by Alex Siegel
Sara was sitting at a bus stop across the street. She was wearing a dirty purple sweater and baggy gray pants. A wig made her appear like she hadn't washed her hair in a month.
Alfred had gone to the other extreme. His business suit was sharp and shiny. He had a real gold watch and a red silk tie. He was watching through the window of a coffee shop. A cup of coffee and a Danish were in front of him.
Seeing the food made Virgil wish he could eat something just for the experience. He missed the sensation of flavor and the satisfaction of a full stomach.
Haymaker was already far away and walking quickly north. The plan was to meet him at a Mexican restaurant half a mile away.
Virgil spotted a black van parked to the south. The windows were heavily tinted, and he couldn't see the interior.
"Stay with Haymaker," he murmured to Lisa. "I'm going to check out that van."
She nodded and walked off.
Virgil looked over at Sara. He used his eyes to indicate the van, and she nodded slightly. He guessed she had already noticed it. She remained at the bus stop.
Alfred left the coffee shop and walked north after Lisa.
Virgil considered how he would approach the van. He had to get close without being seen, but it wasn't obvious how to do it in broad daylight.
The question became moot when the van started up and drove north. Virgil caught a glimpse of two rough-looking men sitting in the front. He memorized the license plate as the van drove away. He quickly took out his phone and used a notepad app to write down the number. Using a high-tech device for such traditional police work felt odd.
Sara stood up. Both of them stayed on their respective sides of the street as they walked towards the Mexican restaurant. The day was warm and sunny. Virgil made a special effort to enjoy the nice weather because he might never experience it again.
* * *
Slattery's phone rang.
He answered it immediately, "Yes?"
"The target is eating lunch at a place called Panchos," a male voice said.
"What about the others?"
"We saw a well-dressed man and a black woman. Could be them in disguise."
"Stay on it," Slattery said, "but don't get caught. If they spot you, get the hell out of there."
* * *
Panchos Restaurant occupied a space in the ground floor of a brick apartment building. A sign advertised "Authentic Mexican Cuisine," but Virgil had his doubts. He had eaten plenty of meals in Mexico, and most Mexican restaurants in the United States served food that was hardly the same.
Virgil didn't need to approach the restaurant. Alfred had already gone inside to stay close to Haymaker. Sara had resumed her homeless act on an opposite street corner. Virgil didn't see Lisa but knew she was hiding somewhere in the area.
Virgil saw the black van again. It was parked in a shopping center across the street from the restaurant.
Getting close would be relatively easy this time because other cars provided plenty of cover. He ran around to the side of the parking lot and started working his way inwards. He crouched down so low, his knees were against his chest. The van had no windows on the sides, and the small ones in back were tinted black. The engine was running.
Virgil reached a spot behind the van where the driver wouldn't see him in the side mirror. Virgil wasn't sure what to do next though. He couldn't look through a window without exposing himself. Opening a door would lead to potentially violent conflict. Getting into a fight in the middle of a public parking lot in broad daylight wasn't ideal.
He didn't have much choice though.
He knocked politely on a back door. "Hey, guys!" he said in a friendly manner. "What's going on?"
Virgil reached under his shirt and put his hand on his gun.
"Go away!" a man barked from inside the van.
Virgil maintained his friendly tone. "Is something happening in there?"
"I'm warning you!"
"I work for mall security. I have to see what you're doing."
The back door abruptly opened. A man leaned out and sprayed orange mist into Virgil's face. He assumed it was pepper spray, but it had no effect on him. He barely blinked.
"It's one of the guys!" the man with the pepper spray yelled.
Virgil looked through the open door and saw dozens of video monitors on racks. He heard static hiss coming from several radio receivers. A sophisticated operation, he thought.
"Get out of the way!" somebody at the front of the van yelled.
The man with the pepper spray dived to one side. Another man was holding a shotgun aimed at Virgil's face.
Virgil dodged just as the shotgun went off. A birdshot pellet caught him in the cheek.
The van's engine roared. It squealed away amid a cloud of tire smoke. Virgil had the presence of mind to grab the rear bumper, and he held on tight. One of the back doors was still open. He began to pull himself into the van.
A tire iron slammed his face and then pounded his hands ferociously. The man holding the tire iron was swinging with all his strength. Virgil lost his grip for a critical instant. He fell off the van, slid across the parking lot, and stopped against a car tire.
He looked down at his right hand and saw broken fingers. They would heal quickly.
The more important problem was that the van was getting away. The back door slammed closed as it made a hard corner. Virgil stood up and began to run even though he probably wouldn't catch the van.
Lisa came flying off the roof of a building. She had been hiding on top of a bank branch near the entrance of the parking lot. She smashed recklessly into the passenger door of the van. Her fist shattered the window, and she grabbed a man inside the van by the arm. She held on with a death grip as her body flopped around outside the door.
Lisa battled to get in through the broken window, and her opponent struggled to push her off. She wouldn't let go, and he ended up coming out the window instead. The two of them landed hard on the street and rolled to a stop.
The van sped off, blowing through a stop light as it escaped.
