by R Weir
“What is this?”
“The helicopter they used. That is the tail number on it. I’m guessing you can track it down and tell us who it belongs to.”
Though not happy Hunter let them get away, Scanlon was pleased to have clue to work with. “Good going. I’ll make a call.”
Hunter nodded and moved around the space checking on the others injured. Jose was being stubborn not wanting to go to the hospital, even though he had a concussion. He was sitting next to Paige who was slowly coming around, hearing the commotion from him, a shot of adrenaline spiking her system.
“I’m not leaving,” demanded Jose. “If I need care, we’ll get a doctor to come to us.”
Hunter intervened. “We’ll be here to watch over your family if you’re worried. Best not to mess with a concussion. The effects can linger if not properly treated.” Hunter had experienced a couple in his life and knew they could cause long term effects.
Jose looked him square in the eye. “I’m staying.”
Hunter held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t have the energy to fight the man. It had been a long couple of days, and he was tired.
“Fine,” conceded Hunter. “But take it easy. If not for me, but for Paige and the kids.”
Jose glanced down at Paige, before leaning over to check on his wife. She appeared to be feeling much the same as Scanlon, which wasn’t surprising. Olivia and Deion joined them, happy to see each other, after going through another traumatic ordeal.
After convincing the paramedics that Jose needed to stay, Hunter moved onto Athena who was sitting on a recliner in the living room. They hadn’t seen each other for several years, their reunion this day was forced and not necessarily a warm one.
“How are you doing?” he asked her. Her eyes still appeared glassy even though she didn’t take the full dose of sedative like the others.
“The feeling in my side is slowly coming back,” she said, moving her arm around as proof. “The paramedic figures another hour or so and the effects will have worn off completely.”
“It appears they got the drop on you and Scanlon and nearly escaped with the kids.” Hunter spoke the words in disappointment, figuring the detective and her would have put up more of a fight. It was words he’d soon regret.
Athena frowned. “I guess you shouldn’t have left knowing their team was coming after the family again so quickly.”
Hunter nodded, knowing he’d screwed up. “I didn’t anticipate them moving in again so soon.”
“Then you can hardly blame me for not being prepared. Hell, I only got here seventeen hours ago.” Athena added with an edge to her voice, her right finger pointing with some effort.
“Sorry. You’re right.” Hunter felt bad, his head nodding in agreement. “You’re normally tough to take down.”
“Damn right,” she spoke with confidence. “I still got up even with this crap in my system and was able to make it down two flights of stairs to let you know about them wearing Kevlar.”
Hunter had to admit he was impressed. “How did you know?”
“I put two bullets in the chest of one of them before they darted me,” she explained while pointing a thumb at her sternum. “He went down but got on his feet shortly after. I heard them talking about wearing a vest after he pulled himself back up.”
“Then you weren’t knocked out completely.”
Athena nodded. “No. I could hear them, even though I could hardly move at first.”
“What else did you hear? Did they use any names?” Hunter was making mental notes, listening intently.
“No. But one of the men commented about being surprised I was there. Mentioned their inside info had been wrong.”
Hunter’s eyes grew big at the news. And inside person would explain how they had seemingly been prepared to act when they did. The question was, who?
“They have someone on the inside?” Hunter said softly, so others nearby couldn’t hear.
Athena leaned forward, careful not to fall since she was still weak. “That would be my conclusion.”
Hunter looked around the room wondering who it could have been, but nothing was connecting. But he was not giving up, this new piece of information and the tail number of the helicopter would be clues he could work on. The investigative part of the job was on the horizon. Working a case like this elevating his heartrate with excitement. He was back doing what he loved.
Chapter 14
Since it was a Sunday it took some doing but eventually Jose was able to get people out to begin fixing damage to the house. Cost wasn’t an issue as having new doors, locks and a window in place was critical. A little more security was added, in the way of cameras in key locations, inside and outside, and they would all be running on battery backup in case the power went out. Even with the new security, it would still take Hunter’s team to keep the family safe. The team still down a man, but that changed late that morning when a Harley Hog came rolling up to the front entrance, authorization given for the bike to rumble up the driveway.
The classic Harley thumping sound from those distinctive pipes echoed down the driveway, as a massive man maneuvered the cycle through all the vehicles, finding a place on the edge of the grass to park. The 2002 Dyna Low Rider sat on the side kickstand, all black with shiny chrome, along with leather saddle bags to finish off the appearance. It looked impressive even after the long drive from New Mexico. The rider dismounted, he was dressed all in black leather—chaps, boots and jacket—with a flaming eagle skull cap covering his long brown and gray hair, which stuck out the back in a braided ponytail. His fuzzy beard showed traces of gray among the brown; and when his wraparound glasses were removed, they revealed forty-four-year-old deep brown eyes. After shedding his jacket, revealing his massive tattooed arms, the newest member of the team lumbered forward, all 6’4” and 235 pounds of him, embracing Hunter who had come out to greet him. Cameryn Stone was a bear of a man, and he nearly squeezed the life out of his good friend. The Terminator as his friends had nicknamed him, much like the character from the movies played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. He could be a killing machine when going up against the bad guys, though he had a soft heart and a good soul.
