Devil's Advocate (Trackdown Book 4)
Page 29
Buck came running out with a frantic expression on his face and started running toward the far corner.
“Buck,” Wolf called. “We got any security guards lurking?”
“Nah, they gave up their weapons and are now supervising the looting,” Buck said. “But Von Dien and that other fella are getting away.”
Then Wolf heard it: the unmistakable chopping sound of spinning rotors slicing the air.
He looked up and saw a sleek white and blue helicopter rising upward as if being manipulated by some omniscient puppeteer. Wolf strained to see who was inside but couldn’t tell. The chopper swung upward going over the roof and hovered momentarily as it crested the tops of some of the more distant trees. He and Buck ran around the side of the building hoping at least to get off a couple of parting shots.
But it was too late. It was way out of effective pistol range.
“Shit,” Buck said. “Too late.”
Wolf felt deflated. The devil who’d orchestrated all this mayhem, all the unnecessary deaths, was getting the last laugh after all.
The helicopter was achieving some height now, escaping the perimeter of the trees and the high, cyclone fencing, a diminishing shape against a cerulean sky.
Then, a trail of smoke arched upward on an intercept course and a second later the helicopter burst into a fireball and descended in a rotating dive into the jungle canopy.
Wolf saw McNamara walking toward him, a thick barreled weapon that almost looked like an M3 MAAWS anti-tank weapon resting on his shoulder.
“Look what I found hiding in the woodshed,” Mac said, holding the weapon up for Wolf and Buck to see. A wisp of smoke still trickled from the back end of the over-sized barrel.
“That an M-Three?” Wolf asked.
“Nah. One of them old Carl Gustof Recoilless rifles. Five-hundred-yard effective range. Always wanted to fire one of these antiques.” Mac’s grin was wide. “I told you there’d be a reckoning, didn’t I?”
Wolf felt a wave of relief. It was over.
“Nice shooting,” Buck said.
“And that ain’t all,” McNamara said. “Show him, Buck.”
“Oh yeah.” Buck held up a pen and smiled. “This is one of them spy pens. I sell them at the Institute. Don’t know what’s on it, but maybe it’ll be something you can use, Steve. That Soraces guy was a snake, but I can’t see him carrying one that wouldn’t have something good recorded.”
He handed the pen to Wolf. He put it in his pocket and looked at Mac.
“We better beat feet out of here,” he said. “Somebody’s probably gonna come to check on that crash.”
“I got big Joe and Brenda doing some quick clean up,” McNamara said. “They gotta be about finished so I agree. But I wish I could take this baby with me.” He patted the gun.
Shakespeare said it best, Wolf thought. All’s well that ends well, but then he thought of something else. Something that needed to be returned … To Iraq.
“I gotta get something,” he said, and trotted back into the house.
Epilogue
THREE WEEKS LATER
THE MCNAMARA RANCH
PHOENIX, ARIZONA
As the mid-morning sun hung above the mountains, Wolf and McNamara carried the last of the boxes containing Wolf’s possessions down to his Jeep.
“You sure you want to keep this thing?” McNamara asked, cocking his head toward the restored bandito statue which sported more cracks and a fresh refilling of plaster. “After all the trouble it caused you?”
“Why not?” Wolf said. He placed his box into the back section and turned to gaze down at the bandito’s smiling face. “We’ve run a good course together.”
He took the last box from McNamara and shoved it into the vehicle as well. It held his laptop and a couple of books.
“You never did tell me how you did on that school paper,” McNamara said.
“I aced it. Thanks to poor old Garfield.”
“Yeah, shit. He was one of the good ones.” He took a deep breath. “You gonna be staying with Yolanda?”
“That’s the plan. For the moment, anyway. We’re going to see how things go.”
“Well, she’s one fine lady, that’s for sure.” McNamara laughed. “Like I said before, you’d best be careful or you’ll find yourself getting serious with that little gal.”
“The verdict’s not in on that yet.”
“Well, you know you’ll always be welcome back here.”
“I appreciate that, Mac,” Wolf said. He lowered the back window and slammed the tailgate. “But it’s time for a change.”
McNamara raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m hoping that high-priced lawyer can do something to get your name cleared up with what he’s got to work with on that spy pen recording. Now that we’ve settled most all of this other business.”
“You and me both,” Wolf said.
McNamara canted his head back and squinted at him. “So, you thinking about taking Ms. Dolly up on her job offer?”
Wolf smiled.
“I haven’t thought much beyond the next few weeks. Like you said, it depends on what Mr. Taylor can do. He seemed pretty optimistic once he saw that video from the spy pen.”
“Hell,” McNamara said. “He should. It’s what they call exculpatory, ain’t it?”
“That’s a pretty fancy term. Maybe you should take up practicing the law.”
