Devil's Advocate (Trackdown Book 4)

by Michael A. Black

  “You know anything about their gasoline tanker blowing up?” Hernandez asked. “Or their fleet of Harleys going up in flames?”

  “There was quite an explosion as we were sneaking away,” Wolf said. “But like I mentioned, those morons were highly intoxicated. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d left the cap off their gasoline tanker and the fumes ignited. I don’t know how the motorcycles caught fire.”

  This was actually close to the truth since he hadn’t seen what Mac had used to set off that blaze.

  “In any case,” McNamara said, stepping closer. “We brought Gloria Ryland here. She was being abused, held against her will, and would have been raped repeatedly by those savages, had we not stepped in and did the job you shoulda done yesterday.”

  Hernandez’s frown deepened, his lips twisting in obvious anger.

  “Not to mention the boy, Timmy Wagner,” Wolf said. “He’s in pretty bad shape. And, take a long look at that Throne outhouse. There’s a trap door next to the toilet, and from what Gloria told us, there’s a tunnel under that outhouse that leads to a large, underground storage area underneath the barn. She says it’s full of bags of yellow pills—Fentanyl would be my guess. It’s used to store the drugs that come along that pipeline you were talking about.”

  Hernandez and the man in civilian clothes exchanged a quick glance, then Hernandez stepped away and began talking into his radio. The other man extended his hand toward Wolf.

  “I’m Detective Dave Case,” he said. “State Police investigations. I want to thank you for rescuing the girl and the boy. And I assure you, we’re working on the aggravated battery and unlawful restraint cases.”

  “Case on the case, huh?” McNamara said with a grin. “Well, it’s mighty nice to find somebody around here who knows a crime when they see one.”

  Detective Case smiled.

  Hernandez’s head perked up and he glanced over his shoulder toward McNamara. After finishing his radio transmission, he turned and strode back toward them.

  “I’m gonna need you two to come with me.” He pointed toward the wall. “Assume the position.”

  “Huh?” McNamara said. “What for?”

  “I told you,” Hernandez said. “I’m investigating a homicide and you two have admitted to being armed and at the scene.”

  “Homicide? We didn’t shoot nobody,” McNamara said. “You can check my gun, It ain’t been even been fired.”

  “Glad you’re giving me that much leeway,” Hernandez said with a sneer. “Now turn around and put your hands on the wall. Both of you. I ain’t telling you again.”

  McNamara started to say something, but Wolf said, “Mac. Do as he says. He’s just doing his job.” With that, he turned and assumed the position on the hallway wall.

  “About damn time he did,” McNamara said with an accompanying snort. As he turned and placed his hands on the wall he added, “My gun’s in a pancake on my right hip.” The deputy removed Mac’s Glock handed it to Hernandez. After handcuffing McNamara, the deputy moved to Wolf.

  He felt the deputy’s hands going over him in what was a pretty thorough search finding and removing his knife. The deputy shoved him forward and grabbed Wolf’s left hand, ratcheting a set of handcuffs over his wrists.

  “All this one’s got is a knife,” the deputy said.

  “Well, ain’t this a fine howdie-do?” Ms. Dolly said. She and Brenda came briskly walking into the room carrying two bags, each bearing fast-food labels, and a tray of soft drinks. “We save a little gal from getting gang raped by a bunch of motorcycle hooligans, and y’all are arresting the two heroes that done it.”

  “Pendejo,” Brenda muttered. “Chinga tu madre.”

  At the mention of the Spanish words, Hernandez’s head rotated toward her. “You’d best watch your mouth, Señorita.”

  “Y’all want to check our guns too?” Ms. Dolly said, holding her purse up. “They ain’t been fired, neither.”

  Wolf rolled his eyes. This was going from bad to worse in a hurry.

  “They weren’t even on the biker’s property,” he said. “They just picked us up after we’d removed the girl and her boyfriend from harm’s way.”

  Hernandez ripped Brenda’s purse from her and then reached for Ms. Dolly’s.

  “You want it, all you gotta do is ask for it, honey,” she said, tightening her grip and cocking her head in Brenda’s direction. “And that ain’t no way to treat a lady.”

