“You fuckin’ cunt. You release me this second, or I swear, when I get off this table, I will fuck you ten ways from Sunday, and then I will strangle you with your own intestines.” Sara walked over and pulled an IV bag from a refrigerator in the room while Espinoza continued to threaten her. She fixed the IV tubing and put an extra large needle on the end then dropped the uncapped needle and the tubing on the floor while carrying it over to Andre on the table. The veins in his arms were pulsing on the surface of his skin.
“You have made it so much easier to set a line, sir.” She stepped on the needle on the floor with her shoe then picked it up and jammed the four inch spike into his throbbing vein. She took a syringe and pulled back to make sure she had a good line, and thick red blood filled the syringe. She taped it off and then walked back over to a cabinet across from the table and pulled out a syringe full of clear liquid. She walked back over to Espinoza and said as she stuck the needle into the IV, “You don’t know where you are, do you?” He screamed more obscenities at her, and she said, “You really should be more polite to the wife of the Iron Eagle.”
Andre fell silent, and his eyes got as big as saucers as she smiled at him and pushed the solution into his body quicker. He was starting to pass out from the drug when she said, “When I tell the Eagle the things you said to me, well…I don’t know the extent of the things you have done that brought you into his lair, but I can promise you it will add tenfold to whatever he is going to do to you.” Andre started to make a sound like a scream, but it never made it to the top of his throat. He was out on the gurney, and Sara said to him as she walked out, shutting the operating room door behind her, “You are going to have a really, really bad night as are some other people I fear.”
She walked over to the main entrance, and the girls were there. Sara knew that the Eagle’s identity was safe with Barbara and would be safe with Gail. It was Jade that was the wild card, but she needed her medical expertise to help treat the girls and get the other rooms ready for what she knew was going to be a long and bloody night.
Don Bartell stood in front of a bank of computers. Garrison Cantrell was nowhere in sight. He looked at the screens, and they had all kinds of data flying back and forth on six different monitors. He held up the GPS tracker he had for Garrison, and the signal ended right there. Garrison’s unit was sitting on a stool in front of the computers fully intact. It had not been tampered with. It had simply been removed with the proper tool. Don looked around the house, but there was no sign of Garrison. He pulled his phone from his pocket and went to dial when he heard Cantrell’s voice behind him.
“I’m afraid that’s a call that I can’t allow you to make, Mr. Bartell.” Bartell turned slowly to see Cantrell in camouflage clothing and face paint standing in the doorway behind him. “It’s been you all along…you’re the one killing the police.” Cantrell was holding a nine millimeter with a silencer on the barrel.
“Pretty damn brilliant, don’t you think? I mean, I have to be honest, when they released me on pretrial release and then with the GPS, I was a little worried. But then they assigned me to YOU…Mr. Nice Guy, also Mr. Lazy Guy. I knew that the odds that you and I would cross paths outside of your office were slim to none. I also knew that I ran a risk of you making a house call and me not being here and that could be trouble. Such a wonderful confluence of events. My team has finished all but a few targets, and I’m doing the clean-up on some others. As for you, Mr. Bartell, I have no need for you. You are not even a good person to keep around as a bargaining chip…like I would need one…and I’m not the hostage-taking type. You’re worthless to me, so if you would be so kind as to step this way you would save me a lot of work.”
Cantrell waved the gun at Bartell, and he complied. “That’s great, Mr. Bartell. Please follow me. Don’t even think of running. I will cut you down before you make it three steps. Cooperation is your best chance here. You do understand that, right Don?” He nodded slowly as he followed Cantrell through the house to a small doorway that led into a garage. Cantrell stepped to the side and motioned with the gun for Bartell to enter. Don stepped off the threshold of the doorway and could hear the sound of plastic under his feet. “A little farther in, please, Don.” Don complied until he was facing a large sheet of thick clear plastic at the far end of the garage. “Turn around, please.” He did as asked. “Do you have any children, Don?” He shook his head. “Are you married?” “He shook his head again.” “It’s quite unusual to meet a man your age…what are you? Sixty three?” “Um…sixty four,” Bartell said, his voice trembling. “WOW…that old, never married, and no kids. Never been married?” He shook his head. “Are you gay?” Bartell shook his head again. “Damn, Don. Do you have any family who would miss you?”
