by Scott Cook
She’d been at Tampa General the same day as Mrs. Bradford delivered her daughter. When she heard about Campbell, Veronica had contrived to slip us and vanish. Had she gone to see him? Did she know Campbell, and was there something she wanted to confront him about?
That was the key to it all, I suddenly realized. Maybe I was just hoping or jumping to conclusions, yet I somehow knew. The connection between Veronica and Campbell was critical. If I could figure that out, maybe I could figure out this whole thing… and find my man.
A quiet but insistent chiming began to ring somewhere in the cabin. I looked around and finally went to the nav station. There, two flat-panel monitors could be activated to display a number of external camera feeds. There was a blinking light on a panel of switches and buttons, and I tapped it. One of the nineteen-inch TVs lit up and showed two figures standing at the base of the access stairs on the dock. It was Colonel Warner Grayson and Gunnery Sergeant Jackie Stevvins.
I went up the companion and over to the starboard entry port, “Good evening.”
“Damn!” Jackie jumped a little. “Scared the tinkle outta me, girl!”
I chuckled.
“Good evening, Lisa,” Grayson said in his charming deep southern accent. “May we come aboard?”
I said yes, and they climbed up.
“Wow!” Jackie emoted. She was a few years older than me with a sturdy but shapely build and thick dark hair that reminded me of Sarah Mackenzie from the TV show JAG.
Grayson was also a Marine, a full Colonel, in fact. He had dark hair with some salt sprinkled in, was a medium-height black man with a fit and strong build and handsome features. They both shook my hand, and I showed them around.
“Quite a step up,” Jackie noted.
“Glad to see he put that gold to good use,” Grayson said with a wry grin. “Can we sit down somewhere and talk, Lisa?”
I led them down into the main saloon and offered them something to drink. Jackie had a beer and Grayson a scotch and soda. I told them what had been going on lately and what had happened downtown earlier that evening.
“I suspected he’d flown the coop,” Grayson announced with a sigh. “He went dark a couple of hours ago.”
“Went dark?” I asked.
“All of my operatives are monitored through their phones,” Grayson said. “It’s not active monitoring… but should they go silent, our system is alerted. Scott elected to go silent a few hours ago. With no prior warning, we feel that it’s worth looking into. Do you have an idea what’s going on?”
I did, and I told them. I said that I thought Scott was going after those responsible for Veronica Bradford’s death.
“Jesus…” Jackie muttered. “He must be going nuts…”
Grayson steepled his fingers before him and frowned, “Bradford Avionics being a company whose primary focus revolves around DOD contracts is certainly a concern for us. And with some unknown involvement with a known drug cartel leader in Tampa mixed up with this… I feel that ICE can certainly get officially involved.”
“Which means what, exactly?” I asked.
Grayson smiled, “For one, I’m assigning Jackie to you for the duration. I know you can take care of yourself, and I know that with Mrs. Bradford’s… demise… the danger level may have decreased… I, and I’m sure Scott, would feel more comfortable with somebody at your side, Lisa.”
“We get to hang out some more, Lis, isn’t that great?” Jackie asked with a wicked grin.
“Furthermore,” Grayson continued, “I’m going to deputize you.”
He slid a small leather case across the table. Inside was the shiny ICE badge and a certificate. I looked at him in surprise.
“This is only temporary,” he assured me. “It gives you some extra authority should you continue to investigate… which I assume you will. The local homicide Captain won’t be able to push you around with this in your pocket. There’s no rank to go along with it, but that’s hardly necessary.”
“Wow…” I said, turning the badge over and over in my hands.
“I’m also going to give you access to our intelligence team,” Grayson said. He reached out a hand and pointed at my phone. I handed it over and he added a contact to it and slid it back. “Richard Kelly and his team may be of some help. In fact, I’ve asked him to look deeper into the things that Scott has already asked about.”
“Why?’ I asked in mild bewilderment.