Virgil caught up to them. Black ooze showed where Lisa had suffered some nasty scrapes, but he was sure she would recover quickly. Being thrown from a moving car wasn't enough to seriously hurt her.
The man who had come with her wasn't so lucky. He was a bloody mess. His right arm had a compound fracture, and the angle his knee was bent also looked bad. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing.
Virgil looked around. Traffic had stopped, and the people in the cars were talking on their phones. He expected they were calling the police. With the station so near, the response would be quick.
Lisa got to her feet. "What do we do?"
"We have to interrogate this guy," Virgil said, "but we can't do that here. Commandeer a car."
Lisa immediately ran to the nearest car and knocked on the window. "Help! Help!" she cried.
The driver opened the door. She grabbed him by the arm and threw him onto the street.
"We need your car!" she yelled. "This guy needs to go to the hospital!"
The driver stayed on the pavement with wide eyes.
Virgil picked up the injured man and slung him over a shoulder like a sack of sand. Virgil ran over and put the man in the back seat of the commandeered car.
He heard a siren in the distance.
"Time to go!" he barked.
Lisa sat with the injured man in back. Virgil took the wheel of the still running car. He put the car in gear and sped off.
* * *
Slattery's phone rang, and he snatched it off the table. He was having a beer in a bar while he waited for news. He had chosen a corner booth away from any other customers.
"Yes?" he said.
"We had trouble. One of them spotted us, and we were forced to run. The guy took a face full of pepper spray and hardly blinked. Then he dodged a shotgun blast. I had to beat him off with a tire wrench!"
Slattery grimaced. "You got away, right?"
"All
but one of us. We had to leave Jerry behind."
"That's not good." Slattery closed his eyes.
"Don't worry," the man on the phone said. "He'll never talk."
"We have to assume he will. What does he know?"
"Not much."
"He knows where your office is," Slattery said. "Go back there and prepare for hostile company."
"What about the detective?"
"Your assignment was to find his friends. Looks like they found you instead. Bye."
Slattery hung up. After a moment of consideration, he called Ken Walton using a special secure number. Supposedly, the call would be untraceable.
Mr. Walton answered, "Yes?"
"This is your man in the field. I'm sorry to report things have gone a bit crooked."
"That didn't take long."
"Haymaker's buddies flushed out my guys," Slattery said, "but one got caught."
"I see. Who are these 'guys'?"
"A private security firm named Silver Bullet Security. It's a shady outfit I found on the south side. They're not picky about their clients as long as the money is green."
"What did you tell them?" Walton said.
"Almost nothing, sir. They don't know my name, and they certainly don't know about you. They are expendable."
"Good, good. I guess it's just a matter of time before Silver Bullet Security has visitors."
"I already warned them," Slattery said.
"A mere warning will not be sufficient, I'm afraid. They will be like lambs before lions." Walton paused. "I think I can use this to my advantage. Haymaker and his comrades are in for a nasty surprise."
Slattery smiled. "What did you have in mind?"
"That would be telling. You should just stay away. I'll call if I need any more help from you. What's the address of the firm?"
* * *
"What's your name?" Virgil asked.
The man on the ground stubbornly kept his mouth closed.
"That's OK," Virgil said. "You can play tough until my friends get here. Then we'll get serious."
He and Lisa were standing over their captive in a heavily wooded area. Cook County had several forest preserves interspersed between suburban towns. The preserves were perfect for long nature hikes and catching glimpses of native wildlife. They were big enough to feel like a natural forest instead of a park inside a city. Tall trees grew close together and blocked out the sun. Nobody would hear the man scream.
He was awake but incapacitated and moaning with pain. A bloody strip of cloth was wrapped around his gruesomely injured arm. His knee wasn't exactly broken, but it wasn't useful either. Virgil and Lisa had their guns pointed at his head just to be safe.
Virgil heard feet crunching on dry litter. He looked and saw Sara, Alfred, and Haymaker approaching.
Sara arrived first and immediately knelt down to examine the injured man. She frowned at his broken arm.
"He needs to go to a hospital," she said.
Virgil wasn't going to suggest she heal him. The team had been warned repeatedly to use their powers only when necessary for the mission. Fixing a thug's broken arm didn't meet that standard.
"Later," Virgil said, "after he talks. What's your name?"
He used his special stare on the man. He squealed and squeezed his eyes shut.
Lisa leaned over him. "Your name."
She stroked the man's cheek with the tip of her finger, and she left a trail of purple, swollen skin. He screeched like she had touched him with a hot branding iron.
"Well?" Lisa said.
"Jerry!" he gasped. "My name is Jerry!"
"That wasn't so hard," Virgil said. "Now look at me."
"No."
"Are you afraid? You're not man enough to look me in the eye?"
Jerry slowly opened his eyes. Virgil continued to use his stare to scorch Jerry's soul.
"Who do you work for?" Virgil growled.
Jerry shook his head.
"You feel that guilt?" Virgil said. "That shame? That feeling God has abandoned you? All that and an eternity of suffering is waiting for you after you die. When you look in my eyes, you can see I'm telling the truth. You're not dead yet though. You have time to redeem yourself a little. You can start by talking to me. Or maybe I should ask my partner to touch you again." He nodded towards Lisa.
