* * *
Bear waited in his truck, engine running, lights dead, listening to the chatter on his earpiece from Snell and her crew, foot drumming up and down. Snell had the front of the building covered. Bear watched the back from his vantage point. He used binoculars to zoom in on the closed gate. It was thick, and he thought a padlock held the gate shut. Hard to tell in the dark.
The longer the meet went on, and the more Bear heard from Drabek and the man they called Alim, the more nervous he became. When Alim made reference to shooters aiming at his buddy, Bear knew he couldn’t sit there with his thumb up his ass any longer.
He put the truck in drive and prowled along the street toward the building, trying to avoid feeding any sound to the throaty exhaust of his truck. He winced as the brakes squealed when he stopped on the north side of the building, out of sight of the gate. He slid out of the truck, bringing his Sig Sauer with him. Leaving the door ajar, he crept to the side of the building and peeked around the corner at the gate when gunfire erupted.
Jake grunted out in his earpiece. “West side, third floor. North side, third floor. Two more shooters.”
Bear swung in front of the gate, taking aim between the rusted iron. A black SUV partially blocked his view, and a thin man ran to it and dropped out of sight. Jake and Drabek exchanged blows on the ground by Snell’s car and another man with a submachine gun fired in their direction, riddling Snell’s car with holes, but missing. The man ran toward Jake, planted his feet and swung the gun around. Bear took aim, exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jake knew what he wanted to do to Drabek, but had difficulty doing it lying underneath the man. He could roll him over and pound the holy hell out of him but would risk taking a bullet in the back if he did so. Bullets rained around them from the man in the north window, and the shooter on the ground with a submachine gun headed toward them. Rapid pings erupted as Snell’s car was peppered.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Drabek snarled, his eyes lit with fire, spittle dripping from his mouth. The man was stronger than Jake gave him credit.
“You’re gonna get us both killed, you dumb son of a bitch,” Jake grunted, throwing a couple of rabbit punches to his side. Drabek yelped, and his grip on Jake relaxed enough for him to scoot back to the cover of the car. Drabek lunged back on top of him. They were safe from the shooter on the west side, but over Drabek’s shoulder, the man with the submachine gun swung the barrel toward them. Jake tried to reach his gun in his waistband, but Drabek’s body position wouldn’t let him. He gripped Drabek to yank him into the line of fire when the submachine gun guy’s face exploded, spraying a fine, red mist. The man wobbled, fell to his knees, and toppled over. Jake didn’t know who shot him and didn’t care.
Drabek caught Jake flush in the face with a couple of blows. Stars danced and when they cleared, the aerosol gun in Drabek’s hand appeared. Drabek tried to swing it around to Jake’s face, but Jake caught his arm just in time, keeping the nozzle head pointed well away from him. Drabek was weaker than Jake but had better leverage. Drabek yelled as he pushed, silver hair flopping over his face, mouth wide in a medieval snarl. The aerosol gun was moving into the right position to give Jake a face full of the poison.
“After I kill you,” Drabek grunted, “I’m going to track down your entire family and watch them eat Ares.”
Jake wedged his left foot against the tire of Snell’s car, giving him the leverage he needed. He rolled, pinning Drabek’s arm to the ground. Jake reached to the backside of the aerosol gun and yanked the Ares vial loose.
“You first.” He shoved the vial into Drabek’s open mouth and threw his elbow to the underside of Drabek’s jaw. The glass vial crunched and with every ounce of strength in his body, he shoved Drabek to the side.
Drabek’s eyes popped wide as an owl’s, blood running over his chin as the shattered vial shredded the inside of his mouth. Jake waited a second for the poison to take hold, but nothing happened. Drabek pulled his gun from his waistband. Jake reached for his but knew it would be too late. He must have grabbed the fake vial, and now it would cost him his life. As images of Maggie and Halle flashed through the dark barrel of the gun, Drabek began to shake like a seizure racked his frame. He screamed before the blood pouring from his mouth garbled the sound.
