The Wolf Lake Murders (A Bo Boson Adventure Book 1)

by Henri Jenkins

  "That ain't him," said Bonnie.

  Marge rolled her eyes. "Give me a minute," she said and walked out.

  Outside she approached Gary the lead on her truck. He glared at her with a disdain typically reserved for someone you really, really hate. "What?" he snarled.

  Marge rubbed at her lower abdomen.

  Gary, who until that moment had considered the short-haired, flat-chested, husky woman nothing more than one of the guys, took two steps back as if she were contagious.

  She pushed her face into a moan. "You know," she said then took a purposeful breath and rubbed her belly again. "Think I'm getting my period." She swallowed hard, bent over, and blew out strong and loud hands on her knees.

  Gary's face went sour. He gawked at her, certain she was contagious.

  "I'm going to need a few," she said raising a hand and shaking her head.

  "I'm calling dispatch," he grunted and turned for the cab. "Fucking women," he said walking away.

  A man passed unnoticed behind her and entered the diner. Marge returned to the counter. As soon as she sat, Bonnie scooted over. Marge looked up to her. Bonnie smiled and bounced her eyebrows.

  Marge drew back as she started to appreciate Gary’s concern for women. Bonnie broke into a hum and bobbed her head to the right. The waitress pushed an exasperated sigh from her lips. Marge wondered if Bonnie was getting her period.

  "I'm going to help this - cute - young - man - down here," she said, "and I'll be right back."

  It was as if Marge did not speak English. Bonnie walked toward Paul. Marge finally took notice of the man who had appeared out of thin air. The pieces fell together. She examined him several times. Marge held her gaze so long he became aware of her stare.

  He flashed a discontented face. She looked at him like he was money, a beautiful, muscular pile of money. Bonnie noticed his sudden interest and made a point to distract his attention. Marge used the diversion to disappear.

  Scampering out she considered what reason she could provide Gary to stick around long enough to watch Paul. She thought about sharing the information with her crew. In the parking lot, her hands rose and she spun in a circle. The truck was gone. No explanation needed. "Ha!" she proclaimed.

  Marge scanned the lot and considered her options. She hauled and hefted garbage cans for a living not stealthy daytime surveillance. Noticing a small group of blue collar people standing in front of a business across the street, she walked toward them.

  The sign above their heads read, "One Day Employment." She found the end of the line and kept an eye on the diner. In her work clothes, she blended with the day laborers waiting for the office to open.

  Paul soon exited the diner, a brown paper bag in hand. Marge pulled a rag from her back pocket and held it to her face like she was wiping or blowing a runny nose. Paul walked the sidewalk at a brisk pace. Her eyes tracked him. Toward the end of the block he stopped at an unmarked door.

  He unlocked the door and went into the building. From the outside it appeared empty and abandoned. A two-story tall "For Lease" sign near the corner advertised its availability. The seven-story black marble and glass building stood on the southwest corner of 119th street and Tillerson.

  Staying on her side, she walked to a gas station on the opposing corner. From there, she was able to see two street sides of the building. At the gas station, she grabbed the largest fountain drink and a fresh pack of Benson & Hedges while keeping one eye on the building. Marge sat at the corner bus stop, scratched a match and smoked.

  Thirty minutes and three uncaught buses later a brand new white panel van exited a roll up door. It looked like the black swan of a building had laid a pristine white egg. To Marge, it was the golden egg. As the van drove through the intersection, Marge saw the man from the diner and another military-looking guy.

  Marge called it in to her Crew Supervisor who forwarded it to the District Manager. He called the service to page Gunner asking them to beep him three times per his own instructions. He was southwest, near the rehab center, looking into the missing Laurel and Hardy pair for Sharon. Gunner picked up Bang-Bang and they made contact with Marge at the bus stop.

  After speaking with her, Gunner went to see Cubby at Bear Pawns. They picked up walkie-talkies and Bang-Bang put his folks on recon. Gunner surveyed the buildings around the hideout. He worked his way around, searching for vantage points. He was in the signage atop one building when the van returned.

