by Sid Kar
If the kid went to the police, the client could refuse payment of the second.
Panther reached out with his hand to the pistol but stopped short of touching it. He let his palm and fingers hover over his gun.
To Kill or Not to Kill was the question.
CHAPTER 9
Frank and Joe drove up to the New Brunswick campus of Rutgers University and searched for the fraternity to which the driver of the Red Corolla – one Steve Winters – belonged. Frank parked his cruiser right in front of the lawn.
“Boys are partying even on a Monday,” Joe said.
“Joe, put your pistol in your coat pocket. I don’t want some idiot drunk kid to grab it as a joke and cause a mess for us,” Frank and Joe took out their Glocks from their holsters and put them inside their inner coat pockets. Then they cut across the lawn and walked up to the open door of the frat.
There were two college kids standing in front of the door drinking beer out of the red cups. When they saw the two cops approach them, they stiffened up. One of them put his drink away on a ledge of a window. The other one walked towards Frank.
“Do you have a search warrant?” he asked.
“Who are you? The owner?” Frank replied.
“No I am a guest…”
“Only the owner, his family or representative can ask for a warrant,” Frank said, “I see an open door, we too are visiting.”
Frank and Joe walked past them and the two kids stood there dumbfounded.
There was a party going on with loud music blasting to strobe lights in an otherwise large darkened room, boys and girls drinking beer out of cups, cans and bottles and a few dancing in the center which was rather packed and crowded. There were stairs to the rooms upstairs all the way at the other end. A bar was set up on the right and a beer pong table to the left.
Everyone stopped talking when they saw Frank and Joe enter.
Joe picked up a beer cup from the beer pong table, took a long gulp then threw the half-filled cup at the table knocking a few other cups over with a splash. The kids gawked at him flustered.
“Cheap, lite beer, tasteless trash,” Joe said.
The kid standing behind the bar was a frat member and he jumped up and down to wave at Frank. “Officer, it’s all cool. Everyone here is 21 or older,” he said.
“Yeah right,” Frank scoffed, “the State Police has better things to do than hand out MIPs at a frat.” Frank walked towards him and sat down on a stool. Joe stood next to him.
The rest of the college kids warily eyed them but realized that they weren’t interested in them and slowly returned to their drinking and dancing.
“You Steve Winters by any chance?” Frank asked the kid behind the bar.
“No, not me, but he is a brother here,” the kid replied, “What did he do? Is he in trouble?” the kid asked.
“He is in trouble alright, but not because of what he did, but what he may have seen,” Frank replied.
“What’s that?” kid asked.
“He may have seen the face of a ruthless killer leaving a murder scene,” Frank said.
“Oh damn…oh damn,” the kid rubbed his hand through his hair, “did the killer see Steve?”
“Can’t say, that’s why we are here, but the killer is very dangerous,” Frank said.
“A real bad ass gangsta from the hood,” Joe added.
“Wait here. I will get our president,” he said then added with hesitation, “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Sure, why not,” Frank said.
“Get us some of that good stuff you drink,” Joe added, “not that diluted palp you ply the girls with.”
The kid smiled and put down two beer bottles for Frank and Joe, “Hey you cops are cool,” he said and disappeared through the crowd and went up the stairs. Frank and Joe turned around and watched the uneasy crowd.
“It’s the same as it was when you was in Rutgers,” Joe said, “because of you I got to have the college experience of drinking and partying and don’t feel like I missed out.” Joe remembered that Frank used to bring him along to the college parties even though he wasn’t a student.
“You missed out the educational experience,” Frank chuckled.
“Glad I did,” Joe laughed, “I wouldn’t have wanted to burden you to help me pass like you did in high school.”
“Strange, it wasn’t that long ago,” Frank said, “less than ten years when we were walking these parts…”
The kid from the bar appeared out of the crowd and stood in front of them.
“Officers, our frat’s president will meet you,” he said, “just go up the stairs and make a left. The room all the way at the end is his.”
“Where is Steve?” Frank asked.
“Dunno,” the kid shrugged.
Frank put down his half empty bottle on the bar while Joe threw his in a heap near the floor as he had gulped it all down.
Frank and Joe started walking through the crowd. Frank had to push the drunk college kids out of the way as they danced around them.
One girl walked over to Frank, put her arms around his neck, and jumped up on to him. Frank reflexively held the drunk girl with his left arm to keep her from falling to the ground. She leaned in close and planted a kiss on Frank’s cheek and smiled naughtily.
Frank turned around, lifted her up just with his left arm and tossed her over to the empty sofa on the left.
A few other girls laughed and giggled, “Me, me, me!”
“Why don’t you jump in my arms doll, I will toss you up and down, just like Frank over here,” Joe said to the drunk girl on the sofa. She squinted at him then looked away with a sudden turn of her neck.
“C’mon, Joe,” Frank said pushing aside a few more kids.
As he was about to take a step towards the stairs, a 6 feet 3 tall, beefed up, visibly drunk kid with college football player build stood in front of him and scowled. “I don’t like cops,” he said, “I don’t like them in my frat.”
