In The Line of Fire Boxset 5 Books in 1 (Thriller Stories To Keep You up all Night)

by Rhiley McCabe

  He waited for Thomas to take his seat in the corner.

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  “As you know, the lead prosecutor on the Carlos Rodrigues and Mary Scott cases was murdered two months ago.”

  “Yes, Walter Sidney. Sharp man, it’s a terrible loss for law enforcement.” Tate added.

  “Yes, sir.” Jason glanced at Thomas, who nodded with a serious face, “But a reliable source surfaced with concrete information about Walter’s murderer.”

  “But we’ve interviewed every witness,” Thomas voiced his concern, “None of them could give us as much as a clue. Where does your supposed reliable source come from?”

  “Are you OK, Chief? Why the sudden pale face and sweat on your forehead?” Jason challenged.

  Tate eyed Thompson, “What information?” He asked.

  Thomas looked at Tate with a dubious expression. Tate ignored him.

  “There’s a powerful figure in the underworld who was present when Walter was shot. His name is Leo Martinez.

  There are voice recordings.”

  Tate stroked his chin, “Never heard of him. How powerful can he be?”

  Thomas sat frozen like a statue.

  “He covers his tracks well, sir. I have a CI who knew Thompson Federico well. When I asked if they knew about this Leo, I found out that Thompson was negotiating to become his NY drug distributer via a common acquaintance before his death.”

  “Who was the acquaintance?”

  “Carlos Rodrigues.”

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  “Carlos never mentioned a Leo during his preliminary trial.”

  “And he never will, sir. He is either too loyal or too scared to do it. But my ex-partner knew about Carlos’

  connection with Leo. She mentioned his name before she mysteriously died.”

  “Mysteriously? Do you suspect foul play?”

  “I do, sir. I lost my entire team who acted as a decoy when we moved Mary to a safe house two months ago. I believe Leo was responsible for the attack. And for Mary’s ultimate demise.”

  “Interesting…” Tate said, still stroking his chin.

  “Who is your CI?” Thomas came back to life.

  “Chief?”

  “Your CI, the one who knew Federico, who is he?”

  “It’s not relevant.” Jason said sharply, “And you know very well that I am under no obligation to disclose such information.” Thomas and Jason shared an awkward but deadly stare.

  “Watch your tone, Williams!” Tate scolded, “And he’s right, Thomas. You know better than to ask such questions. Jason, do you have proof that Mary was murdered?”

  “Not yet, sir, but I do have proof that Leo was present during Walter Sidney’s death.”

  “And your source, who is it?”

  “They asked me to keep their identity confidential for the time being, sir.”

  “But we must know who we are working with.” Thomas insisted.

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  “With all due respect Chief,” Jason said without looking at Thomas, “This is the D.A.’s investigation and it has nothing to do with you.”

  Jason was boiling inside. He could not get the possibility that Thomas could have been involved in his daughter’s death out of his mind.

  “Williams!” Tate rose up, “You are being disrespectful.

  Recently, he was still your boss.” Tate pointed at Thomas,

  “Get over yourself.”

  “But, sir…”

  “We need the full cooperation of the police. How do you expect us to work together if we’re making enemies with the very man who pulls the strings of the NYPD?”

  “I apologize, Chief.” Jason said, staring ahead.

  Before Tate could reprimand him for his half-hearted attempt, Thomas put a hand up.

  “No worries, I know you’re under a lot of stress, Jason.”

  He stood up, “If you’ll excuse me.” He gave a nod to Tate and Jason and left the office.

  “You are a loose cannon.” Tate said with disappointment, shaking his head, “Why do you not think, huh?” He tapped an index finger against his temple, “I thought you weren’t one of those idiots who allow their emotions to get the better of them.”

  Tate sunk into his chair, his face flushed.

  “That man is a dirty cop!” Jason could no longer keep it in.

  “And you think I didn’t know that?!” Jason looked up surprised, “Ever read The 48 Laws of Power? Keep your enemies close?” Tate spat.

