I pulled an electrical current sensor from my pocket and passed it around the edges of the glass entrance door. The alarm contacts were usually at the top of the door, but I tested both sides and the top. If the transmitters were active, the indicator light would glow amber as it passed across them. The indicator stayed dark. Green meant the system was disarmed. Moffett’s men deactivated it when they entered and forgot to re-arm it, but they might remember to re-arm it at any second.
I tried the door, but it’s never that easy. I took lock picks from my jacket and attacked the door. It took longer than it should. I was sweating buckets again by the time the lock surrendered. I eased the door open and stepped inside.
My eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Dim light shone through the glass wall from the streetlights. On the right were the stairs and two more doors, one painted light blue and one painted beige. No light came from underneath the closed doors. I checked the rooms to make sure I didn’t have an unexpected visitor behind me when I went upstairs. They were both small dormitories for ten people each like the one Lopez described at the Tri-Patron unit. I couldn’t see a whole lot with the light from my cellphone screen, but the rooms smelled faintly of women.
Since Tuscan Carriage Lights kept illegals in the dormitories from time to time, I knew the alarm wasn’t hooked to a police monitoring service. If it went off, it would notify only Moffett or one of his henchmen.
As I turned to the stairs, the alarm panel caught my attention. It had turned red; they must’ve re-armed it from the top floor. I left the entrance unlocked for Tank and Al. I knew all hell would break loose when they opened it. Any second, Moffett might find out the Orange Peel had been raided. No telling what the nut would do to Doraleen when he learned the FBI had recovered the ransom money. I couldn’t wait for backup.
I texted Tank about the alarm on the entrance and told them to charge upstairs as fast as they could run. I needed those reinforcements.
###
Ngombo sat at a folding catering table near the rear of the big room and watched with expressionless eyes as Moffett paced back and forth, clapping his huge hands together every few seconds as if he was swatting at gnats. The cannon was rolling around the deck in the storm, bashing its way through the ribs of the ship. Ngombo felt panic rise in his throat, but none of it showed on his warrior face. His stomach felt like a hot coal burned inside.
Moffett was in another world, paying no attention to him or Bones. Ngombo had already locked the woman in the second room.
Bones raised his hands. “Boss, it ain’t the end of the world. We ain’t never killed nobody. They can’t get us for murder, even if they do catch us, and nobody knows this place exists.”
Moffett stopped pacing. “Pete knows this place is here.”
“Pete is free and clear. Far as anybody knows, he’s only the bookkeeper. They can’t pin nothing on him.”
Moffett snorted. “They will if they dig deep enough—when they dig deep enough. Kidnapping is a capital offense, Bones. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a federal prison as another convict’s bitch?”
“Not hardly, boss.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“We have the old lady, boss, and McCrary has over a hundred grand for you. You swap the woman for the money and we both take off for Grand Cayman. We got a fortune stashed there. We use McCrary’s money to charter a private plane to fly us to Cayman. We give the rest of the dough to Teddy as a bonus for a job well done. We’ll be home free. We can retire. Teddy’s young; he’ll hook up with another gang without no trouble.”
Moffett glared at Bones. “I suppose that next you’ll want me to write a reference letter for Teddy for his new employers. ‘Dear capo de capo, allow me to recommend Teddy what’s-his-name for assorted strong-arm and leg-breaking duties. He has valuable kidnapping experience and is skilled at mutilating cats.’ Is that what you had in mind?”
Bones slumped into a chair beside Ngombo. “Boss, you’re the boss. What do you want to do?”
Moffett began pacing again.
“I’m gonna fix us coffee, boss.” Bones left the room.
Ngombo fingered his knife where the scabbard was strapped to his left forearm. Moffett, the man he once admired as a thinker, a leader, as fearless, was scared shitless and didn’t have a clue what to do next. Moffett had only been fearless when he faced no meaningful opposition. He had used his great size like any other bully. Now that he faced a strong enemy like this McCrary man, he was impotent. All he could do was pace and clap his hands together. He acted like a caged bear pacing the confines of his zoo pen. This situation wasn’t a gnat he could smash. Ngombo considered his own bleak future with this madman in control of his destiny. He didn’t like the future he saw. He fingered the knife again. A true warrior’s weapon. A warrior creates his own destiny.