  Gunner felt certain it was the right pair. He called Bo's house, the State Police desk, and then the service to page him. Gunner remembered the business cards Bo provided. He found Prescott's and called the number. Gunner told Prescott what they had found and about the gang surveillance. Prescott informed the rest of the team. The FBI worked to get spotters in every space they could find with a safe view of the building.

  Two ships pass in the night for no reason or every.

  Bo recognized a connection between Gunner and Bang-Bang. The bond of friendship that could develop into brotherhood. A bond he and Gunner had long shared through good times and bad. With the equipment Bo knew the pros to have, he realized the possibility.

  If Gunner had informed Bo rather than Prescott, he would have stormed the building alone. FBI spotters and snipers covered from unnoticed spaces around the hideout. Bang-Bang's crew continued to survey the streets.

  The various groups assembled in a building a few blocks from the hideout. Prescott and the Hostage Rescue Team Leader discussed entry options. The others joined in. Gunner and Bang-Bang hung near. From their research, the team knew they had surveillance and communication equipment. There was also a real possibility of defensive munitions.

  If any of the children were still alive, they expected the killers would be close, within easy reach. The group discussed the benefits and concerns of waiting for them to leave the property again. Grab them then. Waiting could be too late for one or more of the children.

  The HRT Leader advised it best to wait for the cover of night. He also figured the pair would be sleeping in shifts with one always on watch, even with sensors. The group argued over the best approach.

  "Why don't we send Boson over to knock on the front door?" Patty joked.

  No one laughed. The discussion returned to viable options. Everyone agreed to disagree. A discontented hush fell over the room.

  "You need to go Hollywood," Bang-Bang said from the background.

  The group made a collective turn toward him. "What?" said more than one.

  "Hollywood man," Bang-Bang said to Gunner.

  "Hollywood?" Gunner asked for everyone.

  "Hollywood. You need a reason to put a bunch of cops on the street, close to the building. You wanna put them there without anyone takin' notice. Right? Something they'll look at and not care enough to really see," Bang-Bang said.

  "Have something in mind?" Gunner asked as the others stepped closer.

  "Man, look here. Do this. Dress up some cops as bangers, a'ight, different colors different cars ya know and you, you smash 'em up at the corner, take out a light pole, street goes dark, the cars light on fire, they climb out and go to banging at one another. Cops come, ambalance comes, fire trucks, wreckers, power company, shit all kinds of flashing lights and people to confuse things. Only thing missing would be a half-nekid chick. Hollywood man. Hollywood."

  Heads nodded within the group. "You know Bang-Bang that's a hell of an idea," said Gunner.

  "I knows."

  The group agreed and jumped to action to ready the necessary personnel, equipment and supplies to pull off the diversion. They notified the State Police Commanders of their plans. Technicians from the State Police and FBI bomb squads rigged remote-triggered firebombs in seized autos. Someone contacted the power company about killing the electricity on command.

  The grand diversion would provide cover for a rescue team to sneak into the back of the building. Patty demanded to be part of the assault team. Prescott objected to anyone beyond the Hostage Rescue Team be
ing included. Bo wanted to go in alone. The group argued and settled on FBI and State Police personnel only. This left Bo out and with Grayson inside, he was not happy. He objected to Prescott.

  “I'm sure you'd love to lead a second entry team but you know the rules, no unauthorized civilians mixed with official personnel,” Prescott said.

  “I understand. It sucks.”

  Gunner stepped forward. "You know if it weren't for him." Gunner pointed at Bo. "Not one of you would be standing here. Not one. You'd all still be chasing your fucking tails."

  Prescott stood firm.

  "If nothing else show the man some fucking respect. You of all people know his skills."

  "I do and I do," Prescott said staring at Bo. He turned back to Gunner. "And he - understands."

  Gunner threw his hands up and walked away. Bo walked outside to think. He reached into his pocket for the gear and remembered it was home on his desk. His fingers moved as if he held an invisible replacement. He paced the parking lot.