  “If I see any ladies, I’ll keep that in mind,” Hernandez said. “Now, I’m giving you a lawful order to surrender your purse, ma’am. Or face arrest for obstructing.”

  “Dolly,” Wolf said. “Give it to him, please. And let them search the Escalade if they want so it doesn’t get towed.” He glanced at Hernandez who nodded after a few seconds hesitation. “Sheriff, we’re cooperating, okay?”

  Hernandez held his hand out toward Ms. Dolly and she relinquished her purse. His eyes widened when he opened it and saw her big .357 Colt Python.

  “Go ahead and smell it, sugar,” Ms. Dolly said. “It ain’t been fired since the last time I was in your fair state. And my concealed carry license is in there as well.”

  “Yo también,” Brenda said. “So is mine.”

  As Hernandez was checking her purse Wolf said, “Sheriff, since we’re cooperating, I’d like a chance to call my lawyer before any of us says anything more.”

  THE GRAND TETONS HOTEL

  PHOENIX, ARIZONA

  Six days cooped up in the hotel room was starting to really wear on Soraces and hearing this latest news, that Wolf and McNamara had been taken out of the medical center in handcuffs a couple of hours ago, was like stubbing his little toe on a brick. Just when he thought he’d put all the right pieces in place for his plan to come together, something like this had to happened.

  Damn that impetuous asshole, Wolf.

  He poured himself another cup of coffee and dumped two packets of sugar into it. He knew he shouldn’t have any this late, but sleep would prove to be elusive regardless. It always was in the final stages of setting his traps. What he hadn’t counted on was this latest wrinkle.

  Arrested … Shit.

  And now he’d have to take steps to deal with this.

  An opponent’s unpredictability is just a minor inconvenience, he thought. And it makes the game more interesting.

  Before he sat down, he whipped the blade from his ninja knife and hurled it with a back-handed motion toward the whiteboard. It stuck in the top center portion, almost directly in the center, exactly where he’d intended. The board itself was a mass of drawings, scribble notes, and multicolored arrows. He looked at it with disgust and thought about eradicating the whole thing. He’d never let an operation’s sketch get so widely out of control. It was a sign that he was feeling the pressure, which amused him.

  Here he was in the States working on an op that involved a rich man’s fancy. It was a far cry from toppling governments or removing some undesirable from the political scene in some foreign country. But all of those had been in the service of Uncle Sam. This one, which he hoped would be his penultimate retirement op, had to be handled with the utmost care to set up his fruitful retirement. Penultimate because he intended to milk Von Dien for an even bigger fee once the artifact was recovered. There was his spy pen recording to sell.

  He thought about the sight of some firm, bouncing babes frolicking in some warm Caribbean saltwater. That was what awaited him on the other side. All he had to do was step over a few more bodies along with the artifact and collect his prize money. He’d be set for life.

  At least this self-imposed confinement had allowed him to perfect his knife throwing once again. It was, like everything else, a perishable skill set.

  After walking over and retrieving the blade, he reinserted it into the pen and returned to the table. The coffee was strong and still tasted bitter, despite the added sugar. He tore open one more packet and then stirred it with a plastic spoon. His next sip proved too sweet and he set it
aside.

  At least with them incarcerated, at least temporarily, it would give him ample time to head over to the pharmacy to purchase the prescription he’d had Fallotti’s doctor phone in: forty-eight milliliters of ketamine and a syringe. The air transportation needed to be set up, too.

  Fallotti had been skeptical about the proposal but assured him it would all be done, despite the greasy lawyer’s expressed misgivings.

  “A snatch?” he’d said, the skepticism evident in his tone. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It worked once,” Soraces said. “Why not again, only with more finesse this time.”

  He heard the lawyer’s heavy breathing.

  Obviously, he’s not a believer, Soraces thought.

  “Listen,” he said. “I told you before, let me handle this. We need to get Wolf to bring the item to us, on our home ground, and what better place than down there. He won’t have any resources, no place to hide.”

  “Suppose he doesn’t go for it? Or involves the FBI?”

