Forced Move (Michael Cailen Book 2)

by Mel LeBrun

  “I'm glad to hear he's safe. Bring him with you. He can stay with us until this gets sorted. I'll call you when we find a place.”

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  Michael hung up the phone and gave Josh a look. “Tim isn't sure he's being watched. He says he can lose a tail but his head isn't exactly clear right now. One of us should make sure he isn't followed.”

  “I'll do it,” Martin volunteered.

  “Okay, good. Let's find a room.”

  They found a hotel with an available room and Michael waited for Martin to get in place near Gatti's home before calling him. He told Gatti where they were and Gatti said he would leave right away.

  Martin watched from down the road as Gatti left in his dark grey Infiniti M. Shortly after pulling out of his driveway, a silver Buick parked on the side of the street started up and pulled out onto the street after him. Martin waited until they turned the corner before starting his dark blue Nissan Maxima and catching up. He called Michael as he did.

  “You were right,” Martin said.

  Michael sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn't be.”

  “You want me to intervene?”

  “No. See if Tim loses him first.”

  “All right. I'll keep you posted.”

  Martin continued to follow them. Gatti did not take a direct route to the hotel and after a few minutes, Martin could tell that Gatti was aware of the car following him. He got into a left turn only lane and put his blinker on. The Buick pulled up behind him. When the turn light turned green Gatti shut off his blinker and awkwardly moved his vehicle into the lane going straight ahead that still had a red light. The driver of the Buick didn't know what to do. If he did the same thing, it would be too obvious that he was following Gatti. Martin sat behind him for a few seconds before laying on the horn. Afraid to make a scene, the Buick's driver reluctantly continued through the green arrow. Martin kept an eye on the Buick as he tore down the street and made an illegal U-turn to try and catch back up to Gatti.

  After the Buick followed through on the left turn, Gatti made an immediate right on red and then another quick right to get out of view. He zig zagged through town putting distance between him and his pursuer. When he was sure he had lost him, he continued on his way to the hotel.

  Martin called Michael as he continued behind the panicked Buick searching for Gatti's car.

  “Did he lose him?” Michael asked.

  “Artfully,” Martin replied.

  Michael was pleased. “Good.”

  “I won't be coming back. I'm going to follow this guy as long as I can. See where he goes.”

  “Great idea. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  GATTI ARRIVED safely with Todd at the hotel fifteen minutes later. Michael waited for them in the lobby to help with their luggage. They would not be returning home until it was safe and no one knew how long that would be.

  Tall with blue eyes and dark brown hair, Todd was the spitting image of his father, only about twenty-five years younger. He walked behind his father toting a suitcase on wheels and a duffel bag over his shoulder. Michael relieved his father of one of the bags he was carrying and offered to take Todd's duffel bag. Even though it looked heavy, Todd refused the help insisting he could handle it.

  “It's good to see you again, Todd,” Michael said. “I'm sorry it's under these circumstances.”

  Unable to speak, Todd simply nodded. Though making a valiant attempt to hide his feelings, Michael could tell Todd was extremely agitated. Michael patted his shoulder and then led the way to the elevator.

  “Who do you think it was?” Michael asked Gatti once they were alone in the elevator. Referring of course to who sold him out.

  Gatti sighed. “I have no idea.”

  Michael was quiet for a few seconds. “Still trust your boss?”

  Gatti shook his head. “I really don't know anymore, Michael.”

  Michael nodded. “I'm gonna need his address.”

  Gatti looked warily at him. “Why?”

  “Don't worry about that. Just give it to me.”

  “You're not planning on killing him, are you?” Gatti asked in Arabic to keep his son from listening. “We don't know if he was involved.”

  “I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to see if he was involved,” Michael answered in Arabic

  “If he was, you think he'd tell you?”

  “I can be very persuasive.”

  “Michael, I can't let you do that.”

  “I'm just going to talk to him. We'll see what he has to say and I'll respond appropriately.”

  “By 'appropriately' do you mean put a bullet in his head?”

  Michael snickered as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. He looked at Gatti. “You really think I'm that reckless?”

  “When you're pissed, I never know what to expect.”

  Michael smiled calmly. “Do I look pissed to you?”

  Gatti knew better than to judge Michael's emotional state by his appearance. Michael was extremely adept at hiding his emotions when needed. There wasn't anything more you could do to anger Michael than to harm those he loves.

  Michael exited the elevator. Gatti shook his head and followed behind.

  “What were you talking about?” Todd asked him.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Gatti replied.

  Todd stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw clenched he was visibly angry. He didn't say a word. His look said it all.

  Gatti sighed and walked up to him. “What do you want me to say, Todd?” he asked softly.

  “I want you to tell me what's going on,” Todd responded with tears in his eyes.

  Gatti frowned. “When I know more, I'll tell you. If I can. Right now, it's not safe for you to know anything.”

  Todd scoffed. “Right. Because we're so safe right now.” His rigid body and clenched fists a clear indication of his current state of mind. “This is because of your job, isn't it?” Todd asked bitterly.

  Gatti looked in his eyes but was unable to give a response. He felt his son's pain but didn't know how to comfort him.

