by Nova Rain
“Believe it or not, we can put an end to your beef with Howard,” Joe maintained, sliding away the coffee table.
“How do you know about that?” Mitchell squinted up at him.
“Howard is my enemy, kid,” Joe attempted a deeper tone. “I like to study my enemies. It helps pinpoint their weaknesses. Now, will you play ball or am I just wasting my time here?”
“I will if you tell me what you’ll do to him,” Mitchell said, pressing his wrist to his jaw.
“Let’s just say I’d like to give him a taste of his own medicine for starters,” Joe suggested, his hands on either hip. “How would I do that?”
“About a month ago, my partner and I pulled over a truck,” Mitchell started, propping his elbows on his knees. “We’d received an anonymous tip about that truck carrying drugs. When I got into the back, I realized it was bullshit. It was full of empty boxes. I found six bags of heroin in one. That was it. My partner told me it was all for show. It’s part of the deal Howard’s got with the LVPD. We seize a couple of kilos to keep up appearances. It keeps the feds away. Anyway, the driver of that truck turned out to be a rookie. He’d marked his route on a map. I took that map before forensics arrived on the scene. Its starting point is a warehouse, a couple of miles north of Indian Springs.”
“I’m guessing a decent cop like you went over there to check it out,” Joe continued, his tone calmer this time.
“Yeah, I did.” Mitchell gave a swift nod. “Its location is just perfect. It’s in the hills outside Indian Springs, far enough from the interstate to not draw suspicion. Howard’s people cut his drugs in there.”
“Where’s that map?” I asked him, my voice stiff.
“It’s in my bedroom,” Mitchell replied, pointing back with his thumb. “I can go get it for you.”
“Bryan, you’re up,” Joe spoke, not taking his eyes off the cop as he left the couch.
“Do I need to ask what we’ll do to that warehouse?” I lowered my voice, turning in my friend’s direction.
“Remember what we did to Santone’s meth lab, and you’ll get the picture,” Joe answered, a devilish smile bursting upon his lips.
“Got it,” Bryan announced, joining us back in the living room with the map in his grasp.
“Thanks a lot for this, Mitchell.” Joe nodded in appreciation. “We were never here. You didn’t see us, you don’t know my name, nothing. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” The cop responded. “You forgot to mention what you’ll do next.”
“Keep your mouth shut about our little visit, and you’ll find out soon enough,” Joe assumed his usual, firm tone.
“I’d suggest more locations where you can hit him, but…” Mitchell paused and pressed his lips together. “They’ll be useless if you get to hit that warehouse. Howard will increase security everywhere. It’s going to be impossible for you to get anywhere near them.”
“I know,” Joe claimed, striding back to the front door. “I won’t forget this, Mitchell.”
Neither would I. In our attempt to pay back Howard, we had found an ally in uniform. It boggled my mind. I considered it as one of the things that would never happen. Ever. For us, cops were a nuisance. A bunch of people who loved to harass us, even if we’d done nothing wrong. Either way, I wasn’t going to complain. We had a target. Very soon, Dennis Howard would learn that he’d messed with the wrong people.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Donny
The next day, Joe had a crappy surprise in store for me and the others.
He barged into my motel room and swiped the blankets away at the crack of dawn, claiming that we had to get out of there. Had he done this back in New York, we would have ended up at each other’s throats. I wasn’t the morning type; neither was he for that matter. Yet, we were not in our birthplace. We were in a cold motel on the outskirts of Vegas, and we had to get ready for our long-awaited payback.
Back on the road, Jimmy pulled up satellite images of Howard’s warehouse. A single glance at the surrounding area revealed that Mitchell had been honest about its location. It was on a steep, barren hill that overlooked the town of Indian Springs. At first, getting there seemed easy. Once Jimmy zoomed in on it though, we discovered a catch. The road up to it seemed narrow. We couldn’t calculate its exact width, but I doubted it could fit anything wider than our van. Running into another vehicle before or after the operation, would mean going off road, and this was an issue. That hill was in the middle of nowhere. It was bound to be riddled with sharp rocks. A blown tire would invite trouble—trouble we just could not have. Changing a tire near a blown-up building in the dark, would be like screaming “we did it” to everyone passing by.
