Good Guys Die Too

By William Poteet

Someone—a foreign power, a competitor, or even someone from within the CIA—has targeted Steve Renick for extermination. But how many more close calls can he endure before his luck runs out? Steve Renick can no longer trust anyone at the agency. Three times in the past 48 hours, executioners narrowly missed their mark, and only those at the agency knew his itinerary. All indications lean toward a security leak. But why is he being targeted? Steve’s SEAL training and 14 years as a field agent in the CIA make him a lethal weapon, but he needs to find answers soon. Otherwise, the odds favor his unknown assassin. All too aware that good guys die too, Steve is not ready to be a star on a wall at Langley. The one sure thing he knows is that he needs to be the first to pull the trigger...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781977257369

William Poteet

William Poteet was born in New Orleans, raised in St. Louis, and presently lives in South Florida. William’s professional life has revolved around sales, management, civic engagement, and local and state politics. Good Guys Die Too is his debut novel, with a second book, Icarus’s Fall, to be released soon.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The doorknob began to turn in the darkened office space. Light from a streetlamp filtered through window blinds and cast a dim hue over the room. Silhouettes of chairs, desks, and other office equipment were the only visible shadows in the room. The room was still except for the ticking of an old wall clock.

The big brass knob continued to turn. Slowly the door opened. Its metal hinges squeaked, projecting the noise outward into the hallway. Holding the knob was a man dressed in a black suit of thin carbon nanotube armor. His face was smeared with a dark grease paint. A black ski cap covered the top of his head so only the whites in his eyes escaped the darkness. He wore sleek-fitting black Kevlar gloves, and a dark utility belt wrapped tightly around his waist. Over his left shoulder hung a small black leather attaché case. The rubber soles on his tactical combat boots allowed him to move silently as he darted across the room. With great stealth, he examined the room checking for any undetected motions. He was alone. Nothing should interfere with the mission, so he began the search.

He systematically scanned the room with his eyes starting with the bookcases, then worked down to a small table next to the wall, then to a series of metal desks within the room. The room appeared to be setup for use by multiple parties, like a call center or an IT workroom. Each desk was identical in size and shape. Each desk had three small drawers on the left side and one drawer for file folders on the right. The room reminded him of when he was in college and held a part-time job for a small insurance telemarketer. There was just enough room between each desk to allow conversations to occur, but not enough for privacy.

Each time he searched a desk he opened the desk file folder drawer only, briefly shining a small pin light flashlight into the open file drawer. He’d take out a few of the papers only to replace them in the same position as he found them, taking great care not to leave any clues of his presence behind. Leave no trace was a strategic part of the mission.

When he reached the fourth desk, he found something interesting. At first, he just skimmed through the papers as he did in other desks, but then he hesitated, grabbed a handful of the documents, and spread them out on the top of the desk.

The darkly clad intruder understood his job well. For the past 14 years he was employed by United Energy Solutions, a front company for a division within the Central Intelligence Agency. Prior to joining the CIA, he graduated from Florida State University with a degree in Computer Engineering and a minor in Naval Sciences. The FSU/ROTC graduate later served as a Naval officer with an eight-year stint as a Navy Seal and then three more years as an Intelligence officer at the Pentagon, where he rose to the rank of Lt. Commander before moving on to the CIA. He did two tours in Iraq plus scores of covert operations in the Mediterranean, Middle East, and Asia. He loved the missions and the thrills. It was at the Pentagon where he realized he did not want to be stuck behind a desk. No, Steve Renick needed the adrenaline rush of covert assignments. His future with the Navy would no longer include field work so with that realization he moved on. Since then, he rarely regretted his decision. It had been a life of excitement, full of risks and challenges.

His assignments were dangerous, but they took him all over the world, and tonight’s mission was in the heart of South America. He was seeking a document that could link Brazilian officials with the Chinese government. According to his intelligence sources, the Chinese sought to stop Brazil from exporting a specific mineral to the United States. It was a rare mineral utilized in the production of nuclear reactors. Such a boycott could seriously jeopardize America’s progress in nuclear energy research and development. But more importantly, it could slow the U.S.’s goal of building its next fleet of nuclear submarines and aircraft carriers. Renick was keenly aware that the Chinese had bribed certain Brazilian leaders so they could control the flow of the scarce mineral.

