Hunters pa-3

by W. E. B Griffin

  "You don't want some company on this excursion?"

  "No. The rest of you go on high alert. It's possible that this excursion is being set up as a feint to cut down the people sitting on Kocian. The priority is still to keep him alive."

  Alex Darby thought over what he had just been told.

  "You're not going to tell me what this is all about?"

  "Well, one thing is to determine whether Pevsner is one of the semigood guys or the unscrupulous murderous bastard most people think he is."

  "How do you think that determination will come out?"

  "We're about to find out," Castillo said, then added, "We just turned onto Route 8," and broke the connection. When they reached the safe house in the Mayerling Country Club, Castillo saw that the Traffik was now parked on the driveway so that it blocked a view of the main door of the house from the street and that enough room had been left between it and the shallow steps up to the door for the BMW. From the street, no one would be able to see the BMW.

  "Les, pull between the Traffik and the house," Castillo ordered, softly.

  "Yes, sir."

  The door of the house was closed and Castillo could see neither Davidson nor Kensington. But when Bradley had stopped the car and Castillo started to open the door so that he could go in the house and see where the hell they were, Delchamps touched his arm and pointed toward the Traffik.

  The rear door was open and Davidson looked as if he was quickly prepared to jump into the BMW.

  Castillo waved him off.

  "There's more room in the van," Castillo said.

  Delchamps opened his door and ran around the front of the BMW and quickly got into the Traffik.

  "No, Max!" Castillo ordered sternly and reached around the dog and opened the rear door.

  Max looked at both open doors, decided they had been opened for him, and that he had misunderstood Castillo-that what Castillo had really said was, "Go, Max!"

  "Oh, shit!" Castillo said, then slid across the seat and followed Max into the van. He saw that Alfredo Munz was seated in the third row of seats.

  "We're going to meet Aleksandr Pevsner," Castillo said. "They expect us-Delchamps, Munz, and me-to be in the Bimmer. So we'll be in this. If they hit the BMW-a real possibility-just get the hell out of the line of fire. If anybody is here, they're probably ex-Stasi and therefore good at what they do. And while I would really like to take them out, a firefight with bodies lying all over would cause all sorts of problems I don't need."

  "Where do you think they're going to hit us, Colonel?" Jack Davidson asked. "On the road somewhere? The highway?"

  "Let's find out," Castillo said and took out his cellular, punched an autodial button, and then the SPEAKERPHONE button.

  "?Hola?" Pevsner's voice loudly came over the phone.

  "You really ought to work on getting rid of the Russian accent," Castillo said. "You really sound funny."

  "Well?"

  "Tell me more about this suite of yours in the Sheraton," Castillo said.

  "Alfredo has agreed to meet me with me?"

  "No. I'm thinking of taking a suite in the hotel myself," Castillo said, "and thought I'd have a look at yours first."

  "It's on the fourth floor, 407," Pevsner said. "There is a stairway, then the elevators, and 407 is the second door on the right."

  "And who would be in 407 if I decided to call?"

  "No one. May I make a proposal?"

  "Go ahead."

  "You tell me when you can be there and I will get there ten minutes before you do. There is a basement garage…"

  "People have been known to get whacked in basement garages."

  "There is also an outside parking garage. But people going to and from it are far more visible than those using the basement garage. Your choice."

  "That's your proposal?"

  "I will have Janos check out the suite or he and I will check it out."

  "And then?"

  "There is a lobby bar. If you park outside, walk across the lobby and there it is. If you park in the basement, there is an elevator. Take it to the lobby floor and then turn right. Janos will go there and bring you to the suite."

  "You will come to the bar," Castillo said.

  "All right."

  "I can leave here in five minutes and it will take me twenty minutes to get there," Castillo said.

  "Thank you. And tell Alfredo I said thank you."

  "Twenty-five minutes, Alek. Be there," Castillo said and broke the connection.

  "It's only ten minutes from here to the Sheraton, Karl," Munz said, in German.

  "I know," Castillo said. "As soon as Davidson and Kensington get in the Bimmer, we'll go to the basement parking garage in this. Jack, you wait five minutes and then you go there. Tell Bradley to drive slowly."