Still, this was an extreme scenario. We were not going up there until midnight. The town of Indian Springs would be fast asleep. The few people awake at the time of the blast would have to cover eight miles of unpaved, uphill road to reach the warehouse. So, even if we did suffer a blowout on our way down, we’d have plenty of time to change the tire and get out of there.
The night found me at the wheel of Jimmy’s van, its owner in the passenger seat and Joe and Bryan wrapping bars of C4 together in the back. The vehicle’s suspension had to look like a blur. It was working hard to absorb the vibrations from that crappy road. Less than a mile from our destination, Jimmy broke out his laptop once more.
“Alright.” His somewhat thin voice tore the silence. “Let’s see if there are any surveillance cameras in that warehouse.”
“You can check that?” I asked, curiosity written all over my face.
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy affirmed. “Surveillance cameras and their receivers operate at specific frequencies. I can detect their signal and order them to operate at another frequency. That’s how I disable them. Oh…” A sharp, continuous beep forced him to stop talking altogether. “It’s strange. I’m not picking up any signal. I thought Howard would want to protect his pot of gold.”
“It’s not that strange, kid,” Joe disagreed. “Most local cops are on his payroll. He doesn’t need surveillance cameras, because he thinks he’s untouchable.”
“It’s go time, motherfucker,” I said, the van rolling to a gentle halt outside the warehouse. Bryan crawled across the back to get the blowtorch as I hopped out.
“Turn her around,” Joe commanded Jimmy and joined me outside. My nostrils met with the pungent smell of wet grass, tiny drops of moisture shimmering on weeds under the moonlight. I felt some of them piercing through the fabric of my jeans as the three of us rushed over to the entrance of the warehouse. The clear night soon proved to be a welcome ally. It was so bright out there that we didn’t need flashlights.
Bryan flicked his lighter on and he brought it in front of the blowtorch. A small, blue flame sprang up over the tip, before he lowered it to the thick padlock. We all watched it eat away at the steel, and saw the van facing the direction from which we had come. The smell of burned metal rising up in the air, the padlock dropped to the ground. Joe and I gripped the handles almost at the same time. We pulled in opposite directions, the aluminum screeching along the rails. Bryan slipped his backpack off his shoulder and threw the blowtorch back in.
I walked off, pressing the “on” button on my flashlight. My friends did the same and followed me inside. That place was a drug lord’s heaven. Within seconds, we spotted eight rows of tables, parallel to one another. Digital scales were on them, along with spoons and piles of empty, nylon bags. Underneath each table were brown bags of either flour or baking powder. Amazed, I pointed the beam to the one nearest to me.
“Holy cow…” I whispered, noticing a white trace across the surface.
“Check this out.” Joe’s voice grabbed my attention, forcing me to look up. What I saw made my jaw drop to the floor. There were dozens of sacks up against the wall, piled on top of one another, and separated by a gray panel down the hall. The ones close to the door contained a brownish powder. I didn’t have to check the rest of them. Most likely, they contained
China White…
“There’s got to be more than two tons of drugs in here,” Bryan commented, striding over to the right wall.
“Let’s get this over with,” I suggested, Joe leaving sets of explosives in my hand. I sprinted down the warehouse, my flashlight illuminating more traces of powder on the floor. I lifted it up and held it in my mouth, reaching into my back pocket. One by one, I taped four sets of C4 to the wall, one in each corner and two in the middle. I flipped their switches on, tiny bulbs over the bars flashing red in the dark.
I could feel my blood shooting through my veins like a bullet shooting out of a gun barrel. My heart was dancing in my chest to the fast rhythm of a mix of excitement, tension, and fear. This was my high. Put those three ingredients together, and I had no need for anything injected, snorted, or smoked. And the best thing about it? My senses were heightened, not numbed.
