Wolf felt both amused and irritated.
The same old Kasey, he thought. Always critical, always sarcastic. But at least she hasn’t lost her spunk.
He stepped out into the hall and motioned for them to follow.
The three of them walked briskly toward the stairs.
Still no sign of any guards.
No sign of anyone, Wolf thought.
Strange, but he didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
When they got to the base of the staircase the main floor was still deserted. Wolf debated whether to make a run for the front doors and keep going, or sneak out the back and go around the way he’d come.
Hopefully, Mac and the boys had taken out the main gate and would come roaring down the driveway for the extraction.
Hopefully, he thought, and took out his cellphone again.
Suddenly, two doors opened across from them. A big swarthy looking guy in a black butler’s uniform stepped out leveling a shiny semi-auto at Wolf. He grinned. Two men, looking incredibly alike, exited the second door. One was holding a Glock, and the other had a yellow and black gun of some sort.
The yellow and black gun popped sending a spray of minute confetti into the air in a cloud and Wolf felt twin bee stings on his chest and then a paralyzing pain. He literally could not move but was aware that he was sinking toward the floor. The pain continued and one of the men stepped over and kicked the old revolver from his grasp. Wolf could see, but he couldn’t move and what felt like an electric glove enveloped his body. The mask made it almost impossible to breathe. He was cognizant of men huddling around them, grabbing Brenda and Kasey.
The pain stopped and Wolf ripped off the mask and took a deep breath.
Taser, he thought. Shit.
“You enjoy the full ride?” someone asked. The voice had that all too familiar ring to it.
Soraces.
A setup. They’d been watching and waiting the whole time.
So much for the best-laid plans.
But then he realized that Mac and the others were probably barreling toward the house. When they didn’t see Wolf and Kasey and Brenda out there maybe they’d try to break in. Or run.
No, he thought. Mac wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t leave us.
There was going to be a shoot-out. There was going to be blood.
Wolf felt some strong hands grab him and lift him up effortlessly.
It was a big blond guy who looked like Dolph Lundgren from that old Rocky movie. The guy stepped away and Wolf saw a fancy looking gun in a holster on his belt. It had a red-dot sight attached and the extended cam of a silencer stuck out the bottom of a pancake holster. A Japanese tanto knife was in a sheath on the other side.
Soraces stepped forward and grinned.
“You’ve still got those prongs embedded in your chest, Wolf. Charles here can give you another fifty thousand volts with a flick of his finger, so don’t try anything.”
Wolf could feel the two fish hooks sticking into him, one in his left pectoral muscle and the other in his right outside oblique.
He needed to knock at least one of them loose. He also had to figure out a way to warn Mac.
If he could.
As if reading his thoughts, Soraces said, “Don’t fret about your other buddies, pal. They’ll be joining us momentarily.”
What the hell did that mean?
Then the front door opened and McNamara, Buck, and Joe Barnes came trudging through, their hands on their heads. Dirk followed behind them holding the captured Taurus nine-millimeter. The grin on his face told Wolf everything.
“Sorry, Steve,” Buck said. “I shoulda known there was something funny about this guy.”
Dirk cuffed him on the back. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“You son of a bitch,” Wolf said. “How much they paying you to sell us out?”
“Oh, he and I are long-time friends,” Soraces said. “Along with these two handsome gents.” He gestured toward the two other men, who looked extraordinarily alike.
Wolf saw their identical hook noses and realized that he’d seen one or the other of them before: once at the sheriff’s substation in Gila County and once on the plane coming here. He’d been totally outclassed in this one.
Bambi was about to be crushed by Godzilla.
A crafty Godzilla and his minions.
Dirk shoved Barnes into McNamara and the three of them stopped about ten feet from Wolf and the others.
“They’ve got some banged-up FBI agent with the other guy,” Dirk said. “Give me his phone and I’ll go up to the main gate and text them to meet me. That way they won’t suspect anything. I’ll ice ’em both when they pull up and bring you the bandito.”
Wolf felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Reno and Franker would be driving into a death trap. He’d been outsmarted again. Badly. But he still had one more hand to play.