“Let me give that boy a real education, Frank,” Joe said.
“No time,” Frank said. He reached over and grabbed football player’s wrist with a snap, gave it a hard twist and made him spin around yelling in pain. Then Frank pushed him away and the player went stumbling and crashed at the bottom of the same sofa. He was drunk and passed out right then and there.
“Boy learned manners today,” Joe grinned and proclaimed to the college kids, “more than what he is going to learn in his four years here.”
Some kids yelled and cursed at them but Frank and Joe had now walked upstairs. They turned left and walked down the corridor and entered the last room. A kid in red t-shirt and blue jeans with disheveled, wet hair was sitting on a large sofa staring at his smartphone. A towel dripping water droplets was drying on a rocking chair and steam was coming from the open door of the bathroom. Frank and Joe walked in.
“Come in, officers. Have a seat,” he said and extended his arm to Frank, “I am George. I am the president here. Sam told me that you are looking for Steve, that he saw a murder?”
“A murderer walking away,” Frank said, “not the actual murder, although it would be very lucky for us if he somehow did. Can you call him?”
“He is not here,” George answered.
“Where is he?” Frank asked.
“He went to a house party,” George said.
Frank and Joe looked at him suspiciously.
“I know there is a party here,” George said, “but he is trying to get with a girl at that house who won’t give him the time of the day. He thinks he might stand a chance tonight.”
“Because she will be drunk,” Joe said.
George grinned but said nothing.
“Call him and tell him to come here,” Frank said, “this is more important.”
George scrolled through his cell phone and dialed a number but no one answered. He tried two more times then left a message.
“Where is this house?” Frank asked. George didn’t know the house numb
er but he gave Frank the directions to the street.
“You wanna go over there, Frank?” Joe asked.
“Give him a few more minutes to check his phone,” Frank said.
“Oh hey, officers, he might not even be there,” George said.
“What is this? What do you mean?” Frank asked.
“His uncle called our frat line less than five minutes before you came. He wanted to know if Steve was here,” George said.
“His Uncle? Why?” Frank asked.
“He wanted to take Steve out to dinner,” George replied.
“And let me guess. He told you to not tell Steve because he wanted it to be a surprise,” Frank said standing up.
“Yeah he did…oh my god,” George and Joe got up simultaneously, “Is this the…”
“That’s the killer,” Joe nodded his head. Frank had already turned around and started walking out.
“George, you keep calling your friend and if you reach him, tell him to lock himself in a room and lay down on the floor away from the bed,” Frank said, “you might just save your friend’s life.”
Frank and Joe rushed down the hallway. George trotted after them while dialing his phone. Frank and Joe ran down the stairs skipping steps along the way.
“Get out their way!” George yelled at the college crowd downstairs, “get out of their way!”
The crowd was shocked but listened to George and followed their instincts when Frank and Joe came running and parted in two. Frank and Joe ran out and into their car. Frank turned on the lights even as he got in and hit the gas pedal.
“No sirens?” Joe asked while he took out his Glock from his coat pocket.
“Don’t want to alert him,” Frank replied.
“We don’t know the house,” Joe said.
“We know the street and he said it was painted yellow,” Frank said sharply turning a corner, “it’s Monday, if we are lucky, no other house will be having a party.”
They were right about that as Frank made a right turn on that street, there was only one house with front porch lighted and kids standing around with cups in their hands. As they came to a dead stop in front of the house, Joe looked out the window and said, “It’s yellow, Frank.”
Frank was already out the car and had drawn his own Glock from his coat. He ran up the front stairs of the house.
“Grab the Benelli,” Frank yelled to Joe.
Joe reached down to the gun rack below the glove compartment and yanked out the 12-gauge pump action shotgun even as he kicked his door open and ran out behind Frank.
College kids jumped back to either side of the porch. A couple of girls yelled when they saw the guns in Frank and Joe’s hands.
“Be quiet,” Frank said as he ran inside aiming his pistol in every direction. There was a smaller crowd of college kids sitting around eating chips and drinking beer. They all jumped up when they saw Frank.
“Stay seated,” Frank said. He wanted to yell but at the same time if Panther was inside he didn’t want to alert him. “Where is Steve? Where is Steve?” Frank asked.
Nobody replied. They were all visibly shaken up and curling in fear.
“Did his uncle come here?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, just now. He went up to Jenny’s room,” a boy said.
“Which is Jenny’s room?” Frank asked.
“Upstairs. Make a right, her room is on left, near the window,” the boy replied.
Jenny must be the girl Steve was looking for, Frank thought. Frank ran towards the stairs and hurdled up the steps even as he aimed high with his gun. If Panther had reached the room, he might have a double homicide on his hand, Frank sweated the thought. Joe was stomping up the stairs behind him with shotgun in one hand and pistol in other.
Panther slowly pushed open the door to the girl’s room and swept his pistol across the arc of the room. There was nobody inside. He turned on the lights. The room was a mess with clothes and books strewn about everywhere. He stepped inside, sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. His finger was on the trigger and he aimed his gun at the door. How surprised that fool of a kid is going to be when he stumbles in here looking for the girl but ends up seeing his gun.
