Mitch nodded and Lenny smiled wide. “How much you figure I can stick him for it, Uncle Artie?”
Artie slowly shook his head. “When I got you this job with Frankie Mullen, I told you he wasn’t someone to mess with, didn’t I? Momma wants three hundred for it, said she paid a thousand two years ago.”
Lenny finished his muffin and wiped his hands on his shirt. “I don’t know why you think Mr. Mullen is all that. The guy is losin’ it. He paid me twice for the same job! I told him he already paid me and he just got mad. Dude doesn’t want to admit he’s getting senile.”
Artie didn’t like Lenny’s attitude and worried it would get him in trouble. “I’m telling you not to underestimate Frankie Mullen. He might want you to think he’s losing it. The man is clever and nobody’s fool. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“No, sir.”
Mitch gave Lenny a small shove to move on. “Let’s get this over with so I can get back to my job.”
Artie yelled after them, “Lenny, you watch your back and show Frankie some respect!”
Once the freezer was loaded, Mitch walked back into the sandwich shop and Lenny and Travis settled in for the two-hour drive to New Buffalo, Michigan. Travis enjoyed watching the scenery flash by them, but was preoccupied thinking about Dominick putting a million dollar bounty on his head. He also worried about potentially facing mob trouble at the airport.
After an hour of small talk, Travis asked, “What kind of job are you doing in New Buffalo?”
Lenny took a swig from a beer that had been rolling around on the floorboard and answered, “Old dude, friend of my uncle, is remodeling a small house on Lake Michigan. I’m doin’ the construction work for him. Gonna be his retirement house, I guess. He’s movin’ there from Chicago in a few days. He’s got more money than God from what I can tell, but he’s sure got some bat crazy ideas.” Lenny shook his head laughing at whatever was still on his mind.
Travis had known a few men like Lenny and found them quite entertaining. Travis asked, “So, give me some examples of bat crazy.”
“Buys a small house on beautiful Lake Michigan and the first thing he has me do is tear off the deck and stairs to the beach, and put siding over the windows that face the lake.” Lenny raised his voice. “Who does that? He also had me plant a bunch of shit to grow up between his house and the beach. If you don’t like lookin’ at the lake, why pay an ungodly amount of cash to buy a house on the lake? Dude doesn’t even want to see it!”
Travis said, “That is different. Just the property taxes alone to be on Lake Michigan are outrageous.”
Lenny added, “Money means nothin’ to this dude, man. I thought he had me framing in a spot for a safe in this huge pantry. He had me tear off the drywall to expose the back of his brick fireplace. Then he has me seal up the chimney, cut an opening in the bricks from the pantry side, and make a secret panel of bricks that swings open. Had to be just so.” Lenny took another swig as Travis watched a State Trooper pass them. Lenny laughed, “Thought I had him figured out ‘til he had me wire this secret cavity for electric and a hidden switch. Come to find out, he’s puttin’ this damn freezer in there with an overhead light!” Lenny pointed to the back of the truck.
Travis twisted to look at the freezer. It was the size of an apartment refrigerator and had a glass door front. Travis asked, “He say what he was putting in there?”
Lenny shook his head. “I made the mistake of askin’ and the crazy old fart pulled a pistol on me! Pointed it at my head and told me I best forget it was there.” Lenny looked at Travis, “Hey, man, I got a favor to ask.”
Travis waited.
“When we get to New Buffalo, can you help me put this freezer in the cavity? I promised the old fart I’d have it all ready for him by tomorrow.”
Travis said, “Sure. Maybe you can find the time to drive me to South Bend? I need to make some flight arrangements and I’m hoping to leave today.”
Lenny answered, “You got a deal! We get a couple of things done at Mr. Mullen’s place and I’m all yours.”
Travis nearly choked. His chest tightened and he asked, “What’s Mr. Mullen’s first name?”
“Frankie.”
Travis closed his eyes and pushed his head back against the headrest. What were the odds that this would have happened? Frankie Mullen was Dominick Guioni’s favored hitman for the Chicago Westside crew.
