by Luke Murphy
“What can we do for you, Mr. Grant?” Dale asked.
Grant looked around his acreage. “Please, just come in.” He led them in and locked the door.
They followed Grant through an archway and into the living room, an enormous room with a long wall of built-in cases stacked with books, trophies, and statues. The white marble floor was partially covered by a large Persian area-carpet. Two sofas and four love seats encircled a huge glass coffee table. Three floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked the large wooded backyard acreage. An expensive crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling.
A double set of glassed-French doors led out onto a terrace that supported a table covered with breakfast foods.
A man, seated on one of the couches, rose and met the detectives as they entered the room.
“Detectives, this is my attorney, Sam Maxwell,” Grant introduced them to a heavy-set man, with a clean-shaven heart-shaped face. He had frameless glasses and a pinched-nose.
“Detectives.” The man pumped their hands.
“So why are we here?” Dale asked.
Grant motioned towards a sofa, and the detectives sat down. Grant and his lawyer sat on the couch across the coffee table from them. The seating seemed prearranged.
“I’m in some trouble,” Grant said.
Dale studied the casino owner. The billionaire looked genuine. His nerves seemed to be straining at the seams. Dale wondered if this had anything to do with the call from Linda’s phone. He wasn’t about to tip his hand just yet. He looked at Jimmy.
“What seems to be the problem?” Jimmy asked.
Grant was quiet, almost hesitant, as if calculating his next move. Dale thought the whole scene looked as if it had been rehearsed. The tension in the large room shot sky-high.
Grant closed his eyes hard. “I’ve received a death threat.”
Dale sat back into the sofa, the fine leather releasing air as the cushions sank in. This wasn’t anything new. Casino owners in Vegas received threats daily: gamblers who’ve felt cheated, families who have been torn apart, rival casino owners. Dale thought it odd that Shawn Grant would involve the cops for a simple threat. There had to be more.
If this had been anybody else, Dale would have either gone back to the office to send a car over for statements, or told the man to call it in. But this was Shawn Grant, and this was Dale’s chance to gauge him.
Dale pulled out his notepad and feigned interest. “You know, you didn’t need detectives for this. You could have just had cops come over. But since we’re already here, why don’t you give us the details.”
Grant looked at his lawyer who gave him a slight nod.
“I received a phone call from Derek Baxter.” There was an obvious tremor in Grant’s voice.
This time when Dale looked at Jimmy, his big, black partner already stared back at him.
Dale looked back at Grant. “Do you mean Derek Baxter, the marine who was involved in your father’s murder investigation?”
Grant nodded. “Yes.”
“Baxter is currently on the nationwide search list. If you think he’ll call back, we could attempt a trap and trace, maybe get a location on his whereabouts,” Jimmy said.
Dale sat forward on his seat. “Why would Derek Baxter contact you? And why would he threaten your life? No offense, but you’re not that important.”
“Because he’s a Goddamn psycho!” Grant was almost in tears.
“Shawn, enough!” Sam Maxwell stood up and opened the briefcase that had been on the table. “Detectives, this is a signed declaration from my client. In a written statement, my client has divulged critical information directly linked to Doug Grant’s homicide case.” Then the lawyer pulled out another sheet. “In return for this information, my client would like the LVMPD and the District Attorney’s Office to agree to a few terms. These include a full pardon for Shawn’s involvement and his immediate insertion into the Witness Protection Program until Derek Baxter is brought to justice.” He removed a pen from his pocket that looked as if it cost more than Dale’s shoes.
Dale acknowledged Grant. “Your father’s case is closed. What could you possibly tell us now?”
Grant said nothing. His attorney did all the talking. “You will have to agree to the terms and sign the contract to see his statement. Shawn knows that he could be charged with Obstructing a Public Officer, which is a misdemeanor crime punishable by up to a thousand-dollar fine and six months in jail. We’re willing to pay the fine immediately, but we want the jail time thrown out.” The attorney waved a check in the air.
Dale rubbed his chin. “Well, Mr. Maxwell, considering the Grant case is closed and buried, I’m not exactly eager to make a deal. And since I don’t work in the DA’s office, I can’t exactly agree to anything for them. I’ll have to take it all back to them to see if they think it’s worth signing and pursuing.”
“Very well.” The attorney opened his briefcase up and slid the papers back inside, snapping shut the case with authority. “And I’ll be sure to let the media know that the LVMPD and DA had a chance to retrieve valuable information on the deaths of Doug Grant and Donald Pitt but didn’t think it was pertinent. And you had a chance to protect a key witness and decided not to.”
Shawn Grant rose from his place on the couch and started pacing the large open area at the back of the room. Dale could see that this whole situation upset Grant and had him in fits. Grant was terrified. Dale knew he could play this card.
Dale stood up. “Very well. Let’s go, Jimmy. I’ll take it to my boss, but don’t expect much cooperation for a case that’s closed. Especially with what you’re offering.” Dale turned his back and started walking. Over his shoulder he said, “And good luck with Baxter. I read his marine record, talk about your psychopath with a grudge.”
Dale and Jimmy stepped under the archway to head into the adjoining room.
“Wait!”
