her breath from ten feet away.

  “Jay Mendes?” the woman said with a scowl. “I’m Dora Williams. I’m the ship’s executive officer.”

  “You’re Williams?” Jay said. “Show me some ID.”

  She towered over Jay’s five-foot-six-inch frame. It looked like she outweighed him by at least one hundred and fifty pounds. She grabbed Jay by the collar of his green polo shirt and shoved a knife against Jay’s sternum. “This is my ID. Get in the car, or I’ll gut you like a fucking sea lion. Understand?”

  Jay looked up into her eyes. He was too exhausted to play this game. Plus, her lousy breath was making him nauseous. Jay dropped his duffle bags. He wrapped his right hand over her wrist and squeezed. Her scowl evaporated as pain shot through her arm. Dora’s eyes opened wide, and her face turned red. Sweat poured down her forehead as she struggled to hold the knife. Jay wouldn’t let go. He squeezed harder, twisting her hand until the knife dropped to the ground.

  “How’s that for ID?” Jay said.

  He pulled her wrist down towards the ground until she dropped to her knees. He looked her straight in the face and said, “Don’t ever pull a weapon on somebody if you don’t intend to use it. Do you understand?”

  The woman nodded, and Jay let her hand go.

  “You’re the right guy,” Williams said. “My boss told me you don’t take shit from anyone. Follow me.”

  Jay got in the back seat of the car. They exited the Mount Pleasant airbase and turned left onto Darwin Road. The name made sense since it was miraculous any life survived on this barren island. There were no natural trees, only lakes and rock outcroppings. Thick peat-moss-like growth covered the rolling landscape. Jay saw a few brick houses with thatched roofs surrounded by grazing sheep.

  “So, Mendes,” Williams asked. “How did you become qualified for underwater inspections?”

  “I was a diver in the Navy,” Jay said.

  “The agency said you were more than just a diver. You had combat experience.”

  “I did a tour in Yemen. Things got a bit hairy from time to time.”

  “I didn’t believe your record. That’s why I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Pull the knife on you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t make that shit up.”

  “Well, was I lying?

  “No, I believe you now.”

  Williams turned around without saying another word.

  * * *

  Jay thought about the last year as he stared out the window.

  They pulled his unit out of action after Kathleen Amejian filed her complaint against him and his team. He sucked up his pride through the secret military tribunal and held his temper as the bitch lied about him. Kathleen told the military panel he killed her husband in cold blood. The claim was bullshit. Jay knew it was a lie because he never pulled the trigger of his gun. Someone else shot first. He still had fragments of the bullet in his neck and shoulder to prove it. But Kathleen’s po
wer and influence scared the Navy brass. So, they caved and charged him with war crimes. The second charge, dereliction of duty, was for not following the rules of engagement. That is, for not identifying himself as an enemy combatant. Pretty hard to do when the enemy shoots first.

  Pete, his JAG, wouldn’t let him take the stand and tell his own story. Too dangerous, he said. So he sat and listened to her lie. Kathleen was so convincing. An international war correspondent married to one of the richest men in the world. Why would she lie? She was a grieving widow. Her husband’s brain splattered across the cave floor in front of her. She cried and went on about loving him and how Jay ruined her life, how he stole her dignity and her future. She should have won an Oscar for her performance.

  Then his Infinity Squad teammates testified. Gunny Mack told the jury how Jay saved his life in Fallujah. McCoy described how Jay pulled hostages off a burning container ship. Gia testified how she went undercover to rescue Goddard and Amejian, and she almost fell to her death and described how Jay saved her and Antonio on the container ship. Then she told them how the anti-tank rocket blew apart the Land Rover with General Andrews inside. With tears in her eyes, she described how Jay carried Michael Goddard to the helicopter under fire and how Michael died in her arms. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house—twelve senior officers dabbing their eyes with tissues.

  Gia testified how she found the murdered pilots in the plane wreckage in Pakistan. Her testimony was riveting. Finally, she described the rescue operation and how Jay asked her to identify the hostages. Gia explained how the cave was so pitch black she couldn’t see the shooter. But once the gun fired, Gia saw blood running down Jay’s arm. She said he did everything possible to keep the hostages alive.

  Jay was hopeful. Gia’s testimony was so believable. That was until Kathleen’s slick London lawyer destroyed her on the stand. He questioned her testimony and claimed she was too emotional because of her loss. For some reason, Jay’s memory after that point was blank. He assumed he was found not guilty since he wasn’t in the brig. But he couldn’t recall the verdict or anything else. He didn’t even know why Steve Bonner was with him in Kuwait. Jay remembered Steve as a Marine instructor at sniper school, but that was it. Did he help Jay escape from the brig? Was Jay in witness protection? He wanted to know the answers.