  Gunner and Bang-Bang soon joined him. Bo continued to pace. Bang-Bang leaned against Gunner’s rental and lit up a smoke. Gunner took a spot beside him.

  Bo walked to Blue and popped the trunk. “You have a gun?” he asked Gunner.

  “I have a twenty-two under the front seat,” Gunner said standing and moving toward the door.

  “A twenty-two?” Bang-Bang snickered. “Man, you huntin’ squirrels?”

  Bo pulled his Colt, removed the clip, and cleared the first round. He placed everything in the trunk. He stripped off his jacket, folded and laid it on the carpet. The shoulder holster, police band radio, and pager joined the collection.

  "What about you?” Bo asked Bang-Bang as he put a fresh clip in the .45.

  “I gots my Saturday Night Special here.” He patted the pocket of his baggy jeans.

  "All live," Bo said showing the .45 to Gunner. Bo tucked the gun into the rear waistband of his pants and covered it with his shirt.

  He pulled the .38 from his ankle. “Use the .22 for backup,” Bo said as he handed the revolver to Gunner.

  Gunner tucked his gun away and held Bo’s .38.

  Bo pulled the left side trunk lining open and retrieved another Colt .45. He checked the bullets, slid the selector to safe and loaded the first round. "All live," he said again.

  “We doing this O.K. Corral style or what?” Gunner asked.

  “No,” said Bo. He grabbed four flashlights, three with red filters and gave a red one to Bang-Bang. He handed another to Gunner. "Have your lock kit?"

  Gunner nodded. "Man, you do know you're breaking the rules here right? Bo Boson? And you must know Prescott's going to be pissed as all get out."

  "I do and I do - and he understands."

  The other two gawked at one another. "Oh fuck me," said Gunner.

  “With all the eyes on the place, how you planning on getting in?” Bang-Bang asked.

  “He probably will walk over and knock on the front door,” Gunner said.

  “We’re going to use the other door,” Bo said.

  Gunner and Bang-Bang stared at one another, both confused.

  “The other door?” Gunner asked.

  “You’ll see.” Bo shut the trunk lid and started walking toward the street.

  “Three guys carrying guns on the street doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious to you?” Gunner said.

  "Hell, this is Chicago," Bang-Bang said.

  “Let's see what we can find." Bo stopped at a large green dumpster and flipped the lid open. The sweet horrible smell of rotting food filled the air. He examined the pile of trash within and reached.

  A brown paper bag came out. He held it out for Gunner who took it with some trepidation. Bo found another bag and slid a .45 into the paper. He rolled the bag down as if he was carrying home leftovers.

  “You don't have to be in on this,” Gunner said to Bang-Bang.

  “I gots your back man.”

  “Okay, because if you ain’t got knuckles for nuts, you should stay.”

  “Knuckles for nuts?" Bang-Bang questioned. “Hell man." He struck a Bruce Lee pose and boasted. "I’s gots fists of fury.”

  Gunner laughed.

  Bo peeked at his watch. “Let’s go,” he said.

  They walked for the street.

  Inside the building, the rescue group planned to begin the diversion at 11:30 p.m. At 11:14, Prescott received a telephone relay from an agent in the Chicago office. There had been a development in the Grayson Wiseman abduction.

  At 9:12 p.m. a bicycle courier delivered a copy of the day's Sun-Times with a Polaroid of Grayson holding it. At 9:20 the phone rang. The caller asked if they got the paper and demanded Katherine and Brock prepare fifty million dollars in bearer bonds to secure Grayson's life. Said they would call back in 48 hours with further instructions.

  The differences between Grayson and the others raised questions within the group. Even if someone else had taken Grayson, there were other lives at stake. Continuing as planned was an easy decision for the group.

  Prescott found a private space to make phone calls. Dave Lowman searched for Bo. When he did not find him within the group, he called him on the radio. There was no response. He had to break off to get prepared for the operation. Patty and Lancaster joined him.

  "You don't think he would storm the place alone, do you?" she asked Prescott.

  "I've known Bo Boson long enough to say for certain that he wouldn't do anything without permission."

