Gil Mason/Gunwood USA Box Set

by Gordon Carroll

  “Yes. Tell me about what happened on that rooftop in Khost where you and your men tried to save the hostages held by terrorists. You do remember the incident?”

  Dominic’s mouth felt so completely dry he could hardly part his lips to speak. “Yes, I remember. It was a very bad day.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Dominic took in a deep breath, let it out. “Why?”

  “I want to know what happened.”

  “The incident is on file with the Marine Corps.”

  “I know,” said Sammy. “I’ve read it.”

  “Then you already know what happened.”

  “Some. But there are holes. I’d like you to fill them.”

  Dominic paused, thinking. The sickness was starting to be replaced by something else — something cold — something hard. Why was he doing this? Why did he have to go into things best left alone? “Those holes have already been filled. They’re filled with the bodies of my men — my friends — and innocent hostages we weren’t able to save. Sometimes it’s best not to dig too deep. It might not be water you find. It might be blood.”

  “Yes, well, we are police officers. Blood is what we deal in.” Sammy set his cup down and leaned in close. “You know what else we deal in? The truth. So why don’t you go ahead and tell me the truth. Tell me what happened up there; how you got wounded and how your CO got killed?”

  Dominic answered in a whisper through clenched teeth, his lips barely moving. “It’s all in the report.”

  “No,” said Sammy, “it’s not. Both you and your commanding officer were hit with American ammo, 5.56 mm. The same ammo used in your M4’s. The M4 Carbine is standard issue for Marine Corps officers and Staff NCOs, but since none of your men were higher in rank than corporal, none of them would be carrying an M4. And according to the report all your men had already deployed into the shaft prior to you and Nassif coming under enemy fire. That means there were only two people on that roof with M4s. Nassif…and you.”

  Dominic shook his head imperceptibly. “The standard round for the M16 is also the 5.56. All my men were carrying M16s.”

  “Are you saying that one of your men shot Lt. Nassif?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Well did one of your men shoot Nassif?”

  “No.”

  “Did one of your troops shoot you?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, that still leaves you and Nassif.”

  “The terrorists could have been using a stolen weapon…” started Dominic.

  “I already checked that,” Sammy broke in. “None of your troops were hit by anything other than AK-47 rounds and shrapnel. Neither were any of the murdered hostages.

  “So come on,” said Sammy, “tell me what happened. All of it.”

  Dominic looked at the table. “The Marine Corps completed an exhaustive investigation and I took a polygraph before I started working here.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Besides, there were discrepancies in the Marine Corps investigation, and I know the polygraph guy and doubt you would have much trouble tripping him up.”

  Dominic’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

  “I already told you; the truth.”

  Dominic looked up and stared straight into Sammy’s magnified eyes. “Whatever happened up there is what had to happen.”

  “Maybe. I’m not even saying it wasn’t, but I do need to know for myself that that is true. And I can’t do that without hearing the whole story.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Dominic. “I have nothing more to say on the subject.”

  “Look,” said Sammy, “I think I know what happened, at least most of it; what I don’t know is why? Why did you and Nassif shoot it out up there like two gunmen in the old west? What could make that happen? You had a perfect record — a celebrated record; so why?”

  “Are you arresting me for something? Because even though I’m just a rook, I think Afghanistan is a little out of your jurisdiction.”

  Sammy looked at him for several seconds, then picked up his coffee, drank a little, shook his head. “This doesn’t have to be hard.”

  Dominic stood up. “If you’re not arresting me, are you firing me?”

  “Not yet.”

  Dominic started to turn, stopped, faced the detective. “My actions — actually, my lack of action, cost people their lives that day. I have to live with that. I’m not going to go through that day for you, but I will say this; once things went bad I did everything I could to try and lessen the damage. If you’ve been in combat then you’ll understand that sometimes that’s the best you can do.” Without waiting for a reply Dominic turned and left the shop.

  51

  Sarah Hampton

  * * *

  Back on Track

  * * *

  The cats were driving her crazy, prowling outside her house all day long. They hid in the shadows, their eyes glowing malevolently. They tried to trip her when she went to the bathroom or the kitchen. They would go silent for several minutes waiting until she was just about to drift off to sleep and then shriek out, jolting her awake. She was so tired by the time for work that she almost called in sick, but she wouldn’t do that. No matter what, she refused to play the coward. She would face Dominic no matter how hard it might prove to be.

  The drive to the station turned out to be a test in patience. The cats stalked boldly back and forth behind her, diving for cover every time she looked back at them. There were two at first, then three, then six. She could feel the sweat beading at her hairline. The cats were so loud even the radio couldn’t drown them out. A couple of times she shot her hand back, trying for a handful of fur, but they were too fast — too cunning. She could smell them. Their shedding fur and white flakes of dander wafted in the air, blown about by the car’s air conditioning system so that it looked like a shaken snow globe. She could hardly breathe certain that this must be worse than an atomized ceiling of asbestos. She’d probably be coughing out hairballs by the time she got to work. Small clumps of multi colored fur and individual hairs stuck to her lips went up her nose, landed on her tongue. It made her gag; reminding her of the rubber stopper they shoved between her teeth before they sent the electricity through her brain.