  “He’ll go for it, if we handle it right. He won’t have any choice. And we make it clear that if he does contact the feds, the whole deal’s off.”

  Fallotti still sounded skeptical but agreed to send Von Dien’s private jet to Phoenix immediately.

  “So I can tell Mr. Von Dien that we can expect to see you tomorrow evening then?” the lawyer asked.

  “It’s after midnight now, so it’ll be actually be today.”

  “Right,” Fallotti said. From his tone, he was not amused by the correction.

  “And only then if he wants to wait up for us,” Soraces said.

  He terminated the call and thought about checking for an update but decided not to. Nothing would happen until the morning, about eight hours or so from now. They’d call him when things broke.

  SHERIFF’S ANNEX STATION

  UNINCORPORATED TOWN OF CROWN POINTS

  GILA COUNTY, ARIZONA

  Wolf was glad they’d gotten the air-conditioning fixed. The cell was about ten by twelve with a built-in metal toilet, sink, and water fountain. The bunk was a metal slate bolted to the wall and covered with the thinnest of mattresses. There was a solid steel door with a small glass window that had a shutter on a hinge over it, and a closed slot through which food was passed. Or so he assumed. He hoped he wouldn’t be in there long enough to find out, but that wasn’t looking too good at the moment. All things considered; it wasn’t as comfortable as the one he’d called home for four years at Leavenworth. He welcomed a chance to stretch out and get some much-needed sleep. They’d awakened him several times claiming to be doing well-being checks, and finally roused him and ushered him into another room where Hernandez and another guy, in a shirt and tie, stood on the other side of a table. Hernandez tried to come off as everybody’s friend.

  “Sit down, Wolf,” he said, holding his big hand out toward a chair at the table.

  Wolf sat.

  “You already know me,” Hernandez said. “This is Detective Morris.”

  “Can we get you something?” Morris asked. “Coffee? Soda?”

  Wolf yawned and shook his head.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” Hernandez said. “You and your friend placed yourself at the scene of a very serious crime and we’d like to hear your side of it.”

  Wolf nodded.

  “This is your chance to tell us what happened,” Morris said. “But, just like in the movies, I’ve got to read this to you first. I’ll let you read along with me.”

  He handed Wolf the Miranda warning sheet and then read each point, asking him to initial them and sign the waiver at the bottom.

  “I appreciate you reading this to me,” Wolf said, “but I already told what happened. I’m not saying anything more until I speak to my lawyer, and I’d appreciate a chance to call her now.”

  Since they’d taken his watch, he had no idea what time it was, but he figured to at least leave a message.

  Hernandez, who was still standing, frowned.

  “So that’s the way it’s gonna be, huh?” he said.

  Wolf said nothing.

  “We ran your name, Wolf,” Hernandez continued. “You served time.”

  “That I did,” Wolf said.

  “Look, Steve,” Morris said. “If this was a case of self-defense, now’s the time to tell us. Somebody shoots at you, you shoot back, it’s all understandable.”

  “I didn’t shoot anybody,” Wolf said. “Didn’t you guys do a GSR test on my hands when you brought us in here?”

  Morris raised his eyebrows. “How do you know about Gunshot Residue Tests?”

  “When I was in Leavenworth I watched reruns of CSI.”

  “So if you didn’t shoot anybody,” Hernandez said. “You must be saying it was your buddy, McNamara. I know you don’t want to implicate those two pretty ladies, do you?”

  Wolf felt a surge of panic wondering if Ms. Dolly and Brenda had been incarcerated, too.

  “Look,” he said. “If you’re—”

  He stopped. They were playing him, trying to keep him talking. They’d Mirandized him and were now hoping to get him to say something that they could use to hold him. He was through playing their game, but allowed himself one final comment.

  “None of us fired a shot,” he said. “The bikers were the only ones shooting as far as I know. Now, can I please call my lawyer? I’m not saying another word until she gets here.”

  Hernandez and Morris exchanged glances and Hernandez stormed out of the room. Morris allowed him to retrieve Dolores Delgato’s number from his cell phone and dialed the number. It went directly to voice mail, but just hearing her sultry voice on the recording put him in a better mood.

