Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3)

by Robert Tarrant

  "Affirmative 2-0-7. Southbound on Federal approaching Hallandale."

  PJ accelerated and Tim asked, "Have they spotted you?"

  "Don't believe so. I spotted them as they were pulling onto the street in heavy traffic, don't imagine they saw me fall in behind them. I'm several cars back."

  "Have you confirmed the plate?"

  "As they turned they crossed my bow. My plate reader gave me an immediate alert. It's your vehicle all right."

  Tim said, "Don't spook them. We're two minutes away in a plain car. You just keep them in sight until we get there and we'll take over then."

  "Roger 2-0-7. We're stopped at the Hallandale light now."

  PJ made a quick left turn and accelerated again. Tim asked the radio, "They appear to be continuing southbound?"

  "If they're not they'll need a bat turn, they're boxed in the center lane."

  PJ said, "Thank God for South Florida traffic." She made a quick right turn, accelerated hard for a block and turned into the parking area in front of a convenience store.

  Tim said to the radio, "We're in the lot of the stop-n-rob at Northeast Fourth. After they pass us, we'll take over."

  "Roger, we're moving again, coming right toward you."

  PJ turned to Tim, "Once we have them what's our play?"

  Tim said, "As soon as we get them in sight, I'll call and see if we can get a surveillance crew. I just want to get the black and white out of the picture before it spooks them. It's not like this boat's invisible, but it'll buy us a little time until we can get a crew on them. Obviously, they're not on the way to a job, but we should be able to find where they're holed up and set up on them."

  PJ said, "Yeah, little early to be cruising for a 3:00 a.m. heist."

  The radio crackled, "Should be crossing your bow any second."

  PJ and Tim watched as the Expedition passed them. The deep tinted windows made it impossible to see who was inside. Tim said to the radio, "We got 'em. Thanks Adam 7. You can drop off now."

  "Roger that. Adam 7 clear."

  PJ pulled out onto southbound Federal and worked her way into a position three cars behind the Expedition. "I'd like to be farther back, but with the damn lights I'm afraid I'll get cut off."

  Tim nodded affirmatively, but was already punching numbers into his cell phone. After a short conversation he ended the call and said, "They're trying to shake a crew loose. Might take a while. We're on our own right now."

  Traffic had thinned a little and the Expedition seemed to be picking up speed as they approached the traffic circle at Hollywood Boulevard. PJ changed lanes to drop in behind a panel van. She said, "We should be able to see them no matter which way they come out of the circle."

  Tim muttered, "I wish this thing didn't scream . . . cops."

  The Expedition went completely around the traffic circle in the inside lane and then suddenly changed lanes and exited headed back northbound on Federal Highway. PJ asked, "Think they made us?" as she maneuvered around the traffic circle to follow.

  Tim said, "Hard to tell. They may just be lost. More than one time I thought I was burned and it turned out the people I was following were making weird maneuvers because they were lost."

  At Pembroke, the Expedition made a right turn and headed west past the Mardi Gras Casino and Racetrack. The greyhound season for the year was over and the mid-day gambling crowd was light, so the large parking lot was nearly empty. PJ ventured, "Maybe they were looking for Mardi Gras?"

  The Expedition continued past the Pembroke entrance to Mardi Gras and through the intersection at Northeast 1st Street before making a sudden left turn at Dixie Highway and accelerating. Tim yelled, "Go past. Parallel them on the first street."

  PJ said, "Got it," as she accelerated for a block and then made a hard left turn in front of an approaching pickup truck. As soon as the pickup driver came out of his panicked braking stop, he applied equal pressure to his horn. PJ hit the accelerator hard and shot down the narrow side street. She slowed at the first intersection and they both looked left toward Dixie, but didn't see the Expedition. Again accelerating, she swerved around a car backing out of a driveway.

  They had covered three blocks without sight of the Expedition when Tim said, "Go left to Federal at the next street. We've got to see if we can get an eye on them again." PJ pushed the Crown Vic hard through the turn and down the cross street, after braking hard she eased up toward the intersection at Dixie. She looked north and Tim looked south.

