Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3)

by Michael A. Black

  But not a bad place to hide a kidnapped kid, while waiting for an exchange to be made.

  The kid’s in the old hotel in the ghost town, he imagined himself saying to Wolf over the phone as soon as he had possession of the bandito and was on his way. The notification would naturally be made hours after and once he was well on his way out of the area.

  Which brought up another question: stay in Arizona or maybe flee the area altogether. With the funds he had in the money belt, he could afford to do some limited traveling. It would just be a matter of finding a way to deliver the bandito to Von Dien after receiving a hefty payoff. It had to be a place where he could have the money transferred and then withdrawn. Mexico was out of the question … Perhaps Canada if he could get across the damn border.

  But first, he had to get things set up, and that started with the phone call to Fallotti.

  The bars on his phone suddenly appeared indicating once again that he had enough signal power. He quickly hit the button and waited.

  The phone rang once, twice, three times, four, and then someone picked it up.

  “Jack.” Fallotti’s voice sounded warm and friendly. “I’m glad you finally called back. Where are you?”

  “Never mind where I am,” Cummins said, marshalling all his strength and trying his best to imbue confidence into his tone. “Tell Von Dien that I’m close to getting his precious artifact for him and I expect to be compensated. Well compensated.”

  Fallotti said nothing for a few seconds, then, ‘Great. Glad to hear this. Let us send you some help.”

  “How’d that worked out the last few times? I don’t need any help, just money.”

  “That can be arranged.” The prick was sounding genuinely accommodating. “Just tell me where you are and we’ll send—”

  “Bullshit!”

  Cummins felt a thrill at using the word to cut off his old boss. For the first time in their relationship, he felt he had the upper hand.

  “Now, Jack, let’s not be—”

  “Shut up.” He felt the thrill double. This was like a power trip. But he also knew it was all or nothing. “Do you think I don’t know what you had planned for me the last time? With Zerbe?”

  Cummins waited as Fallotti made a stuttering sound like a doctor had told him to stick his tongue out and say, “Ah …”

  Feeling he had the advantage and not wanting to lose it, Cummins continued.

  “This is the way it’s going to be,” he said. “I’m calling the shots. You’re going to do exactly as I instruct, or you and fat boy will never see the fucking other half of the Lion Attacking the Nubian again. Understand?”

  “You’re being … rather unreasonable, aren’t you?”

  Cummins knew he had him. The use of Keller’s persistent pejorative to now designate Von Dien was icing on the cake. He’d laid all the ground work except the specific amount.

  “I want six million wired to the account,” he said. “When I give you the number.”

  “Six million.”

  “Yeah,” Cummins said, realizing it was still to his advantage not to appear weak or conciliatory. “That does seem a little bit thin especially when you consider the fact that you two were intending to cut me off without a cent last time.”

  “What?” Fallotti made his confusion sound halfway believable. “You know that’s not the case.”

  Typical lawyer, always obfuscating the facts.

  “True,” said Cummins. “You were more than likely planning to pay me off with a copper-jacketed hollow-point.”

  “Aw, Jack, you’re talking crazy now. You know we always take care of our people.”

  “Just like you take care of those loose ends, huh?”

  He looked ahead and saw they’d entered the main section of the small town and the brake lights of Keller’s pickup flashed on. It was time to go.

  “I’ll call you when I’ve got things set in place for the trade,” he said and hung up.

  He felt totally satisfied that he’d accomplished what he needed to accomplish for now. The stage was now set.

  Part of it was, anyway.

  The FROZ

  Bendover, Oregon

  Wolf had been so caught up in his reverie about the bandito that he was only vaguely conscious that McNamara had asked him a question.

  “Say again?” he said, falling back into his army terminology.

  “I said, where the hell’s your damn head at?” McNamara’s voice was raised and irritated. “We got us a damn mission to chart out and I don’t see you doing any diagramming.’

  “Sorry,” Wolf said. “I can’t help wondering about the bandito, wondering what’s inside of it … Wondering how it all fits together.”