  “What time’s chow?” he asked Morris after thanking him for allowing the call and handing him back the phone.

  “In a little while,” Morris said. “Just sit tight.”

  The little while stretched into what Wolf figured was at least three or more hours. From time to time, he heard some raucous yelling and figured that the boys of Satan’s Spawn were guests of the county as well. He wondered about the lockup capacity of the annex station. When they’d locked him and Mac up, he’d seen at least ten or twelve cells. He’d counted twelve of the loathsome bikers and six of their women. Python would probably be in the hospital with a broken jaw, and the other one he’d cold cocked at the Throne might be as well. If one of them had been shot, that brought the total down from eighteen to sixteen. He felt a surge of hope that Ms. Dolly and Brenda hadn’t been incarcerated. They hadn’t done anything wrong, but neither had he or Mac, and here they sat.

  Well, nothing besides knocking out a couple of scumbags and blowing up a couple of things.

  Open burning, he thought with a smile, and lay back down on the steel bunk to await the arrival of Ms. Delgato. I wonder if that’s a fine-only offense?

  It was mid-afternoon by the time Wolf and McNamara were released. Dolores Delgato was dressed in a navy-blue outfit with the collar of her pale green blouse artfully spread over the jacket’s lapels. She stood in the lobby of the annex station alongside Ms. Dolly and Brenda. Manny was there, too. Ms. Dolly beamed as the deputy ushered Wolf and McNamara through the side door and into the lobby.

  “Our heroes,” Ms. Dolly said. “Free at last.”

  Manny struggled to lift his bulk from the bench next to the door. Despite the air-conditioning, his florid face was spotted with perspiration and the sweat had seeped through his dark blue polo shirt in several places.

  “I came along in case I needed to post bond for you guys,” he said, grinning.

  “I knew we weren’t gonna need to,” McNamara said in an overly loud voice. “Once our lawyer extraordinaire got here. Much obliged, ma’am.”

  He grinned at Dolores Delgato.

  She smiled back at him. “That’s quite all right, but remember, you haven’t gotten my bill yet.”

  “We appreciate you coming, Dolores,” Wolf said. “Thanks.”

  She t
urned to him and he was once more taken by the amber-colored eyes framed by expertly enhanced eyelids and lashes under a pair of perfectly arched brows.

  “My pleasure,” she said.

  “She made mincemeat outta that fat sergeant,” Ms. Dolly said. “Pointed out that he didn’t have no reason to hold you and sent him scurrying for the hills quicker than a jack-rabbit being chased by a coyote.” She paused and smiled at Delgato. “Ah, no offense, honey. Just a Texas figure of speech.”

  “None taken,” Delgato said, then turned to Wolf. “Steve, ironically, I was going to call you. I thought we should meet and go over your case.”

  “You found something?” he asked.

  One of the perfect eyebrows arched a few millimeters. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Wolf shook his head.

  “Well, now that we got our hardware back,” McNamara said, patting his right side. “I’d like to get the hell outta here.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Wolf said.

  “Me too,” Ms. Dolly added. “But first, I think Manny has something to say, don’t ya?”

  Manny nodded and stepped forward.

  “I owe you guys,” he said. “Big time. All of youse. Thanks for saving Glory.”

  McNamara put his hand on Manny’s shoulder.

  “That’s what friends are for,” he said. “To count on each other when the chips are down.”

  Manny said lunch, now closer to early dinner, was on him.

  McNamara took out his cell phone. “I’d better give Kase a call. Tell her we’ll be a little late getting back. I gotta return that stuff we borrowed to Buck, too.”

  “Hell, she your daughter or your wife?” Ms. Dolly asked with a cynical smile.

  “Well, she was expecting us early,” McNamara said, sounding a bit defensive. “I just want to tell her we’re on the way.” He started dialing.

  As they headed out the door, Delgato moved closer to Wolf and said, “I’m going to have to take a rain check. I need to get back, but call me.” She handed him a scrap of paper with something written on it.