“Nick Fischer,” I said.
“You motherfucker!”
“Let them go. I’ll give the Dragon his money,” I said.
“Where’s it at?”
The bald bouncer and the manager pointed their pistols at the back door. Hearing I had the money got their attention, but they were waiting for confirmation before blasting me again.
“It’s right here,” I yelled and sprinted for the front of the house.
They opened fire, blasting toward my voice.
I ran through the front door and back to the kitchen. Arnold had his arm around Penny’s neck with his back to me. Penny saw me coming and jerked her head sideways, giving me all the clearance I needed to hit Arnold in the head. He dropped his pistol and sank to the floor. Baldy spun toward me and pulled his trigger, but he was out of ammo. The slide on his Glock was locked back and empty. Maybe Saint Jude was on my side.
He went for the backup weapon in his jeans. I fired first, blasting him into the kitchen table.
Leo and his kids stared in stunned silence. Junior got to his feet, still holding his bleeding nose. I handed him a kitchen towel. Penny grabbed her shorts and slipped them on.
“Is there anyone else in here?” I asked.
“No,” Leo said. “Just the three of them. Thank you.”
“You need to leave. You know he’ll be back.”
Chapter Forty-Six
I needed more than a couple of pistols to break into a gangster’s warehouse. The rifle, the shotgun, and the extra ammo I was counting on was locked up in the SAPD impound. I had extras at the house, but they might as well have been in Seattle. I called the only person I knew and trusted who had access to firearms. He might not help me, but it was worth a shot.
“You’re fixin’ to make the ten most wanted list, Junior,” Sergeant Vera said when he came on the line. Calling me Junior was his way of saying he disapproved of my behavior. He’d used the same technique since I was in elementary school.
“I’ll give you an autograph when I see you.”
“What the Sam Hill’s gotten into you?”
“I’m getting your deer blind ready. We should get together soon and catch up. Right now I need some firepower.”
“If I saw you on the street, I’d have to arrest you.”
“I promise to turn myself in when this is over,” I said.
I explained my predicament with as few words as possible. When I was finished, there was silence on the line.
“You still there? I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate,” I said.
“I don’t like the sound of that, Junior,” he said.
•••
I got off the freeway and met Vera around the corner from the SAPD annex west of downtown. I parked Penny’s red Camry on the street and got in the passenger seat of Vera’s Chevy pickup.
“I’ll do this on one condition,” he said.
“I told you I’d take you deer hunting.”
“That’s a given. The condition is, you call Detective Ochoa and tell her where you’re going.”
I thought about that while he drove to the guard house at the back gate. He wasn’t giving me a choice. “Maya might be at the warehouse. If she is, I want to get her out of there before the shootin’ starts.”
“All the more reason to have backup. It’s your choice. Call her or go empty-handed.”
“All right,” I said. If it was anybody else but Detective Ochoa, I would have said no. I didn’t want or need the interference. But I trusted her.
A plump female guard wearing cobalt-blue eyeliner stood under the streetlight by the gate.
Vera unrolled his window, gave her a flirty grin. “You’re lookin’ tight, girl. Did you cut your hair?”
“Don’t try getting in my pants, viejo,” she said and laughed.
“You can’t blame me for tryin’,” he said.
“That’s sexual harassment.”
“I can’t help it. When I see a beautiful woman, I get weak in the knees.”
“I could get you fired.”
“I’m already retired. My wife wants me to chase younger women. She says she doesn’t like sex anymore.”
“That’s not what she told me.”
The two of them laughed like two bridesmaids at a nail salon. I drummed my fingers on the console of his pickup.
The guard shined her flashlight into my face.
“This is—” Vera started to say.
She cut him off. “Fischer. I know. Ochoa called me. Don’t take too long.” She opened the gate and went back inside the guard shack.
“You have a guardian angel,” Vera said.
He drove to the back entrance and parked beside the loading dock. I followed him inside to a warehouse-sized room cordoned off by hurricane fencing. He walked to the nearest gate and produced a key for the lock.
“I talked to the officer who found your pickup. He’s my cousin. Your bag of goodies is in here. He left it off the inventory.”
“I owe you one.”
“This one’s for your father.” He hesitated, deciding whether to go on. “I never told anyone this. I made a bad decision that should have got me killed. I was young and stupid, looking for a big payday. Luckily, your dad was the lawman who caught up with me. Anybody else, and I’d have been in prison or dead. Lee Fischer told me to put my gun away and go home. He didn’t just mean sleep it off—he meant take a new path in life. I followed his advice and never looked back.”
He went to the caged area that was stacked to the ceiling with weapons of every kind—pistols, shotguns, and dozens of AR-15s. Most people had no idea the kind of firepower the bad guys were packing on the streets of the Alamo City. My black duffle bag was on the floor near the front gate.
I sorted through my bag. Everything was still there. My AR-15 with the suppressor, the shotgun, the extra magazines, the ammo. It was like finding your lost pair of shoes on the lakeshore after a swim. The walk back to the car was going to be a lot easier.