  McNamara sighed. “Which is exactly why you shoulda let me bust the damn thing apart back at Garfield’s place. At least then we might’ve known something.”

  Or not, Wolf thought.

  “You know what they said about Humpty Dumpty,” he said.

  McNamara snorted a laugh.

  He’d picked up a wooden hammer and chisel at the shop but Wolf had stopped him. He didn’t want to take the chance on doing some inadvertent damage to whatever it might contain. So for now, it remained a mystery.

  “A mystery wrapped in an enigma inside of a conundrum,” he said. “Isn’t that what Winston Churchill said about Russia?”

  “Something like that,” McNamara said. “But right now the only enigma I’m worried about is how to get in and out of this damn FROZ place.”

  Actually, Wolf had been paying limited attention as they circled the six-block sealed off area and he’d noticed something.

  “They’ve got the main roads blocked off,” he said. “And guards posted, checking IDs. But it’s obvious that’s intended for keeping the police and vehicular traffic out. The rest of the perimeter looks pretty porous. They’ve probably got roving patrols but limited communications and equipment.”

  “Not to mention a fundamental lack of knowledge and tactics,” McNamara added, shaking his head. “You kind of expect to see this shit in Mogadishu but this is hitting a little too close to home.”

  Wolf agreed. The sight of the boarded-up stores, piles of garbage, and smoldering fires everywhere was a depressing sight. Even Baghdad during the occupation hadn’t looked quite this bad.

  “Why do you suppose the politicians are letting these assholes get away with it?” McNamara asked.

  “I’m sure they have their reasons,” Wolf said. “And none of them are good. But eventually, they’ll have to step in.”

  “And we’ve got to be in and out before that happens.” McNamara was about to say more when his cell phone rang. He pressed the button and answered it.

  “Hey, sugar,” Ms. Dolly’s voice said over the dashboard speakers. “You ever seen anything like this shit?”

  McNamara laughed. “We were just talking about that.”

  “Well, what do you say we go meet this Dickie Deekins guy and figure out our plan?” she said. “What do you figure? Tonight’s reconnoitering and tomorrow the big game?”

  That would mean we’d have to fly back, Wolf thought.

  “Let’s see if we can grab him tonight,” McNamara said. “We gotta him back for his Wednesday court date.”

  “Tonight would be better for us, too,” Ms. Dolly said. “We got a corporate meeting on Wednesday I’d really like to be back for and I gotta get ready.”

  “Honey,” McNamara said. “You were born ready.”

  Wolf heard Ms. Dolly’s throaty laugh. They agreed to meet back at the hotel and McNamara terminated the call.

  “After we meet this reporter fella,” he said. “Let’s you and me have the gals drop us off in the south perimeter so we can get a look inside this shithole.”

  Wolf agreed, thinking that it would be better if the vehicles were seen as little as possible.

  McNamara’s phone rang again and he answered it.

  “Dad,” Kasey said. “How was the flight?”

  “Smoo
th as a satin pillow, honey,” he said. “How’s things back at the Ranch?”

  “Oh, all right,” she said.

  From the sound of her voice, Wolf figured it was anything but.

  Apparently, so did Mac.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I still haven’t heard from Chad,” she said. “Or Charlie, either, for that matter. I tried calling that cell phone but there’s no answer.”

  “You got Charlie’s number, right?” McNamara asked.

  “I do but he’s not picking up either. It goes directly to voice mail and he never calls back.”

  “When we get back we’ll take another ride over to that damn trailer of his,” McNamara said. “We’ll track his sorry ass down.”

  “Another thing,” she said. “He said he was going to the Grand Canyon before but I’m not sure about that. I’ve called most all the hotels in the area down there and they’re not registered at any of them. No credit card activity, either, from what I could find.”

  It was obvious she was putting her tracking skills into play. Wolf wondered if she’d been trying to track Riley’s cell phone as well.

  “We’ll find him,” McNamara said. “And Chad, too. And this’ll be the last the little guy sees of that son of a bitch.”