“I want to know,” Grayson said. “As a matter of national security and on a personal level. I’ve known Julius Bradford for years and have met Veronica several times. She was a charming and lovely woman… and I want the bastards who killed her caught.”
I think that might have been the first time I ever heard him swear. I nodded, “Me too.”
Grayson sighed, “I’m also worried about Scott. I know that he must be taking this personally. He’s got a very strong sense of honor and responsibility… coupled with above-average skills. He could be extremely dangerous… although I doubt he’s gone rogue. Still, I’d like this settled and to offer what help we can.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” I said. “I’m worried about him too.”
“He’ll be fine,” Jackie stressed. “There’s nobody tougher than that squid.”
I smiled, “I know, Jackie… but he’s got his sensitive side, too. Veronica’s death… and we think she was… was raped before it… really hit him hard.”
“Then I pity the poor assholes responsible for it,” Jackie said angrily.
“Yeah…” I muttered. “I don’t…”
21
Interlude: The Predator, one
Doctor Felix Campbell was as far from comfortable as he’d ever been in his life. That was saying something, considering some of the things he’d done and with which he’d been involved. Certainly when that private detective showed up and began asking those questions, Campbell grew very worried.
Yet that paled in comparison to when the two goons showed up on his doorstep later that day. The tall one and the little burly one made him nervous. They’d assured him immediately that they weren’t there to do him harm, yet Felix couldn’t quite trust them.
When Jarvis had left, Felix sent Rosana home. He made a phone call to a man he knew and who said he could be called upon. Campbell knew the man’s reputation and what he was capable of. It’s one of the reasons he rarely, if ever, used that phone number. However, extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures.
Lawrence P. Otter and Big Top, those were the names of the goons, had shown up shortly after the call. Campbell wasn’t sure if they were, in fact, associated with his contact. They didn’t quite fit the bill, as it were. However, they’d come, and he had had to deal with them.
Then the Bradford woman had arrived, although the security cameras didn’t show a car. Regardless though, she proceeded to ring the bell and pound on the back door until she got Felix’s attention. He’d recognized her at once, of course. Felix Campbell was very good at names and faces, and certain of them never left his mind, even after decades.
However, Veronica Bradford wasn’t simply a blast from the past. He knew about the attempt on her life and knew that Ted Whittaker was involved. However, he didn’t know how or why. But when Veronica showed up and jammed a big pistol into his belly, he knew that things were rapidly taking a downward spiral.
She’d urged him upstairs, the barrel of her gun pressing into the small of his back. Once there, she made him sit in a chair and leveled the gun at his chest.
“I know, you son of a bitch,” she accused heatedly. “I know what you did! And you didn’t just do it to me, either! What kind of monster are you?”
Felix had tried to protest. He’d first proclaimed that he had no idea what she was talking about. That had not mollified her. He then tried to protest that she was mistaken and that it hadn’t been him. Not now and not back then.
She seemed unmoved and had murder in her eyes. That’s when Otter and Big Top stepped out from the othe
r room. They’d caught her totally by surprise, and she hadn’t even had time to take cover or shoot one of them.
“Here we were just sitting around and wondering how the hell to grab you up,” Otter said triumphantly. “And here you go and conveniently deliver yourself.”
They’d disarmed her and taken her away. That had been days ago, and Felix Campbell was just beginning to relax and think that the situation might be okay when his doorbell rang again. It was now an hour past dark. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and his comfort level suddenly plummeted again.
The intercom announced that it was Otter. He asked to come in. Felix wasn’t sure if what he felt was relief or not, but at least it wasn’t Jarvis. No doubt the big man had learned of Veronica’s disappearance and capture by now. Surely he’d come looking for Campbell by way of retribution.
Although Felix was uncomfortable around Otter and Big Top, he assumed that they were all on the same side. When it came to the detective, however, they were most certainly not on the same side. There had been something about the younger man that worried Felix. Not perhaps a direct physical fear… Jarvis probably wouldn’t hurt or kill him outright… yet there was something about the man that just screamed danger.
