“What the hell. Even if you total it, it’s insured to the hilt and I can say it died for Stryker. I’ve got another one at home I like better. Go!”
Nick nodded. He loaded two impact concussion grenades into his equipment belt, located the GTO in the lot, and apologized to it as he turned on lights and sirens, and stomped on the accelerator. The firing range was very close to where the robbery was taking place. Nick had placed his phone number on the available for emergency list for just this sort of call.
The GTO was outfitted with the latest on dash computer and Nick signed into the city’s live feed camera of the robbery scene. Chicago was known as the City of Cameras thanks to Mayor Emanuel. At least a two block stretch of Michigan Street was engaged in the shootout. It looked like the robbers had two heavily reinforced vans in a ‘V’ pattern in the center of the street. Bodies were scattered over sidewalks, in the street, and from open patrol unit doors. The cops were seriously outgunned. Nick counted four shooters. Utility construction obstructed the ability of the police to gain good vantage points behind the shooters. The alley in the center of the block was the only way in, but provided no cover and was the obvious escape route.
Nick dialed Control Central, identified himself and asked to be patched to the senior officer at the scene. A moment passed, Nick heard the voice of Special Teams Leader, Terry Mann. “Nick, thank God. Where are you?”
“I’m crossing the bridge right now. Clear the area around the gate next to Newman’s. I think I can get in there and bust a hole in their cover. ETA three minutes. Get our guys away from that alley.”
The static from the phone made it almost impossible for Nick to hear. He assumed Terry had heard him. Nick nudged a cab out of his way and nearly sent it into the Chicago River. The GTO was just warming up. The sergeant had been modest when he said the car had been souped up. Nick patted the dash when he saw the back side of the alley to his left. “Sorry, old girl. It’s for a good cause.”
Nick twisted the steering wheel a hard left and floored the GTO down the long alley. He blasted through the black iron gate and aimed the GTO directly at the van on the left, smashing the rear quarter panel. Nick rolled out of the GTO just before impact. He opened fire on the back door lock of the van on the right until it was nearly missing, swung it open and jumped inside.
A shooter was firing at officers using the driver’s door for cover. Nick shot him squarely in the back of his head, slipped into the driver’s seat and threw the van into drive. He yanked the steering wheel to the right sending the van up over the curb and onto the sidewalk and opening the area the shooters were using for cover. Two of the three remaining shooters turned to face Nick and opened fire. Nick’s vest took a bullet, but he was able to toss one of the grenades directly between the shooters. It was designed to have a limited, but lethal, radius of destruction. The explosion rocked the area and sent the bodies of the robbers flying. The last robber was stunned by the explosion and standing with no cover. He was quickly shot by remaining officers.
The order to cease fire echoed through the chaos. Officers rushed to the aid of their fallen partners. EMT sirens blasted from all directions and officers struggled to keep panicked shoppers from exiting the stores.
Nick was trained in emergency medicine and tore his sleeve as tourniquet for an officer’s leg wound. He applied pressure while he waited for the EMT’s and scanned the area. He looked over to a panicked crowd on the sidewalk and saw one man in dark slacks and a buttoned down blue shirt standing perfectly still, staring at him. Nick’s blood turned cold. The man smiled. The EMT van pulled up next to Nick. Nick sprinted around it and crossed the street to the crowd. The scene was surreal. The man had vanished. Nick’s mind swarmed with memories from five years ago. Jake Billow, cop killer. It couldn’t be. Billow had been sentenced to prison for nine life terms.
* * *
Jake Billow’s lungs wheezed from running the entire length of the alley. He was out of shape. The ambulance that had pulled between him and Stryker had bought him just enough time to get out of Nick’s sight. He dashed inside a bookstore and hid behind a rack of books as the other shoppers watched the chaos on the street. He heard them whispering that something awful had happened only a block away.
His breathing finally returned to normal and he realized that he felt giddy. The look on Stryker’s face had been electrifying. His mind flashed back to the day Nick had finally caught him. Nick had pushed him against the slimy wall of the alley and told him to prepare to rot in hell. Jake had thought about Nick for five long years. Now he knew Stryker was still in Chicago. He decided it must be fate that their paths crossed again today. Who was he to question fate?