  Outside, the three men walked in a fast but casual pace toward 118th. They made a right and stopped short of Tillerson. “I will cross alone. You two follow after,” Bo said.

  Bo crossed the intersection. The other two crossed behind with Bang-Bang chatting up a woman. Bo fell into a faster pace. The group walked to the corner and made a right onto Van Hughes.

  Back in the parking lot, Blue's trunk beeped and buzzed. Something hard made a metallic rattle. No one noticed.

  “Where are we going?” Gunner asked.

  “Working our way around to the back of the building across Tillerson from the hideout.”

  “Ah.” Gunner said then shrugged at Bang-Bang.

  “We ain’t jumping cross no rooftops are we? Cuz if'n we are, I ain’t gots your back. Bang-Bang don’t do no heights.”

  “You do lows?” Bo asked.

  Bang-Bang looked at Bo as if he was speaking a foreign language.

  Bo checked his watch, “We need to move.” He broke into a jog. The other two followed.

  A medical supply business occupied the building. It was mostly dark. Bo and Gunner stopped to discuss the best entry method that would least likely set off alarms. Bang-Bang grabbed Gunner’s bag, walked to the front door and knocked. A black security guard came to the door. Bang-Bang held the bag up high so the guard could see it.

  “Delivery,” Bang-Bang said through the crack between the doors.

  The guard unlocked and pulled the door open. “Delivery for who?”

  Bang-Bang unrolled the bag and reached inside. He pulled the gun and pressed it against the guard’s chest. “Delivery for you mutherfucker.” As he pushed the guard back into the building he said, “Let’s go.”

  Bo and Gunner joined him inside.

  “Where are the stairs to the basement?” Bo asked the heavyset guard.

  “I got kids man, take whatever you want but there ain’t no drugs here,” the guard said.

  “Stairs?” Bo questioned louder.

  The guard pointed. Bang-Bang took the guard’s keys and led him to a utility closet. “Cleaning crew?” he asked.

  “Done come and gone.”

  Bang-Bang locked the guard in the closet.

  Outside the west lobby, the screech of tires and crunching of metal started the charade. An assault team of FBI and State Police waited in a delivery truck parked in an alley near the rear lot. Members of the HRT rubbed black-out cream on their bare skin then shared their supply with the others.

  Inside the medical sup
ply building the three men raced for the stairs and made their way down. Bo got his bearings and searched for his prize. He found it in the far right corner.

  “A tunnel,” Gunner said, “How did you - oh wait - these are two of the dots from your map.”

  “Right.” A plywood wall with a door blocked access to the tunnel and the building across the street.

  “So the family of one of those boys, from the plane, owns them?”

  “Yes. Can you?” he asked Gunner pointing at the door handle.

  “Oh yeah,” Gunner pulled the lock pick kit from his back pocket and went to work.

  “Damn man, you handy to have around,” Bang-Bang said. “You gotta teach me that shit.”

  Gunner turned the handle opening the door.

  The world went dark.

  “From here on out, nothing more than a whisper,” Bo said.

  Bo lit his red flashlight. He stepped near Bang-Bang. "If it gets ugly and you need to bail - bail. No disrespect."

  "Okay. Thanks man."

  The men tossed their paper bags on the floor and walked through.

  To see beyond, one must look through the surface and find the truth lying behind.

  Bo hoped the pros had overlooked the opportunity for them to sneak in. At the far end of the tunnel, a similar wall stood. Locked from the inside, the door presented no resistance beyond blocking the view.

  Neither Bo nor Gunner expected to find the killers waiting on the other side. Still there could be door or motion sensors waiting to give away their entry. Bo considered the alternatives.

  He knew the moment they cut the power, the pros would startle. Everything would become quiet making their movements easier to detect. Even if the diversion distracted the killers, they would likely have their weapons drawn and at the ready. If they were particularly skilled, they would be suspicious of the goings on outside and put themselves into a highly protective position.

  If there was an alarm waiting, it should bring at least one man. It would be one less to harm the children.