  Tim exclaimed, "There, two blocks down. That's them." Traffic was nearly nonexistent on Dixie, so he added, "Hold here. Give them more room."

  PJ waited as long as she dared and then pulled out onto Dixie. She said, "I don't want to lose them at Hallandale." From a distance they could see the Expedition move into the left turn lane. PJ slowed to keep from getting too close.

  Tim said, "They're going left at Hallandale. There's nothing close enough that parallels, we'll have to follow them."

  The light changed and the Expedition turned left. PJ accelerated and arrived at the intersection in time to see the Expedition turn right onto a side street leading into a small industrial area. As soon as the traffic in the intersection cleared she accelerated through a hard left turn against the light. She slowed and idled around the corner taking the same route as the Expedition. Small mechanical repair shops lined one side of the street and an empty warehouse the other. The street was empty. Tim muttered, "Shit, where'd they go?"

  PJ eased the Crown Vic down the street, she and Tim scanned every alley and the open garage bay doors they passed. Suddenly, the Expedition pulled from an alley a short block ahead, directly across the street, and immediately disappeared down an alley on the opposite side. PJ said, "Damn, they are lost."

  Tim said, "I'm not so sure. Stay here a minute, let's see if they come back out." PJ pulled to the curb in front of a welding shop. Tim picked up the radio and said, "2-0-7 to dispatch."

  "Go ahead 2-0-7."

  "Is there anything in the air?"

  "Negative 2-0-7. Nothing on the board until 3:00 p.m."

  "Thanks. 2-0-7 clear."

  "Dispatch clear."

  PJ looked at Tim, "That would have been a big help. Too bad. Think we should ease up there and take a peek?"

  Tim hesitated and then said, "Yeah, I guess so. Take it slow though. They might come popping back out of there."

  The Crown Vic crept along the unoccupied parking lane. Empty cans and broken bottles crunched under her tires. She stopped across from the entrance to the alley and they both craned their necks to see as far down the alley as they could. It appeared that the alley was actually a driveway entrance leading to a large parking area in front of the loading docks of a long abandoned warehouse complex. The warehouses seemed to face two parallel streets with the loading area in the center. The Expedition was nowhere in sight. From their vantage point it was impossible to see if there were other exits from the parking area.

  Tim drew a long deep breath and said, "Guess we'll have to go down there to see if they went out another direction. I really hate to lose them at this point."

  PJ steered down the driveway and exited into the large parking area. Weeds grew from the cracks in the concrete. Warehouse buildings surrounded the entire lot. There were no other exits. In the far corner of the lot set the Expedition facing toward them. It suddenly accelerated half-way across the parking area and stopped, both front doors flying open.

  Tim screamed, "Shit, shit, get us the fuck out of here!" By the time he had completed his sentence their windshield exploded into thousands of spider webs punctuated by small holes and lead slugs.

  PJ threw the car into reverse and stomped on the gas. The right rear corner caught the building at the opening to the alley and slammed them to a stop. The trunk lid popped open. PJ now couldn't see front or back. Tim was firing through the crumbling windshield with his 9 mm back at the shooters crouched behind the open doors of the Expedition. The 9 mm was obviously no match for the auto
matic rifles pouring lead at the Crown Vic.

  Tim and PJ both ducked down behind the dash, Tim yelled, "We've got to get the rifle in the trunk." PJ saw blood running down his arm as he struggled to release his seatbelt.

  PJ released her seatbelt and pushed her door open with her foot as she shouted, "Cover me." Tim raised back up in the seat, again firing at the Expedition. PJ bolted from the car staying low behind the door and along the side until she was behind the car. Bullets were ricocheting off of the car and the buildings around her. She crawled into the open trunk and attempted to jerk the AR-15 from its case. The velcro straps held the rifle into the case. Bullets were knifing through the open trunk lid above her. Finally freeing the rifle she tumbled back out of the trunk, wedging herself into the small area between the back of the car and the building. PJ had never even carried the rifle, except on the range, but the hours of mandatory training kicked in and she racked the bolt, flipped the selector switch from safe to fire, and held the rifle to one side from behind the cover of the car firing several shots in the direction of the Expedition.