###
I ascended the steps, eyes fully dilated. The light strip under the door at the top of the stairs provided sufficient illumination for the climb. The stairs were concrete, so an errant squeaky step couldn’t give me away. As I climbed, the sweat trickled down my ribs on both sides. I reached the top and drew my Glock. I took a calming breath and let my heart rate slow.
Beyond that door, I would face three armed men, maybe more. Every one faced the death penalty or life without parole. They had nothing to lose. As for me… What the hell? Nobody lives forever.
I turned the knob and stepped through the door.
Chapter 71
Quickly, I drew the other Glock and pointed one at each man. Where the hell was the third man? Three doors on the front wall were painted yellow, purple, and black. Two on the back were fuchsia and Prussian blue. A green door was to the right down the same wall as the door I had entered through.
“Hands where I can see them.” I kicked the stair door all the way open behind me.
Moffett stopped in mid-stride.
“Don’t even think about it, Moffett. You’re such a big target that I couldn’t miss. You, Teddy, hands where I can see them. Where is Bones?”
I had a logistical problem. Aiming two guns kept both my hands occupied, but I needed to disarm Moffett and Scarface. I’d learned as a cop that you were most vulnerable when you frisked someone. When you’re touching them, they’re touching you. You’re close enough to grab, one hand is occupied, and your attention is diverted. That’s why you need another cop as backup. I wished.
It’s hard enough to frisk one man when you’re alone. I wouldn’t begin to attempt two, and the missing third man was the unk-unk, the unknown unknown.
I felt like a one-armed man hanging wallpaper. On a ceiling.
The best way to incapacitate a man is to make him sit cross-legged and lean back on his hands. He can’t move quickly that way. But I needed to control their weapons first. “Moffett, use your left hand, fingertips only, and remove your pistol.”
He glared at me but didn’t move. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. He flexed the fingers of both hands. He took a deep breath.
Before he could leap, I shot his left kneecap. The sound was earsplitting in the enclosed space. He crumpled to the floor, screaming. The acrid gunpowder stench filled the air. Or was it the smell of fear?
Scarface took a small step.
I centered the other pistol on his stomach. “Teddy, the next move you make will be your last. You’re a lot bigger target than a kneecap.”
To my right, the green door opened a few inches. Fortunately, the hinges were on the side toward me. Whoever stood behind the door saw only the unoccupied back of the room with the empty table and chairs. I hoped it was Bones, and he was alone back there. Better for me if he stayed in that room for a while. It’s hard enough to keep two men covered; I didn’t want to try for three, or, God forbid, more. I ignored the third man’s presence for now.
Neither Scarface nor Moffett noticed the door move, but they knew Bones was lurking back there anyway.
I turned back to Moffett. “Don’t make me tel
l you again.”
He grunted and pulled a revolver from his belt holster, grimacing with pain.
“Slide it over here.”
He gasped and pushed it a few feet. Not far enough. If I moved to kick the gun away, I’d turn my back to that green door, so I let it go. With Moffett somewhat incapacitated, I couldn’t ask him to sit cross-legged.
“I’m bleeding bad here, McCrary,” Moffett groaned. “Call 9-1-1.”
“You call them, Moffett. You have a phone.”
He glared at me. He figured I would holster one gun and look at my phone to dial, then Scarface could make a move, or he could holler for Bones to charge in from the back room. I didn’t take the bait.
The purple door on the front wall was padlocked. That must be where they had stashed Doraleen. This deadlock between me and at least two armed men was as unstable as a bottle of nitroglycerine. It could blow up at any second. It was safer to get Doraleen out of the building and away from all these guns. She could wait for the cops in the parking lot. The padlock required a key to open.