Travis swallowed and tried to sound calm. “What did you say your uncle’s name was?”
Lenny got a big grin on his face and proudly said, “Artie Corsone. He just finished 25 years in the Federal pen. He’s a famous mob dude. They say he’s the best forger in the country. See why I don’t worry none? I got myself some serious connections.”
*****
The bartender at Cubby’s nervously glanced at Nick walking toward the two men that had just entered. The two strangers looked like trouble. The bartender knew Nick. He reached under the bar, retrieved his phone and waited. Someone would have to call an ambulance.
Nick got within three feet of the two men and flashed his badge. “Chicago PD. Can I see some identification?”
Nick noticed the smaller of the two men clench his fists as he glanced at the taller one. They were both good-sized men. Nick estimated the shorter of the two outweighed him by 30 pounds and the taller one by at least 50. Neither man spoke or moved to cooperate. Nick knew they were assessing the risks of ignoring the fact that he was a cop. The bar was empty except for the four of them and the bartender.
The tall one spoke. “You don’t have any cause to check our IDs.”
“I don’t need one.” Nick watched as the men began to flank him. They had chosen to fight. Nick waited.
The tall one took a step forward and smiled, “Look, we’ve got no issue with you. Our business is with Dr. Larson. This isn’t a matter for the police.”
Nick stepped one step toward the tall man and smiled back. “See? That’s where this goes wrong. If I say it’s a police matter, it’s a police matter. Show me your ID.”
The man reached his right hand back like he was going for his wallet, but Nick recognized the stance change and weight shift. The tall man was preparing to land a kick. When the tall man’s leg shot up toward Nick, Nick grabbed it and twisted it counter-clockwise. A forceful chop to the back of the man’s thigh broke the leg. Nick immediately followed the chop with a downward elbow blow to the man’s head and sent him slamming to the floor.
Chris watched in horror as the man grabbed at Nick’s leg only to have Nick kick the man’s head so hard it snapped to the side. The bartender was on his phone and Chris scurried himself from under the table. There was no way Nick was going to be able to stop two of them. Chris grabbed the ketchup bottle and ran towards the fight wildly screaming.
The shorter man glanced at Chris just long enough for Nick to coldcock him, spin him around, and slam his head on the bar. Nick cuffed the short man’s hands together behind him and used a second pair of cuffs to secure him to the bar rail. Nick turned to see Chris squirting ketchup all over the screaming man on the floor.
Chris stopped and looked up. “Wasn’t much of a fight, was it?”
Nick used zip cuffs from his pocket to secure the man on the floor and took the IDs they had on them. He was sure they were bogus but they probably had prints on them. When the patrol officers arrived, Nick instructed them to put a heavy guard detail on the tall one and have him transported to the hospital. He told them to bring the shorter one to him at the 107th Precinct, Homicide Department.
One of the patrol officers grimaced as he looked at the tall man on the floor and said, “Damn, that’s a lot of blood. What happened?”
Chris said, “That’s ketchup.”
Nick paid the bartender for their sandwiches and some extra for the mess and wasted ketchup. He called Jen at the precinct and told her to secure the prisoner being brought there by patrol.
On the way to the precinct, Nick asked Chris, “Ketchup?”
“The vinegar in ketchup is very painful to the human eye. It will also initially blind someone and leave a film over the retina that will obstruct vision for some time. I considered the amount of force needed to squirt the ketchup at a high enough velocity to actually make contact. It was doubtful, at best, I would have been successful. When you managed to get him on the floor the simple solution was gravity. I also managed to get some in his ears. The carboxymethylcellulose in the ketchup will bring an immediate sensation of vertigo by coating the fine hairs protecting the ear drum.”
Nick’s mind went numb. “The carbox…what?”
“Thickener.”
Nick chuckled, “I’ll try to remember that.”
Chapter Five
Angel had looked at the new apartment and decided to wait on making any big changes right now. Her heart just wasn’t in it today. Things at work were definitely up in the air and if Chris was right, the whole team could be reassigned to some project not even in Lead. She had learned years ago not to second guess what the government might do.