* * *
Dominick Guioni hung up from his call with Travis Cummings. The ‘Dom’ had survived decades in his position because his instincts about people were seldom wrong. Travis was more than worried, he was guilty of something. Guilt that fueled a fear he had lost favor with the crew. Dom dialed his number two banker. “Find a way to check Cummings’ books now. Something’s not right.”
Dom ended the call and slipped on his overcoat. His bodyguards surrounded him as he walked out to the curb and waited for his car. Those who knew him well could read the determination on his face. There was new trouble on the Westside.
CHAPTER 5
Tuesday 4:00 p.m.
The metal cot was surprisingly light as he dragged it across the room to rest under the high barred window. His strength was starting to come back and he had spent most of the day doing exercises. He used his fingertips in the cracks of the cement block wall to pull himself up and peek out the window. The sunlight blinded him. Precious moments were wasted waiting for his eyes to adjust.
The grounds appeared manicured and vast. He could see several large buildings and a winding service road that connected them all. In the far distance a huge concrete wall went on forever. The sun blasted from its razor wire topping. He would have thought it was a prison if it weren’t for the many people casually walking the grounds and gathering at small tables in conversation and laughter.
A few people were in wheelchairs being pushed by people in scrubs. Where in the world was he?
His door flew open and his captor stood facing him. His face was red with anger. “What are you doing?” He walked over and grabbed the corner of the cot. “Help me move this back!”
When the cot was returned to its spot, his captor frowned at him. “You leave me no choice. You’re going to ruin everything.”
He injected him with a full syringe. His veins screamed in pain as he felt his tongue being injected, too. His visitor scolded him, “I can’t have you talking.”
* * *
Martin Stryker found it difficult to concentrate on his lecture class. There was a tone in Nick’s voice that Martin couldn’t identify. Whatever was on Nick’s mind was important. Martin had just called him and told him he was available. Nick said he was nearly there.
A student from Martin’s film class poked his head into Martin’s office. “Got a minute?”
Martin nodded. He encouraged his students to stop by whenever they needed. Martin gestured for the student to take a seat. “Chad, right?”
The young man beamed. He couldn’t believe Professor Stryker actually remembered his name. “The documentary assignment you gave us last week? I’m stuck. I was hoping you could give me some ideas.”
Martin pushed his chair away from his desk so he could lean back. “What do you care about? What do you think is right about this world? Wrong? What do you think people need to be told?”
Chad stared back. “Everything! Nothing. I don’t think people care anymore.”
Martin stood when he saw Nick waiting in the hall. Martin said, “You can partner with another student for inspiration on this. If you believe people don’t care anymore, then there is your motivation. Make them care.”
Chad left the room smiling and Nick took his seat after closing the door. Nick looked at his dad. “I need to know a
bout Mom.”
Martin knew this day would come. “Your mother made me promise to keep everything about her secret until you came to me and asked. She also made me promise to tell you nothing but the truth.”
Nick cleared his throat. “All you ever said was that mom didn’t leave, she couldn’t stay. It never made sense to me, but I accepted it. Now I need to know more.”
Martin sighed, “I’m going to give you the short version for now, we can talk later if you’d like. I have another class soon and I think you will need some time to digest this.” Nick waited for his dad to continue.
“You were ten years old when your mom was asked to testify for the FBI in a huge mob case. It was the right thing to do. The FBI needed her. She was the witness that made their whole case. The FBI won the case, four long time mobsters went to prison, and your mom went into witness protection. She went alone because she had no confidence the FBI could really protect anyone from the mob. She didn’t want you or I involved in any way.”
“She was right of course, about the mob. They located her, killed two FBI agents and shot her four times. They believe she died. She didn’t. She vowed to finish the job and get rid of any players in the crew she considered to be a threat to our family. My understanding is the FBI helped her change her identity, trained her and has used her for the last twenty five years.”