Halfway through scanning the papers he stopped. There, in front of him, was a printed letter on stationary from a Hong Kong conglomerate the Chinese regularly commissioned to do much of their paperwork in these international matters. The document was written in Portuguese. Among the words were Baddeleyite and Zirconium Exportation and Sales. Baddeleyite is the mineral the CIA thought was being manipulated. It is found and mined in an area around Sao Paulo, Brazil. The mineral, along with Zirconium, are important materials to the U.S. nuclear energy program. Zirconium, although not as rare as Baddeleyite, was a surprise to be included in the document and clearly an important find. It demonstrated China’s intent to manipulate the two minerals from sale and distribution to the world markets.

The top of the page was stamped Classified Material. Behind this letter was another letter, this one with the official seal of the Republic of Brazil, Commerce Department, Office of Mining Exploration. Also written in Portuguese, Renick quickly read the document grasping what he could understand. He only had a rudimentary knowledge of the Portuguese language. He was much more fluent with Spanish, French, German, Russian, and Chinese. The document appeared to allocate future sales of the minerals to the Chinese exclusively through the subordinate Hong Kong conglomerate. He had the information he needed. He just needed to capture it and then carefully retreat without detection.

Renick reached into the small case and pulled out a mini camera. He photographed the documents. The sound of the shutter clicks and the motorized shrill from the autowinder broke the silence in the air. After he finished taking pictures of the documents, he carefully placed all the papers back into the drawer just as though he’d never been there. Methodically, he retraced all his steps, checking to see that all the drawers were closed, and nothing was array. No one would know he had been there, and Steve planned to keep it that way.

He moved out the door and into the hallway. Then he scanned the long hallway looking for any signs of being detected. Nothing. It was all clear. To his left was more hallway to more offices and a set of elevators. This was not his route of escape. It was the other direction he needed to go. There to his right was forty to fifty feet of clear hallway before it ended at a stairway. It would be a quick hop down a flight of stairs and then out of the building.

It looked clear on both sides of the hallway. The hallway walls were tall with a few windows near the top of the walls. Exterior lights partially illuminated the hallway, at least enough to see figure forms, but not enough for identification. Steve, dressed in black, blended nicely into the shadows. He moved forward down the hall taking long silent strides. It was now a short distance to the stairway. Suddenly the lights in the hallway erupted into brilliant hot light. The intruder stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden change in light temporarily affected Renick’s sight. He needed a couple seconds to get it under control. He could sense his heart rate slightly increasing as he gathered the facts on what just happened. Numerous footsteps were approaching from both ends of the corridor, breaking the stillness of the night. He could also see uniformed troops spilling into the hallway. Soldiers wore their standard combat greens uniforms complete with helmets. They were surrounding Renick with their rifles drawn. Each soldier was armed with what appeared to be an IMBEL IA2 rifle. Their sudden arrival certainly complicated Renick’s escape.

The entrance to the stairway was now blocked and the hallway on either side of him was lined with armed military personnel. All the guns were aimed at Steve. This was not good.

A medium-sized man in an officer’s uniform stepped in front of the troops near the stairway. Steve counted the number of soldiers and looked for gaps where he might escape. Approximately 20 soldiers guarded the exits. He stood there, motionless, watching the Latin looking officer raise what appeared to be a riding whip. The Officer snapped it next to his leg creating a cracking noise in an attempt to gain Steve’s attention. He had little beady eyes, a dark mustache, short shiny black hair, and a devilish smile. His hat was cocked to one side.

Good evening, Señor Renick. We’ve been expecting you, the voice was low and wheezy and carried a distinct Latin accent. I will take what you have come to get.

Steve remained still but gave him a mystified look. How did he know Steve’s mission, much less who he was? Only a handful of individuals knew he was in Brazil. Steve shook off those questions for the moment. He had to concentrate on getting out of his present situation. He had been in worse trouble before, but he could not remember when.

Assertively the officer approached the intruder. He spoke with authority demanding the documents be returned. Señor Renick, I must say you have been exceptionally easy to capture for a man of your talents. A chuckle went out among his men.