Lawrence Otter had come up and sat on Felix’s couch. He looked a little disheveled and he was alone.
“Where’s your friend?” Felix asked, taking a chair nearby.
“Dead,” Otter said. “Got a drink, Doc?”
Campbell poured them both a scotch and soda and sat back in his chair, “What happened? What about the woman?”
Otter smiled for a moment and then sighed, “She’s taken care of… but Big Top was shot during it all. A shame, really. We been partners for a long time. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, but tough and reliable. Now it’s just me and Baby Back. Two guys to split up the fee as opposed to three. Not all bad, I guess.”
“Baby Back?” Felix asked. “That’s pretty cold, Mr. Otter.”
Lawrence chuckled, “My driver. Call him that cuz he’s nuts for a rack of ribs. I keep tellin’ him it’s kind of stereotypical… a black man always eatin’ ribs… but he tells me so what? Anybody makes a crack about it to his face is gonna wish they hadn’t. Anyways… this is a cold business, Doc. Real cold. But you ain’t exactly free from that, now, are ya’? You done some pretty cold things over the years, yourself. Hell, that’s why all this is happening, least as far as I can understand it. Why I’m here now.”
It was then that Felix really began to worry. He thought about Ted and how somebody had killed him a few mornings back. Why would somebody do that? The answer was obvious.
Ted Whittaker had been a loose end. A potential point of contact for law enforcement, or what might be worse… for Jarvis to pin down and make talk. Ted had been a liability. Without much protection. Unlike Felix, at least.
Yet his contact hadn’t sent help. At least not yet. And wasn’t he, Felix, a loose end as well? Didn’t he know far more than Ted had known? In fact, he now knew that Veronica had been caught and murdered by the very man who sat on his sofa. Felix now began to be afraid.
Although Duane “Baby Back” Dubois was almost comically fond of baby back ribs, he wasn’t known only for that. About six feet tall and two hundred pounds, Duane was a heavily built man of thirty whose beefiness contained a lot of strength and surprising speed. Speed he’d cultivated as a running back in high school and for two years at LSU before he’d been kicked off the team for abusing drugs. He’d dropped out of college shortly thereafter and had chosen a life of crime to support his habits.
His habits being cocaine, a lack of desire for hard work and a strong desire for easy women.
Duane had ended up with Otter five years back and had never been happier. He’d found that he also enjoyed the kind of work they did. Some protection, some leg-breaking and some deadlier business. Duane was good at his work. Conscientious and loyal and with an eye for detail.
That eye now failed him, unfortunately. As he sat in the driver’s seat of the black Jaguar… they’d already ditched the sedan they’d used to drive that white broad downtown… he was listening to a local hip-hop station and contemplating what they’d do next. Larry had said something about taking care of one more thing, and then they’d hightail it back to Miami.
That was fine by Baby Back. All this traveling… Orlando, Saint Pete… kept him away from his regular life and the three regular pieces of ass he kept at his fingertips. He smiled at the thought. A little packet of dust and they’d do anything he wanted, anytime he wanted it.
One was a hood rat with a lot of energy. A little nose candy and a little money to help pay her bills and she was all over Baby Back. Then there was the rich little blonde who lived at the beach. She didn’t need money, but since he was her connection, she was awfully grateful. Finally there was Rosalita… now she was a wild cat. God, the blowjob she’d give just for a couple of lines…
It was these rather graphic thoughts and the rumbling in his belly that kept Dubois from paying closer attention to his surroundings. He did not, for example, notice the sound of the outboard engine in the finger behind the house as it slowed and then died. He didn’t notice the big man dressed in black come from behind the house. Only when his driver’s side door flew open did he register any alarm.
By then, however, it was too late. A fist that felt like a lead brick caught him under the chin and snapped his head back hard against the headrest. Before Baby Back could react or even cry out, something soft and damp was pressed against his face. Dubois made the mistake of trying to draw breath and was unceremoniously plunged into darkness.