“Listen, Soraces, we can still deal. If anything happens to us, any of us, there’s a letter in the hands of an attorney back in Phoenix that’ll blow the lid off you and this whole operation.”
Soraces laughed and reached into his pants pocket, withdrawing an envelope and Wolf recognized his handwriting on the front of it.
“You talking about this letter?” Soraces raised an eyebrow and studied Wolf. “Don’t be too shocked. Lola, aka Dolores Delgato, overnighted it to me the same day you gave it to her.”
“She’s worked with us before,” Dirk said.
“True that,” Soraces added. “She specializes in making fools of gullible idiots like you.”
Gullible doesn’t adequately cover it, Wolf thought.
He felt like he’d just been kicked in the balls. Soraces had been one move ahead every step of the way.
The big blond guy held out his hand.
“Give me your phone,” he said. His words had a heavy German accent.
Wolf hesitated, but not wanting to get incapacitated by another Taser blast, handed the big man the cellphone. He tossed it to Dirk, who caught it.
“Gimme another gun, will ya?” Dirk said. “This one’s a piece of shit.”
“Clyde, give him your Glock,” Soraces said.
The one twin’s face twisted into a scowl.
“Why my gun?” he said.
“Because I said so,” Dirk said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
Clyde glared at him then strode over and handed Dirk the pistol.
“Thanks, Clyde,” Dirk said and stuck the Taurus into his waistband.
Clyde’s face twisted with a look of disgust.
“Go do it, dammit,” Soraces said. “It’s almost checkmate. All we have to do is verify that that’s the real bandito.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dirk said, moving toward the door, opened it, and left.
So he’s worried about a duplicate, Wolf thought. Maybe I can buy us some time.
“You really don’t think I’d be stupid enough to bring the real one down here,” he said. “Do you?”
Soraces’s head turned, but before he could speak another voice intruded.
“Dammit. You guaranteed me that this one would be the original.”
Everyone turned toward the waddling figure that approached. He was perhaps five and a half feet tall and almost that wide. He wore a blue terrycloth jumpsuit and his body jiggled with each step. His head, which was as big as a regulation basketball, was wrapped in an elaborate looking mask that looked almost like a mutilated gas mask. Another man was with him wearing a blue cloth mask. His dark hair, tinged with gray, was slicked back.
“Where are you masks?” the waddling man shrieked. “None of you are wearing any. Put them on now. Immediately. Hans, see to it.”
He has to be Von Dien, Wolf thought.
The other resembled the pictures he’d seen of Fallotti, the lawyer.
The big blond guy who’d picked Wolf up stepped over and lifted his hands to pull a mask up over his prominent jaw, momentarily exposing his right side to Wolf.
With the opening there, Wolf moved, yanking the one prong out as he made his grab for the big man’s gun. The big guy whirled, reaching down, but it was too late. Wolf smashed a hard left to the big man’s kidney as his fingers grasped the weapon. He twisted and pulled, shouting, “Get down!”
The big man’s elbow struck Wolf’s right temple and he reeled. The black dots swarmed in his eyes, blocking out the light for a split second, then vanished.
Close, Wolf thought. But no cigar.
He fired two rounds into the big man’s back, then brought the weapon up and shot the heavyset Guatemalan butler just under the chin. Each round made a plunking sound. The man’s mouth gaped, releasing a torrent of blood. Wolf then turned the gun toward the first twin who was still squeezing the trigger of the Taser. Wolf’s next shot hit him squarely in center mass. As he twisted and fell, his brother rushed forward, his face an angry mask. Wolf stepped to the side, pivoting, and fired again. The back of the second twin’s head exploded outward, framed by a crimson halo. He dropped face-down to the floor.
Wolf saw that Mac and the others had hit the dirt as directed. So had Brenda, but Kasey was still standing.