Dale turned just in time to see Shawn Grant standing in front of one of the large ceiling-high windows, a red laser beaming in through the glass towards the back of the casino owner’s head, seconds before his skull exploded.
Dale and Jimmy both dove to the floor, shielding themselves between the couches.
“Shawn!” Sam Maxwell cried. The attorney ran towards his client.
“Don’t!” Dale screamed, but he was too late.
Dale watched in helpless frustration as Baxter’s next shot went through Maxwell’s eye and blew a hole out the back of the lawyer’s head. The attorney’s body collapsed to the ground with a thump.
Three more shots tore apart the couch that Dale and Jimmy huddled behind. They crawled across the room, as more bullets shattered the white marble floor around them. Baxter’s expert shooting followed the detectives all the way across the room.
They finally rolled into an adjoining room and rested against the wall. They breathed heavily. Jimmy pulled out his weapon as Dale took out his phone.
He called it in, making sure that the urgency was apparent in his voice.
“This is Detective Dayton, badge number 5144 requesting backup.” Dale gave the address and ended with, “Bring the whole Goddamn force!”
Dale hung up and unholstered his gun. He looked at Jimmy and whispered, “Are you ready?”
Jimmy just pulled his head up to say, “Ready for what?” He ducked his head back down.
“To move?”
“We’re staying put until backup gets here.”
Dale nodded. “You’re right, we’re at a total disadvantage here.”
They sat and waited.
♣
“No sign of the shooter, Detective.”
It was late afternoon and Dale was still at the Grant house. He stood over Shawn’s body, doing his best to avoid the remains scattered around it.
“Didn’t think there would be,” Dale said to the officer. “Widen the perimeter by three houses. Canvas the neighborhood. Maybe he’s hanging around.” But Dale doubted it.
Baxter was a
pro at camouflage and concealment. If he didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be.
LVMPD average response time for emergencies was 5.6 minutes, but with Grant living so far out of the city, it had taken Dale’s colleagues almost eight minutes to get to the house. With a professional assassin camped outside, eight minutes was a lifetime with a rifle scoping the house. Dale had watched Baxter eliminate two men in ten seconds.
Dale’s only fear was that Baxter might make an attempt to enter the house, but Dale knew that the LVMPD wasn’t the marine sniper’s target. Baxter had accomplished what he’d come for.
The room, property and neighborhood were full of law enforcement officials. No ME was needed to declare death. There was no crime scene warranted at the house, but Dale’s team currently looked for the position Baxter had taken for the kill shot. That would be found, but Baxter wouldn’t have left anything to find.
Dale stepped over the bodies, the outlines being chalked out, and snapped on a pair of disposable gloves. He approached the table where the briefcase lay. The top of the leather case was covered in the attorney’s blood. It wasn’t password protected or needed a key to unlock so Dale popped it open when Jimmy walked over.
“What are you doing?”
Dale shrugged. “The Doug Grant case is officially closed, again. Maxwell isn’t going to be using this anymore. Grant’s dead, so we might as well see what he was going to tell us.”
Dale read the statement quietly, to himself. When he finished, he smiled sadly, shook his head and sighed.
“What is it,” Jimmy asked.
Dale handed him the paper. “Grant was being hunted by probably the greatest marine sniper in American history and the little weasel still wouldn’t come clean. He’s blaming everyone but himself. Guilty by association.”
Jimmy took the paper and looked it over.
“He’s claiming that he’d just recently found out that Linda had hired Baxter to help her and Ace in the conspiracy against Doug Grant. When Baxter found out Shawn knew about it, he came after him.”
Dale didn’t say anything.
“Did he really think we’d make a deal for this?”
“That’s why they weren’t showing us until we agreed. I think Grant planned to play us again. I think he knew that we were on to him, and hoped that we would be banking on his full admission to go ahead and sign the agreement.”
“But once we told Shawn we knew about the money transfer, he’d have no choice but to admit everything.”
“Would he?”
Dale pulled the contract out of the attorney’s briefcase and scrolled through it.
“What did he want?” Jimmy said.
Dale finished reading and said, “Community service for withholding information, to be served after his Witness Protection Program stint until Baxter was brought in. Un-fucking-believable. What a punk. This kid makes me sick.”
They walked outside, where flashing police lights and hordes of cops underscored the intensity of the situation. Baxter was out there, somewhere, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d sought vengeance on everyone.
♣
“It’s time,” Calvin whispered. “Are you sure you know what to do?”
“We’ve been going over the plan all day. I’m positive.”
They’d spent the full day working on a plan to rescue Sanders, but Calvin had also used the time to let Livia rest and get healthier, and it looked as if that helped. He was also waiting for daylight to fall.
It was dark when they decided to move in for Sanders.
They were dressed in dark clothes, crouching down back in the exact same spot they’d been twenty-four hours ago when they’d discovered the cartel’s camp. Calvin ran the binoculars over the camp again.
“They haven’t doubled up on the guards after last night’s power outage. I guess I made it look enough like an accident not to arouse suspicion.”
“Did you think they would?”