Renick’s face was emotionless. He showed no signs of distress from the current predicament. He looked around the room again, and then smirked. He was pleased to see his adversary had such a high opinion of himself as he boasted of Renick’s capture to his men. Steve calculated the officer’s overconfidence and knew it would open him up to make a mistake, a mistake he desperately needed.

The officer continued to taunt Renick of his easy capture. The armed troops were getting closer.

Let me introduce myself, I am Colonel Fernandez Miguel Portenez, Military Commander of this city. You, Señor must be lost and have something that does not belong to you. His troops snickered at their commander’s sarcastic remarks. They were now within five feet of Renick’s front and back side. Colonel Portenez stepped closer, put out his hand, then sternly said, Señor, you will not be needing that bag so I will take that.

Up to then Renick had remained frozen not moving a muscle. Instead, he had been meticulously studying the hallway, its occupants, and possible routes for escape. In a gesture suggesting surrender, he slowly raised his hands to the height of his shoulders. There he stopped. The bag the Colonel wanted was laying across his chest just below the height of his hands. Rick paused, then grinned.

Well Colonel, it was great while it lasted, you can have my bag, but first I think you might want this. As he spoke, Steve reached from behind the bag and grabbed a round object. With one quick motion, he slapped a live grenade into the Colonel’s bare hand. Renick’s grin broadened. The Military Commander’s eyes bulged. Renick held up the pin to the grenade in obvious sight with his left hand. There were only seconds now before the explosion occurred.

The Colonel’s smile disappeared, his hand spasmodically jerked back towards his chest, and he dropped the grenade. The soldiers quickly spotted the pineapple shaped bomb rolling near their feet. They too tried to scatter bumping into one another as each raced for cover. Renick let another second pass to allow the soldiers to be further away from him. This was the opportunity he was looking for. The soldiers retreat opened a temporary pathway to the stairway. In the meantime, the over-confident Colonel was stumbling backwards tripping over the heel of a retreating soldier. Unable to regain his balance he tumbled backwards to the floor. That was one soldier who would not be bothering Steve again.

Renick made his move. He leaped forward toward the stairway door. Soldiers ahead were no longer aiming their guns at him. Instead, they were retreating, each of them pushing and shoving a fellow soldier as they tried to get through the stairway door. Renick dropped his shoulder and bulldozed himself into this group. His momentum pushed him and several soldiers forward through the doorway. The chaos threw three or four soldiers down the stairs with Renick partially riding down the first few stairs on top of one of the soldiers.

Renick rolled off the soldier and quickly regained his footing. He pushed past the last two soldiers as he descended the stairs. The soldiers let him pass with almost no resistance as they seemed to be more concerned about the impending explosion than Renick’s escape. A few soldiers on the other side of the hallway initially fired shots towards Renick but all missed. Bullets ricocheted off the stairway walls. Before the soldiers could further pursue Renick, the grenade erupted with deafening sound and force. Steve felt the blast but had made it far enough down the stairs to be out of the blast range. The Colonel and a half dozen of his men were not as fortunate. Their bodies now lay motionless.

Steve continued charging downward to the street entrance. He expected more soldiers to appear. Fortunately, most had come into the building with the Colonel. The entrance to the staircase was just ahead and the door was open. He could see soldiers posted near an armed vehicle just outside the entrance. Steve tossed a second grenade towards them. Bodies were tossed around, blood sprayed randomly onto the building walls. As soon as Steve saw it was clear to pass, but before he left the building, he dropped a third grenade to stop any more soldiers in hot pursuit, then sprinted out the door and onto the street. More shots rang out through an office window overlooking the street from the soldiers who did not perish with the first grenade, all missing their mark. Steve was running at full stride, intentionally darting and weaving forward into more darkness, and somehow avoided being hit. The third grenade exploded eliminating anyone who was in pursuit.

A small fire raged inside the building, but it did not matter, Steve was moving farther and farther from the building. Within minutes this area would be swarming with more military personnel than the Pope has bishops, all searching for him, and all carrying a permission slip to kill.

Renick’s next move was to get to the rendezvous point if he was going to escape. Several jeep-type vehicles were parked ahead along the street. Renick rushed to the first one and was surprised to find the keys left in it. He quickly turned the key in the ignition and the engine started. Shifting into first gear and pressing the accelerator, he let the vehicle dart forward into the night. He purposely did not turn on the headlights. He pulled from his case a set of night vision goggles and put them on. His plan now was focused only on getting out of the capital city. If he were caught, it would mean certain execution if they did not shoot him immediately upon capture. He could not get caught.

