by James H Roby
"What's wrong with your phone?"
Jordan and E-Man recognized the smooth mild-manner tone immediately. They spoke in unison. "Cody Random."
Jordan said, "Fellas, this is the voice of the enemy."
"Shhh!" Don hissed as he leaned closer to the recorder. The tape continued and revealed Kevin Small’s voice.
"...One of them is Jordan Noble, Robin's ex-flame..."
Jordan’s face got tight. The rest of the men turned to their leader. Don whistled softly but Malcolm's response was more audible.
"You saw Robin today? Oh, snap!"
"Shut up, Malcolm.” Jordan’s voice was low but carried the force of steel.
"...Tonight at nine. At your other location." the tape went on.
E-Man smiled and nodded when he heard that. "Ah, yeah, it's on." He turned to Jordan. "Something going down tonight. You hear that?"
Jordan reached and turned off the recorder as it came to the end of the conversation as it was just producing a buzzing sound. “When did you make this?”
Malcolm screwed his eyes to the ceiling. “Uh, I’d say about a couple of hours ago. I picked up that call from Small's private line at Unlimiteds.”
“And what are you using? To do the tap?”
Malcolm shrugged. “It’s a commercial brand. Rips data straight off a landline’s Octal-Span Digital Card. Why? Q-Branch’s got something better?”
Jordan stroked his chin. It was like something subconscious was driving his line of question. He couldn’t think what made him wonder about Malcolm’s illegal toys - still something made his ‘spider-senses’ tingle. He waved it off. "Now, all we need is Small's 'other location'. Don?"
Don reached in his pocket. He produced his smartphone and tapped the screen for a few minutes. He cleared his voice when he found what he was searching for. "Kevin Small owns a house in Southfield and two buildings in Huntington Woods. A studio called Unlimiteds and a storage facility."
"Incredible," E-Man said, "How do you find out this stuff?"
Don beamed with pride and shrugged.
"So that leaves his house and the storage facility as the ‘other location.” E-Man thought out loud.
"Well, it won't be his house," Malcolm said. "He'll probably be with Robin there." An awkward silence passed as Malcolm's comment sank in. Everyone knew the wound of Jordan’s breakup with Robin never really healed. They usually didn't talk about it, but Malcolm had a habit of lapsing from social graces.
"Well, despite Malcolm's stupid ass remark," Jordan said, "he's probably right."
"So, it's going down at this storehouse," E-Man said.
"At nine" Jordan rose from his chair. "Clear your evening fellas. Small's got a date with the UrbanKnights tonight."
"Yeah," Malcolm said, "too bad he don't know it."
Chapter Eight: A Hot time in the Suburbs Tonight
The storage facility set around the corner from Unlimiteds. Unlike the row of cookie cutter multipurpose buildings on Pleasant Avenue, this quiet street was home to older structures. The UrbanKnights’ destination was an old office building that had been repurposed. It retained its original brick front but a series of roll up garage doors along the side was new.
Jordan parked the white van a half block from the storehouse. The position allowed the team to see if anyone entered or left the building. He was mindful he and three other African American men dressed in black sat on a darken side street of a suburb. Despite what the Constitution said, such was cause enough for the red and blues of a police cruiser to illuminate behind them.
A wry grin cut his face. The Constitution again. Laws, rules. This was going to be a problem. Human Intelligence, HUMIT, only had one rule – don’t get caught. Jordan realized the problem was not the existence of rules, his life had been dedicated to protecting high ideas like the Constitution. No, he had to decide he was now living in a world of rules - not outside them. The world didn’t have to change – he did.
Jordan was ready to dip into himself and rain punishment and self-incrimination for every sin, imagined and real. Movement from behind him, denied him the opportunity and brought him into the here and now. Malcolm worked his way into the passenger seat.
"What's up?" Malcolm said.
Jordan's eyes scanned the block. "Boy, you better get back there. You know too many brothers is probable cause out here."
Malcolm smiled at Jordan’s quip. "Yeah. This will only take a second. How you doing?"
Jordan transfixed a gaze on Malcolm. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out the question. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you know... you... Robin... this whole thing.” He cleared his throat.
Jordan watched Malcolm blink nervously and his pupils dart around. The sudden appearance of Robin was a crushing blow to his psyche. Chances were OK, but coincidences were a definite no no. The trained operator in him could accept the out of the clear blue, freaking sky, return of Cody Random – he could not and would not accept Robin Summers just magically being involved in this. The variables didn’t add up. Did Robin Summers hate him that much? He could see that. But, to link up with an international drug dealer – girlfriend wasn’t that crazy.
Whatever his thoughts, he wasn’t about to share them with Malcolm. He sighed. "I'm good."
"No, you're not. Man, you were all in with Robin. Weren't y'all gonna get married?"
“How do you know?” Jordan twisted around in his seat to look at Malcolm. “You didn’t even know Robin.”