Nick swallowed, “Have you talked to her, seen her?” He wanted to ask if she had asked about him.
Martin smiled, “A few times over the years I thought maybe I saw her sitting in the back of some of my lectures.” Martin tried to keep his voice from cracking. “Your mother is a force to contend with. She believes she must stay away from us to protect us. I know in my heart she will succeed and come back. Taking down Dominick Guioni is no small assignment. The guys she put away just got out of jail this week. Maybe we’re getting close.”
Nick stood. His knees felt weak and he struggled to speak. “Thank you, dad, for being honest. I still don’t understand how she could just leave us for all of these years.”
Martin stood and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “She didn’t leave. She couldn’t stay.”
* * *
Eli walked into Momma’s sandwich shop and waited for Mitch to ring up his last sale. “You almost ready?”
Mitch scowled, “Almost. Momma said her friend, Artie, is going to come by to help her.”
As if on cue, the door to the street opened and Artie stood smiling under the jingling bells. “Reporting for work, Mitch. Where’s the boss?”
Momma walked through the curtained door with a crockpot of meatballs. “Get over here Artie and take this thing, darlin’. It weighs a ton.”
Mitch smiled, “See? It doesn’t take long for Momma to start bossin’.”
Momma reached into her apron pocket and tossed a set of keys at Eli. “You tell Renee I ain’t in no hurry. She needs to be able to get to work and save up for a reliable car.”
Eli and Mitch took turns giving Momma hugs and left out the back door to Momma’s small garage. The structure had originally been a large back porch for deliveries. When the city closed the alley to trucks, Momma had the structure enclosed as a garage. Eli unlocked and lifted the overhead door and marveled at how clean the car looked. Mitch held out his hand for the car keys. “I’ll drive this and follow you. Where’re we goin’?”
“Brookfield Place, out past the airport.”
Mitch dropped the car keys. “The psycho prison?”
* * *
Jen and Wayne stopped what they were doing to stare at Sam. He was yelling into his phone and slapping his desk with his palm. “You’re shittin’ me! A grenade? How many down?”
Sam glanced over at Jen and asked, “Is Stryker okay?”
Jen’s heart stopped. Wayne walked over to Sam’s desk. Sam shook his head and said to his caller, “Let us know if you need us for anything. Damn. Unfreakin’ believable.” Sam hung up and retold the story about the bank robbery downtown.
“Stryker blasts a GTO into the center of the shootout and takes out the bad guys with a grenade!” If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have believed it. Nick had a way of ending up in the middle of everything.
Jen asked, “Is he okay?”
Nick answered from the doorway. “I’m fine, but I’m starving. How about we grab a sandwich somewhere?”
Jen grinned, “No offense, but I’m driving.”
* * *
Mo and Flash stopped the car and decided to have Joey tell the old man that Mo didn’t live there anymore. After following several kids on bikes they finally found Joey and pulled him over. Mo asked, “Think you could chum up to that old man and convince him I don’t live there anymore?”
Joey put his index finger to his chin. “That sounds like some expensive acting you’re wantin’ me to do.”
Flash yelled across the seat, “How much?”
“Fifty dollars.”
Mo slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “Twenty. You report right back to us when you’re done. We’ll be right here.”
Joey peddled away and Mo ran his hands over his face. “We’re so screwed. I can’t even go home.”
Flash shrugged, “You can stay at my place.”
Mo couldn’t think of another place to go. “Thanks, man. I’m thinkin’ we best swap out this Jeep, too.”
Ten minutes passed and they saw Joey heading toward the Jeep. Mo rolled down the window.
Joey was animated and sweating from his ride. “Ol’ dude got a gun on the seat of his car, man. I asked if he be lost and he asked about your house. Said he was wantin’ to buy property or some shit.”
Joey took a deep breath. “I told him you were in jail and didn’t know when you’d be gettin’ out. He asked about your Jeep and I said I thought it got stole.”
Flash and Mo were mesmerized by Joey’s account of the conversation. Mo asked, “Then what?”