  "I'm not sure Bradley knows where the hotel is, Carlos," Solez said, in Spanish.

  "Good. In case somebody's watching, let them see him looking for it as if he doesn't know where it is," Castillo said. "When you get to the basement, park somewhere where we can get out in a hurry. Pevsner probably will be in a big black Mercedes, an S600, operative word probably."

  "Got it," Davidson said. "I'm a little confused, Charley. Are you going to be in that bar or what?"

  "Not on your life. If Pevsner shows up when he's supposed to, in the basement garage, the minute he gets out of it we'll get out and join him. And go right to his suite. That's when we'll really have to have our back covered."

  "Got it," Davidson repeated.

  "Okay you two. Get in the BMW."

  Davidson and Kensington moved to the car. Kensington returned to hand Castillo a small package just as Solez was starting the engine.

  Castillo opened it. It was the Micro Uzi and its magazines.

  "Not to worry, Ace," Delchamps said. "Everybody gets a little forgetful once in a while, especially when they get older."

  Castillo chose not to respond. Instead, he said, "Don't get us pinched for speeding, Ricardo, but the sooner we get there, the better." Castillo had seen the Sheraton Pilar Hotel before and remembered where it was, but he had never paid much attention to it. Now he wanted to.

  "Drive real slow when you get close to the hotel, Ricardo," he ordered.

  Solez missed the turn off of Route 8. They now would have to go to the next exit, by the Jumbo shopping center, cross the highway on an overpass, and approach the hotel by a service road.

  Castillo kept himself from snapping at Solez and was glad he had when he realized that it was probably a good thing Solez had missed the turn. Now they'd have a chance to look over the hotel and the approaches to it more slowly.

  As they came close to the Sheraton Pilar Hotel and Convention Center, a fairly new brick-walled structure four or five stories high, Castillo saw, in a line of small businesses, a glass-fronted store with ECO LAUNDRY AND DRY CLEANING on the window. There were two white vans like the one Davidson had told him Bradley had chased around Mayerling on his bicycle.

  Hell, better safe than sorry. Davidson did the right thing.

  When they turned into the hotel's driveway two hundred yards later, Castillo saw that the outside parking lot Pevsner had mentioned was to the left of the main entrance to the atrium lobby. To the right was another entrance that looked deserted.

  That one, Castillo decided after a moment, was obviously the convention entrance to the Hotel and Convention Center. There was a small sign with an arrow pointing to the underground garage.

  There was a rather steep down ramp. When Solez took a time-stamped parking ticket from a machine at the bottom, a fragile-looking barrier pole rose, giving them access.

  That barrier wouldn't keep anybody out of here, but it probably sets off an alarm if somebody goes through it.

  The low-ceilinged garage was not crowded, maybe fifty, sixty vehicles. There was room for at least twice that many cars.

  Strange. It's the dinner hour. It should be nearly full. Answer: This garage was designed to handle convention traffic.
Obviously, there is no convention tonight.

  "Circle it once, Ricardo," Castillo ordered. "And then park over there."

  He pointed to a spot which would give them quick access to the exit ramp. Another frail-looking barrier pole guarded that.

  Obviously, Ricardo is going to pay that ticket the machine gave him or have it stamped, or whatever, to get that barrier pole to rise.

  If we have to leave here in a hurry, so long barrier pole and off goes the alarm!

  There was, near one end of the garage, another white ECO laundry and dry-cleaning truck backed up to what was probably a service elevator. Large, white cloth-sided wheeled baskets were clustered around the truck.

  This place is nice, but it's not the MGM Grand in Las Vegas with-what did I hear?-some five thousand rooms? It probably makes more economic sense for the hotel to have the local laundry do the sheets and towels as necessary rather than running its own laundry.

  When Solez had backed the Traffik into the spot Castillo had picked, he saw that it had been a lucky choice. It gave him a pretty good view of most of the garage. He could see the down ramp and the opening of a passageway with signs and an arrow pointing to the elevator.

  "Now we wait," Delchamps said. "This is the part I love best about this job."

  "You think he's going to come?" Castillo asked.