“Damn Cameryn, I didn’t think you could get any bigger,” commented Hunter after he’d been freed from the embrace.
“Was that a fat joke,” Cameryn stated with a grin.
“Hell no. You’re a rock, as always. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you’d been juicing.”
Hunter was joking, knowing Cameryn’s healthy eating routine was one hundred percent all natural whenever possible. He would never put any poison, as he called it, into his body, not even one sip of alcohol would touch his lips. It was a diet that kept him young and in better shape than most anyone he encountered.
Keoki and Shen came outside with the news of his arrival. Cameryn shook Keoki’s hand, while leaning down to kiss the top of Shen’s head. A ritual he’d carried out each time he saw the smaller man for some unknown reason. The two sharing an odd type of brotherly bond banter between them.
“Still waiting for that growth spurt,” remarked Cameryn in jest.
“I believe I’ve reached my peak,” replied Shen with a laugh. “Though it appears even old men like yourself can continue to expand. Maybe I need to copy what you do.”
“Eat like me and I guarantee you’ll put twenty pounds on that scrawny body of yours.”
“And lose my speed and flexibility. I’ll pass.” Shen did a dance and shadowboxed, showing his lightening quickness.
“And we’d lose someone to squeeze into those tight spaces,” added Keoki with a smirk.
All Shen could do was take it. It was all in good fun. Shen knew these men had his back in battle. The team together again, was a happy moment for them all. Though the work was just beginning.
“Where is Thena?” asked Cameryn, using the shortened name he always called Athena by.
“Inside shaking off the effects of a tranquillizer dart,” replied H
unter.
“From the activity it would seem you’ve had a busy morning. Hopefully I’m not too late to assist.”
Hunter went about explaining to him all the details of last few days, while they walked back inside to begin to put a plan in place of what they would do going forward.
***
Embodying the rich cultural history of Hispanic, Anglo and Native American’s, Santa Fe New Mexico had a widely diverse population, embracing arts and cultures from all over the world. Its moderate climate made for a perfect place for year-round exercise and motorcycle riding, which was one of the main reasons Cameryn enjoyed living there over these last nine years.
Four years ago, he’d came upon an art exhibit in town that he’d wanted to visit. Though he rolled with many of his biker friends, he still enjoyed looking at fine art. Early on he was ribbed about his recreational endeavor, though over time it subsided. He enjoyed paintings, drawings, sculptures and even music and poetry. It went against his tough guy look and persona, but it never bothered him. He was who he was and he never apologized for it, proud to enjoy works of art which called out and inspired him.
The gathering was being held in the Railyard District which was home to many galleries. The event, which was travelling the country, spotlighted Jewish artisans featuring the wonders and the horrors the Jewish community had endured for thousands of years. When he entered he was immediately engrossed in what he saw, some of it was subtle in design, while others punched you in the chin to get across the point of the designer. The nature of the work required security to be in place to protect it from those who feared and loathed what was being shown because of their twisted views of the Jewish community. Eyeballs were on Cameryn the moment he arrived, the tattooed man, dressed in leather was large and intimidating. He’d grown used to it through the years, people fearing what they didn’t know, not understanding who he was or what he stood for.
While being watched he walked up to one of the security men, or so he guessed, since he wasn’t labelled as such. Wanting to announce himself, for he’d been profiled all his life as a danger, for how he dressed and his size. The security man’s statue, though smaller than Cameryn, led him to believe the man was there to protect the work. The man wandered the room, eyes alert for trouble. He was dressed in nicely tailored black jacket and slacks, and the slightest hint of a bulge under the jacket, appeared to be a gun.
“I’m no threat,” commented Cameryn, while standing next Hunter.
Hunter glared at him. “You are certainly the right size to be a threat. Besides, you don’t fit the normal clientele of this event.”
“I’m not your normal biker,” replied Cameryn, confirming his earlier suspicion. “Believe it or not we aren’t all boozers full of hate. This type of artistic work always fascinated me. I’ve often wished I could be creative like they are. The anguish that you see in the painting that depicts the holocaust is astounding.”
Hunter smiled. “Doesn’t appear you talk like a biker either.”
“I read a lot,” Cameryn proclaimed with a gleam in his eye.
At that point there was yelling near the entryway where people paid to get in. Three men dressed in t-shirts, black jeans and wearing facemasks stormed in, carrying spray cans of paint and tire irons. They forced their way in, knocking people down while yelling obscenities. One of the other security men tried to intercept and was clubbed with a tire iron in the knee, his yelp of pain filling the room.
Hunter reached for his gun, but before he could pull it out he was sprayed in the face with black paint, the man calling him every horrible racial name he knew. Wiping at his eyes to try and see, the man swung the tire iron towards Hunter’s head. Cameryn stepped in front of the man, grabbing his arm, stopping it in the air and then kneed him in the groin, his gasp of pain audible as he hit the floor. Cameryn then yanked the tire iron from his hand, ready to take on the next challenger.