About a mile from Lead’s city limits a man’s voice broke through on her car radio. “We have control of your vehicle, Dr. Sanchez. Please remain calm.”
Angel tried to apply her brakes. Nothing. A wave of terror swept over her. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Her steering wheel turned to the left at the first crossroad as the doors locked and the sunroof closed. She pressed on her horn and tried to engage the emergency brake. Nothing. Tears began to swell in her eyes at the thought of what kind of hell she may be delivered to. The CIA always warned them to be careful. Her work was classified and extremely sensitive. Was she going to be tortured?
She grabbed her tablet from her purse. Her Wi-Fi was scrambled. That meant her phone was useless too. Angel watched through tears as the landscape pass by and then focused on the dash. She understood engineering. She could do this. A car was just a box with a computer, right? She wasn’t going to sit and calmly be driven somewhere by people she didn’t know. Oh, hell no.
“Who is this? Where are you taking me?” She wanted to see if they could hear her too. The voice came over her radio, “That isn’t important, Dr. Sanchez. You will arrive at your destination soon.”
Angel hiked up her skirt and slipped over the center console, leaned down, and began to pry the bottom of the dash housing open with her keys. Finally, a small fuse compartment door popped open. There was a chart of the fuse locations on the back side of the panel door. Angel willed her shaking hands to steady. She found the fuse for the fuel pump and removed it. Hopefully the car’s computer system would tell the engine there was no fuel and stop. She decided to remove all of the fuses. Anything that would confuse the car’s main computer could help. She leaned back toward the steering column and removed the panel that housed the GPS and cruise control chips. When she popped them out of the circuit, the car’s engine began to sputter and the car slowed.
A now irritated voice came over the radio, “Your cooperation is not optional, Dr. Sanchez. Refrain from your activities.”
The car was almost stopped. The dirt road was deserted as far as she could see. Angel slid down on the passenger seat and braced herself as she raised her heels and kicked at the windshield. She knew it was only held in place with sealant on the outside edge of the frame. She kicked again with all of her strength and felt it give way.
She used her purse to push the windshield far enough away from the frame to climb out of the slowly rolling car. A roaring cloud of dust announced a car was speeding toward her. She rolled off the hood and fell to the gravel. As she steadied herself on the road, she removed her shoes and prepared to run. The black sedan stopped and a man jumped from the passenger seat and yelled, “CIA, Dr. Sanchez. We’ve scrambled your attacker’s signal. Please get in our car.”
He was holding a badge and Angel was quite sure she had seen him before. As she started toward his car, she heard a vehicle approaching from behind her. An old, red pickup truck rounded the bend and drove toward them. The blonde female driver stopped the truck a few yards away and yelled, “You okay, honey? Looks like you’ve been in a wreck.”
The driver of the CIA sedan got out and motioned for the blonde woman to drive on. The blonde waved and put the truck back in gear. Two masked men with automatic weapons rose from the bed of the truck and sprayed the two CIA agents with bullets. One of the men jumped from the bed of the truck, grabbed Angel’s arm ,and pushed her into the passenger seat of the truck.
The blonde spun the truck around with the armed men in the bed and Angel strapped in the passenger seat. She floored the truck back the way she had come and glared at Angel. A pistol was in her right hand aimed at Angel’s head. “Why is it you genius types can’t follow simple instructions?”
*****
CIA Agent Dalton Grant glanced over to where the EMS personnel were crouched around the bodies of two dead agents. The narrow dirt road was only a few miles outside of Lead. On either side of the black sedan, the gravel glistened with their blood. A second vehicle was stopped in the middle of the road, the windshield pushed out from the inside. Dalton glanced in the driver’s window. The fuse compartment door was open and the steering column had been compromised. Whoever had been trapped in that car had worked hard at getting out. Dalton walked over to Rex Strubel, his second in command.
Dalton asked, “What do we have?”