  "Come, yeah," Delchamps said. "But with who and with what purpose in mind?"

  "Ricardo, I don't suppose you have a leash?"

  "A what?"

  "For Max. I think he needs to take a leak. Walk him up the exit ramp and then, when you come back, walk him around the garage before you come back to the van. Let's see what he smells."

  Solez didn't reply.

  "I'd do it myself, Ricardo, but these people might know me, or at least have a description of me, and you're an unknown quantity."

  "I'll have to use my belt," Solez said.

  "Max, go with Ricardo," Castillo ordered. Five minutes later, Solez and Max got back in the van.

  "When we walked past the laundry truck," Solez reported, "Max got real antsy. It was all I could do to hold him."

  "Maybe he doesn't like the smell of dirty laundry," Delchamps said.

  "And maybe he smelled guns. He doesn't like that smell. When the Bimmer gets here, I'll give Davidson a heads-up."

  "Why don't you do that now, Ace?" Delchamps said.

  "Because Jack Davidson is a devout believer in the preemptive strike."

  "Well, tell him to behave. You're a colonel. You can do that."

  Castillo pushed an autodial button on his cellular.

  "We're about two minutes out, Colonel," Davidson answered. "Lester missed the turn."

  "There's an ECO laundry truck down here. It may be picking up laundry, but Max smelled something he didn't like. Just be aware it's there. No, repeat, no preemptive strike, Jack. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir." Two minutes later, the big dark blue BMW rolled off the down ramp.

  Delchamps and Castillo readied their weapons. There had not been another Uzi available, so Darby had provided a Car-4.

  Two of them, Castillo thought, as Solez picked one from the floor of the van and worked the action.

  The BMW circled the parking garage and backed into a space across from them.

  Nothing happened.

  Castillo called Bradley on his cellular and hit the SPEAKERPHONE button.

  "Lester," he said, quietly, "go into the hotel, take a look around the corner and see if you see Pevsner or his gorilla or anybody interesting at the bar."

  "Yes, sir. Sir, if I may say so, that will also serve to suggest to the person in the cashier's office that I am notifying someone their car is available and alleviate any suspicion of my sitting here."

  "Very good, Lester. You're absolutely right."

  Castillo hit the cellular's END button, then chuckled and shook his head.

  "Don't be smug, Ace," Delchamps said. "The kid is right."

  "He usually is," Castillo said. "I didn't even think about the cashier." Nothing happened in the next four minutes, which seemed like much longer. "Lester's back," Solez said, pointing as Bradley walked back toward the BMW.

  "And there's Pevsner and Janos the Gorilla," Delchamps said, nodding toward the Mercedes-Benz on the down ramp. "So he did show."

  "Give them a chance to park the car and get out of it and then we'll join them," Castillo said. "'Hey there, Alek! Small world, isn't it?'"

  The big black Mercedes circled the garage. The heavily darkened windows of the BMW would permit him to see only Lester, which he would expect to do. But the same was true of the Mercedes. When it rolled past the Traffik, Castillo could see only Janos, not into the rear seat. Janos showed no interest in the Traffik.

  Well, what does that mean? Maybe Janos is the stalking horse and Pevsner's not in the backseat?

  Janos backed the Mercedes into a spot close to the parking garage cashier's office and the tunnel to the hotel. He got out, walked around to the right side of the car, and opened the rear door. Aleksandr Pevsner got out and started walking toward the tunnel, with Janos three steps behind.

  There was suddenly the sound of submachine gunfire, very loud in the low-ceilinged garage. Castillo saw where it was coming from. There were orange flashes from three, maybe four muzzles beside the white ECO laundry truck.

  "Oh, shit!" Castillo said as he jumped out of the Traffik.

  He saw that Pevsner was down, sprawled flat on the floor, and that Janos was sitting down, pistol in hand, bleeding from at least one wound in his side and looking dazed.

  Castillo emptied the Micro Uzi in two bursts directed in the general direction of the ECO truck and reached for a second magazine.

  Then came fire from the other side of the ECO laundry van, the peculiar, familiar sound of a Car-4 being fired in short controlled bursts of three to five rounds each.