  Cats lined the sidewalk as she pulled into the Gunwood Police Station’s parking lot. The underground garage was reserved for command staff; detectives in unmarked vehicles, and marked patrol cars bringing in prisoners for processing. She held herself in strong check, summoning her will and forcing it into her legs as she walked through the gauntlet of feline predators eyeing her silently. She knew they were waiting for any sign of weakness; watching her every move, smelling her for fear, listening for a moan or groan, or whimper.

  Her off duty gun sat tucked in its holster in her side waistband and it took even greater will not to pull it free and start shooting. There were so many of them. She’d been killing them since she got out of the asylum, but it seemed for every one she took out two more took its place.

  At the front doors she hesitated, looked behind her and saw cats pouring onto the grounds from every direction. There were dozens, maybe hundreds flooding toward her; completely silent; their eyes wide and staring — staring at her — mocking her. She closed the doors behind her. The cats weren’t really there, she knew that, or at least a part of her did, but another part couldn’t help but think that maybe they really were.

  Madness skulked just around the corner. She could feel it clouding her mind; trying to swamp her completely, to plunge her into a world of cats and severed hands and severed penises and dead men smiling and trying to talk with only blood bubbles making it past their lips.

  In the locker room she dressed quickly, afraid she would hear purring or see small furry shadows waver across the walls.

  Sarah felt scared. She hated to admit it, but she refused to lie to herself. She remembered what it felt like when Dominic hugged her close; when he kissed
her, his breath fresh and alive, how it made her feel safe and sane. If only he could hold her now. There had been no cats when he held her, no bad thoughts, only peace and safety and longing. She wanted him, wanted to love him, wanted him to love her, but he’d left and as soon as he did the cats were there waiting for her; the cats and her mission. For a brief time she’d thought perhaps he might save her from what she knew she had to do. That maybe his love could somehow negate the need to commit murder on the man who tried to kill John Doe and set in motion the chain of events that led to her losing the evidence and her mind, but she knew now that it was impossible. That Dominic could not save her, that there could never be anything between her and Dominic until she avenged John Doe and killed the cat that stole the evidence.

  Slipping the magazine from her pistol she checked to make sure it held a full load, then pulled back the slide, just a bit, to see the shell case in the breach, before snapping the magazine back into place. Holstering the weapon she left the locker room and saw Dominic standing in the booking room, talking to Keisha Adams. Keisha made no attempt at pretense as she checked out his physique. She licked her lips and uttered some comment that made Dominic laugh.

  Sarah felt something tug at her heart while at the same time a spark of anger flared hot and fast. Jealously, the green eyed lady. Oh, she thought, I’ve got it bad don’t I? She could not remember ever feeling jealous in her life, not even for her old boyfriend, the longest relationship she’d ever had with a man. For some reason this acknowledgment made her sad.

  “Ya know, sweet cheeks,” she heard Keisha say as she walked up to them, “once you get off FTO status you an me just might end up working the same shift. Now wouldn’t that be fun?” She raised a carefully shaped eyebrow suggestively at him.

  “Back off, Keisha, I need him in shape to do some work tonight,” said Sarah, keeping her gaze off Dominic.

  “Oh he in fine shape, honey. And he looks like he could sho do some work all right. Yes he do.” Sarah had long since noticed that Keisha’s hood accent only came out when she wanted it to, and mostly when flirting with men.

  “Hey,” said Sarah, “best not to leave yourself open to a sexual harassment suit. These days men can sue too, ya know.”

  Keisha started away, giving a long look at Dominic’s butt as she did. “Tha’s fine and dandy wit me. Just make sure you spell the name right, darlin’.” She continued down the hall, throwing a last wink at Dominic as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

  “If you’re through flirting you can go get our car ready,” said Sarah. “Unless you wanted to stop by dispatch and show off for them too.”

  “The car’s loaded and ready to go. And just for the record, I wasn’t flirting. Keisha was just joking around, that’s all.”

  “Yeah right. Keisha would joke you up, down, past all the bases and around the world before you even knew what was happening to you. My advice is to keep clear of her.”

  Dominic grinned. “Hm, jealous?”

  Sarah felt her heart skip a beat, but let nothing show. “Hardly.”

  “That’s good, because you have nothing to be jealous of.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Right. You just like to play hard to get.”

  “No, not at all,” said Dominic. “It’s just that you mean too much to me. I won’t sully you or your reputation.”

  She stopped. “My reputation? You don’t know anything about my reputation. And believe me you couldn’t sully it if you tried. And as for me, well, I’ve already been…sullied…lots of times. I’m no virgin. So if that’s a deal breaker for you then you should know it right up front.”

  Dominic looked at her. “You’re trying to push me away. Why?”

  “You had your chance when I was drunk. You blew it. End of story.”

  “I don’t want to just sleep with you. I want us to be more than that, a lot more.”

  She felt her resolve soften, but clamped it down with an iron will. They had no chance together. She had a job to do, a job that would probably cost her her career and maybe even her freedom — maybe her life. But jail or even death were better than going back to the asylum. Dominic could not save her from that. She had to do it herself.