  The intensity of the fire coming from the Expedition had decreased somewhat. The shots now seemed more focused on the open door of the Crown Vic. PJ called to Tim, "Talk to me Partner." Nothing. She screamed, "Tim, talk to me!" Nothing. Suddenly, the world around PJ went momentarily silent and she felt her field of vision narrowing. She could feel blood running down the side of her face. Then a voice, her husband Bill's voice, screamed at her, "Cops die in shootouts because they fight defensively, you need to go on the offense."

  PJ knew she needed to get away from the car, but where, there was no cover. She crouched lower and looked around the corner of the car. Ten yards to her right was a large cement abutment that looked like it had once held a light post. It would improve her angle of fire at the Expedition, if she could reach it. That was one big if. Again Bill's voice, "Do it, damn it, do it."

  PJ reached up and pulled the trunk lid down, it didn't latch but it stayed down long enough for her to lay across it and fire through the gaping holes in the rear window and windshield of the Crown Vic, directly at the Expedition. She couldn't see Tim from her position. The fire from the Expedition stopped momentarily. "Go now. Go now." Holding the rifle by the carry handle, she sprinted for the abutment. At this point, speed was more important than attempting to return fire while running. Just as she dove behind the abutment, the fire from the Expedition resumed. It was different, less intense and somehow not as accurate. A couple of slugs glanced off of the abutment, but most were going high into the building behind her. No longer was fire being aimed at the Crown Vic.

  PJ got her feet under her in a crouch behind the abutment as she pulled the spare magazine from its pouch on the stock of the rifle. She laid the spare magazine on a small ledge on the backside of the abutment. Taking a deep breath, she raised the rifle above her head and stood enough to fire from above the abutment. She sprayed shots in an arc in the direction of the Expedition until the rifle quit bucking. She pulled back into her crouch, ejected the empty magazine, grabbed the spare, jammed it in and racked the slide.

  PJ ran as hard as she could to her left while raising the rifle to her shoulder. The AR-15 was her only cover now. She stopped, stood as still as her labored breathing would allow, aimed and fired five shots into the open passenger's door of the Expedition. In a controlled movement, she swung the barrel and fired five shots through the windshield of the vehicle into the area of the open driver's door. She sprinted another ten yards to her left, stopped, and repeated the process.

  One final sprint brought her to a position where she was looking directly into the open door of the Expedition from a distance of thirty yards. A black clad figure was slumped on the ground on the passenger's side of the vehicle. She saw movement on the driver's side. She focused on the movement, aligned the sights of the rifle and fired five shots in rapid fire. When she lowered the barrel she saw no more movement.

  PJ moved farther to her left and advanced on the Expedition with her rifle at the ready. The figure on the passenger's side of the vehicle was slumped back against the open doorway. It appeared to be a woman, but it was difficult to tell due to the extensive damage to her face. The back of her skull was missing. PJ circled the rear of the Expedition and found the second figure laying on his back with several holes in a straight line running from the top of his head to his chest.

  PJ's rifle rattled as she dropped it on the concrete and staggered toward the Crown Vic. She didn't hear the sirens in the distance or realize the increasing flow of blood running down the side of her face had caused one eye to close. The smell of burned gunpowder hung in the smoke filled air. Neither the dead nor dying noticed.

  When she reached the car, she struggled to open the passenger's door. Tim was laying across the front floor area of the car with his knees on the passenger's side floor and his body draped across the console. His head rested on the floor of the driver's side as if he was looking for something under the seat. Blood and broken glass covered the front seat. PJ crawled across the seat to the driver's side. She looked for the portable radio, but couldn't find it. She attempted to raise Tim's upper body, but from her position kneeling on the seat she couldn't lift his heavy torso.

  She tumbled out the driver's open door and landed in a pile of broken glass. Kneeling on the ground she leaned into the open door and cradled Tim's head in her hands. "Talk to me Partner. Talk to me." She felt his face move in her hands. "Hang on Tim. Hang on."

