by Mel Odom
He kept moving, the shotgun in both hands and canted forward and down so he could snap it up into readiness at a moment’s notice.
›› Allington Hotel
›› Charlotte, North Carolina
›› 0733 Hours
When the ringing phone woke him, FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Scott Urlacher cursed. He wanted to ignore it, but he knew he couldn’t. He hadn’t gotten promoted to his present position by ducking trouble when it came his way.
He grabbed the phone and barked, “Hello.”
“We’ve got a problem.”
It took Urlacher a moment to recognize the voice as one of the men he had watching over Victor Gant.
“I don’t want to have a problem,” Urlacher replied.
“The local police, sheriff’s deputies, and the NCIS are closing in on Gant’s place over on Hawthorne.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But they’ve come loaded for bear. Riot gear and a lot of men.”
“Find out,” Urlacher ordered. “And get the team there.” He pushed himself out of bed and grabbed for his pants. He wasn’t about to let his plans for Victor Gant be thwarted by the likes of Will Coburn. Gant had managed to stay out of trouble for a long time. His son’s death had put him up against the wall.
Urlacher intended to keep him there.
›› Hawthorne Machine Shop
›› 0736 Hours
Victor came up with a pistol in his fist. His dreams had been twisted and dark, taking him back to the jungle. He’d been turning over bodies after a rocket attack had taken out his unit. Every body he turned over had worn Bobby Lee’s face.
The pistol sights settled on Fat Mike’s round face, only inches out of reach.
“Friendly!” Fat Mike yelped and held his hands up over his head. “Victor! Friendly!”
Fat Mike’s words and voice soaked through the old terror and frustration that gripped Victor. He eased the pistol’s hammer back down and dropped his hand and the weapon to the bed again.
He gazed around the simple room. It took a moment for it to click in; then he realized he was on the second floor of the machine shop. Those rooms had been turned into crash pads for the chapter.
“What’s going on?” Victor grated.
Fat Mike stood to the side of one of the windows. He peered out at the rising sun.
“Cops,” Fat Mike said. “They’re all over the place, bro.”
That woke Victor. He sat up in bed and started coughing. Cursing his smoking habit, he reached for the pack of cigarettes beside the bed, shook one out, and lit up. He joined Fat Mike at the window.
Looking out, he saw that the police had congregated on the premises en masse. He cursed again.
“I told you not to break into the ME’s office,” Fat Mike said.
“It had to be done,” Victor said. “They weren’t going to let me tell Bobby Lee good-bye otherwise.”
“Didn’t say it wasn’t the right thing to do,” Fat Mike agreed. “I just don’t think it was the brightest thing.”
“Done is done. Can’t go crying over spilt beer.” Victor reached into his pants pocket and dragged his cell phone out. He’d put Agent Urlacher’s number on speed dial.
›› 0737 Hours
Will followed Tarlton’s people. For a locally trained police unit, they moved well. They also kept quiet and didn’t talk much, which was another plus. A lot of guys got the idea they should dialogue during an op like the men featured on Cops and other television shows.
The bikers in the machine shop saw them coming. They were hard-eyed men in jeans and sleeveless shirts, with tattoos all over their arms and bandannas tied around their heads.
Tarlton’s people and Greene’s deputies put bikers and customers up against the wall as a matter of course. The same question kept cropping up.
“Where is Victor Gant?”
Only a few of those asked knew. They told them the outlaw biker leader was upstairs.
›› 0739 Hours
“Look, Victor, don’t panic,” Special Agent Urlacher said.
“I’m not panicked,” Victor replied as he watched the police invade the premises. That was the truth. He wasn’t panicked. He was angry.
“Good.”
“You said these men couldn’t touch me. You said you were gonna handle that. We had an agreement.”
“Based on what I knew of you when I cut the deal with you, they couldn’t touch you.”
“And now they can?”
“I don’t know,” Urlacher told him. “I’m working that out now. Why are they coming after you?”