  “Do you like this job?” she asked.

  “You know I do.”

  “Then you better shelve all this romance crap you’re spewing and get your mind back on work; because you and me ain't happening,” she said mimicking Keisha. “I’m your FTO, you’re my rook, and that’s that. Do you understand?”

  “No. And I don’t want to. I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I wasn’t playing hard to get the other night. I wasn’t playing at all. I meant everything I said and I still do.”

  He sounded so sincere, so innocent, noble, his voice sure and full of conviction and strength. His eyes were so open, so giving. She could almost believe it — believe it all. What if she just gave in — let her will and pride dissolve and fell into his arms — how would it feel? What would it mean? How would it change her life? She could feel herself giving in, melting; she wanted to let go so bad.

  Meow.

  The cat perched on the shelf behind his right shoulder.

  From overhead dispatch squawked out a priority call through the speaker system.

  The melting stopped, frozen in place. “That’s us, Rook. Put your game face on.” She walked away from him and out to the garage.

  52

  Dominic Elkins

  * * *

  Overconfidence Kills

  * * *

  Dispatch aired the call as a Burglary in progress at a veterinarian clinic off of Cherry Street and Tennessee Avenue. This early in the shift, plenty of patrol cars prowled the street. By the time Dominic and Sarah arrived on scene, swing shift cars had the place surrounded. Rex and Timmy pulled in right behind them, blacked out like all the cars.

  “We’re with Rex,” said Sarah, “follow him.”

  Dominic wanted to talk with Sarah on the way over but radio traffic, navigation, and running Code 3 (lights and siren) prevented any non-call related conversation.

  He saw Rex get Timmy out of the back of Rex’s patrol car, and made sure to stay well behind them. He remembered only too well the last time he got in front of the business end of the monster K9. The four of them ran up to Larry Sipes, flattened against the northeast wall of the building.

  “What have we got?” whispered Rex.

  Sipes, tall and lean with muscular forearms, spoke in a low voice. “At least two inside, maybe three. Flashlights. I’ve heard them breaking open drawers and cabinets. Looks like they broke in through this door right here.” He nudged the splintered doorframe by his shoulder. “It’s a silent alarm and everyone came in nice and quiet. They don’t even know we’re here.”

  Rex grinned and again Dominic saw the eerie likeness of master and dog.

  “That’s the way we like it,” said Rex.

  “What are they after in a vet clinic?” asked Dominic, whispering like everyone else.

  “Ketamine,” said Sarah, “date rape drug.”

  Rex turned to them. “Okay, this is how we’ll play it. I’m gonna make three announcements, real loud, after that if they don’t surrender I’ll send in Timmy. Once we hear the screaming, everyone can hit their lights — spots and everything — so we can see if they try and get out. The object is to keep them inside so Timmy can play. When they give up and we see it’s safe, we’ll take them into custody. Got it, Rook?”

  “What if they’re armed?” asked Dominic.

  Rex shrugged his huge shoulders. “That would be sad for them. Guns really make Timmy mad.” He opened the door just a crack, held Timmy by the collar, then whispered very quietly: “Gunwood Police Department. Anyone inside identify yourself and come out now or I’ll send in a Police Dog and you will be bit!” He grinned at Dominic. “Times three,” he said and released his hold on the collar.

  Timmy disappeared through th
e opening, silent as a wraith.

  Everyone held their breath. Seconds ticked by. The flashlight beams danced and bobbed about. Sounds of shattering glass and snapping locks drifted out at them along with muffled laughs and muted words. Traffic sounds from Colorado Boulevard and stray strings of music from opened nightclub doors wafted about on the wind making it seem surreal to Dominic. The temperature hovered right around ninety degrees but it felt even hotter in the vest and with all the other equipment. Although nothing quite compared to Afghanistan, the tension felt exactly the same — the excitement — the tingle of fear — the knowledge that action was about to commence — that bullets might be flying his way and that he might have to throw some himself.

  A scream. It shocked Dominic for just a second because he could swear it was a woman’s scream; high and intense it sounded like death itself, primal — bloated with pain and terror. Then it oscillated down several octaves to a mere shriek. Chaos followed from inside the building. There were shouts, yelling, more screams. Banging and clanging, glass splintering, wood snapping, flesh impacting hard surfaces, grunts and groans and cries and curses and howls.

  A body hurtled out a window — glass spraying out — and thudded onto the concrete. Instantly three officers were on the suspect; slamming him to his stomach and snapping on cuffs before they dragged him back around a corner.

  Dominic started forward but held back at a raised finger from Sarah. “Give it time. You don’t want to charge up there and have Timmy mistake you for a bad guy.”

  Rex grinned and said, “Again.” He laughed and almost in answer Dominic felt a throb from his calf where Timmy had bitten him on his very first night of training. He did as Sarah instructed and stayed put.

  Another body jumped through the window, this one followed by a blur of fur and teeth. The bad guy, a tall white man, skinny and dressed in black, hit the deck running. He almost made it to where Rex, Dominic and Sarah were hiding behind the corner.