I spun around and ran back to the gate, the sound of another switch flipping on filling my ears. The sight of Jimmy’s blue van getting closer, I caught Bryan heading in my direction, out of the corner of my eye.
“All set,” Joe announced, jogging away from the left wall.
Exiting the warehouse, we slid the doors back shut and returned to the van.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I suggested, patting Jimmy’s wrist.
“Here.” Bryan slipped the detonator into Joe’s hand. “You should do the honors.”
“Thanks.” Our friend nodded, the van rolling down the bumpy road. “Ten, nine, eight…”
“I’d love to see the look on Howard’s face when he finds out about this,” I murmured, grinning from ear to ear.
“Three, two, one…”
Joe pressed the button at the end of the countdown. In an instant, a bright flash lit up the interior of the warehouse. Its side windows shattered into millions of pieces, their frames bowing outward as a massive fireball spewed out of them. I watched the roof in the passenger mirror shoot up in the air, huge chunks of aluminum, concrete and wood flying in all directions. One of those landed on the dry grass in front of the building, still smoldering. Before I could utter a word, the blast wave shook the entire van. I felt myself being pulled away from the door and towards Jimmy as the vehicle was tipped onto two wheels. I thrust my arm right and gripped the door handle, the empty fields disappearing from my line of sight. But, just then, the grip of that invisible force was loosened. My eyes meeting with the tall grass once more, the van bounced back on all four wheels.
“Yeah!” I cheered, slamming my fists onto the dashboard, sounds of joy and more cheers from behind me filling the air.
“I told you we’d do it!” Bryan laughed, his hands on Joe’s shoulders, our friend wearing a big smile of satisfaction.
“Thanks a lot for this, guys,” he said, squeezing my forearm while I watched the flames consume the warehouse. The side visible to me had been knocked over, flattening the grass underneath. What remained of the tables and the chairs we saw earlier, had spread around the property. Hundreds of small, burning pieces of wood had set fire to the grass, the main fire behind them still raging.
“There’s no need to thank us, man,” I assured him, my eyes on the mirror. “I couldn’t wait to see that sucker burn.”
“Well done, Jimmy,” he patted our driver on the back. “I’m going to need you to drive faster, though. That was one hell of a blast. It won’t take long for the fire department to get up here.”
“Gladly.” The boy obliged, putting his foot harder down on the accelerator. With the engine roaring in the wilderness, the van sped down the road, hitting rocks as it did.
“Not that fast, man,” I groaned, hanging on to the dashboard as the whole vehicle rocked back and forth. “You’ll shred those tires to pieces.”
“Sorry. I got too excited,” Jimmy said, easing the pressure on the accelerator. “It’s the adrenaline I guess.”
“I’m a little too excited, if you know what I mean,” I spoke, reaching across. “You have beautiful eyes, Jimmy. Did I ever tell you that?”
“What?!” He squealed, an expression of terror spreading across his face as he scooted away from me.
My friends and I burst out laughing, Bryan banging his head into Joe’s shoulder. I leaned back into my seat, holding my stomach, my spine flexing and extending.
“Oh, thank God…” Jimmy sighed in relief, adding to my amusement.
Our teasing didn’t stop there. Both Bryan and Joe continued to give some smart comments about his looks, long after the warehouse had disappeared into the night. Poor Jimmy… He was a geek amongst three “street” guys. In other words, he was defenseless against whatever came out of our mouths.
With the road up ahead leveling out, the town of Indian Springs spread out in front of us. Just after the last, right bend, I lost my mood to taunt the boy. A black, pickup truck was hurtling up the road, its headlights off. Tension tightened the back of my neck. No matter how clear the night was, one would simply not drive like that, unless they wanted to avoid being detected. I parted my lips, noticing an arm emerge from the passenger’s side. The crackling sound of a bullet ripped through the night, confirming my fears. The slug lodging into the hood, I reached back.