“I don’t know,” Victor lied. He couldn’t help himself. Lying was a reflex action when dealing with cops. He’d done it all his life.
“I don’t think they have a leg to stand on,” Urlacher said. “But I’m headed there. Don’t say anything to these people until I do.”
“I won’t,” Victor agreed.
“And tell your men to keep their weapons holstered. Any shooting starts, this thing gets complicated really fast.”
“Sure.” Victor cursed. “Just you get here. Fast.” He hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket.
›› 0741 Hours
Tarlton almost died at the third door of the individual rooms along the second floor. The law enforcement group stood out in the oval hallway only a short distance from the steps they’d come up. Three other sets of steps mirrored the points of a compass.
Will stood behind Tarlton and saw the woman with the man in the room. Both of them were getting dressed hurriedly. The man held a Baggie of drugs that he was frantically trying to pour down the sink at the back of the room at the same time.
“Police!” Tarlton yelled. “Put the Baggie down and step back with-”
At that time, the young woman brought up the Colt. 357 Magnum she’d been holding. She had a good hold on the pistol and appeared to know what she was doing with it. She had Chinese tattoos inked along her forearms.
Will hooked a hand into the collar of Tarlton’s Kevlar vest and yanked the police chief back as he started to backpedal. Tarlton hadn’t seen the threat the woman offered until it was almost too late. Muscling the man out of the doorway smoothly and efficiently, Will pressed Tarlton into the wall just as the woman started firing.
The Magnum hollow points fragmented against the doorframe and blew splinters out into the hallway. The reports in the enclosed space were deafening. They punctuated the long scream the young woman loosed.
Will knew she was on drugs and stoned out of her mind. He’d noticed the wildness in her eyes. She wasn’t even totally aware of what she was doing.
Pressed up against the wall, Will gave silent thanks to God for allowing him to see the young woman’s movements. He’d been just as focused on the man at the back of the room as Tarlton was.
One of the deputies spun around the doorframe and lowered his semiautomatic into position. “Sheriff’s department!” he bellowed.
The young woman turned toward him.
The woman was out of bullets. Will knew that. The wheel gun she grasped so tightly only carried six rounds. She’d fired all of those into the doorframe. He’d counted out of habit.
The deputy reacted anyway. He looked young, eager, and afraid, which was always a bad combination.
“No!” Remy said and reached for the man. Evidently he’d counted the shots as well. “She’s out of-”
The young woman fired her weapon. Only the dry snap of the hammer striking the firing pin came out of the room.
Mesmerized by his own imagined brush with death, the deputy fired at the woman twice before Remy was able to grab his hands and pull the pistol up. The deputy fired two more shots into the ceiling. Remy bodychecked the man and took the weapon away.
But it was too late. Both bullets had struck the young woman. She stutter-stepped back and whipped around in a quarter turn. Blood poured down her right side.
“Stand down!” Tarlton roared. “Hold your fire!”
Tarlton led the way into the room. He held his pistol before him and aimed at the biker. “Down on the floor!”
“You shot her!” The biker was young, probably in his early twenties. “Man, you didn’t have to shoot her!”
The biker was high enough that Will had to wonder if he’d even registered the fact that she’d shot at them first.
“Down!” Tarlton grabbed the man’s jacket collar and dragged him to one side. The police chief held the pistol back so it was out of reach. “Get on your face!”
“You killed her!” The biker cursed again in a voice loud enough that Will had no doubt the accusation carried around the oval hallway. “She’s dead!”
Remy dropped into position beside the woman. Blood soaked her side as Remy pulled on a pair of surgical gloves from the medical supplies in his combat harness. He put two fingers against the side of her neck and waited.
Then he looked up at Will. “I got a pulse.” He reached into other pockets and pulled out compresses.
Tarlton called in the shooting, then snapped handcuffs on the man whose back he was kneeling on. “They got an ambulance and the fire department rolling.”
