Johnny Wylde
Page 27
The old man and the wiry guy looked at each other. Grinned. Ruiz could tell they had plans for those RPGs.
“Any other good shit?” the old man said.
“Not really,” Ruiz said. “Lots of ammo, some body armor. We’ve been dumping stuff like crazy, and we haven’t gotten much in. So what you see is what we got right now.”
“Slim inventory,” the old man said.
“Still worth some walking around money,” Ruiz said.
“Yeah,” the old man said. “Guess you got a good stash of walking around money here.”
Ruiz shrugged, careful to look relaxed. “Should be.”
The three shooters looked at each other and were silent.
***
Ochoa said, “I don’t like the way this sounds.”
“If we’re going to hit them, we need to take that M-60 out of play right now,” Taylor said. “Get in there and get it done.”
“Not yet,” Ochoa said. “Let it run a little more. We’ll see what happens…”
***
Dee hurried them down the staircase, paused at the foot of the stairs to listen.
Nothing.
Something…?
Just that knot in her stomach that let her know it was on.
She pulled her Glock, held it down beside her leg, and walked on, pulling the suitcase behind her.
“Stay close,” she hissed at Irina. “If anything happens, you stay close behind me. Grab the back of my jacket with one hand, and don’t you let go of that suitcase or I’ll shoot you myself. You understand me?”
“Yes,” Irina whispered. “I hear you.”
The front door opened.
***
I followed Deon in, and got just a glimpse of the pool player girl, Dee, Deon had said her name was, and Irina, pulling suitcases, when Dee’s hand came up and there was a flash…
***
Dee snapped her strong hand up and fired a burst at the figure in the door.
Deon.
And somebody else, face masked.
***
Inside the barn warehouse, the old man’s head snapped to one side at the sound of gunfire. His two partners spread out, weapons pointing at Ruiz and his people.
***
Ochoa whispered to Taylor, “It’s going wrong. Just like I knew it would. We’re going in now.”
He pushed himself up and jogged forward in a crouch towards the warehouse door, followed closely by Taylor, who spun every few steps to watch their backs.
***
Marcus whispered into his headset, “Hey, do you like Pink?”
“What the fuck you talking about? There’s shots…” Joe said.
“Let’s get this party started…” Marcus said. “Two targets moving your way, you got them?”
Joe settled his elbows and said, “Acquired.”
There was an increase in the rattle and snap from the house.
“Then fire, motherfucker,” Marcus said.
And Joe did.
***
Ruiz jumped for the old man…
***
Dee advanced, pistol in one hand, brass rising and falling like a rainfall from her pistol. The rounds chewed up the door, creased Deon’s head. She put the full mag out, speed loaded and jacked the slide, the palmed Hideaway not interfering with her reload, or her grabbing up the suitcase and coming on, Irina clutching the back of her jacket, dragging her own suitcase…
***
“Fuck!” I shouted. I ducked back, fired a fast one two three rounds on semi through the door way, grabbed Deon and pulled him away.
“We’ll take them when they come out,” I shouted.
Too much fire on us and no cover, so we fell back to the Taurus. She was going to have to come out to us, now…
When I heard the long ripple of fire from the SAW, and turned and saw red tracers falling all along the front of the warehouse…
…and somebody returning fire, heavy fire…
…saw sudden beams of light coming out of the wooden doorway of the warehouse and couldn’t tell if the shots that made those holes were coming from inside or out…
I grabbed Deon by the back of his vest. “We got to move over there. We’ve got fire to the rear now…”
We scrambled for the cover of a stone planter on the edge of the turnaround, where we could see the warehouse and the front door.