“Give me a goddamn rifle and get down.” I urged, my palm upward. Feeling the cold metal on my skin, I lowered the window and launched myself out. I shoved a magazine into place and pressed my eye to the scope. Just twenty yards from my target, I aimed at the windshield and squeezed the trigger. The sounds of my bullets resounded through the emptiness, large, muzzle flashes erupting from the tip of the barrel. I watched the windshield break into pieces, the handle of the rifle brushing my coat. The truck’s driver swerved right, until its front bumper hit the dirt, bringing it to a grinding halt. Jimmy slammed the brakes, the van’s tires skidding across the dirt.
“I’ll go check,” I uttered in a fast voice, opening my door. With the rifle still in my grasp, I ran around the Transit. Looking down, it occurred to me that those two weren’t a threat anymore. They were lying dead in their seats, blood oozing from wounds in their heads and their chests. But just when I was about to leave, a buzzing cell phone convinced me to stay there a little longer. The device was lying on the driver’s right knee, among tiny shards of glass. I reached in and picked it up, the caller ID flashing:
“Mr. Howard.”
I swiped my finger across the screen and raised it up to my ear.
“Talk to me, Francis.” A hoarse voice was on the other end of the line. “Are you there yet? Did you see who did it?”
“I’m sorry, Dennis, but Francis is unavailable right now. He’s busy dying.” Sarcasm was dripping from my tongue.
“Who is this?”
“I’m the guy who put a bullet in his head.”
“Listen to me, you little asshole…”
“No, you listen to me, you fuck!” I interrupted him. “You wanted a war? You got a war!”
I slammed the phone down on the asphalt and turned away from the pickup truck, fuming with anger.
“Howard sends his best,” I spoke in a stiff voice, getting back into the van.
“We need to plan our next move,” Joe suggested. “I’m open to ideas.”
“Later, man,” I sighed and leaned back in my seat. “We’ll do it later. Man, I’m exhausted.”
Luckily for me, Joe didn’t insist. I was drained. I doubted I could concentrate on anything else other than resting my weary bones.
“Take us out of Indian Springs, Jimmy,” he addressed the boy in a calm tone.
“I’ll have to enter the town,” Jimmy pointed out, the first houses of that scenic place coming into view.
I was staring at the small homes on either side, when his laptop beeped behind my seat.
“Huh?” He huffed in surprise, looking back at the machine for a moment.
“What is it?”
“That’s my cell signal alert,” he explained. “After we got attacked in my place in Tribeca, Joe asked if there was a
way for me to track down Michelle and Ava’s phones. So, I went on the dark web and bought an app that does just that. It’s got limited range, but it works fine.”
“It says here they’re both in the same place.” Joe interjected, his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “It’s eighty yards down the road.”
“That must be it,” Jimmy presumed, pointing up at a yellow, flashing sign on the left side of the road.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ava
“To second chances.”
I clinked my glass of wine with Michelle’s, flashing her a bright-eyed look.
“I’ll drink to that.” She smiled in response, bringing her own glass to her mouth.
“Promise me something,” I requested. “That we’ll do this more often in New York. Ooh!” My brows shot up. “We should ask Helena to join us.”
“Oh please.” Michelle rolled her eyes at me. “That girl wouldn’t drink alcohol if her life depended on it. I’ll think about it. I can’t promise anything, though. I don’t want to make Joe feel neglected.”
“Because we’ll go out with each other once a month for drinks?” I asked, curiosity sending my voice up an octave.
“If it’s just once a month, I think he’ll be fine,” she assured me with a grin.
At that point, a knock on the door had us both staring at each other in confusion and disbelief. Without breaking her silence, Michelle padded towards the door.
“Don’t open it,” I urged, leaving my glass on the nightstand as she pressed her eye to the peephole.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she stated, looking back at me. “It’s Joe and Donny.”
“Excuse me?!” I exclaimed, my heart racing in my chest. “How…?”
She didn’t allow me any time to pose my question. Michelle swung the door open, the sheer size of the two men outside not leaving any room for doubt.