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  Jason sighed. Tate had given him a copy of the book as a gift when he got promoted to the D.A.’s Office. He never read it.

  “Sir, I didn’t know…”

  “Of course you didn’t! You’re too arrogant and full of yourself to even consider anyone other than yourself can figure things out.”

  Jason looked down. His father always warned him that he relied too much on himself. After his death, his mother tried to tell him. He never listened.

  “I’ve been monitoring Thomas and Leo’s relationship for years, patiently waiting for a slip-up. I was getting closer than ever; and you just sabotaged it, smartass!” Tate threw his glasses on his desk and breathed unevenly.

  Jason pinched his nose bridge in frustration.

  “Sir,” Jason stood up, “I wanted to hold on to these until I was sure it’s real,” He stuck his hand in his left pocket and revealed Beatrice’s iPod Nano and held it out to Tate.

  “But I think you’ll want to hear it.”

  Tate took the iPod and viewed it from different angles,

  “What’s on this?” He placed it on his desk and reached for his glasses.

  “The slip-up you were waiting for. Well, more like slip-ups.” Jason sat down, “My source is Walter Sidney’s sister, Beatrice. She gave that to me,” he pointed to the iPod, “Walter told Beatrice to find me if something happened to him. I don’t know why; we never got along well…”

  “To the point, Williams.”

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  “Yes, sir. That MP3 player contains recordings of conversations between Thomas and Leo Martinez.”

  Tate hunched forward, “How many copies are there?”

  “W—Why?”

  “I want to know.”

  “Just the one I gave you, sir.”

  “Good.” He picked up the iPod, “I’ll keep it in my safe.

  We cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands.” He opened a drawer and put the iPod inside. “From now on, I want to know everything you find on Thomas. Is that understood?”

  Jason stood up, “Yes sir, no problem.” He walked to the door.

  “And Jason, take good care of Walter’s sister. Don’t let Thomas find out about her, or she’s as good as dead.”

  Jason nodded and closed the door.

  Thomas could hear the blood rushing through his own ears as he tried to control his breathing. He looked in the rearview mirror and watched Jason as he walked to his car outside the D.A.’s office.

  “Damn you, Jason!”

  He fumbled in his overcrowded cubbyhole. When he couldn’t find what he was searching for, he yelled and violently grabbed whatever his hands could find and heaved it to the passenger seat. A thud stopped him. He leaned over to the passenger side and let his hand search the floor. He still couldn’t find it. He sat up straight and hit the steering wheel before hunching over with his head resting on the steering wheel. He sat back and saw 135

  the little black phone mocking him from the compartment just beneath the radio.

  “What now?!” Leo barked after Thomas’ third attempt of calling him.

  “We have a problem.”

  “Again? Why are you so incompetent?!”

  “There are recordings of your voice moments before Walter Sidney’s death. And Jason knows about your connection with Carlos. It’s enough to call you in for questioning.”

  “How the hell is that possible? Who made the recordings?”

  “I don’t know. I tried everything, but I couldn’t find out who it came from.�
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  “I told you we should’ve gotten rid of that cop when he was half dead in the hospital.”

  “Now is not the time to point fingers. We need to get rid of him. The faster, the better. Make it look like an accident.”

  “Romero will handle it.”

  “You mean the guy who failed the last time?” Thomas hissed.

  “I said he will handle it! Just do your part. Find out who is giving Jason the information and get rid of them.”

  “What? Leo, I am the Chief of Police; I cannot get my hands dirty under any circumstances. I’ll find the person, but the rest is up to you.”

  “Yeah, OK, princess.”

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  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jason tried starting his car again. The engine sputtered and died down for the tenth or twelfth time; he’d lost count. He pushed himself into the seat with pursed lips, tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel.

  His phone buzzed.

  “Williams.”

  “You’re under arrest for missing pizza.”

  Jason laughed; all his troubles disappeared, “Pizza, again?”