“Anybody here got any medical training?” Remy asked.
One of the policemen raised his hand.
Remy tossed him a pair of surgical gloves. “Put those on. Let’s see if we can get the bleeding to stop.”
“You got this?” Will asked.
Without looking at him, Remy nodded. Max hovered at his side, gazing around anxiously. The Labrador had already set up a perimeter guard.
Will stepped back out into the hallway. Tarlton, finished with his prisoner, was at his heels.
Bikers emerged from the other rooms. Evidently a lot of them hadn’t awakened yet. They came out with guns and shotguns in hand.
“Police!” Will yelled with all the authority he could muster. Since he’d been one of the youngest XOs on an aircraft carrier, he’d learned to project his voice. “Put your weapons down immediately!”
The bikers didn’t follow his orders, and Will was certain the hallway was about to turn into a bloodbath.
Farther down, Victor Gant stepped into the hallway with a pistol in his fist.
“Gant!” Will yelled. “Tell them to put the guns down or this is going to go very badly.”
“For who?” Victor grinned at him with cold maliciousness. “Seems to me we got you outnumbered up here.”
“It’s not going to play out like that,” Will promised. “And you know it. We’re ready for this and your men are still getting it together. If this starts on your word, you’re the first man to go down.”
Victor hesitated for a moment. Will saw the indecision on the man’s face. Victor wanted to push the situation into a violent confrontation.
Will centered his shotgun’s sights over the man’s chest. He still wasn’t certain he’d gotten his point across. His finger curled over the trigger.
“You heard him,” Victor said without looking at anyone. “Put your weapons down and plant your faces on the floor.”
After he issued his command, Victor dropped to his face on the floor and waited quietly to be taken into custody.
Will went forward and cuffed him.
30
›› Hawthorne Machine Shop
›› Hawthorne Lane
›› Charlotte, North Carolina
›› 0801 Hours
“Why are you here?” Victor Gant demanded.
Will hauled the man to his feet and pushed him face-first into the nearest wall. The man reeked of sour sweat, alcohol, and reefer smoke.
“Because you made it personal,” Will answered.
Victor cursed. “Your people did that when they killed my boy.”
“Bobby Lee brought what happened to him on himself.”
“Yeah, well so did your gunnery sergeant.”
Will grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and yanked his head around so he could face him. “Now I’m making it personal. I’m going to put you away, and when you get out, I’m going to put you away again. You’re not going to be able to breathe without me standing in your shadow as long as I feel like you’re a threat to one of my people.”
Victor glared at him. “You don’t have that kind of time, cap’n.”
“You’d be surprised at the kind of time I have,” Will stated.
A lazy smile pulled at Victor’s cruel mouth. “Don’t know what you think you got on me, but you ain’t gonna make it stick.”
“We’re going to start with breaking and entering at the ME’s office,” Tarlton said as he cuffed a man next to Victor. “That’s just to get you in a cage. Then Commander Coburn is going to bring up charges of tampering with evidence in a homicide investigation.”
“What evidence!” Victor tried to push off the wall.
Will dropped a knee into the back of Victor’s knee and caused it to go out from under him. He put an elbow into Victor’s back and bounced him off the wall.
“Stay,” Will growled.
“Your son was killed,” Tarlton said. “Until Gunnery Sergeant McHenry is cleared of any wrongful charges-and he will be-Bobby Lee’s body is evidence in the investigation. We have a witness who says you broke in and touched the body.”
“I was saying good-bye to my son!” Victor roared.
Will heard the pain in the man’s voice and couldn’t help feeling it as a father himself. He couldn’t imagine how he would act or how he would go on if something ever happened to Steven.
Put that away, he told himself. You’ve got a job to do here. You’re not Victor Gant, and Steven is never going to be Bobby Lee.
Will prayed for that to be true with all his heart.
“Chief Tarlton,” someone called over the radio.