He raced through the city streets and narrowly missed being recognized at almost every intersection. He could see government vehicles with lights and sirens all traveling back from where he just came. He needed to keep one step ahead of them. Eight minutes passed and he was almost out of the city. Up ahead he saw some activity. It appeared to be an impromptu roadblock. A barricade was being put in place and several soldiers were unloading additional parts to the barricade from the back of a truck when the fleeing jeep came into view. Steve pushed the accelerator to the floorboard. Soldiers looked in the direction of the approaching vehicle and realized it was going to ram the barricade. They quickly scattered to escape the approaching vehicle as it collided into the temporary barricade. The jeep slashed through it narrowly missing a soldier who was attempting to waive him down. Hastily, soldiers fired at Steve. A bullet struck the rear of the jeep but missed its occupant.

He was heading out of the city and into hill country now. The road was starting to wind and curve. He needed to make up time. It will be only a few minutes before the authorities are behind him, probably throwing everything they could at him. Helicopters, maybe planes, would fill the air above. He needed to throw them off his track and buy more time to get to the rendezvous point. Steve carefully looked for a spot to create a diversion. He could see a long wide curve approaching. Along the right side of the curve was a very deep ravine. Renick slowed the jeep to 20 miles per hour. This would be perfect. The curve was now upon him. He pulled another grenade from his pocket, pulled the pin, and dropped the bomb onto the floorboard. He turned the steering wheel to the right, opened the door and leapt out. His feet landed squarely on the highway’s asphalt surface, but his momentum forced him to take a shoulder roll. Protected by his body armor, he was unscathed from the fall and quickly sprang to his feet. The jeep rolled forward for about another 15 feet until it lunged over the edge, plummeting downward through brush and trees, finally somersaulting itself into the bottom of the ravine. Halfway down the descent, the grenade exploded, rupturing the gas tank. A blaze of flames surrounded the vehicle. A second later, when the vehicle reached the canyon bottom, it lit up like a torch and billowed smoke upward. Renick sprinted off the roadside and moved into the brush. Reaching into his case again, he found his handgun, a Glock 19 9mm.

Crouched in the brush, Renick waited patiently for the first onlooker to arrive. It did not take long. Fortunately it was not the police or military. It was a single-frame, box supply truck. A picture of a tree full of oranges was drawn on both of its side panels. It appeared to be from a local grove. The truck slowly pulled over and a man jumped out. He quickly moved to the edge of the ravine to see the jeep engulfed in flames below. Renick silently moved behind him. He took the butt of his gun and with one blow knocked the man unconscious. Renick threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the truck tossing him into the passenger side. He then went around the front of the truck to the driver’s side and got in. Within seconds he was moving down the highway again.

About four miles further up the highway he pulled up to a large open field. He drove the truck off the road into a thick area of brush among a grove of orange trees ensuring the truck could not be easily seen from the road. He checked to see if the unconscious driver’s hands were securely tied behind his back just in case he regained consciousness. Hopefully, he would be out cold until Renick was gone. Steve then ran to the center of the field. It was just him and waist-high weeds. Now it was a matter of waiting. Steve took a small, very thin aluminum blanket out of his attaché case and covered himself. Hopefully, the thin specially designed film shield would prevent detection from heat and infra-red sensors by search helicopters and planes. He sat there, looked at his watch. He was ahead of schedule. His ride would be there just before sunrise. He wanted to sleep but he knew he needed to be on guard. So, he just waited under the blanket with one eye peeking outward.

About an hour later he heard the truck engine start. He peered out from underneath the blanket. The driver must have gained consciousness, somehow untied himself, and was leaving. Steve watched the truck drive away thinking that the driver’s act would further remove any risk that the truck could be tied to Steve and to this location. That could change if the driver went directly to the police. All he could do now was silently wait for his ride out.