  Tim struggled to lift his head, blood was oozing from the corner of his mouth. One eye opened slightly, the other didn't even flutter. A hoarse whisper, "I would have never done anything to hurt Sissy. I swear." With that his eye closed and his head slumped heavy in her hands.

  The sirens were screaming in the background, but PJ didn't hear them. She didn't hear anything until she felt hands on her shoulders and heard a voice in her ear saying, "Please move Detective, so we can get to him. Let us help you. How badly are you hurt?" She looked up and saw the cloudy image of a paramedic leaning from the back seat into the front lifting Tim's torso, as a uniformed officer standing in the open doorway of the car straightened his legs from under him. Again the voice, "Please Detective, we need to get to him. We need to get you medical attention." PJ lowered Tim's head gently to the floor and allowed herself to be pulled back from the car. As she was being lowered to a prone position on the ground she again heard Bill's voice, "You did all you could, it's time to let go and join me." PJ's world went black.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  I was walking back to Cap's from the marina. My mind was spinning as I attempted to process everything Justin had just told me. On one hand, his story just didn't equate in my world. On the other hand, I knew it was true. I didn't want it to be, but I knew it was. Gradually, I became aware of sirens in the distance. This is a large metropolitan area, so sirens are not a foreign sound. Yet, this sounded like an inordinate number of sirens. Must be a large fire somewhere. I walked to the front of the parking lot and looked to the sky. I didn't see any smoke, but I did see several helicopters circling in the distance. I couldn't tell if they were police or media birds.

  I was pleased to find my stool at the end of the bar empty. I ordered a hamburger and a Landshark from Dana. She looked at the clock, which registered 12:45 p.m., approvingly. I didn't have the heart to tell her that this would be my fourth beer, not my first. Come to think about it, maybe I should cut back a tad. I knew that I needed to talk with PJ as soon as possible, so I called her cell phone. It went to voicemail, so I left a message asking her to call me.

  Moe stopped by my end of the bar and chatted a few minutes while I ate my lunch. He seemed in unusually good spirits, which I chalked up to our conversation about building on and bringing in entertainment. I thought about telling him that I'd already asked Elena to take a look for us, but didn't want him to get the idea that I would automatically go along with anything he and Marge came up with, even if that is the case,
so I held off.

  I'd just finished eating and was considering ordering another beer, when Marge came up to me and asked if I could talk with her about our produce order. I said, "Sure," and followed her back to the office. Ran errands, helped Moe stock the canned goods order, talked about the plans for entertainment, and now talking about produce, I am totally engaged today. Tomorrow might be a beach day.

  Marge explained that she wasn't totally pleased with the service we had been getting lately from Williams Brothers. They'd been our produce suppliers since Mickey opened the place, but she thought that lately the quality of the produce had been diminishing. That coupled with an occasional mix-up in the order had prompted her to start looking for alternatives. Her proposal was that she cut back on the Williams Brothers order and augment it with orders from a couple of other suppliers she would like to try. Sounded like a logical approach, so I told her so. Truth be told, she would never need to ask me something like that, she just did it to make me feel like I was running the place. Of course, we all know better.

  While talking to Marge, I tried to determine if I thought she looked like she didn't feel well. I really wanted to ask her what, if anything, was wrong, but I'd already given that assignment to Sissy, so I just tried to make my own observations. The clothes she was wearing seemed to fit better than the ones the other day, so my conclusion was she had bought a smaller size or had some of her clothes altered. She sure hadn't gained any weight. Her face was really looking thin. She was also pale, although I know she avoids the South Florida sun, because I've heard her counsel Sissy and a couple of others around here about the dangers of too much sun. So, maybe the pale complexion doesn't mean anything. I'll just need to wait until Sissy reports back.

  As luck would have it, Sissy was just coming to work when I got back out front. She and Dana were making the exchange of the till behind the bar. I took my assigned seat and waited. Dana waved good-bye as she left and Sissy ambled down to my end. "Hi Jack, how are you today?"