***
The old man jammed the barrel of his M-60 right into Ruiz like a bayonet, but everybody went for the other shooters. One of the handlers got his pistol out, a big Beretta, and let loose a wild string that took the wiry guy across his face, above the vest hidden beneath his shirt…
…Ruiz died when the old man pulled the trigger, he’d had the weapon on fire the whole time, sign of an old timer…
…but the old man died after that first burst, when Lazlo, the last Slovenian in the crew, jammed his knife into the old man’s throat, then spun the M-60 around and plucked it from the dying man’s hands…
***
Joe cursed as his first burst went over the heads of the two scuttling men and into the warehouse. He was uphill from them, and that affected his aim. He hadn’t allowed for it, and all he could think of at that moment was that Marcus wouldn’t give him a moment’s rest about this…
***
Marcus was laughing. “Silly motherfucker didn’t adjust for height.”
He scanned the road. Nobody was coming that way. He turned his SAW around and put a burst on the two men firing back at Joe. He let the tracers splash and then walked them onto the two men who stayed out in the open till the rounds hit them, dancing them into the ground.
“That’s what I get for sending a SEAL to do a Ranger’s job,” Marcus said. He hit his transmit button. “Yoo hoo, Joey? I did your light work for you…”
***
Joe saw the rounds hitting, but he kept up his own fire, walking rounds on the two men, but his bursts were still high, impacting the warehouse walls…
***
The sole remaining member of Deon’s security crew backed to the door, his M4 blazing, and he turned and ran when his bolt locked back…
…right into the red tracers Joe was walking on target.
***
“Who the fuck got hit?” I said to Deon.
Several men rushed out of the warehouse, rifles shouldered, firing in all directions.
“God damn it,” I said. “This is all…”
I started to fire, single shots at each, and Deon followed suit.
***
Dee paused at the door, saw the gunfire coming from behind the planter.
“Stay close,” she said.
She crouched and went down the stairs, the suitcase rattling behind her, Irina right behind that. Huddled down by the Taurus, opened the door, shoved the suitcases in back, got in, pulling Irina behind her.
“Get down on the floor,” Dee said. “And don’t say a fucking word to me till we’re out of here.”
She turned the key and the engine roared into life. She dropped the transmission into reverse and hit the gas. Hard.
***
Deon saw the car back up. But then a shot from the men outside the barn hit the planter, and he turned back to fire at them…
***
The car turned sharply, and then gassed it down the driveway…
***
Marcus stopped laughing, and threw the SAW back around to cover the road, but then he saw the woman at the wheel, just a glimpse of blond hair and a determined face, his finger on the trigger…
…and let her go.
“Another time, baby,” he whispered. “I don’t shoot women. I might fuck you to death, but that’s a different story…
***
Joe was making up for lost time, working the SAW across the huddle of men…
***
I stopped firing.
No one was moving.
There was a final burst from the SAW, Joe’s I think.
I saw the headl
ights of the Taurus turn into the road at the end of the driveway.
Looked at Deon and shook my head.
What a total goat fuck.
***
Marcus whispered into his headset, “Hey. Joe-Seppi. Did you hit anything?”
“Fuck you,” Joe said. “Fuck you to hell.”
Marcus laughed and laughed.
***
Deon and I stood over the bodies. None of ours made it. And none of Ruiz’s.
Down where the driveway met the road, I saw headlights.
“Company,” I said. “Everybody beat feet. Rally at one.”
We ran off, empty handed and several mags light, leaving the dead behind.
***
Nina slowed when she got to the gate. It was wide open, and the guard shack unmanned. She rolled down her window, listened. Nothing. She pulled into the driveway and made her way up slowly. About half way, she pulled her pistol and held it in her lap. When she made it to the turnaround, she stopped short. The light from the open warehouse door, shot to pieces, fell across the bodies strewn across the grass.
She rolled out, pistol in hand, a Surefire in the other.
Listened.
Popped the trunk and got out her M4, locked and loaded it, reholstered her pistol. Got on the radio and called for back up. Held her position till she heard the far off and rising sound of sirens. Only when the first cruisers pulled in did she leave cover, and wave the others carefully forward.