She smiled in a demonic way.
Jerry swallowed. "I work for Silver Bullet Security."
"And what sort of outfit is that?" Virgil said.
"People pay us for help with... problems. Sometimes we stop trouble. Sometimes we cause it."
"Professional goons for hire. Independent contractors."
"I guess," Jerry said, "but we're the best. We get paid top dollar."
"I'm sure. What was your specific assignment this time?"
"To follow that guy." Jerry looked at Detective Haymaker. "The client expected him to lead us to you."
"Well, you found us," Virgil said. "Good job. Who is the client?"
"I don't know."
Virgil turned his gaze up to full power. Jerry used his good hand to shield his eyes.
"I don't know!" he cried. "I was just told about the job. My boss talked to the client."
"Who is your boss, and where can I find him?"
"We call him Horn Dog. He's back at the office."
"What's the address?" Virgil said.
"111th and South Whipple."
"Good. I hope you're telling the truth. I don't want to come back here for another conversation. Good bye." Virgil started walking.
"Hey!" Jerry said. "You can't just leave me in the woods. I can't walk. I'm hurt."
Virgil looked back. "Somebody will discover you eventually. Just keep yelling for help. Until then, I want you to think about the bad choices that brought you to this sad condition, and the better choices you'll make in the future. You're lucky you still have a future. Some of us don't have that luxury."
He resumed walking, and the rest of his team followed.
After a moment, Haymaker said, "Something strange about his story. Why did Mr. X use independents to follow me?"
"For safety," Virgil said. "If one of them got caught, our captive wouldn't be able to lead us back to Mr. X."
"Well, one of them did get caught, and Mr. X knows about it by now."
"Which means when we show up at Silver Bullet Security, it won't be a surprise."
"We'll be walking into another ambush," Haymaker said.
"Yes."
Nobody spoke for a moment. The woods were very peaceful as they hiked along a trail leading back to the parking lot. Virgil spotted a deer grazing, but the presence of people didn't spook it.
"We don't have a choice," he said. "We have to proceed, but we don't have to be stupid about it. Alfred and I will go into the lion's den. We'll be nice and friendly. Between his abilities and mine, we should be able to defuse any hostilities. Sara, Lisa, and Haymaker will stay outside and watch our backs. Take out the ambushers before they ambush us. Agreed?"
Everybody nodded.
"Don't worry," Lisa said. "Nobody will mess with you on my watch."
Virgil smiled at her. "I believe that. I really do."
* * *
Virgil parked in front of a small office building in a rough neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. The building was four stories tall, and the façade was made of glass and steel. The sides and back were more traditional brick construction though. Only a small sign by the door indicated which businesses occupied the building, and Silver Bullet Security was at the bottom of the list.
Virgil and Alfred got out. The rest of the team had taken a second car, and Virgil didn't look for them. He didn't want to give away their position in case an adversary was watching. The operation was already more precarious than he liked.
"They'll ask what happened to their friend Jerry," Alfred said. "What do you want to tell them?"
"That he sent us here," Virgil said.
"His boss won't be happy about that."
/> "His boss won't be happy about a lot of things we're going to tell him. Come on."
They were still wearing their disguises from earlier. Virgil looked like a detective, and Alfred was a wealthy businessman. Virgil wondered how long it would take to be recognized.
The two of them opened the front door of the building and entered the lobby.
"Freeze, assholes," a man said as he drew a gun.
Not long at all, Virgil thought. "You're with Silver Bullet Security?"
The man nodded.
"Good," Virgil said. "We want to talk to a guy who goes by the name Horn Dog."
"And he wants to talk to you. Hands up. Hold still." The man spoke into a microphone attached to his shirt collar. "They're in the lobby."
A minute later, four big guys came out of a door leading to a stairwell. They frisked Virgil and Alfred thoroughly. Several guns were taken away.
"We'll want those back," Virgil said. "Keep them safe."
He and Alfred were shoved to get them moving. The large group went up the stairs to the second floor. They walked down a dingy hallway lit by bare fluorescent lights and entered an office.
Virgil kept an eye on his guns the entire time. He might need them on short notice.
Silver Bullet Security had rented a large space, but it looked more like a bachelor pad than an office. There was a pool table, a wet bar, a giant television, and couches. Virgil saw only scattered evidence that real security work was ever performed. Cameras, binoculars, parabolic microphones, and radios were placed on shelves. A big wooden desk and a leather chair with a tall back were in the corner.
"Hello," a man said. "I guess Jerry told you who he worked for. We'll settle that score the next time I see him."
"Are you Horn Dog?" Virgil asked.
The man nodded. He was bald and wearing sunglasses which was almost a tradition among security professionals. His big body filled out a black suit, a black shirt, and a black tie. He carried a pistol in a holster openly on his hip. A crowd of other tough guys surrounded him.
"Where are your friends?" Horn Dog said. "There are supposed to be five of you including the detective."
"We felt just the two of us would be enough," Virgil said.