  “Oh, dad, stop. He’s Chad’s father for Christ’s sake.”

  From the sound of it, she was on the verge of tears. Wolf knew better than to say anything. Mac did, too.

  After a few moments of awkward dead noise, she came back on the line.

  “Oh, is Steve around?” she asked.

  “He’s right next to me,” McNamara said. “You’re on speaker.”

  Her breath came in a hiss. “I wish you would have told me that before.” Wolf could hear her taking in a deep breath, composing herself, before she continued.

  “Hi, Steve. Some lawyer called for you earlier,” she said, speaking rapidly now. Her voice seemed more under control. “Soraces is his name. Wanted to talk to you but wouldn’t tell me any specifics about what he wanted.”

  This sounded disconcerting to Wolf. Lawyers reaching out usually meant one thing: trouble.

  “He say where he works?”

  “Bailey and Lugget Law Firm. They’re local. I checked them out and he is employed there.”

  That narrowed the possibilities a bit but Wolf still had no idea what this was about.

  Wolf scribbled down the number as she read it off, along with the spelling of his name.

  “Thanks, Kasey,” he said. “And try not to worry too much. We’ll find Chad and make sure he’s safe.”

  She murmured a “Thanks” that was accompanied by what sounded like a burst of tears as she terminated the call.

  Wolf and McNamara exchanged glances and Mac shook his head.

  “I’m gonna take particular pleasure in kicking that fucker, Riley’s, ass,” he said. “Sounds like we’d best try to pick up this asshole, Zeus, as fast as we can.”

  Wolf nodded in agreement but his thoughts were now centered on Kasey.

  The last thing in the world he’d wanted to do was say something to make her cry.

  “Sor-ac-es,” McNamara repeated slowly, drawing out the word. “That sound Greek to you?”

  “It’s all Greek to me,” Wolf said.

  1871 Fornaux Street

  Bendover, Oregon

  In person, Dickie Deekins didn’t look much like the suave podcast journalist Manny had described or even the one they’d seen on the video clips. His face was now swollen on both sides to grotesque proportions and the area under each eye contained a drooping black loop. His upper lip was distorted on the left side as well. He lay back on the cushions of the sofa in the cluttered living room of the old house. His mother stood at the edge of the room, which was adjacent to the kitchen watching over the conversation. Wolf, McNamara, and the P-Patrol stood in a semicircle around him and it was clear that he was enjoying the audience.

  “Zeus and his boys prowl mostly at night,” Deekins said. “That’s when they jumped us. We were trying to film some of the stuff that’s been going on in the Zone.”

  “We saw that video,” McNamara said. “Looked like they worked you over pretty good.”

  “There was nothing good about it,” Mrs. Deekins said. “Those beasts hurt my baby and the damn police won’t do nothing about it.”

  “A damn shame, ma’am,” McNamara said.

  “Ma, please,” Deekins said. “Leave us alone, will ya?”

  The older lady made a huffing sound and went into the other room.

  Deekins rolled his eyes and appeared to instantly regret the movement, punctuating it with a groan.

  “Right now you got three different factions vying for leadership domination in the FROZ,” he said. “One is a mishmash of white radicals and blacks called the Mez, as in mezzed up. They’re mostly into yelling and screaming on the street corner about social justice. Then there’s another group of Hispanics called the Vaqueros. They mostly keep a low profile but are strong-arming what businesses that are still open for protection money.”

  “Protection from who?” McNamara asked.

  “It’s whom,” Deekins said. “And that’s just it. They pay because they’re afraid and the Vaqueros don’t do shit to protect them. Zeus and his boys just walk around and take whatever they want, including taking turns with any nice-looking girls they see.”

  “Vaqueros,” Brenda said with disgust. “Ladrones. Pendejoes cingados todos.”

  Wolf couldn’t agree more and the more he heard, the less he was liking this.

  “Who all’s armed in the Zone?” he asked.

  “Shit, every fucking body,” Deekins said.

  “Dickie,” Mrs. Deekins said from the other room. “Watch you language, sweetie. There are young ladies present.”