Wolf started to yell at her when the giant rose up and lunged forward, holding the tanto knife. Wolf used his left palm to strike the back of the huge man’s hand, pushing the knife away. The sheer momentum of the huge attacker drove Wolf backward and he went down on one knee. The giant started to swing his arm back to deliver a back-handed slicing blow with the knife, but Wolf elevated the barrel of the pistol and squeezed off two more rounds. He was point-shooting, but even without proper target acquisition the second bullet struck home going up through the huge man’s throat. He collapsed like a six-story building imploding.
Wolf took three stumbling steps to regain his balance and whirled only to see Soraces behind Kasey, his left arm crossing diagonally across her breasts, his fingers entangled in her hair. His right hand held what looked to be a long, thin blade against her right carotid.
Wolf leveled the gun at him and said in as guttural a tone as he could manage, “Let her go.”
“Huh-un,” Soraces said. “Me and her are walking out of here. Unless you want to watch her bleed out?”
McNamara rose to his feet.
“Take the shot,” he said.
Wolf’s breathing was ragged, and he wasn’t sure he could hold the gun steady enough to do it. The heavy sound suppressor attached to the barrel felt like it weighed a ton. Soraces seemed to sense Wolf’s hesitation.
“Besides, Stevie boy,” Soraces said. “I’m your only hope of getting that recording that’ll clear your name. Let us walk outta here, and I’ll let her go and book. I’ll contact you later about the flashdrive. I can care less about this prick’s stupid artifact.”
Wolf was suddenly cognizant that Von Dien and Fallotti had vanished. More adversaries might be on the way. He tried to regulate his breathing, to steady his hand.
“He’s lying,” McNamara shouted. “Take the damn shot. He’ll kill her otherwise.”
Other voices chimed in but, to Wolf, they were a cacophony of indecipherable noise, like the thunder of a waterfall. Only one stood out as clear as the pealing of a church bell.
“Take the shot, Steve.”
It was Kasey.
The red dot magically appeared, centered on Soraces’s forehead, and Wolf’s finger gently stroked the pistol’s trigger. The plunking of the round, the sudden burst of smoke from the end of the barrel, all seemed to unfold in exaggerated slow motion.
Soraces’s mouth opened to form an O and his head jerked back, a small, neat, round hole appearing just under his right eye socket. A red mist momentarily blossomed around the back of his head and the fingers holding the blade went slack. It fell away from Kasey’s neck and she collapsed, too. Wolf was immediately worried that he’d somehow harmed her. He rushed forward and collided with McNamara who had rushed toward his daughter, too. Wolf went sprawling and threw out his left arm to catch himself. He heard a distorted voice now. It was Buck’s.
“Dirk’s still out there. He’ll kill Reno and that FBI fella when they pull up.”
Wolf was steady on his feet now and he went to the fallen blond giant and rolled the body over. The pale blue eyes stared upward under half-closed lids and a trickle of blood spilled from the patted lips and wound down over the lantern jaw. Wolf bent down and grabbed the two fresh magazines out of their holders.
“I’ll get him,” he said. “You guys grab some of these weapons and clear the building. We’ve probably got some more security guys to deal with.”
“And we gotta find that fucking Von Dien,” McNamara said, getting to his feet.
“You’ve got to save Bill,” Kasey yelled. “Please.”
Wolf went to the door and saw the Camry parked way up the drive at the main gate. It was perhaps fifty yards away. Far enough that Dirk probably hadn’t heard the commotion, and especially not the subdued sounds of the sound-suppressed gunshots.
Wolf saw the crowd of Guatemalans congregating by the bus about thirty yards down the drive. He ran to the vehicle, pushing his way through and pushed the driver away from the doors.
“Qué pasa?” the man said.
Wolf held up the gun and said, “Salga.”
The group of them scattered like leaves thrown into a strong wind.
Wolf climbed the three steps, plopped down into the driver’s seat, and twisted the key in the ignition. The bus’s engine rumbled to life. Shoving the gear shift into first, Wolf popped the clutch and the elongated vehicle lurched forward. He twisted the wheel, steering it toward the road, grinding over some decorative stones along the fountain. The engine squealed and Wolf realized he needed to shift into second. After slamming back the shift lever, the bus accelerated, the engine still giving off a high-pitched whine. The pistol was in his right hand. It was a Walther. Wolf hit the ejection button and saw the mag drop and inserted a fresh one.