Rex pointed to the dead agents. “Agent Wilson reported that they had picked up signals of a cyber-carjacking and were headed to the location at 10:50. Next report was at 11:10 that the target vehicle was assigned to Dr. Angel Sanchez.” Dalton moaned and Rex continued, “11:20 Wilson reported the doctor’s vehicle was in sight and that the attacking signal had been isolated and scrambled. That was Wilson’s last transmission. At 11:45 a citizen-call reported this scene.”
Dalton watched as the bodies of his men were loaded into the EMS vehicles. His crime scene investigators bagged shell casings and various other items from the road. A tech made molds of the tire tracks. Someone had killed two CIA agents and kidnapped Angel Sanchez.
Rex asked, “Isn’t Dr. Sanchez on the DIANA team?”
“Yes, she is.”
Dalton started pacing, and then spun to face Rex. “That means she has body locators.” Dalton punched a number into his phone and ordered the locators for Angel Sanchez be activated and sent to his phone. Dalton and Rex stared at the phone screen as a map appeared with a flashing red dot. He hit the detail button and saw that it was the locator for Dr. Angel Sanchez. She appeared to be about ten miles south of their current location. The locators were not moving.
“Sanchez isn’t moving.” Dalton glanced one last time at the bloody scene behind him and then back at Rex. “Let’s move on this Sanchez location.”
Armed with the address, Rex and Dalton raced to their cars, their cell phones pressed to their ears. Dalton’s mind was spinning. The kidnappers had already demonstrated their sophistication in technology and willingness to kill. Lead, South Dakota, had been one of the safest small towns in America, until now.
Within minutes Dalton and Rex arrived at the address where Angel’s locators were signaling from. It appeared to be a deserted farmhouse with a small barn. The rest of the team arrived and Dalton signaled them to surround the house and barn. His assault team entered the barn first and signaled the all clear. They proceeded to surround the house. Dalton had aimed a heat and motion radar sensor at the house and only picked up a chicken walking in the back yard. No one was here. He motioned his men to make entry.
Five minutes passed until one of his men signaled the all clear. Could the locater map have been wrong? Dalton approached the assault team captain. “She has to be here.”
He frowned, “You’re going to want to see something, sir.”
Dalton followed him into the farmhouse where a water glass held a wildflower and a small, blue plate held three small locator chips covered in blood and flesh.
Rex joined them. “They knew exactly where
her locators were.”
Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “Who are these guys?”
*****
Jen greeted Nick and Chris when they entered the homicide room. “Who is that guy patrol brought here?”
Nick pointed to a chair for Chris to sit in and walked over to Jen. “I have no idea. See if our Crime Scene Techs can pull prints from these IDs, please.”
Nick dropped a small baggy on Jen’s desk. Jen raised one eyebrow and jerked her head toward Chris.
Nick said, “That’s Chris. He’s a friend of a friend in trouble. I think the guy in holding and his buddy planned on kidnapping him.”
Jen asked, “Where’s the buddy?”
“Hospital.”
Jen winced at what the Chief was going to say when he heard Nick put someone in the hospital, again. She grabbed the baggy with the two ID’s and started walking toward the door. She smiled at Chris.
Chris said, “You have very efficient body movements.”
Jen glanced at Nick and then back to Chris. “Thanks.”
*****
New York City, New York
A handsome middle-aged man stood gazing through the floor to ceiling glass windows at the Wall Street building facades a block over. He answered his cell phone and listened to the report he had been waiting on. Only he and a handful of others around the world knew the importance of this morning.
“We have Dr. Sanchez safely secured. Dr. Chris Larson boarded a flight to Chicago. We will apprehend him there.”
The man in the suit grunted his approval and disconnected the call. He would report to the others when Dr. Larson was also secured. It was going to be a very long day of anticipation and excitement. Years of preparation and billions of dollars would soon pay off.
*****
Lead, South Dakota
He shut off the phone and wondered who he had just spoken to. It really didn’t matter. He was just part of a hired team. As long as he got paid, it wasn’t his business. He turned on the local news. As expected, there was no mention of the murdered CIA agents or of the missing doctor.
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 4