  “That's what I thought,” Todd remarked. He brushed past his father and caught up with Michael who had stopped to wait for them.

  Gatti paused for a few seconds before joining them.

  Michael glanced between the two. “Everything okay?”

  “Just fine,” Todd answered angrily.

  Gatti just shook his head. Michael decided not to pursue it and continued to lead the way to their room. They greeted Josh as they dumped their bags on one of the beds.

  “Martin didn't come?” Gatti asked surprised.

  “He's following the guys who were following you,” Josh answered.

  Gatti turned to Michael. “You didn't trust me?”

  Michael shrugged. “I wanted to be sure. Plus, we may have a lead if Martin can keep on them.”

  Gatti nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Now.” Michael stepped forward with a sly grin. “About that address.”

  DOUGLAS WOKE from a deep sleep to the sound of glass shattering. He sat up in bed and listened for any other noises. His wife was awoken as well.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “I don't know,” he answered.

  “Did someone break in?”

  “I set the alarm. It would be going off.” He slid his feet off the bed and stood up. “I'll see what it was. Probably one of the kids.”

  His wife slumped back in bed and rolled over as Douglas went to inspect the strange noise. He turned on lights as he walked through the massive, modern contemporary-style living room toward the kitchen. The back wall of the living room was completely made of glass and looked out into the large backyard with an in-ground pool. As he walked into the spacious kitchen, he noticed a broken glass on the tile floor.

  “What the ...” he muttered to himself. He thought perhaps the cat knocked it off the counter.

  As he bent down to pick up the shattered
pieces he saw a shadow move in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly looked up to see who it was. He stood up, careful not to make any sudden moves as he watched Michael Cailen standing in front of him, a gun in his right hand.

  “Alarm's dead,” Michael informed him. “As are the phone lines.”

  Douglas nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Do you know who I am?” Michael asked.

  “Yes,” Douglas answered. His hands visibly trembled. “My question would be what are you doing in my house?”

  “I'll ask the questions.” Michael stepped forward. “How long have you been working with Meier?”

  “Meier?” Douglas looked confused. “I'm not working with Meier.”

  “Want me to get your wife down here? Maybe we can ask her,” Michael took a few steps towards the doorway.

  Douglas stood between him and the door and put his hands up to stop him. “No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded. “Please, don't hurt my family. What do you want?”

  Michael spoke again but slowly this time. “I want to know how long you have worked for Meier?”

  Douglas couldn't hide his distress. He was exasperated. “I don't work for Meier. Why do you think I do? Please. I don't know what you were told but I don't work for Meier. I'm trying to bring him down. We're on the same side, Michael.”

  “Meier took Tim Gatti's wife and daughter. You're the only person who knew he had Meier's videos. How did they find that out if you didn't tell them?”

  “What?! His wife and daughter were taken? Taken how? From his house?! When did this happen?”

  “Honey, what's going on?” Douglas' wife called down the stairs.

  Douglas took a a few deep breaths trying to calm his nerves before responding. “It's fine, sweetheart. Go back to bed.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Douglas cursed under his breath and ran his hand nervously over his face. He looked pleadingly at Michael. “What am I supposed to tell her?”

  Michael sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “Maybe you got a call from work?”

  “I'm on the phone,” he yelled back. “I missed a call from work.”

  “This late?”

  “Just go back to bed. I'll be back in a minute.”

  There were no follow-up questions so that seemed to satisfy her, at least for the moment. Douglas turned his attention back to Michael whose commanding presence continued to instill fear in him.

  Douglas' reactions and the fact that he seemed more concerned for Gatti than for himself led Michael to believe he was not involved in what happened to Gatti's family. He didn't exude any signs of deception or guilt, though with him being a lifelong employee of the CIA that didn't necessarily mean much. Michael went with his gut though and tucked his gun in his back waistband.

  “How did it happen?” Douglas asked.

  “They were already there when he got home from work. They told him he had to return the video files and delete any copies he made or they would kill his family.”

  “They'll do worse than kill them even if he does what they ask,” Douglas said.

  “We're all working under that assumption.”

  Douglas rubbed his eyes. “How the hell did they find out?”

  “That's what you need to work on,” Michael said just before he turned for the door.

  “Where is Tim now?” Douglas asked.

  “Someplace safe,” Michael answered as he opened the back door out of the kitchen.

  “Hotels aren't safe, Michael.”

  Michael stopped and suspiciously looked back at him. “How did you know we were in a hotel?”

  Douglas snickered. “You just told me.”

  Michael frowned at his own stupidity.

  “Here,” Douglas grabbed a pad and pen from the counter. He scribbled an address on it and tore off the page. “It's an FBI safe house. We use it when they aren't. Without their knowledge, of course. There is a key above the door inside the shed.” He held the paper out to him. “It's not in use. You'll be safer there.”

  Michael took the paper from him. “I'm still not sure I can trust you.”

  “You know where I live, Michael. You really think I'd risk burning you?”

  “Not if you're smart.” Michael turned and left.

  He called to check on Martin as he drove away and to get his take on the safe house Douglas offered.