  “Yeah, yeah, ma.”

  Yolanda and Brenda exchanged grins and Ms. Dolly said, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t nothing we hadn’t heard before.”

  “What kind of weapons they have?” Wolf asked.

  Deekins shrugged. “I don’t know too much about guns. I got some videos that might show something.”

  Wolf nodded and Deekins swung his legs off the sofa. His white socks had numerous holes in them and smelled like they hadn’t been washed in days.

  “Where does Zeus hold up?” McNamara asked.

  “He stays in this apartment building that’s right across from the city hall,” Deekins said as he looked through a bunch of flashdrives. “That’s how this whole mess got started. They had this big protest at the city hall, marched in, and took over. The city council all got evacuated and the next thing you know the mayor ordered the police to leave the police station rather than stand their ground. The next thing you know, they’d barricaded the streets and wouldn’t let anybody in or out without permission.”

  “Bend over, Bendover,” McNamara said.

  “Sounds all too familiar,” Wolf said.

  “Don’t it,” McNamara said. “Welcome to Somalia West.”

  “Cuando llega la revolución,” Brenda said. “Lo devora todo.”

  “When the revolution comes,” Ms. Dolly translated. “It devours everything.”

  Wolf couldn’t agree more. Deekins had plugged a flashdrive into his laptop and clicked on a file. A video filled the screen but it was hard to distinguish much due to the grainy nature of the picture. It did show a group of black men wearing hoodies. One held an AR-15. Another a shotgun. Two more flashed what looked to be blue steel semi-autos of some kind. Wolf couldn’t tell the makes.

  “Can you draw us a map of this Zone area?” McNamara asked. “Pointing out where the city hall and the police department are.”

  “I can do better than that,” Deekins said. “I can go to Google Earth.”

  His fingers swept over the keyboard.

  “Zeus has proclaimed himself the leader of the FROZ,” Deekins said. “Him and his guys, about fifteen of them, take these nightly patrols around, starting at around eight-t
hirty or nine.”

  “Patrols?” McNamara asked, looking at the screen, which was now showing an overhead, long-distance shot of Bendover, but obviously in better, bygone days. “What does he do on them?”

  Deekins enlarged the image showing a close-up of the apartment building. It looked like a four or five-story structure with numerous balconies.

  “Whatever the fuck he pleases,” Deekins said.

  “Dickie,” his mother yelled from the kitchen area. “Language.”

  Deekins rocked his head back and forth and then winched.

  “That’s when they beat me up,” he said. “Me and Henry were following them, trying to document so of the shi— errr, stuff they do, and they seen us. Beat us really bad. Henry’s still in the hospital. We were lucky they only beat us and didn’t shoot us.”

  Wolf and McNamara looked at each other. They’d brought two handguns, extra magazines, a Taser, handcuffs, leg irons, a sap, and a roll of duct tape. The P-Patrol had three more handguns between them but they were going against at least one AR-15 and a shotgun.

  They were already way outgunned.

  Chapter Nine

  Fort Lemand

  Southern Arizona

  Cummins shoveled some of the gruel-like stew into his mouth and tried not to concentrate on the salty taste. The mess hall was immense but like many of the other buildings in the compound, uncomfortably hot and gritty. He’d counted perhaps twenty-five other soldiers at Base Freedom, excluding himself and Colonel Best. Only a handful of them were armed but he had no doubt there were more weapons available in the arm’s room. His Glock 43 was one of them. Besides those on guard duty and the one stationed by the M-60, only Keller and Best were armed. He’d heard the sound of rifle fire earlier and peered out his window but saw nothing. The gunfire seemed far off and Smith later told him that they’d had range practice earlier. Smith seemed a bit disgruntled and Cummins wondered if it was due to the spat he’d overheard between Smith and Riley. But now all five of them, Smith, Riley, Chad, Cherrie, and himself, sat together for evening chow a few tables away from most of the others. A couple of the younger guys stole glances at Cherrie from time to time but Smith’s returning glare made them look away quickly. She appeared miserable.