  He frowned quizzically, pondering how Emma never got bored with pizza. Her biggest concern in the world was choosing between classic Margherita and Hawaiian, without the ham. He wished his life was that simple.

  “Are you coming?” Emma asked excitedly.

  “Not tonight. But I’ll see you soon, OK?”

  “Okaaay…”

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  “Give the phone to your mom, thanks Emma. Bye.”

  “Byyye, Jason!”

  “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “Hi. Um… I’m sorry about that. She snuck up and grabbed my phone. I didn’t realize before she started talking.”

  “It’s fine; it was a welcome distraction.”

  A silence followed.

  “Rachel, I want you to be careful. Thomas Patrick asked me about you in a meeting tonight.”

  “The dirty cop? You told him about me?!”

  “No, not directly. But he knows I have a CI connected to Thompson. I’m not coming there for a while. It’s for your and Emma’s protection.”

  “Oh, my protection too? You’re getting soft, Detective.”

  He smiled, “Ha-ha.” He said seriously, not wanting her to pick up on his good mood from talking with her.

  “Are you going home?”

  Jason sighed. He hadn’t been to his own house since Catherine’s death. He stayed in a motel near work and slept on the couch whenever he checked in with Rachel and Emma.

  “I don’t—Hey, Rachel, I have to go; Beatrice is calling.”

  “Say hi to your girlfriend for me.” She teased and hung up.

  “Beatrice?”

  “Hello, Jason!”

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  Jason rolled his eyes. She was too friendly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You’re so grumpy… Can you come to my house? Lewis Street, number fifty-two.”

  “Why?” His hand rose to his nose bridge.

  “I have information, it’s important.”

  “Fine… I’ll come.”

  “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “What?”

  “Gotta eat, right?”

  “Yeah… I’m not hungry, but thanks. I’m on my way.” He hung up before she could nag him further.

  He tried the car again. It refused to start. He headed back to the office and asked the receptionist for a phone book.

  He called a mechanic and explained his car trouble.

  “Sure, pickup is fifty bucks. I’ll send you an invoice after I find the problem.”

  Jason sighed at the ridiculous pickup fee. But he let it go,

  “Great. Just fix it, don’t wait for me to approve the invoice. I need my car back urgently. And remember, I’m the Chief Investigator at the D.A.’s office, so don’t even think about ripping me off.”

  “Sure, boss.” The guy replied, unimpressed.

  Jason hung up. He left the building and waved for a taxi.

  Once they crossed the Manhattan Bridge, the driver asked where they were headed.

  “Just drive, I’ll tell you where to stop.” The driver nodded and continued to cruise at 40 miles per hour.

  After Catherine’s death and the failed assassination 139

  attempt on his life, he made it a habit to never drive directly to a destination. Instead, he parked at a safe distance and walked the rest of the way.

  When Jason got out of the taxi, he instructed the driver to drive away after five minutes. He obliged happily when Jason stuffed a big tip into his hand. Jason heard the taxi start as he was walking down the quiet street. He swung around when he heard a violent crash. A garbage truck had rammed the taxi. Jason moved in behind a large hedge and scrutinized the scene.

  A large figure emerged from the garbage truck. He walked to the taxi’s driver side, plucked the door open and pulled out the driver by his collar. The driver pointed in Jason’s direction. The culprit heaved the driver to the ground, reached into his jacket and revealed a gun. The shots were as silent as the night.

  Jason squinted. It had to be the same man who tried to kill him. He never saw his face when he was attacked, but there was something familiar about the way he walked. Jason had drifted in and out of consciousness that day, but he caught blurred glimpses of his assailant.

  It started coming back as he watched the figure in the distance.

  He darted in Jason’s direction. Jason had his gun on him, but no protection. If he missed, the man would surely finish the job he had started two months earlier. Jason retreated further into the hedges and waited patiently for the man to continue his goose-chase.

  Carlos had been unusually elated for days.

  “Are you getting out already?”