“Yeah,” Tarlton responded.
“I got an FBI agent here, name of Urlacher. He says he wants to talk to you about Victor Gant.”
“Tell him I’m busy.” Tarlton pulled the biker he’d cuffed from the wall and started walking him down the hallway.
“Yes, sir. I did. But he’s waving some kind of legal paper at me that he seems right proud of.”
“It’s a court injunction,” Urlacher bellowed loud enough to be picked up by the radio. “You’re interfering in a federal case.”
Tarlton glanced at Will. “Sounds like Urlacher went directly to the nuclear weapons. You got enough muscle to handle this?”
“I don’t know,” Will answered.
“Man,” Victor said, grinning now, “you guys ought to know you can’t screw with the FBI.”
›› Parking Lot
›› Hawthorne Machine Shop
›› 0824 Hours
“Let me translate the big words for you, Commander Coburn, Chief Tarlton,” Special Agent-in-Charge Urlacher growled. “You can not usurp control of my informant. He’s under my protection. More than that, he’s under the protection of Judge Terri Watson. You have no right to arrest him.”
Tarlton leaned against the police car and eyed the FBI agent with grave distaste. “Actually, I have every right to arrest your informant. He’s been interfering with an ongoing homicide investigation.”
“He went to say good-bye to his son.” Urlacher looked apoplectic.
“Then,” Tarlton said evenly, “we agree that he broke and entered.”
“Even if he did,” Urlacher said, “here’s his get-out-of-jail-free card.” The FBI agent waved the injunction that prevented the detainment of Victor Gant.
Will wasn’t happy. He stood at the rear of the police vehicle where the motorcycle leader had been stashed. On the other side of the parking lot, Remy worked with EMTs to stabilize the woman the sheriff’s deputy had shot.
“Give Gant to me,” Urlacher stated in a harsh voice, “or you’re going to be in contempt of Judge Watson’s court.”
Since Judge Watson presided over a federal court in Was
hington, D.C., Will knew that Tarlton-and he-could be buried in a mountain of red tape and possibly face criminal charges.
Still, Tarlton didn’t seem to be impressed. He leaned a hip against the car and smiled. “You know, Will, I’ve had a lot of people threaten me during the time I’ve been chief here. You probably have too.”
“I have,” Will agreed. He didn’t always play nice with people outside the military’s rank and file either. The military was a different matter, though. Everything had a chain of command, and that was obeyed first.
“You ever been threatened by the FBI?” Tarlton looked as though he was really interested in the answer to his question.
“Not threatened, exactly.”
“They threw the big intimidation cloud, didn’t they?”
“Pretty much.”
“Offered interdepartmental assistance, then hosed you the first chance they got and got all offensive when you called them on it.”
Urlacher turned redder.
Despite the situation, Will found he was taking a perverse satisfaction at digging his heels in. He wasn’t going to let Tarlton swing by himself if things went south.
“That sums it up,” Will agreed.
“We found a lot of weapons in that warehouse, didn’t we?”
The Purple Royals, as it turned out, had had quite a cache of weapons on hand. Tarlton and Will were guessing that they’d been planning on a big trade-off somewhere. Weapons were better than cash in a lot of third world countries.
“We did,” Will agreed.
“Do you think we could make a case for Homeland Security?” Tarlton asked.
“It’s possible.”
Urlacher had reached his limit. He took a step forward and jabbed Tarlton in the chest with his forefinger. “You listen. If you don’t let that man go this instant, I’m going to-”
“What?” Tarlton interrupted. “Run and tell? And if you poke me with the finger again, I’m going to snap it off and shove it up your nose.”
Urlacher withdrew his hand. “Give me Victor Gant.” He pulled his phone off his belt. “Now.”
In the end, Will knew they had no real choice.
Tarlton nodded at the police officer manning the vehicle’s rear door.
The policeman opened the door and hauled Gant out.