Bartell began to shake violently and fell to his knees. “Oh God, please, I have no one. I mean you no harm, Garrison. I had nothing to do with what happened to you. I’m just doing my job. For the love of God, please don’t kill me.” Cantrell lowered the gun to his side and said, “I never meant for anyone but those on the list to come to harm, Don. I never intended for this to happen. I feel just terrible about all of it.” Cantrell raised the gun and fired one shot between Bartell’s eyes, and his head jerked back and blood splattered onto the plastic behind him. He stood for several seconds just staring at Garrison. He stood there. His eyes fixed on his shooter and asked, “Why Garrison? Why did you do that to me?” Cantrell stood speechless but only for a moment. “I must have split the hemispheres with that shot. Damn. You’re one lucky fuckin’ guy, Don. One in a million people could have survived that.”
Bartell started to walk toward Cantrell, and he said, “One in a million, Don, but not two, and he fired again. Bartell crumpled to the floor. His skull laid open and brain matter was all over the plastic. Garrison took down the sheeting and wrapped up Bartell’s body then drug it out to a compost heap that he had in the rear of his home. He opened the large box and picked up Bartell’s body and threw it into the dark canister.
He closed the lid and walked back into the house. He left everything as it was. The garage was clean, no sign of the killing. He put up more plastic, walked inside, grabbed a beverage from the refrigerator, and took a drink. He looked at his watch. It was midnight. He said, “Well, now is as good a time as any to wake Rick and Vince. It’s time for them to die.” He walked out the front door and around the corner to his car and headed for Sherman Oaks.
Chapter Eighteen
“Where does this lead?”
Sara said, “To the pits of hell!”
The air was still, and the lights of the San Fernando Valley shimmered in the early morning darkness. It was half past two a.m., and Jim, Charlie, and Steve had parked a few blocks down from Rick and Vince’s home. “Nice neighborhood,” Jim said. Charlie let out a sigh and said, “Yea, this area is pretty sparse, not a lot of rebuilding after the fires. I have a house a few blocks away.” “You would rebuild in a neighborhood of faggots?” Jim asked with a chuckle. “They are actually really good neighbors, and when I’m home that’s what I want, quiet mother fuckin’ neighbors.” Jim helped Steve get out of the car and into his wheelchair.
Jim looked at Steve and asked, “Are you sure you want to get into this? You can’t run, and I could end up getting killed trying to keep you alive.” Steve nodded and said, “You don’t have to worry about me. I can still stand if I really, really have to. I have been practicing when Gail’s not around. It’s hard, but as of yesterday morning I was still able to pull myself up out of this chair.”
Jim said, “Great. You can’t run or walk, but you can stand…that’s just fuckin’ great, Steve. So you will be able to make yourself a larger target for the killer.” Charlie pointed to some rocks that were near Rick and Vince’s home and a stand of trees across the street. “I would bet that our killer is going to take up a sniper position over in those trees. I will cover the front of the house from there.” Jim looked around and asked
, “What the fuck makes you think he won’t come from the back?” Charlie laughed quietly. “For a white boy who fought in the Marine Corps, you sure have forgotten a lot of your training. The back of this house is a steep hillside. The shooter is at a disadvantage trying to shoot from that angle. This guy’s advantage in all of his killings with his sniper rifle is elevation. This asshole has the advantage of the cover of night, and I will assume camouflage and night vision to keep out of sight.”
Jim went to say something, and Charlie said, “Look, O’Brian, do you want to stand here talking as open targets, or do you want to get your ass into position and some cover? The last I heard you were whining about getting shot. Well, if you want to get shot again and not survive, stand here in the open and argue. I’m going to take a position in those trees.” Charlie moved across the street and disappeared. Steve and Jim moved down a long driveway that led to the main house. There was a large stand of bushes in view of the front door and the windows to the house. The two men moved into position, and Steve asked, “Are we going to wake them or just sit here with our cocks in our hands?” Jim frowned and looked at the front entrance to see where he could rouse the two men inside when the lights in one of the rooms came on. “Well, we don’t have to worry about waking them.” Steve nodded, and Jim told him to stay undercover while he made his way to the front door. Steve sat silent as Jim moved down the drive in the darkness to the house.