“Then he drove away. Didn’t look none too happy though.”
Flash and Mo fist bumped and Mo gave Joey 20 bucks. “Good job, little dude.”
* * *
Frankie parked his car in the apartment building garage and slowly made his way up the two flights to his apartment door. It was a relief that Artie wasn’t there stinking up the place. Frankie hung his coat in the closet and walked over to the kitchen. Fatigue washed over him as the pressure in his head began to throb. He opened the kitchen window and opened the door to the freezer. It looked so empty without the head. What was he going to do? He had to get it back. If that Jeep was stolen, it meant that anyone in the city could have robbed him.
Frankie grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer door and pressed it to his head. His back and neck screamed in pain from having sat in his car for so long. The cream his doctor gave him for his arthritis stunk. There was no way he could use it. He opened the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. Artie must have purchased groceries. Frankie made a bologna sandwich and walked to his bedroom. He locked the bedroom door and ate the sandwich as he sat on the edge of the bed.
His whole world had crashed today and all he had was a bologna sandwich and a bag of frozen peas. He needed a nap. Then he would get an idea. He would get his head back. Frankie moaned as he hefted his body to rest on the lumpy mattress. He slapped the bag of peas on his forehead and slipped into a restless sleep.
* * *
Nick and Jen sat at the bar at Cubby’s and waited for their burgers. Nick held up his mug of ice tea. “I wish this was a beer.”
Jen smiled, she knew Nick was getting ready to talk to her about something important. Nick’s expression was hard for her to read. He almost looked sad. It took all of her control not to just ask him what was wrong.
Nick signaled the bartender to bring him another tea. He turned to Jen and said, “I want to tell you something personal.”
Jen nodded. Nick told her about his mom.
Nick and Jen sat in silence while they ate their burgers. Jen could only imagine the range of em
otions Nick was feeling. Nick finished his burger and said, “That’s not all. You remember Jake Billow?”
Jen was surprised at the conversation turn. “My first case with you. Cop killer. Loony tunes.”
Nick frowned, “I’m either going loony tunes, too, or I saw him today at the robbery scene.”
Jen didn’t know what to say. It was impossible that Nick saw Jake Billow. Jen rubbed her temples. “Tell you what, I’m going to research the system and see where Mr. Billow is supposed to be.”
Nick laughed out loud and squeezed her shoulder as he threw his money on the bar. “Now that’s a great partner. No matter how crazy something sounds, you’re going to follow up.”
“Nick, I feel honored you shared all of this with me. Just keep me posted on what you decide to do on the case.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s decided. We’re not only on the case, Dominick Guioni is about to experience another Stryker.”
CHAPTER 6
Ryan stood looking at the man on the cot. He didn’t look good. Had he given him too much of the drug? He gingerly placed his fingers on the man’s neck in search of a pulse. He couldn’t find one. Panic seized him. Now what? He ran into the hall in search of a real nurse. Maybe they could give him something to bring him back.
The door to Dr. Elmhurst’s office was open and Ryan screamed, “Room 47, I think I killed him!”
Dr. Elmhurst pushed a button on his desk that started a siren. He grabbed the PA and ordered the nursing staff to Room 47. That’s the last thing he needed right now. Another death. He pushed his way past the curious patients and headed for the now crowded doorway of Room 47. Ryan handed Renee the lithium vial the last injection had come from. Renee looked at Ryan, “How much did you give him?”
Ryan answered, “I guess 5 CC’s, the whole syringe.” Renee panicked; where was Dr. Elmhurst? What had Ryan been thinking?
Renee pulled the cap from a hypodermic needle with her teeth and injected the patient with Naloxone, a stabilizer drug. She prayed she was giving the proper dosage. She only had minutes, maybe less. Anxious staff stood staring, watching for signs of life. The patient gasped. Vomit erupted from his mouth and Renee rolled him to his side. She shook her head as she instructed Ryan to sit with the patient until he was coherent.
Twisted: Nick Stryker Series, Book Two The Shallow End Gals Page 4