“It was a risk, but one I had to take to see what kind of security they have in place. If they haven’t changed or adjusted anything from last night’s showing, then we have one minute and eighteen seconds to move before the backup cavalry arrives.” He looked at Livia and saw steel determination in her eyes. “You remember what I told you?”
“Yes, Calvin. Again, we went over it all day. Once you give me the signal, I turn off the generator and then meet you back at the spot along the trail. What’s the signal again?”
Calvin stared at her, tension in his voice. “What?”
She smiled. “Just kidding.”
“Don’t do that.” He couldn’t believe she was so calm and could joke at a time like this.
“Relax.” She patted his back. “I know you’ll pull it off.”
“Let’s go.”
Livia moved towards the generator while Calvin went in the other direction, approaching the guard closest to the main house. They had to take out guards in order of “most-likely to get to the main base first and signal for help”.
He’d passed the ‘pain’ stage, and more of a numbness had settled in to both the front and back of his leg. He knew that wasn’t a good sign, but at least he was more agile and solid on his feet.
Calvin liked their chances, as long as nothing had changed since the previous night. Even though the cartel’s response time was short, Calvin had a small area to cover once the lights went out. Kill the guards, retrieve Sanders, and disappear into the forest coverage before the lights came back on or the rest of the army arrived.
Calvin continued to search the area, keeping an eye out for anything that was different from last night. Anything that had been changed, moved, modified or adjusted. He crept up from behind a guard who smoked a small joint.
Calvin glimpsed around one more time, stood up gradually, and placed his hand over the guard’s mouth. He pulled him aggressively into the bushes and slit his throat with a hunting knife.
He wiped the knife clean on the guard’s uniform before sheathing it and slipping on his night-vision goggles. Removing his silenced pistol, Calvin counted to five, hitting five just as the generator shut down and the lights went out. Livia was right on schedule.
As soon as the last light died, Calvin stood up and sprinted from the forest. In a dead run, he shot the first guard in the chest, and then took out a second with a bullet that snapped the man’s head back.
Calvin reached the cage and looked around. He could see the main cabin door open and men spill out, shaking their heads and grumbling. It looked like they thought it was another false alarm and were in no hurry to check it out.
The cage was securely fastened and Calvin rattled the solid door.
“Sanders,” he whispered.
“Who’s there?” The voice was weak and fragile, but Calvin recognized the casino owner.
“Get as far back in the cage as you can.”
Calvin didn’t wait for a response, instead, he popped a couple of shots at the lock. It blew apart and Calvin unrolled the leather straps and opened the cage door.
He knew Sanders couldn’t see him, so Calvin grabbed him by the arm and pulled on him. But Sanders fought him off, refusing to follow.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
Again, he grabbed Sanders by the arm and this time the casino owner let himself be led out. As they stepped out of the cage, a burst of bullets ricocheted off the outside of the frame. Calvin moved and ducked, pulling Sanders aggressively behind him.
“Keep your head down and follow me.”
Calvin led Sanders to the outer boundaries of the heavy, thick forest. They crouched behind some bushes and Calvin turned to take stock, surveying the dozens of soldiers coming towards them. He removed the AK-47 that had been strapped over his shoulder and opened fire at the onslaught.
A number of the front-line runners went down, some grasping at wounds while others were shot dead. The cartel men stopped moving and hid, returning Calvin’s fire. They shot blindly, aiming at where the muzzle flash from C
alvin’s gun had come from.
When the generator kicked back on and the lights were restored, Calvin knew he had less than a minute to get out of the lighted area. Livia would be waiting.
He removed his goggles and tucked them in the bag. Sanders saw him for the first time. His eyes grew large.
“Watters, what the fuck…”
Calvin grabbed Sanders by his bound wrists and yanked him hard. They moved as fast as they could while remaining hunched over, protected by the tops of the bushes. Calvin noticed a profound limp in his own gait, but he pumped his legs harder to push through it.
Sanders didn’t slow them down. They moved well, simultaneously striding, jumping stumps, broken branches, and ankle-twisting holes. Shots rang out around them, but they weren’t sure if they were being seen, or if the cartel just flailed out in desperation.
They reached the meeting point in less than ten minutes but Livia wasn’t there.
“Why are we stopping?”
Calvin didn’t respond. He looked around, checking behind trees. He didn’t want to call out in case Livia hid from someone. They could hear angry yells and screams coming towards them.
He moved around the bushes. Each step sent a searing heat burn up his leg. The pain had returned, but he pushed it out of his mind.
“What are we doing? Let’s go!” Sanders sounded desperate.
“Shut the fuck up. You want to give away our position?”
Calvin looked around again and waited for another thirty seconds. Maybe Livia had smelled trouble or thought it was a better move to go ahead to where they’d camped out and had their stuff. He had to take that chance.
“Stay close,” he said to Sanders.
Calvin led the way, using the night vision goggles to guide them. Sanders did as he was told, keeping his hand on Calvin’s back so he didn’t lose him. He could feel Sanders’ grip tighten on his shoulder with each whizzing bullet.
The ground shook before they heard the noise. He grabbed Sanders by the collar of his shirt and pushed him off the trail, into the forest. He then bear-hugged the casino owner to the ground, covering his mouth with his giant black hand.