  Who the hell is that? Davidson or Kensington? One of them must've got out of the car to cover the laundry truck.

  Then immediately-before Alfredo Munz, carrying a pistol, could get out of the Traffik-there came the sound of more short bursts from a Car-4 in the vicinity of the BMW and then the familiar report of a 1911A1 Colt.45 semiautomatic. The.45 was being fired steadily but some what slowly, suggesting aimed fire from a skilled pistoleer.

  "All down!" a voice that only after a moment Castillo recognized as that of Sergeant Major Jack Davidson called out. "Hold fire!"

  As Castillo, his ears ringing madly, ran to see what had happened to Pevsner, he saw Davidson running-carefully-toward the ECO van with his Car-4 at the ready.

  Janos, still sitting holding his pistol, looked at Castillo without comprehension-then fell over. Castillo dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. There was one.

  Where the hell is Pevsner?

  Max answered the question. The big dog was growling deep in his throat and trying unsuccessfully to get under the Mercedes.

  "Come out of there with your hands up!" a very sincere-if some what youthful-voice ordered from behind Castillo.

  Castillo turned to see Corporal Lester Bradley holding a 1911A1 Colt.45 in both hands aimed at the underside of the Mercedes.

  Well, now I know who that skilled, timed-firing pistoleer was.

  "Okay, Max," Castillo ordered, in Hungarian. "Sit!"

  Max, visibly reluctant to do so, sat but did not stop growling. His lips were drawn tight against a very impressive row of massive teeth.

  "Come out, Alek," Castillo called.

  When Max saw movement, he stood up.

  "Goddamn it, Max, sit!"

  Aleksandr Pevsner appeared.

  "Hands up, goddamn it!" Bradley ordered.

  Pevsner got to his knees, then to his feet, and raised both hands in the air.

  There is fear on ol' Alek's face. But what's scaring him? Max? Or the boy with the.45 pointed at his forehead? So far, he's managed not to get shot…

  "He's okay, Bradley," Castillo said, then saw the dog moving again. "Max! S
it!"

  "Can you control that animal so I can go to Janos?" Pevsner asked.

  "Go ahead," Castillo said, pointing a finger at Max and mouthing Stay!

  "Is he dead?" Pevsner asked as he dropped to his knees beside Janos.

  "Not as of thirty seconds ago," Castillo said.

  Davidson came running up.

  "All down, Colonel. Five of them," Davidson reported. "I knew goddamned well that goddamned ECO laundry truck was dirty. Now what?"

  "Now you help me get this guy in the Traffik," Castillo ordered, "and then you get Kensington in the BMW and get the hell out of here. I'll take Janos to the safe house."

  He looked across the garage, intending to signal Solez to get in the truck, and saw that the truck was already in motion but headed for the ECO van, not them.

  "Help me get Janos in the car," Pevsner pleaded. "I've got to get him to a hospital. Please."

  "Take a look at it, Alek, the Mercedes isn't going anywhere," Castillo said. "And we can't take him to a hospital with bullet wounds."

  The Mercedes was apparently only lightly armored. While the cabin was mostly intact, the headlights and hood were bullet-riddled, two tires-clearly not run-flat models-were punctured and flattened, there was the smell of gasoline, and the front windshield and left side windows were crazed.

  "What's going on down there?" Davidson asked, nodding in the direction of the ECO van.

  "I think Delchamps is taking pictures and collecting DNA samples and whatever else he can find that looks useful."

  "Look what I found," Davidson said, holding up a blued-steel garrote.

  Castillo shook his head slowly at the sight.

  Alfredo Munz came up.

  "I need to talk to you, Alfredo," Pevsner said.

  "Doesn't this speak for itself?" Munz said. "You've been betrayed, Alek, and you know by who."

  "I had my suspicions," Pevsner said. "I didn't want to accept them."

  "Would you have believed me if I told you?" Munz asked, almost sadly.

  "Bradley, go tell Solez I need the Traffik right here right now," Castillo ordered.

  At that moment, the Traffik started toward them.

  "What we are going to do is load Janos in the Traffik and get him and us the hell out of here," Castillo said. "I'm surprised the cops aren't here already."