Vera disappeared for a few minutes while I picked up my duffle bag and took it back out to his pickup. I stood under the blinking florescent lights of the building and glanced up at the clear sky and the few stars that penetrated the city lights. I tried to keep my mind clear and focused. Find Maya. Take out the Dragon.
Vera reappeared and closed and locked the annex door behind him. He was carrying a black duffle bag about the size of my own.
“I thought you could use a little extra help,” he said and grinned. He handed me the bag.
Inside I found a tactical flashlight and a pair of night-vision goggles. Very useful.
“Came from a cartel bust last week. Those guys have military-grade weapons directly from the Mexican army. DEA was supposed to pick it up. There was a problem with the inventory sheet.” He winked at me and started his pickup. “Ochoa called me yesterday. Asked me what I thought about you.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I told her everything I know. She still likes you.” He chuckled.
“Diana Ochoa? Detective Diana Ochoa?” She and I had been at each other’s throats since the first night I met her.
“Diana is a nice lady and a good cop. She knows her shit,” he said. Coming from Vera, that was the highest compliment. “If it hadn’t been for her, you would be in jail by now.”
We drove back out the gate, and he parked behind Penny’s Camry.
I unloaded the two duffle bags.
“I’m not gonna try to talk you out of this business because I knew your father and your granddad. Stubbornness is a Fischer family trait. I also think you’re doing the right thing. It’s what Lee Fischer would have done.”
Vera held his hand out the pickup window, and I shook it.
“Opening weekend I expect you to have my feeder full of corn and my deer blind ready.” It was his way of telling me to be careful. He wanted to see me at the ranch when deer season opened on the first of
November.
“I’ll find a nice big buck and tie him to a tree.”
His pickup disappeared around the corner. I cranked the Camry, put it in gear, and focused on the mission.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I followed Leo’s GPS coordinates west on I-35, then south on Highway 16. The southern edge of the city consisted of industrial businesses, the occasional residence, and pastureland overrun with mesquite and huisache brush that stretched to Mexico, a hundred and fifty miles to the south.
The address was in an industrial park with an oilfield equipment company on one end and a Mexican food restaurant on the other advertised by a twelve-foot metal sculpture of a fat bullfrog wearing a sombrero and playing a guitar.
The Dragon’s warehouse was in the middle, set back off the road about a hundred yards. Ten-foot hurricane fencing topped with razor wire surrounded the compound. The corners had surveillance cameras, and there were two guards inside a shack beside the locked gate.
I cruised by on the highway once to see if the guards paid any attention. They didn’t seem to be watching the road. I made a U-Turn and parked behind the Mexican bullfrog.
I pulled my AR-15 from the duffle bag, screwed the Surefire suppressor in place, and loaded a thirty-round clip. I stuck two extra mags in my pockets and grabbed my binoculars. I had promised Vera I would call Detective Ochoa, and I would. But first I needed to find out if Russell was in the warehouse with Maya. Otherwise, the call would be a waste of time.
I skirted the light from the floodlamps and worked my way in the shadows to the back of the compound. The fence was neglected and covered with thick brush. I pushed my way through the prickly huisache limbs to the base of the wire.
The loading dock and back parking area were lit up like a football stadium. I wasn’t going to get within fifty yards without being seen. There was a semi-tractor trailer backed into the landing, and two workers were busy offloading cargo with a forklift. A man with a dark jacket stood near the door holding an AR rifle.
I scanned the area with my binoculars. Whatever cargo was coming off the truck was in black plastic bags. They looked like the same size and shape as what I’d seen in the trailer in Gillespie County. The windows were blacked out, and the open warehouse door only gave a small glimpse of the interior. I searched the dozen cars in the parking lot. There was a black Jeep Grand Cherokee near the warehouse door.
Russell was there. I hoped Maya was with him.
I worked my way out of the brush and back to the Camry. I needed a way to cut power to the warehouse. I thought of shooting out the transformer. I’d used that ploy on my last case to gain access to the Allison ranch. It had worked then, but only because there was cover between the gate and the ranch house. This time, I’d be exposed in an open field for fifty yards. An easy target.
Then I heard the distinct downshift of a big diesel engine. I ducked as headlights flashed across the Camry. A semi-truck turned off the highway toward the warehouse gate. Opportunity knocked. I pulled the night vision goggles from the duffle bag and slipped them around my neck. I didn’t have a clear plan, but being able to see in the dark would come in handy, thanks to Sergeant Vera.
I found Detective Ochoa’s number and typed out a text message: Possible location for Russell and Maya. Need confirmation. Will advise.
As soon as I hit send, my phone vibrated. Ochoa was calling.
The two guards at the gate house approached the cab of the semi-truck. The driver set his air brakes. The phone vibration stopped. I ran to the edge of the Mexican restaurant, closing the distance to the gate and the truck.
My phone vibrated again. Ochoa wasn’t giving up. I hit accept.
“I said it’s not confirmed.”
“Don’t give me that. Where are you?” Ochoa said.
I told her the address of the warehouse and what I’d seen so far, while I watched the truck driver open his cab door and got out.
“Stay where you are,” she said. “Do you hear me? Do not attempt to enter that warehouse until I get there.”