Then he heard the commotion downstairs. Panther got up and walked towards the door.
“Officer, Steve is down here,” someone yelled.
Officer, what the fuck, Panther thought, was the police looking for Steve too or were they pursuing him. How in the world did they… he stepped outside and saw a blue uniformed man turn into the hallway from the stairs.
Frank glimpsed the black clothed figure raising his pistol from the corner of his eye. With no time to turn and aim, Frank flipped his pistol sideways and fired a shot even as he dashed forward through the open door of the room in front. His shot missed the man and went through the window taking out a chunk of the glass from the center.
Panther raised his pistol and fired two shots just as he saw the policeman firing his own pistol and he quickly threw himself back into the room. He regained his balance momentarily and heard three sounds of glass breaking back to back. His two bullets had gone through the window at the opposite end of the hallway.
Then Joe peeked into the hallway and fired with his shotgun shattering most of the window glass. Next he aimed at the door of the room where Panther had retreated.
“Joe STOP!” Frank yelled.
Joe pulled back his shotgun.
“Back Joe, back,” Frank said and signaled to Joe with his palm pushing towards him. Joe stepped back into the stairs and looked at Frank. Frank didn’t know if there was anybody else in the room with Panther. He had heard someone yell that Steve was downstairs. But maybe that girl Jenny was still in there, perhaps tied up by Panther. Last thing he wanted was college kids getting killed in the crossfire.
“Panther, we know it is you and that you killed Adam, the truck driver,” Frank shouted, “a ten man SWAT team has surrounded this house. If you don’t surrender in two minutes, I am going to order them to take you with force. Dead or alive, your choice.”
Panther was shocked to hear his nickname that was only known in the special operations and covert intelligence circles. And how the hell had they connected him to Adam so fast? He had a glance of the police officer’s face. He didn’t recognize it sideways under the visor of his cap, but he had seen it before, in his past life. And the types he interacted with then meant this was no ordinary cop, but a seasoned pro like himself. He didn’t believe the bluff about the SWAT team on the ready, but this policeman could be more dangerous, Panther thought.
“Joe, toss me the Benelli, I am going to blast this bastard out,” Frank said loudly enough so Panther could hear him. Joe tossed him the shotgun. “You have one more chance to give up,” Frank said at the wall that separated him from Panther, “then I start banging away.”
Panther was not sure that this was a bluff. The cop couldn’t be sure he didn’t have anybody else in the room with him. But then again maybe all the kids were downstairs for their little party and told the police likewise. He could hear the girls screaming downstairs. The loud boom of the shotgun firing had been unmistakable. And he could hear the sirens getting louder by the seconds. This was no planned operation by the police, Panther knew. They would have evacuated the college kids. They would have had police cars and armed officers ready on standby outside. He would not hear the sirens and the screams.
But he had to go now. He could not wait for more police to arrive. There was only one way out for him. Panther took off his silencer from his pistol barrel and put in his pant pocket. It would defeat the purpose of laying down cover fire if the enemy could not hear it. Panther took a deep breath.
Frank pumped the shotgun in the other room.
It was now or never, Panther made up his mind.
Panther stepped in the hallway again and fired three shots at one second interval. Then he turned around and ran to the window. Frank heard the shots and waited. He too knew Panther had only one w
ay out. He too had been trained with the same textbook – lay down cover fire, create diversion, head for the escape.
Frank waited after the third round when no more shots came. Then he took a quick glance in the hallway, saw Panther’s back, stepped outside halfway, rapidly brought his shotgun to bear, aimed as Panther jumped up at the window sill and fired a booming shot just as Panther went through and out.
Frank heard a scream and then a thud. Frank ran down to the window. Joe ran behind him. Frank tossed the shotgun to Joe and took out his Glock again. He saw blood droplets at the window sill. He aimed his pistol out the window and saw a figure running through the grass. He aimed his pistol but stopped from pulling the trigger when he saw Panther run into a crowd of neighborhood college students, presumably drawn to the scene by the noise of the shooting.
Panther smacked one student across the face with his pistol sending him to the ground and kicked another one out of his way. The students ran away from him screaming. Panther stepped onto the sidewalk, took a 360 degree view of his position, reoriented himself to face North and then ran headlong into a small, dark alley between two houses.
Frank and Joe turned around and ran down the stairs.
“Who is Steve?” Frank shouted at the scared crowd downstairs.
“I am,” a fuzzy haired, lean boy about twenty or twenty one years of age, raised his hand.
“Joe stay with him till the local police arrives,” Frank said.
“But Frank…” Joe started to protest but Frank was already out the door.
Frank looked around outside and made sure Panther wasn’t waiting in ambush. He didn’t think so, especially now that he was injured, but he had to make certain. Frank ran into his car, turned on the lights and the sirens – no more subtleties – and sped down the street.
Frank was familiar with the area as he had lived around here for a couple of years as a college student. He instantly knew what the best route of escape was for a man of Panther’s training. Police would set up roadblocks and they could search houses but Panther would not risk that.