Combat reload, he thought.
The front gate was perhaps fifty feet away now. Up ahead he saw Dirk standing there next to the unoccupied Jeep and Camry. He turned slightly and motioned emphatically at the bus to turn away.
He must think I’m the Guatemalan Express, Wolf thought, and stomped on the accelerator
The Subaru was turning through the open gate area. Dirk waved casually and moved toward it. As Wolf drew closer he saw that Dirk held the Glock out of sight, down by his right thigh.
He continued toward the Subaru, then his head bobbled a bit and he glanced over his shoulder.
Something must have registered with him this time because he whirled and brought the Glock up in a firing stance.
Wolf instinctively leaned to his right just as the windshield spider-webbed in front of him.
Two rounds whizzed by him.
The bus was maybe twenty feet away now, barreling forward like a fullback toward a defensive goal line stand.
Another spider web cracked the windshield and Wolf felt a star-scatter of glass sear the left side of his face. He’d blinked just in time. Yanking the lever to open the front doors, Wolf leaped out of the seat. The bus continued forward, and Wolf jumped through the open doors as the crunching sound of metal striking metal reverberated as the bus smashed into the Camry. Wolf tried to stay on his feet, but the momentum was too great. He took a stumbling step forward and tumbled onto the asphalt about fifteen feet away. Rolling, Wolf extended the Walther and frantically scanned the space between the underside of the bus and the asphalt.
No sign of Dirk’s feet.
Wolf’s mind raced as he scrambled to his feet.
No cover where I’m at, he thought, but did Dirk go left or right?
The natural tendency would be to favor the side of his dominant hand, but he remembered Dirk saying he was ambidextrous. He also might have the combat savvy not to do the most obvious. It was a toss-up.
But he hadn’t seen the other man’s legs at all under the bus. If Dirk were moving to his right, they s
hould’ve been visible. Wolf was rotating his body toward the front end of the crushed Toyota when a lambent shadow dappled the ground in front of him. Whirling and elevating the Walther, Wolf caught sight of the burly figure, silhouetted by the sun, coming over the elongated roof of the bus.
Wolf fired without aiming as the dark figure disappeared.
He’s got the high ground, Wolf thought, and darted back into the bus, raising the Walther and firing up through the roof.
Two perforations appeared in the metal. Wolf heard a scrambling sound and then two loud shots from above. Twin beams of sunlight burrowed through a pair of ragged holes in the bus’s ceiling, the rounds ripping the fabric of a nearby seat. Wolf fired upward again, adjusting his aim in a desperate guess of his adversary’s movement.
A pair of feet smashed onto the metallic hood, then Dirk sprang off to the side. He landed with a cat-like grace, bringing the Glock upward and firing three rounds. Wolf returned fire, sending three rounds of his own through one of the side windows, the glass fracturing in several places.
I’ve got the high ground now, he thought, and saw Dirk’s face twist into a grimace. He staggered back a step, like he’d been punched, then brought the Glock up again.
Wolf centered the magical red dot on Dirk’s broad chest and double-tapped two rounds, then elevated it and sent a third one between the space separating the blue and brown eyes.
Dirk’s head snapped back. A second later his legs folded like an accordion and he collapsed to the ground.
Wolf approached with his pistol at the ready, but saw there was no need.
The Subaru pulled up and jerked to a stop. Reno was driving and Franker held the backpack with the bandito.
“Where’s Kasey?” Franker yelled.
“Up in the house,” Wolf said.
The Subaru took off. Wolf checked the Camry. It was totaled, but the Jeep still had the key in the ignition. As he drove to the mansion he saw the Subaru jerk to a stop in front and Franker got out and ran inside leaving the passenger door open. Reno limped after him. When Wolf got there he glanced inside the vehicle and caught sight of the overturned backpack and the leering grin of the bandito, which had slipped partially out.
Siempre con una sonrisa en la cara, he thought. Always with a smile on his face.
Devil's Advocate (Trackdown Book 4) Page 28