***
I saw her car pull in. Saw her get out.
This whole thing had gone as far south as it could.
Chapter Forty Six
Marcus and Joe and the weapons went to the safe house.
“We’re on our way to sunny climes,” Marcus said cheerfully. “We’ll put all these away cold, and pick them up when we’re back.”
Joe was sullen.
“C’mon, Joe,” Marcus said. “You made up for fucking up, didn’t you? Killed what, most of the bad guys and all of our guys?”
Joe turned, face red, then took a deep breath and stormed out of the room.
Deon wasn’t in the mood for funny. “Those were good men. I’m going to have to account for them.”
I wasn’t angry. In fact, I felt relieved. It was done. Over. And I was through with this shit. Never again.
“Not my problem, Deon,” I said.
He considered that. “You’re right, oke. It’s not. Thank you.”
“I don’t know for what. This has to have been the most fucked up op I’ve ever been associated with.”
He went and washed his face and hands, while I sipped a beer. Marcus and Joe were in the house packing their bags. He came out, and then I went and washed up. Checked the clock. 1230 a.m. Just past the witching hour. Lizzy would be getting off soon.
“Drink?” I said.
“Sure, oke. Why not.” Deon said.
We took his Cherokee down to Moby’s. Went in and sat at his table, had Gina bring us some beer.
“That cop was in here looking for you,” Gina said. “The woman. Broke Nose.”
“Oh yeah?” I said. “When?”
“Couple of hours ago.”
And then she showed up at the Komorov place.
Not a good sign.
We drank till Moby’s closed. I walked Deon out to the lot.
“Tomorrow?” I said.
“I’ve got some clean up to do, oke. Maybe tomorrow night.”
“Same time, same place. I’m working. Give me a ride to my place?”
“Sure, oke.”
We drove off.
***
Across the street, in a dark grey Honda Accord, Dee Kozak watched the two men in the Jeep Cherokee pull away.
“You can sit up now,” she said.
Irina sat up from where she had been huddled down in the passenger seat.
“We’ll follow him,” Dee said.
***
I saw the two of them on my steps as Deon pulled up.
Lizzy.
And Nina.
I took a breath to calm myself, got out. Nina broke off the conversation and came right at me. I took a step back, my hands up to defend myself. Deon leaned across the seat, watching.
“I know it was you!” Nina said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
She pointed at Deon. “And you. Both of you.”
Deon looked at me and shrugged.
“What are you talking about, Nina?” I said.
“Don’t even think of fucking with me,” she said. “I’m coming back with a warrant for you two. I’m coming back.”
She glared at me. “I trusted you, motherfucker. And you did me like this. This isn’t over. I’m coming back.”
She spun and walked away, slammed herself into her squad, tore away from the curb.
Deon sighed. “Sorry, oke.”
“That isn’t going to cover it.”
A long vacation in the sun was starting to look really good right about now.
Lizzy came to me, took my arm.
“What’s going on?” she said. “Nina was so upset, said she had to talk to you…”
“I..” I started. But stopped. Here was the line. Tell her the truth, tell her a lie. Either way, the line was crossed.
I didn’t know what to say.
***
Down the block, Dee Kozak watched. She saw the cop car tear away. Were those two with the cops? Was that what this was? She didn’t think so.
“I want them dead,” Irina said.
“You don’t have a say anymore,” Dee said. “But in this instance…I think you’re right.”
She chewed one full lip thoughtfully.
“So Deon has a friend. And the friend has a girlfriend. And somebody lives there. And there’s cops involved. This is going to take some study.”
She put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb slowly, turning in a wide Y turn and going away from the apartment building. Looked in the rear view mirror and watched it dwindle in the distance.
“Guess I’ll be back,” Dee said. “Hey, Rina, you’re Russian, right?”
“Yes.”
“You ever hear this old saying: When the devil can’t get to a man in any other way, he sends a woman?”
THE END
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