“Don told me. He was like, when you were at State, you didn’t see Jordan without seeing Robin.”
Jordan stared down the street. That’s not how he remembered it. Sure, he spent a lot of time with her but…
"You're not helping, Malcolm."
"Sorry, man. I just, you know. Earlier...when I said that thing about...you know, Robin at his house..." Malcolm's voice trailed off. Jordan saw how his partner was struggling and decided to lighten the mood.
"Is this how you apologize?" he said with a slight grin. "Man, you suck at this."
Malcolm laughed his weird little laugh, high pitch and the notes going everywhere. "Screw you, Noble!"
Jordan glanced down at the storehouse again. His smile vanished and a look of determination replaced it. Malcolm cocked his head at the rapid change.
" 'Sup?" Malcolm asked.
"We're on," Jordan said. Beyond the windshield, a dark sedan had stopped in front of the storehouse. Four men got out. Their heads rotated in all directions. They congregated at the building’s front door for a moment then went in. Jordan banged on the roof of the van to alert Don and E-Man. The two came up to the front of the vehicle. Jordan didn’t have to tell E-Man where to focus – the telepathy kicked in.
"Showtime," E-Man said.
A metallic whoosh sounded as the door of the van opened and the UrbanKnights leapt out. Jordan angled away from the street and headed for the back of the building. A back alley ran parallel to the main street. Malcolm and Don trailed behind at the rear of the pack. They were doing their best, Jordan was sure, but to him, they were only slightly less noisy than a herd of bulls wearing cow bells.
They reached the rear of Unlimiteds. Another pair of those garage doors greeted them. As well as one of the men who entered from the front.
Jordan threw up a hand, stopping the chain behind him. "Well, well, what do we have here?"
The man was wearing a military style field jacket. He wandered around in small aimless circles illuminated by the glow of a full moon. The greenest of rookies could spot him at fifty yards.
Jordan glanced at E-Man, who nodded in return and darted off into the shadows.
"What was that about?" Malcolm asked.
Jordan smiled. "Watch and learn."
For a few seconds, nothing happened. The man continued his small circle. Occasionally, he looked up and down the street. E-Man sprinted up behind the man, struck him at the base of the neck. He stepped ba
ck as the man dropped like a stone.
"Damn!" Don shouted. He looked over at Malcolm who shared a puzzled expression. Jordan laughed at his partners' amazement.
"What's so funny?" Malcolm asked.
Jordan headed across the alley. "You two kill me."
“Can I say now y’all was Black James Bond?”
Jordan shrugged. “OK, maybe E-Man. But he was a Combat Controller. That ain’t no secret.” The often-forgotten special operators of the US Air Force were no less capable than their Army and Navy brethren.
Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”
“
Bah. It’s like riding a bike.”
By the time Jordan and the others reached him, E-Man was bent over the unconscious form of the guard. He searched the man's person and produced a gun. E-Man shook his head and came to his feet. He showed the weapon to Jordan. "Little kids and their guns!"
Jordan cocked his head to one side to examine the massive Smith and Wesson Model 625, chambered for the 45 ACP cartridge. Jordan twisted his mouth. He looked down at the fallen opponent. He was a smooth face blonde. Maybe just twenty.
“This guy's a sucker," Jordan said. "I doubt if he’s even a member of Random's gang."
Don stepped up and took a look. "How you figure?"
Jordan said, "Random's a career criminal. He's not going to be bothered with some punk on lookout who has to over compensate with a damn hand cannon. That crap’s good for television, but if he fires this thing, they’ll hear it in Minot. How's that door coming?"
E-Man was at the door and went to work on its lock. "Just a second," he said between grunts of effort.
Malcolm peered over E-Man's shoulder. "Yo, man, this some of that special operations shit?"
"What?" E-Man was focused on the task at hand.
"That thing you did to the guy," Malcolm gestured to copy the action. “Cracking open locks…”
E-Man glanced at Malcolm, then to Jordan. The ESP went to work. He turned back to the door.
"Yeah, man, sure. Trained you for everything.”
Malcolm took an unconscious step back from E-Man as he backed away as he would from a pit bull. Jordan came up behind him and slapped his shoulder. Malcolm tried to jump out of his skin.
“You all right?” Jordan asked.
Malcolm’s head went up and down.
“OK, when we get in there, stay behind me and E. This ain’t no game. Truth be told, we all breaking and entering. That goes for you, too, Don Ross.”
Don gave a thumbs up.
The door made a slight click and E-Man smiled with satisfaction. He turned the knob and opened the portal.
"Wa-La," E-Man whispered, "We're in."
Jordan motioned for E-Man to step back. Beyond the door was inky darkness. Jordan's eyes adjusted and he saw some of the objects in the room began to take form. It was a back room off the main floor of the storehouse. A maze was cut out on the floor by the numerous items scattered about. Everything was covered with sheets. A musty smell of being closed up for a while hung in the air. Another odor, barely detectable, drifted about. A quick look to the right and Jordan discovered the second smell. A roll of cans marked ‘kerosene’ was lined up against the wall.