“So what now?” Felix asked the other man who sat in his living room. “Mission accomplished, I take it?”
Otter sighed wearily, “More or less. Problem with this kind of work, Doc… is that the more people involved, the more people who can be braced and might talk, you know what I mean?”
Felix felt that he did but tried to remain calm, “Like your partner?”
Otter shrugged, “Yeah… kind of. But ole Big Top and me, we been doin’ this for a long time. He’s not a guy opens his mouth easy. But others… folks who aren’t in the life… they tend to crack without much effort. Into protecting themselves, not their associates, you know?”
Felix drew in a breath, “Like Ted?”
Otter grinned appreciatively, “You’re a sharp guy, Doc. Yeah, was me and my crew done him? Had to. Even he knew too much. Too much about you, too much about… other stuff, I guess. Hell, I don’t know all the details. I’m just hired talent. Just give me a fee, point me at a job and the job gets done. I don’t get… what do they call it… emotionally involved.”
Felix was definitely afraid now. He swallowed hard and dared to ask: “Why are you here?”
Otter finished his drink and set the glass on the coffee table. At the same time, he pulled a small revolver from behind his back and pointed it at Campbell, “You know too much too Doc. Like I said, I don’t know everything. Don’t want to, really. But sometimes the people that hire me… sometimes they like to talk. What I do know is that if Whittaker could be a pipeline for the cops, then you’re a dam could burst any minute. You know way too much, it seems. So I’m afraid this is where we part ways. It ain’t personal, though, Doc.”
Otter watched as Felix’s eyes suddenly bulged with fear. He had to smile. This part could be entertaining. Not that he really liked it when people begged. That sort of irritated him. But the things they said or the bribes they tried to offer were amusing. More than once, he’d agreed to let somebody go for a rather substantial sum of money. He’d put his gun away and shaken their hand. He’d let it go so far as to actually receive a bag or suitcase full of bread and then he’d kill them anyway. Why not? The target wasn’t gonna need it where they were going. Collect a fee on both ends. That was just smart business.
It then occurred to Otter, although too late to really do him any good, that Felix hadn’t reacted that way when Otter had
pulled out his gun. The man was fearful, that was clear, but not this wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock. That had seemed to come from nowhere. And it also occurred to the goon that the doctor was no longer looking at him…
Otter dove forward and sideways, rolling beside the coffee table and coming up on his knees, the .38 aimed in the direction the doctor was staring. In the archway to the stairs that led down to the ground level stood a large man. For an instant, Otter thought it might be Baby Back… but no. This man was taller and dressed all in black. Black boots, jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that was stretched tight over a broad-shouldered and muscular body that might have been carved from granite. A black stocking cap was pulled low over a pair of blue eyes that gave Otter pause.
The eyes were cold and hard and held within them not the tiniest glimmer of pity. There was nothing in the rest of the familiar face that gave any indication of kindness either.
Otter’s finger twitched, but before he pulled the trigger, two bolts of searing pain shot into his gun arm and right shoulder. He toppled backward, crying out in pain. The revolver fell from his hands and slid beneath the coffee table.
The big man stepped closer, his movements oddly silent for someone who must weigh two-twenty. He made not a sound as he stopped and looked down at Otter with an expression that chilled the man to his bones.
“Felix,” the man said in his deep voice. It, too, seemed cold and distant. “Stabilize him.”
“What… what’re you gonna do?” Otter croaked, trying to ignore the pain. “Why didn’t you just… just plug me?”
The man smiled then, and the smile sent a wave of icy fear racing down Otter’s spine. The smile was all the more chilling because it didn’t reach those cold eyes. Eyes that bore into him.
“That,” said the man, still smiling like count Dracula might, “would be far, far too easy, Lawrence. Things are not going to be easy for you now… not by a very long stretch.”