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  A day earlier, Carlos would have smashed the inquisitive inmate’s face. He’d lost count of how many of his ‘new friends’ had asked that same question in the same tone, like a broken record.

  But it was D-day. “Probably.” He replied happily, slamming a huge palm against the inmate’s scrawny back.

  The guy smiled uneasily and made an escape as soon as he had a gap when they entered the mess hall for dinner.

  One of Ray’s buddies spat on the ground in front of Carlos just before he passed by him. Carlos looked down at the ball of slime, smiled at the guy and stepped over it.

  “You and I, tonight.” Carlos said loudly and strolled off.

  Ray’s buddies burst out in laughter.

  “Coward!” They called in unison.

  Thirty minutes after lights out, the first explosion went off. It was just a dull thud—not much to think about if you didn’t know what was happening outside the walls.

  Carlos sat up, beaming.

  “Hey, Ray’s dogs!” He boomed, “Are you ready for me?!”

  A few inmates yelled at him to shut up, others chuckled.

  The second explosion caused excited murmurs at first.

  When the machine gun broke loose, they became louder and started howling and making all kinds of beast-like sounds.

  The lights flicked on. Guards were scrambling around in all directions. Most ran to where the action was happening, leaving the inmates mostly unattended.

  “Shut up!” a guard yelled.

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  This only fueled the inmates’ excitement; they broke out in louder howls. The guard fired three shots into the air.

  It subsided the inmates for a moment.

  “They’re in the control room!” A desperate voice cried over a guard’s radio.

  The guards nervously exchanged glances. The inmates yelled eagerly again.

  “The complex is sur—AARGH!” Another voice sounded over a radio.

  Moments later, a bell echoed in the cell block. Everyone fell silent. Cell door locks clicked open in a choir.

  Anarchy ensued.

  Inmates attacked the guards in packs. Carlos stayed in his
cell for a few minutes, waiting for the inmates to finish the guards off. When he stepped outside, Ray’s boys attacked him like a pack of rabid dogs. After wrestling him to the ground, they formed a circle around him.

  “In a hurry, Mister big shot?” Ray’s right-hand man hissed.

  Carlos groaned as he got up, “I am. And you’re in my way.”

  The two men crashed into each other and struggled to the ground. When the others saw Carlos had the upper hand, someone from within the circle stepped closer and placed a blunt knife in his comrade’s hand. He stabbed Carlos in the side. It was agonizing, but Carlos acted as if he didn’t even notice. He took Ray’s man’s head with both hands and violently smashed it against the concrete floor. He stood up and removed the knife. He stuck it into his pocket. The others were about to attack when the 142

  guy jumped up from the floor, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he breathed.

  He swung at Carlos and missed. Carlos grabbed his fist, swung the man around and snapped his neck. Carlos kept eye contact with each of the man’s friends as his lifeless body plummeted to the floor. Carlos scanned for the next contender, but they cleared a path for him.

  He smiled and moved through them, hitting one with his broad shoulder. Carlos let out a painful cry when a fist hit him in the side where he had been stabbed. He turned around in rage and charged at the guy who hit him, taking down four others with the impact. He yelled as he smashed the guys face into pulp.

  “Who else?!” He shouted as he stood up, blood dripping from his fists.

  No one challenged him further.

  Carlos halted at a cell. He took out the knife in his pocket and tapped against the bars, smirking eerily. Fearful, begging eyes looked up at him. He continued tapping.

  “Please, Carlos.” He sobbed, “I’m one of you.”

  Carlos entered the cell.

  “Please, don’t kill me.” He continued to beg.

  “What’s in it for me?” Carlos asked with an arched eyebrow.

  He kneeled in front of the guard who had taunted him with a phone over a week ago. The guard stared, wide-eyed and speechless. Tears and mucus streamed from his eyes and nose. Carlos stabbed him in the stomach. The guard let out an agonizing moan, gripping at his stomach.

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  “That’ll teach you to respect your superiors in the future.”