“Who has the key to that lock?”
No one spoke.
I aimed at Scarface’s left knee. “Who has the padlock key?”
“I do,” he said.
“Use your left hand, fingertips only, and remove your pistol.”
He did.
“Slide it over here.”
He slid it a couple feet.
I sidestepped to the gun and kicked it to the back of the room, behind a folding table and chairs near the rear wall.
“Sit cross-legged facing that wall over there.”
He did.
“Move slowly, and take out the padlock key.”
“I cannot reach the key when I am sitting down. It is in the pocket of my pants.”
“Lie flat on your back and get it from your pocket.”
He laid on his back, stuck his left hand in his pocket, and pulled out a key.
“Stay on your back. Toss the key over here.”
The key tumbled and clinked and stopped near my feet.
I needed one hand free to unlock the padlock and that task would require me to look away from the two gangsters for an instant. Not a good plan. I changed my mind.
“Get up, Teddy. Unlock the door yourself.”
I backed further out of reach while Teddy jacked himself to his feet.
He picked up the key and moved to the purple door. He unlocked the padlock, removed it from the hasp, and opened the door. “Mrs. Rice, you may come out.”
“Wait, Doraleen—” I was too late.
She stepped through the door. Scarface grabbed her around the waist and held a knife to her throat. “Drop the guns, McCrary. I have nothing to lose.”
Chapter 72
If ever there were a very-oh-shit! moment, this was it. I had no one to blame but myself. If I’d thought the process through, I would have made Scarface leave the opened padlock hanging in the hasp. I should have forced him to step away from the door and resume his cross-legged position. I could have warned Doraleen not to come out until I made the situation more secure. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
Didn’t.
It was too late. Ngombo held a razor-sharp knife tight against Doraleen’s throat. Must be the same one he mutilated Race Car with. I felt stupid again. I hadn’t searched him for the knife. I set both guns down and stepped back.
“Step back further, all the way to the wall behind you.”
I did.
“Good work, Teddy,” said Moffett. “Kick my pistol over to me.”
Scarface ignored him and moved over to where my Glocks lay forlornly. Suddenly, he shoved Doraleen straight toward me and scooped up a Glock in his left hand. He pointed my own pistol at my head while he stored his knife somewhere up his left sleeve. His eyes never left my face while he stuck the other Glock in his belt. He switched my pistol to his right hand and gestured with it. “Mrs. Rice, please go sit at the table.”
Doraleen cut her eyes in my direction.
I nodded. “Take the chair on the right.”
She moved across the room and sat where I needed her to sit.
“Teddy,” said Moffett. “Hand me my pistol and help me to my feet.”
Scarface ignored him again. “Where is the other half of the money, McCrary?”
I’d never witnessed a palace revolution, but one had begun under my nose.
“In my office,” I answered.
“Where is your office?”
“Teddy,” Moffett said in a tight voice. “I said hand me my goddamn pistol.”
Scarface turned to Moffett and shot his other kneecap. “Be quiet, Moffett.” The gunpowder smell filled the air again. He turned back to me. “As I said before I was so rudely interrupted, where is your office?”
Scarface called his former boss Moffett instead of Monster. The king is dead. Long live the king.
“My office is at 3300 North Bayfront Boulevard.”
“I know where that is,” Scarface said. “None of this was my idea, McCrary. I am a warrior; I do not attack innocent women. Throughout this unfortunate affair, I have treated Mrs. Rice with courtesy and respect. She will confirm that.”
I smiled at him. “I thank you for that.”
“I never killed anybody, at least not in the United States. I do not wish to start now.”
“I don’t blame you,” I answered. “There’s no statute of limitations for murder.” There isn’t one for kidnapping either, but I didn’t tell him that.
“I will no longer work for Moffett, but I must have something to show for my involvement in this unfortunate and misguided, uh, escapade.”
“I understand.” Good old agreeable McCrary, especially with the man who was pointing my own gun at my head.