Alim’s SUV roared to life as Drabek thrashed on his back, his muscles rigid, and veins popping as if a pressure wave tried to find a way out of his body. It lasted a few seconds before he stilled. One last bloody air bubble emerged before his lifeless head rolled to the side like a ragdoll, his blood-filled eyes dead.
“Sleep tight, asshole,” Jake said.
* * *
Alim’s face burned with rage. The infidels had tricked him, Fareeq was sniped from the roof, and Siddiq had the back of his head blown off by a hulk shooting from the gate that was Alim’s only escape route. Husam cowered in the passenger seat as Alim jumped in the driver’s side. He would have to send Husam back to pick up Jalal who continued firing from his position on the third floor. Turning the key, Alim threw the car in drive. He never should have come to this Godforsaken place. He punched the gas and aimed for the closed gate.
* * *
Rubber burned as Alim’s SUV shot toward the closed gate on the north side and crashed into it. The gate bent but held. Jake was halfway to his feet when a shot rang out and blew out the window of Snell’s car. He flung himself to the ground and wiped glass from his face.
“The shooter on the west side is still there,” he called out. He crawled to the backside of the car toward the front gate. Snell and Briggs appeared around the corner. Jake pointed toward the west side of the building and crawled back to the front of the car to draw fire. Two more shots rang out, giving Snell and Briggs a location. They opened fire on the building.
Alim’s Suburban reversed and was about to take another run at the gate when a man emerged from a doorway on the north side of the building and ran toward the SUV. Jake cleared his Glock and squeezed off three rapid shots, missing the man before he dove into the open rear passenger side door. The back tires of the SUV spun with screaming smoke before finding purchase on the asphalt. It shot forward toward the bent gate. Jake squeezed off three more rounds into the body of the Suburban before it crashed through the gate and disappeared into the night. More gunshots and metal pings rang out from the other side of the wall. The bad guys from the Middle East were gone.
“Keep shooting,” Jake yelled. “Keep that fucker off me.”
Jake used the cover-fire provided by Snell to dive through the passenger door of her car to the driver’s seat. He threw the car in gear and tore out across the courtyard after Alim.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jake shot through the courtyard opening and came within inches of running over Bear. His friend managed to jump out of the way at the last moment but waved his arms for Jake to stop. Jake slammed on the brakes, watching the taillights of Alim’s SUV disappear around the corner. Bear tore open the passenger door and jumped inside.
“Almost had that son of a bitch,” Bear said as Jake punched the gas and took off after Alim. “You okay?”
“Think so,” Jake said, spinning the wheel to the right. Snell’s Fusion fishtailed before righting itself. Alim sped toward Kemper Arena, a hundred yards ahead of them. “Took a shot on my arm, but I think it just grazed it. You didn’t stay put.”
Bear pressed his hands into the dash to keep from sliding around. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun. Jesus, doesn’t this thing go any faster?”
“Got it mashed to the floor. Government issue Ford riddled with bullets. What do you expect?”
Jake glanced at the speedometer which was at seventy and climbing. They flew down the straightaway, gaining ground on Alim. The SUV slowed, trajectory wobbling.
“They’re slowing,” Jake said.
Darkened buildings whipped by on either side, trash flying and swirling in the wind created by their wake.
&nb
sp; “Think I shot a tire as they busted out of the courtyard,” Bear said.
“Wondered who was doing the shooting.”
“Who do you think capped the dick with the submachine gun?”
“So, I owe you another one?” Jake asked.
“Buy me a beer when this is done, and we’ll call it even.”
They blazed down the street, fifty yards from the Suburban and closing fast. A hundred yards ahead lay a tight roundabout spilling into Kemper Arena. A figure poked out of the rear passenger window of the SUV and raised a gun.
“Get down,” Bear yelled.
Jake kept a foot on the gas and leaned against the door, as low as he could get and still trail the car in front of them. Bear dropped his massive frame to the seat, his head in Jake’s lap as the windshield exploded with a spray of machine gun fire. Jake smacked Snell’s car into the rear of the slowing SUV, throwing Bear into the front panel of the car with a grunt and causing the Suburban to swerve. Jake sat up, Bear bouncing back into the seat with his head still down.