The Eagle watched and waited for the woman he heard talking to El Compo to appear in the room. It wasn’t long before the door opened and in walked a too familiar face. Mary Rogers had entered the room. Stunned, the Eagle stood staring as Mary made her way through the stable of girls. She walked up to the girls on their stomachs that had just been branded and smacked them on their brands. There were cries and weeping, and she told them in a quiet whisper in Spanish to be silent or die. The Eagle pulled out a tranquilizer gun and pointed it at Mary. She looked up as the Eagle pushed the door open. She never got a word out before hearing the sound of the gun and the thud of the dart striking her abdomen. The Eagle approached, and she was still conscious. “Really, counselor? You’re in on this mess? You’re helping this man sell women into sexual servitude, slavery, and prostitution?” Mary looked into the dead eyes of the Eagle and said, “How did you find me?” “I didn’t find you. You found me. I’m after Mr. El Compo. You’re just the icing on the cake of this citywide corruption.”
Mary was passing out when she asked, “Who…are…you?” “How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Iron Eagle.” Mary’s face turned to horror as she slid down onto her side, and her head rested on the back of one of the branded girls. The Eagle threw her over his shoulder and took her to the laundry room where he bound her and hid her in a laundry hamper. He walked back into the room and made his way back to the upper door. He went to push the door open when it opened on its own. He moved back behind the opening door, which hid him as it swung open, and he waited for the person on the other side.
Charlie had made his way up the hillside across from the house and saw some concrete steps. He moved up to the top of them to find the burned out remains of a home. He could also see several skeletal remains near a masonry fireplace. He looked at them and whispered to himself, “Well, I can take the Marks’ off the missing person’s board.” He looked around and saw another set of concrete stairs that led higher onto the property.
Charlie knew Emily and Scott Marks well. He had been to their home many times through the years. They were both university professors and were well known for their parties. Charlie knew that those stairs led to a large concrete patio that the Marks’ had built several decades earlier. It would be the perfect vantage point to look down on the house. He started up the steep steps to gain an advantage on the killer.
Ricardo Pina had woken early as was his norm after a night of rough sex. He and Vince had made a pact when they became a couple that they were both tops, and that they both gave each other pleasure, and that included each allowing the other anal sex. Vince had a large cock, and when Ricardo had to take him, he always ended up in pain and unable to sleep. And last night had been his night to be the ‘cushion.’ Rick walked bowed legged into the kitchen and poured himself a shot of whisky and drank it quickly. He grimaced as the liquor ran into his mouth and down his sore throat where Vince’s cock had been only an hour earlier. The whisky numbed his throat, and he took a second shot, and the pain started to dissipate.
Vince walked nude into the kitchen and said, “I’m sorry, Rick. I forget how hard I am on you.” Rick was leaning against the counter in the kitchen and said, “It’s not your fault, honey. It’s been our agreement for ten years. I can handle you in my ass once I dilate, then it’s heaven. You came hard tonight. It’s the aftermath that takes me a day or so to get over.” Vince walked over and grabbed Rick’s cock and kissed him, then moved down and started to give him head. Vince stood up and said, “Come back to bed. I will take one for the team, big guy. That always makes you feel better.” They smiled, and Rick handed Vince a shot of whisky and said, “Now that’s an invitation too good to turn down. I’m going to pound you hard!” Vince shot the whisky and said as he grimaced while swallowing the liquor, “I…would…expect…nothing less. Punish my ass!”