Scarface considered that a moment. “You offered to trade Mrs. Rice for the other half of the money.”
“It’s $112,500 in used fifty-dollar bills.”
“I am willing to make that trade. How do you suggest we go about it?”
Bones opened the green door behind me. “What’s going on out here? I heard gunshots.”
Bones must have heard my conversation with Scarface. I expected him to burst through that door with his gun drawn the instant I shouted at Doraleen to wait. He must have heard Scarface tell me to drop my guns, yet he remained hidden. Why did Bones wait so long to show? Maybe he’d waited to see who won. Or maybe he was a coward.
Scarface pulled my other Glock from his belt and stepped back where he could cover us both. “I am in charge, Bones. Take your place beside Moffett. With your left hand, fingertips only, remove your pistol.”
Scarface learned fast.
“Kick it over to the wall back there, then sit down cross-legged with your back to me.”
A real fast learner. Now two guns laid on the floor behind the table.
Scarface turned to face me. “How do you suggest we make the exchange?”
“That’s a problem, Teddy. It’s not practicable.” I took a small step toward the green door Bones had hidden behind.
“Practicable? I do not know this word.”
“Practicable. It means ‘capable of being accomplished’ or simply ‘doable.’ Getting the money to you isn’t doable, Teddy.” I took another step. “I can’t get you the money in a way that will satisfy you. For example, suppose I gave you my word, would you trust me to leave and return with the money?”
“No, I would not. You would return with reinforcements.” His shoulders drooped a little.
“That’s exactly what I would do.” One more step. “Suppose I gave you the keys to my office and the combination to my safe. Would you leave us here to get the money by yourself?”
“No, I would not. I would not know if you gave me the right combination. Also, you would call the FBI when I left you alone.”
“And you couldn’t kill me for the same reason: The combination might be wrong.” I didn’t want Scarface to forget that he needed me alive.
“It is not�
�� practicable?” he said.
“That’s the correct use of the word, for all the good it will do you. And these guys…” I pointed at Bones and Moffett as I moved another step. “…would you trust them to get the money while you held both Doraleen and me hostage?”
“No. They would not come back for me. They would… abandon me, no? Abandon is the word?”
“Abandon you, yes.”
“It is not practicable.” He slumped a little more.
“You burned that bridge when you shot Moffett. Do I smell coffee?” I turned toward the door and took another small step. “Bones, did you make coffee in there? Is that a kitchen for the girls you keep downstairs?”
Scarface raised the Glock. “Stay where you are, McCrary.” His body language became tense, like a deer surprised in the forest.
I stopped, but I had moved six feet closer to the table while we talked. I winked my right eye at Doraleen, the one Scarface couldn’t see from his angle. “Doraleen, you should go into the kitchen. We could use some coffee.” I turned back to Scarface. “Would you like coffee, Teddy?”
Doraleen rose from the table. Her chair grated across the linoleum floor.
Scarface waved a Glock in her direction. “Stay where you are, Mrs. Rice.” The faint sweat stench oozed from him. Small perspiration beads covered his forehead. His scars glistened in the fluorescent lights.
I took another step. “You’re all alone, Teddy. Your best bet is to walk out of here before the FBI arrives.” I pointed at the door and moved another few inches. “You have a chance to escape. Don’t waste time. The FBI raided the Orange Peel. They’re on their way here. Run while you can.”
I turned to Bones. “Toss him the keys to the Caravan.”
Bones pulled out the key fob.
Scarface’s eyes widened. His breath came quicker. He was starting to panic. “Bones said no one knows this place except Pete the bookkeeper.”
Pete the bookkeeper? Maybe the nice catholic single father was not what he appeared.
If Scarface was panicking, it was time for me to turn up the heat. “Of course the FBI knows about this place. We all know about this place. How do you think I knew to come here? Every cop in the whole world knows about this place.” I looked at Doraleen and gestured with my chin toward the kitchen.
Day of the Tiger (A Carlos McCrary Mystery Thriller Book 5) Page 23