“Jesus Christ,” Bear yelled.
“Just trying to get your head out of my lap.”
Bear pushed to sit up, peeking over the dashboard before righting himself. Shards of glass hung from his hair and bushy beard. They dipped to forty miles per hour with the roundabout dead ahead. Three-foot-high, chipped, beige, concrete walls lined the interior of the forty-foot circle. Jake gunned the sedan along the backside of the SUV. The front tire was gone, and sparks flew from the rims. Alim tried to turn into the roundabout without much luck. One little nudge was all it would take. The guy in the back had slapped another clip into the machine gun and was raising it up to fire again. Bear fired his Sig Sauer through the blown-out windshield, and the man ducked back inside.
“Nail that bastard,” Bear urged.
Jake entered the roundabout, jerking the wheel to the side, slamming into the black metal of the Suburban’s rear quarter panel. The SUV thumped into the concrete barrier as Jake bounced off to the right. It teetered on the two wheels closest to the barrier, and Jake crashed into it again. The Suburban hit the barrier and flipped into the air, landing on its roof in the infield of the roundabout, screeching and crashing into the wall.
“Jesus God,” Bear said as Jake skidded to a stop. He threw open his door, and Jake followed suit. They hopped the wall and approached the overturned SUV with guns drawn. Bear took the driver’s side and disappeared around the corner of the flipped vehicle. Jake scrambled along the scraped and crushed passenger side, striped gouges in the paint like animal claws. Liquid ran down the sides from the punctured gas tank, the sweet smell of unleaded filling the air. Debris, including the bad guy from the third floor with his head bent at an unnatural ninety degrees and split open like a melon, was strewn from one side of the vehicle to the other. The guy in the passenger seat was crushed against the dash, eyes open and unmoving. Guns, clothes, and a black duffel bag spilled on the ground among shards of glass.
Jake trained his gun on the blown-out, passenger-side window and swung around. Alim was pinned against the caved steering wheel and the crushed door, his face blackened and bloodied. He was alive, groaning and trying to free himself. Jake smelled smoke and licks of fire spit from the dashboard. He ran to the driver’s side and squatted next to Bear. The flames grew larger, licking their way toward Alim.
“Let’s get his ass out of there,” Bear said, moving forward. It would be the humane thing to do, but Jake didn’t feel very humane at that moment. He stopped Bear with an arm across the chest.
“Why? He’s a fucking terrorist willing to kill any one of us.”
Bear toggled between Jake and the truck. “You sure?”
Jake never had a problem hurting people who deserved to be hurt. If anyone deserved to die, it was this asshole. “I’m sure. Let him burn.”
Bear regarded Jake; eyes narrowed. He stepped back. “Can’t argue with your logic. But, let’s get back before this thing blows.”
Jake took one last look at Alim. The fire creeping toward the man’s face matched the fire in his eyes.
“You will burn in Allah’s flames one day.” Alim spat, blood streaming down his forehead.
“Maybe,” Jake said. “But right now, you’re gonna burn in good ol’ American unleaded.”
Jake and Bear trotted back toward Snell’s car. Jake picked up the black duffel bag, and Bear grabbed a black briefcase. They left a couple of guns and items of clothes. They hopped the wall again, tossing both bags into the back of Snell’s car. Jake bucked Snell’s crumpled car forward, out of the danger zone.
The flames grew larger, spitting from the sides of the hood and blackening the concrete wall. Headlights washed over Jake and Bear as they leaned against Snell’s car. Snell and McKernan dashed toward them, their heads jerking to the crash site as Alim screamed, the flames swallowing him.
“What in God’s name is that?” McKernan asked.
Jake and Snell locked eyes. “Justice,” he said.
Approaching sirens wailed in the distance.
“Where’s Briggs?” Jake asked.