Jim could see the two men through the front window, and he saw more than he wanted to. He watched as the two men held hands and started across the living room to what he could only assume was the bedroom. There were no curtains, and Jim knew why. The house was set down off the road. There would be no way to see in unless you were high up at the right angle. Jim was getting ready to move for the front door when he heard the crack of glass. He looked in to see Vince and Rick both standing almost frozen. There was a second crack, and Jim watched helplessly as Vince and Patrick fell to the floor in their living room. Jim looked back up the hill into the darkness of the trees where Charlie had gone. He started back toward Steve through the darkness, and when he got to him Steve asked, “What the fuck just happened?” “Sniper.” Steve looked around and said, “Then he has night vision, and if he has night vision he sees us.” Jim nodded. There was a moment without movement when suddenly Steve rolled his wheelchair into the middle of the driveway.
He waved his arms. He was wearing an FBI windbreaker, and with what breath he could draw said, “I’m a cop, you son of a bitch. Go ahead and shoot me. Let’s take this to the federal level!” Jim ran out and grabbed the wheelchair and started to push Steve back when a voice called out from the darkness.
“I know you want to catch me, but you’re not going to. I have no beef with the FBI or the sheriff’s department. This is personal, and I have two targets left. I know that Captain Boyd is still alive. One of my men was killed in the gas explosion at his home. While it saddens me that I lost a comrade, he wasn’t paying attention, and the Eagle got him.” Jim and Steve looked at each other as the shooter continued. “Yes…I know that the Iron Eagle is hunting me. I also know that he has one of my men, and that he is saving the victims of some of the others. I mean him no harm either. He does what he does, and I do what I do. The Iron Eagle is safe unless he tries to stop me, and if he does, I will gladly trade my life for his. I know you know the Eagle, Sheriff. Please let him know I wish him no harm. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to deal with Mr. Boyd and with LAPD Police Chief Albert Ralston. Who will I take out first? Hmm….I guess you will just have to wait and see.”
It grew quiet, and a shot interrupted the darkness. Jim locked the brakes on Steve’s wheelchair and took off up the drive and across the street to the concrete steps that Charlie had headed for. Jim ran as fast as he could. He was running on pure adrenaline. He reached the top of the stairs, and saw Charlie on the ground. Jim ran over and called out, “Charlie, fuck, Charlie?” Jim got to him, and Charlie raised his head and said, “I hit him in the right shoulder. I hit the white son of a bitch in the shoulder, Jim. He’s wounded.” Jim pulled a small Maglite off his belt
and shined it down onto Charlie. “Jesus Christ, Charlie, you’re hit.” He could see that Charlie had been shot in the chest, and he could also tell that he was not wearing his vest. “Jesus Christ, Charlie! You don’t have your vest on.” “Who needs a vest when I’m shining a seat with my nigger ass.”
Charlie let out a light laugh. Jim had lifted him into his arms, and Charlie was lying across Jim’s arms and knees. Charlie looked up at Jim and said, “Ain’t this a bitch? The last person I’m going to see in this life is your whitey ginger face!” Jim looked down into Charlie’s dying eyes, and as he released his last breath, Jim said, “Oh go fuck yourself!” Charlie’s last words to Jim were, “I already did!” Jim held Charlie’s lifeless body in his arms as he heard Steve calling to him in the darkness and the sound of sirens in the distance. Steve had called 911 and sent out a distress call. Jim laid Charlie down on the burnt out remains of the house and said, “I’m sorry I have to leave you like this. I have to get this son of a bitch, especially if you wounded him.”
Jim stood up and walked down the stairs and across the street to Steve who had managed to release the brakes on his chair and wheel his way to the top of the drive. The first units arrived on scene, and Jim shouted out orders and directions to Charlie’s body then pushed Steve to his car. Jim took out a coin and said, “There are two guys left alive on this asshole’s list. Heads we go and try to save Ralston, tails we try to save Boyd.” Jim tossed the coin in the air and told Steve to call it. “Heads…Boyd’s an asshole who deserves to die.” The coin landed on the street, and Jim pointed his flashlight at it. Steve said, “We better get going. The fucking killer’s got a head start to Ralston’s house.” Jim put Steve in the car, started the engine, and sped off down the street to Ventura Boulevard and the 101 Freeway in the hopes of saving Ralston.
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