The driver and one of the gate guards turned toward the back of the truck.
“I can’t wait. Maya may be there,” I said and disconnected.
I sprinted to the rear of the semi, keeping the trailer between me and the two men, then dove under the bumper and wedged myself against the trailer bed. If they did a search, I was toast. I only hoped they weren’t that careful.
“It’s locked, dude,” a voice protested.
“Rules are rules,” another voice insisted. “Open it up.”
“You know what happens if I’m late?”
I heard the driver rattle the lock on the trailer door, his knees inches from my face. He had only to bend down to see me. I was clinging to the undercarriage with both hands. No chance to pull my pistol. The exertion caused pain to sweep from my chest to my shoulder and shoot down my arms.
The retractable trailer door rattled up.
“You see?” the first voice said. “Now can I get back to work?”
“All right, all right. What if you had something else in your trailer, huh? What would he do to me?”
They were worried about someone. I guessed that someone was the Dragon.
I heard the footsteps recede, a door slam, and the gate swing open. I kept my body tight against the bumper and the bottom of the trailer, hoping by butt wasn’t visible. The truck slowed and made a U-turn. That was my signal to get off. He would be backing into the well-lit loading dock. When the driver hit the brakes, I let go and rolled to the pavement. The wheels immediately reversed. I dove clear and ducked under the nearest pickup.
The semi-truck backed to the loading dock, and I heard the door open and several men’s voices. I worked my way toward the side door and slipped inside.
There was probably ten thousand square feet of space and three-quarters of it was filled with pallets stacked with black plastic bags. I didn’t need to know what was in them.
All the activity was at the loading dock. There were shouts and some laughter as the men unloaded the truck and added to their bounty.
I worked my way along the wall to the base of the steps leading to the second-floor offices and found what I was looking for—the main electrical breaker for the warehouse. I’d seen three men, one armed with an AR. Judging from the voices, there were at least four others inside the warehouse. I was outnumbered and needed an advantage.
I opened the breaker box and pulled the main switch.
The warehouse went black.
I heard a crash that sounded like the forklift slamming into metal. Someone flipped on a flashlight. The light beam searched the warehouse. I pulled on the night vision goggles and walked up the stairs to the offices.
Crouching at the top of the steps, I scanned the warehouse floor. There were five men on the inside. Three of them had rifles. Only one had a flashlight, and he was holding it so that two of the men could finished unloading the truck.
“Where’s the fucking generator?” a raspy voice shouted from the office window less than ten feet away.
It was the Dragon.
“We’re working on it,” a voice responded from the first floor.
I pulled my Springfield and felt a warm dampness inside the Kevlar vest. No time to change the bandage. I opened the door at the top of the stairs. The first room was a breakroom area with a long table in the center and a refrigerator and sink in the corner. I checked my watch. It had been ten minutes since Ochoa called. I checked my phone. There was a text message from her.
Sit tight. On our way.
Too late. I stepped into the next room.
Russell Stevens stood behind a desk scanning the dark warehouse floor. I leveled my pistol at his chest.
The lights flicked on. Someone had found the breaker. I slipped the goggles off.
The Dragon didn’t jump or flinch. He turned and smiled like he was expecting me.
“You’re a real pain in the ass,
” he said.
“Where’s Maya?”
“When you gonna get it through your head? Maya’s not your concern.”
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“You think you’re gonna get out of here alive?”
Footsteps pounded on the metal stairs. At least two men were coming fast.
“In about nine minutes, San Antonio’s finest will be here.” I showed him my phone display with Detective Ochoa’s message and caller ID. “Give me Maya and I’ll tell you where the money is. You can get a head start.”
Russell studied my face for signs that I was bluffing. I held his gaze.
“Maya!” he yelled.
Maya walked out of the back room. Four other girls about her age followed. They looked scared and hesitant. All were dressed like Boys Town hookers with their hair curled and layers of glitter makeup. Maya’s dress was gold, shiny, and skintight.
Suddenly, I felt lightheaded. Warm moisture trickled down my skin under my Kevlar vest.
“Maya, your grandpa wants you back,” I said. “He told me about the fight you had. He’s willing to give you some space.”
Maya chewed her bottom lip. She looked at Russell.
“It’s okay, you can come with me.” The room went blurry. I grabbed the back of a chair for support. The Springfield felt like a fifty-pound weight in my hand.
“You see? You wasted your time, Fischer. She don’t wanna go with you. She likes it where she is.”
The other girls looked at Maya then down at their feet.
“In a few hours, they’ll all be in a new home,” Russell said.
“You can’t take them,” I said, then lost my grip on the Springfield.
Russell saw the drops of blood on my boots.
“You ain’t doing too good, partner.”
The men behind me grabbed my arms.
Everything went black.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I came to upside down. My hands were zip-tied in front of me, and I was hanging from an A-frame engine hoist like a fresh-killed carcass ready for gutting and skinning. The bloody bandage on my chest was still in place, but they had stripped me of my Kevlar vest and shirt. A fresh puddle of blood pooled beneath me on the concrete floor.
Second Chances Page 23