As sunrise approached, the tranquil night was broken suddenly by the sound of whirling propellers. The sound moved closer. Steve moved the blanket off his head stuffing it back into his case. This should be his ride. He could see the helicopter. It was a Bell 360 Invictus model all painted in black camouflage. Renick gave it two quick blasts from his flashlight. The chopper returned with three quick blasts of light from one of its spotlights. That was the signal. Steve allowed himself a short sigh of relief. Up to now he was going on pure instinct. Once on board he would have time to think about what had just happened. He kept his head down and covered his eyes as the helicopter landed. The door opened.

Steve, are you okay?

I’m fine Pete. Glad to see you again. Let’s get the hell out of here unless you want to wait for the welcome committee. I can tell you they are not very friendly! Renick jumped into the copter’s open chair, belted himself in, and said Ready when you are.

I heard a report from the Brazilian Capitol that there was a bombing, said Pete.

You heard right. Plan had to be adjusted. I have a few hundred fans looking for me right now so it’s best we get out of here quickly and unnoticed.

Got it, said the pilot as he lifted upward.

Eight hours later and on a U.S. military plane transfer, Renick would be back in Miami, back in the good old USA.

CHAPTER TWO

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Hong Kong, Republic of China. It was dusk. The streetlights were just turning on. A soft breeze filled the evening air. You could smell the foods prepared at nearby restaurants mixed with the aromas of millions of people living almost on top of each other. Another typical evening in Hong Kong. A balding man in his late 40s opened the door to his business and began heading to his next appointment. He was wearing dark blue pants, a light blue polo shirt, and a navy windbreaker. After giving a quick glance in all directions, he headed down the street. Looking around he could see the crowded tenements. Tall buildings towered upward in almost every direction as if they were all going to heaven. He could hear noises and voices from families inside their small apartment as they prepared their meals. It seemed calm and peaceful to him. He continued walking steadily down the street. Periodically, the man would look back over his shoulder and each time saw nothing unusual. Yet he seemed to be in a hurry. He picked up his pace as the sun continued to slide past the horizon. Something was making him nervous. A row of sweat lined up on his brow as he hastened his pace. Occasionally a drop of sweat would fall from his brow and land on his shirt or pants.

He noticed something farther down the street. He could see a figure of a man leaning on a lamp post. This could be nothing, and probably was, but his pulse began to rise. As he got closer, he could see the figure was a youth, probably 16 to 18 years in age. It was too dark to see his facial features from this distance. The man paused, blew air out the side of his mouth in a sigh of relief. He thought about stopping and turning around, but he needed to be someplace, so he continued walking all the time watching the youth ahead. Soon he was close enough that he could start seeing the youth’s Asian features. He was a stocky boy with a rough looking face. From an alley near the youth, a second boy appeared. He walked towards the boy at the lamp post. The man instinctively realized something might be wrong. His senses heightened and eyes focused ahead. With each step forward his muscles tensed more. His pace slowed down to almost a crawl. Both youths were now looking at the man. The man glanced from side to side. He was almost at the streetlight. For a moment, everything seemed fine. The youths gave him a half grin. He walked cautiously forward, and the youths let him pass. He had not taken more than a half dozen more steps when a third youth ahead of him popped out from the shadows. He turned quickly around to check behind only to see the other two youth walking towards him. The taller of the two youths raised his hand and as he did, the man could see a long dark pipe-like object in his hand. The youth charged at him thrashing the pipe wildly through the air. The other two youth followed, each with a crude weapon of their own. The man blocked the first series of blows successfully. The youths continued to charge wielding their weapons. As the fight continued, several blows found their way passed the blocks inflicting pain and physical damage. He tried to turn to run blocking the deadly blows as best he could, but it was too late. Four other youths came from within the shadows and were adding to the mix. Each had a pipe or a chain. The man continued to try to dodge or block their blows pushing himself away from them, hoping to escape. He was outnumbered. He screamed for help. Neighbors heard him but did not come to assist; they closed their drapes or blinds leaving the man alone to his fate. In a last desperate act, he swung his fists outwardly at his assailants landing a few hits but to no avail. The youths struck the man mercilessly with their crude weapons until he fell silently to the ground. Spurts of blood spattered the road as each youth delivered a more fatal blow. The man laid there, no longer trying to escape, succumbed to battle. The youths disappeared as quickly as they appeared, back into the alleys filled with shadows, until the street was empty except for the battered figure lying on the pavement in a pool of his own blood.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Looking from his hotel window, he could see the street far below becoming busier as the workday progressed.