“Careful.” He pointed. “Flammables.” He paused to listen for any activity in the room. Hearing none, he continued, followed by his companions. When Don, the last one in, passed through the door, he gently closed it behind him.
A fine coat of dust covered everything in the room. This made sense. Small would want the meeting to take place somewhere people weren't accustomed to seeing him and it looked like no one had been here for a minute. Jordan allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. If all went well, this case would be over before it started. He couldn’t wait to rub it in the CIA’s face.
At the room’s far side was a door. Jordan placed his ear to it, listening for sounds beyond. His hand bolted up to signal a stop. On the other side of the door, he heard the faint sound of voices. They seemed to be far away. Jordan turned the knob, opening the door slightly. He saw nothing through the crack. He ventured into the room. Circular lamps on a bare ceiling lit the space. A floor to ceiling line of crates turned the room into a hall. He reached and pushed the nearest crate. Its give suggested something pliable within – probably clothes. The UrbanKnights crept down the hall. The voices were louder now, like they were just around the last crate. Jordan rounded the crate and came face to face with three men in cowboy dusters from the car. A guy with a scar down the side of his face showed a grin missing a tooth.
"Evening, boys. Name’s Slash. Y’all need to work on your phone taps."
Jordan’s mind snapped back to Malcolm’s earlier efforts.
What’s that buzzing?
Too late to worry about that now, he stepped back, pushing Malcolm with him. E-Man moved as well, with Don on his heels. Slash and the two other men swung open their coats and produced a pair of shotguns and an assault rifle. A second later, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. The UrbanKnights put the crate between them and the gunmen. The bullets ripped through the crate and danced around the detectives.
"Damn!" Jordan’s legs pumped like pistons, trying to reach the back room. He put his shoulder to the tower of crates. They came over like dominoes. Yelps of pain rose as the boxes crashed to the floor.
They had gained a second or two. He got to the back room, a step or two behind the others. He whirled out of the doorway as the gunfire renewed. E-Man exchanged shots with his Px4 Storm. After the fourth shot, Don reached out and shut the door. The room went black. Almost instantly, the gunfire stopped. It was eerily still after the burst of bullets. Four sets of lungs gulped in air.
"Why they stop?" Don asked.
Jordan hissed through his teeth to silence him. More seconds passed. Jordan moved towards the door. Gun in hand, he slowly turned the knob and ...nothing. Jordan turned harder and shook the door violently.
"Locked.”
"But, why?" E-Man asked.
Before another moment could pass, a new smell eased its way into the room from under the door. Something worked its way through the air, stinging Jordan’s eye.
Ah, shit.
"Smell that - Smoke!" Don said.
"Smoke?" Malcolm’s voice was plagued with confusion. It dawned on him. "Oh shit! They're burning the building down!"
Jordan pointed at their entry point. "Try the other door!"
E-Man was already there. With a turn of the knob, the door swung open. Just as quickly, it closed. Several quick sharp snaps struck the door in the rhythm of gunfire.
"Dammit!" E-Man shouted.
"We cannot stay here,” Jordan said, “Fire…kerosene…bad combination.”
The smoke grew heavier, covering the room with hazy grayness. The temperature crept up. All the men coughed.
"We've got to do something!" Malcolm shouted. "What are we going to do?"
"Calm down, dammit!" Jordan said. "Think, man! Think!" The first icy touch of doubt reached his heart. It was his fault Malcolm and Don were in this mess. They weren’t operators. Of course, they’d panic.
"The roof," E-Man said. The voice of his long-time partner in the world of violence snapped Jordan to the present. He looked upward at E-Man's suggestion, but one glance told him the roof was too high for them to reach. Jordan could almost feel the despair fall on his team.
"Look around!” he said. “There's got to be something to get us outta here!"
They split up, exploring every corner of the smoke-filled room. The glow from behind the door didn’t offer much light, but it did reinforce how desperate the situation was. Sheets draped over items were cast off with reckless abandon. A quartet of coughs rose as they searched. Computers…office furniture…lawn equipment. Nothing remotely useful. Don removed the cover from the largest item in the room.
"Will this help?" he asked.
Jordan rushed to Don’s side. He smiled at his part
ner's find.
"Yes, Don," he said, "I do indeed think this will help."
~
The item Don found, a seated forklift, smashed through the rear door. Jordan felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he bolted out of the storehouse a few feet behind the forklift. It barreled down on the gunmen. They scattered just as it smashed into a parked car. Ticking from some liquid dripping onto a hot surface preceded the two vehicles bursting into a huge fireball. The alley went orange for a second. Nearby car alarms sounded. Dogs barked. The explosion only further confused the criminals. They turned to and fro trying in vain to make sense of their current situation.