“Standing guard over Drabek’s security guy. He was the one firing at you from the west side. Briggs caught him running from the building.”
“Is he okay?”
“Briggs is fine. The other guy might be shot in the leg a little.”
“A little?” Jake asked.
“It happens.”
“This is going to be a clusterfuck.”
“Yup. You should go,” Snell said. “Both of you.”
“There’s going to be questions,” Jake said.
“I’ll cover it. We have a lot of clean-up to do.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Take my car back to Bear’s truck. I’ll call you when I can.”
Jake gave her a hug, kissing her on the forehead. He and Bear commandeered the remains of her car, her lithe frame backlit by the enflamed SUV.
She turned. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”
Jake drove down the road. Ten seconds later, the Suburban exploded, sending flames and black clouds of smoke to the darkened Kansas City skies.
Chapter Fifty-Six
They entered the courtyard and dumped Snell’s car at the spot where the fire fight began. Drabek’s body lay by the briefcases. Across the way, the bodies of the two dead terrorists lay crumpled on the blacktop. The air still smelled of burnt tires and gunfire. Foster and Briggs guarded Drabek’s guy who sat against the building wall, hands cuffed behind his back and a bloody right leg, and the two silver briefcases stacked to his side. Jake and Bear grabbed their confiscated duffel bag and briefcase.
“Nice work,” Jake said.
“You too,” Briggs replied. “Heard you nailed the bad guys.”
“We all did.”
Briggs reached out and offered his hand. Jake and Bear both shook it. Foster followed suit.
“So who is this asshole?” Jake asked.
“He ain’t talkin’,” Foster said. “Wallet says his name is Tanner Stanton. Has an ID badge for Blue Heron.”
Bear looked at Stanton.
“This the guy who beat up Logan? Devaroux’s partner?”
“He was there,” Jake said.
Stanton raised his head, a red stripe of blood running across one cheek.
Bear leaned over and cracked a right hook into Stanton’s upturned eye. He spit on his unconscious form.
“That was for Logan, asshole.”
Bear clapped Jake on the shoulder. More sirens wailed in the distance.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jake said.
They jogged out the opposite side of the courtyard to Bear’s truck. Bear fired it up, and they drove back to Wumbly Road and out of the Stockyards.
“You sure know how to show a country boy a good time in the big city,” Bear said.
“Don’t ask for a repeat performance.”
Bear nodded toward the duffel bag and briefcase. “What did we get?”
Jake unlatched Bear’s case. Inside were papers and passports of Alim and his crew. Most of it written in Arabic.
“Guess we’ll have to give this to Snell,” Jake said. He unzipped the black duffel bag to reveal bricks of banded cash. The partial payout for Ares.
“Holy shit,” Bear breathed, trying to drive and admire the wads of green at the same time. “How much?”
Jake pawed at the wads. “Maybe a quarter million.”
“You turning that into Snell too?”
Jake patted the bag. “Hell no. Spoils of war.”
His cell vibrated. He fished it from his pocket and glanced at the number on the screen. “This can’t be good.”
“Who is it?” Bear asked.
“Keats.” Jake took a deep breath and answered. “Jason? What’s up?”
“You know goddamn well what’s up, Jake,” Keats said. The venom in his voice came through loud and clear. The last time Jake heard that tone, Keats shot one of his sticky-fingered underlings a half-dozen times in the face. “You just cost me a lot of money.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I know about Voleski, the case, your little partnership with the FBI and, judging from that fucking fireball down by Kemper, I’m guessing my investment just went to hell.”
“And you know all this how?” Jake asked.
“The point is I know. The how doesn’t matter.”
Bear poked Jake with a thick finger trying to figure out what was going on. Jake swatted his hand away. “Sorry I couldn’t come through for you, Jason.”
Keats paused a beat. “Not as sorry as I am.”
“So are we good? I mean, you and me. We okay?”
Keats growled. “No. We’re pretty fucking far from okay.”
The phone beeped signaling Keats disconnected. Jake stared at the device for a moment, pondering the implications.
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 51