  “He's right,” Martin said. “Hotels aren't safe. We will need to move soon regardless. Since we don't know how Tim was compromised we have to be especially careful. Whether we use the safe house or not boils down to whether or not we trust Douglas.”

  “I don't know. He didn't seem to know anything about Tim's family. He seemed genuinely shocked to hear of it.”

  “When I worked for the CIA, Michael, I convincingly deceived many people. They had no idea I was working against them. It's what we're trained for.”

  “You're right, I know. I'll see what Tim and Josh think. We need to be somewhere.”

  “I'll see if I can scrounge something up for us.”

  “That'd be great. How's everything else on your end?”

  “I'm sitting outside a building. They went in about a half hour ago. I texted Josh the address. I'll keep an eye on it and see if I can learn anything.”

  “All right. Keep me posted.”

  “Let me know what you decide about ... Wait ...” Martin cursed just before the phone went dead.

  “Martin?” Michael looked at his phone. The call had ended. He quickly phoned Josh to get the address of where Martin was. Josh put Gatti on the phone to give him directions. Michael told Gatti his current location and Gatti worked as his GPS, guiding him through town. As he raced to get to Martin, he spotted the Maxima Martin had been driving. It flew past him in the opposite direction with two men in the front. Not able to maneuver the car and talk on the phone at the same time, he threw the phone in the passenger's seat.

  As he gained on the Maxima, it picked up speed. Michael knew Martin must be in the vehicle. When they braked to try and make a corner, Michael continued at full speed and plowed into the car pushing it into a light pole. After fighting off his airbag, Michael drew his gun as he approached the vehicle. The windows shattered, he had a clear view inside the vehicle. The stunned driver pulled a gun and was preparing to aim it at him. Michael fired two shots eliminating the threat. The passenger was unconscious. Michael reached into the front seat and popped the trunk. There he found Martin. Not moving and with his head covered in blood Michael feared the worst. He reached for his neck and breathed a sigh of relief at finding a pulse. He left him there temporarily while he went to check on the vehicle's passenger. The man was beginning to regain consciousness. Michael pulled him from the Maxima and dragged him to a nearby car. He broke the back window and let himself in. He forcefully moved the now uncooperative passenger into the trunk of that car. He then returned to revive Martin. After an unsuccessful attempt to rouse him, Michael tried to lift him out of the trunk, which proved difficult given Martin's state of unconsciousness and Michael being still weaker than he liked from the ordeal in South America. Sirens in the distance gave him the extra push he needed to pull it off. He carried Martin to their new vehicle and rather awkwardly put him in the backseat. Michael was soon hot wiring the car. He got it started and they were off.

  They weren't more than thirty feet away, however, when Michael remembered his phone was on the passenger's seat of the other car. He had to return for it. Doing so however put them right in the sights of a responding squad car. With his phone safe in hand, Michael quickly jumped back in his car and took off before the officer could come to a complete stop.

  Concerned for victims of the crash, the officer stayed at the scene, opting to call in the vehicle's description instead. It didn't take him long to discover the driver of the other vehicle had been shot to death. He called that in as well. Now there was a manhunt for a murderer.

  As Michael dodged more responding police cars, Martin woke in
the backseat. He sat up, prepared to take on the driver of the vehicle until he realized it was Michael.

  “What happened?” Martin asked.

  Michael glanced back at him. “Oh good. You're awake. I don't think I could carry you again.”

  Concerned about the speed at which they were traveling Martin turned to look back. “Are we being chased?”

  “Umm ... Not yet. But we should probably change vehicles sooner rather than later.”

  “Why? They saw our car?”

  “If by 'they' you mean the police, the answer is yes.”

  “The police are chasing us?”

  “I kinda killed the driver after I crashed into them.”

  “Oh, fun.” Martin put his head in his hands. “God, my head hurts.”

  “Probably a nasty concussion.”

  “That and your driving,” Martin replied sarcastically.

  Michael just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Typical Lavene humor, he thought to himself.

  “What happened?” Michael asked.

  “They let me follow them. They knew I was there the whole time. While I was on the phone with you, two men exited the building and stood talking on the sidewalk. They were the distraction. I didn't see the men behind me until it was too late. I tried to take off but they got the drop on me.”

  Michael shook his head. “From now on, we do everything in pairs.”

  “You know that's not possible, Michael.”

  “We'll see.”

  Michael pulled off the road into the parking lot of a small apartment complex. “This looks as good a place as any,” he said.

  As they got out of the car, they heard the distinct sound of a helicopter in the distance.

  “They called in air support,” Martin observed.

  Michael looked at him. “We need to hide until this blows over.”

  “And where do you suppose we do that?”

  Michael pulled the paper with the safe house address from his pocket. He handed it to Martin.

  “Do you know how to get there?”

  Martin thought for a moment. “I think so.”

  “Let's get another car.”

  THEY MADE it to the safe house Douglas provided. It was a small home in a modest suburban neighborhood. After thoroughly scoping the area, Michael deemed it safe to enter. As promised, he found a key in the shed and let himself in while Martin waited in the car. He opened the garage door and pulled the car inside.