The next man made a move, hesitating for a second before lunging with the paint hoping to blind him. Cameryn moved effortlessly knocking the can from his hand with the tire iron, the crack of the bone in his forearm clearly heard. He grasped at his injured limb dropping the tire iron, screaming in agony and cursing up a storm, before Cameryn knocked him out with a chop to the back of the head.
During this time Hunter was able to clear his eyes enough to see and pulled his gun out, pointing it at the third man.
“To the ground,” he demanded of the man who was making a beeline to one of the sculptures to do damage. “I’ve got no issue shooting you to protect the work in this room from your hatred.” Hunter had a strong distaste for bigots.
After seeing what had happened to the other two in his group, the man figured he didn’t have much of an option and laid face first, after putting down the spray can and tire iron. Cameryn then dragged the other two injured assailants over next to him, all three now kissing the caramelized marble flooring.
“If someone hasn’t already, please call the police,” Hunter announced to the room, while walking over next to Cameryn. “Thanks for the assist.”
“Happy to help,” he replied, his eyes glaring at the men on the floor. “I hate bigots. Always happy to knock them down a peg or two. How are your eyes?”
“Stinging a little, but they’ll be fine. Would have been much worse if you hadn’t stopped him from clubbing me.”
Cameryn shrugged. “Amateurs—were out of their league. If you could see, you would have clocked him easily. You probably ought to check on your partner. That was quite a shot he took to his leg.”
“I will. I’m Hunter by the way.”
“Cameryn.”
The two men shook hands, a nod of respect shared between them.
***
The four men went inside the Hawkins home, the activity slowing some, but still the crime tech unit was searching for any worthwhile clues. Though with all their effort they wouldn’t likely find anything of use, since the men wore gloves and masks.
Athena saw the four men and walked over, though slowly, her side still numb in places. She saw Cameryn and embraced him, as he kissed her on the cheek.
“Good to see you big man,” she said joyfully. She was always happy when he was around.
“You’re moving slowly. I hear you weren’t fast enough.” Cameryn smiled widely.
“They got the drop on me. Next time will be different.”
“I have no doubt. What is the plan, boss?” he said, the question directed at Hunter.
Hunter glanced around, knowing they had much to figure out. He was the leader they looked to and he needed to make decisions. A fact which added more joy to his soul.
“Once they’re done here and the damage to the house is repaired, we’ll get together with the family and work out the details. It will be up to you four to protect them, while I head out and find the man responsible. Are you all tough enough to face the task in front of you?”
The four of them traded glares back and forth, before in mass giving Hunter a stern expression of disbelief in the query.
Hunter grinned. “Silly of me for asking the obvious. Let’s get some lunch and get to work.”
Chapter 15
His wound cleaned up as best as could be done, Zackery got up to walk, mostly dragging his stiff leg, thinking over what to do next. He’d been contemplating for a couple of hours on what answer he was going to give the man who’d hired them. It wouldn’t be long before he knew the children weren’t heading his way. Zackery needed to convince himself the lie was true, before he could come across as sincere. At this point he wasn’t sure he could pull it off. He called his wife, letting her know he would be home later than expected. Her anger was apparent after ending the call. He hoped it wasn’t the last time he’d hear her voice.
He had told Dirk and Pablo to go outside and keep watch, while Kyle was busy cleaning up the blood stain after tossing away all the soiled bandages. Zackery held the satellite phone, wondering when it would ring, knowing the longer he waited, the w
orse it would appear. All he had to do was press and hold the number three and the call would go through via the speed dial. He glanced over his shoulder at Kyle who was finishing up, figuring it was now or never.
“What took so long?” yelled the digitized angry voice on the other end.
“We ran into complications,” was Zackery’s short and simple reply for now.
“Then they aren’t on their way?”
Zackery paused before answering, trying to control his hand shaking. “No.”
“I’d don’t like to hear this. What happened this time?”
Even with the digitation it was clear to Zackery the tone showed displeasure. He knew he’d need to be convincing with the lie to pull this off.
“We had to abort. There was more security in place than we were expecting.”
After a series of swear words the man responded. “I thought you had inside help to keep this from happening.”
“We did. But the new security team was in place sooner than the inside info told us.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes,” replied Zackery. Though he was nervous about being doubted.
“Then you never had your hands on the kids?”
Now Zackery was greatly concerned, sweat started to form on his face, hand shaking even more. Why did he ask this question? What did he know? He went over to the sofa to sit down, his leg throbbing, his nerves on edge.
“Your silence is leading me to believe you aren’t being truthful with me?” declared the agitated man.
What choice did Zackery have but to play out the lie and hope to make him understand.
“We didn’t have the children.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths while covering the mouthpiece. “We never got far enough along in the operation to snatch them.”
“Really. Reliable sources tell me otherwise.”
Zackery was stunned. Who could have talked? The pilot? He was hired for the job by ‘The Train Man’ and didn’t have a way to contact this man. Who else could have been there to give the true story, other than someone on his team? He looked over at Kyle, who was now standing there, watching him.