“Maybe I will,” McNamara said. “You know, I never did use my GI Bill benefits. And depending on how this bail bond reform bullshit they’re pushing turns out, the bounty hunting business might be over with. Trackdown, Inc. will be a thing of the past.” He turned and glanced at the ranch house. “Guess I might as well start thinking about selling this place, too. It’s gonna be way too big for me with you, Kasey, and Chad all leaving.”
“Chad’ll still need a place to come visit his grandpa,” Wolf said.
“True enough.” McNamara snorted and shook his head. “Damn, that thing with her and Franker running off together knocked me for a loop. I mean, who’d a thunk it?”
“He turned out to be a decent guy. Try to be happy for her.”
“Yeah,” McNamara blew out a heavy breath. “At least he’s got a steady job. And he’s riding the crest of the wave after turning over those stolen artifacts.” He shook his head. “Imagine all this bullshit over a couple hunks of old stone and carved onyx.”
“Well, he’ll be out of our hair for good now. I know he definitely doesn’t want to piss off his new father-in-law.”
“He better not,” McNamara said. “Of course, him and Kasey are already on my list for taking off on their honeymoon and leaving me to babysit,”
“Who you kidding? You’re loving it.”
“Yeah, I guess I am at that.”
They both laughed.
“Tell Chad goodbye for me,” Wolf said.
McNamara nodded.
Wolf stepped over, opened the passenger door, and pulled out his championship belt. “Here, give him this.”
“Your belt? No, you already give him plenty setting up that college trust fund, Steve.”
“He likes it so much,” Wolf said with a shrug. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll find the time to win another one down the road.”
McNamara nodded. “It’ll be kept in a place of honor, on the mantel right next to my shadow box.”
Wolf was feeling the twinge of immense sadness creeping over him.
Mac shouldered the belt and sighed. “Well, with Trackdown, Inc. kinda hitting the skids, I can always pick up some extra money teaching for Buck at the Best of the West. It’ll give me some gambling money when I come to visit you and Ms. Dolly.”
Wolf grinned.
“Best be careful,” he said. “Or you’ll end up getting serious with that special lady.”
“That sounds familiar.” McNamara laughed again, but this time Wolf thought he could hear a note of sadness mixed in with the mirth. “Guess this is it. Been here before, many times, but this time’s really
hard. And special.”
Wolf felt a lump forming in his throat as he extended his hand. “Mac, thanks for everything. You literally pulled me from the brink, brought me back, and gave me something to live for. A new start. A new life.”
“Aw, shucks. Don’t be giving me more credit than I deserve now.”
The handshake turned into an embrace, which culminated with McNamara’s big hands slapping Wolf on the back.
“We’ve run a pretty good course together too,” McNamara said. “Ain’t we?”
“Damn straight,” Wolf said. “All the way.”
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Author Brent Towns keeps the action coming thick and fast, let’s you up for a breath and then drags you back in for more.
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Trying to lay low in a town gripped with lawlessness is impossible for the ex-recon marine, especially after the local sheriff is brutally murdered by the Montoya Cartel’s sicario, leaving an old friend, Deputy Sheriff Cara Billings, the only person standing between them and the town.
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Enter DEA Agent Luis Ferrero who has expressed to his bosses for a long time the need for a task force to fight the cartels on their own ground. He’s about to get his wish, and to head up his team, he wants the Reaper.
A thrill ride that doesn’t let you go – Retribution is the first novel in the action-packed Reaper Series.
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Michael A. Black
About the Author
Michael A. Black is the author of 36 books and over 100 short stories and articles. A decorated police officer in the south suburbs of Chicago, he worked for over thirty-two years in various capacities including patrol supervisor, SWAT team leader, investigations and tactical operations before retiring in April of 2011.
A long time practitioner of the martial arts, Black holds a black belt in Tae Kwon Do from Ki Ka Won Academy in Seoul, Korea. He has a Bachelor of Arts degree in English from Northern Illinois University and a Master of Fine Arts in Fiction Writing from Columbia College, Chicago. In 2010 he was awarded the Cook County Medal of Merit by Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart. Black wrote his first short story in the sixth grade, and credits his then teacher for instilling him with determination to keep writing when she told him never to try writing again.
Black has since been published in several genres including mystery, thriller, sci-fi, westerns, police procedurals, mainstream, pulp fiction, horror, and historical fiction. His Ron Shade series featuring the Chicago-based kickboxing private eye, has won several awards, as has his police procedural series featuring Frank Leal and Olivia Hart. He also wrote two novels with television star Richard Belzer, I Am Not a Cop and I Am Not a Psychic. Black writes under numerous pseudonyms and pens The Executioner series under the name Don Pendleton. His Executioner novel, Fatal Prescription, won the Best Original Novel Scribe Award given by the International Media Tie-In Writers Association in 2018.
His current books are Blood Trails, a cutting edge police procedural in the tradition of the late Michael Crichton, and Legends of the West, which features a fictionalized account of the legendary and real life lawman, Bass Reeves. His newest Executioner novels are Dying Art, Stealth Assassins, and Cold Fury, all of which were nominees and finalists for Best Novel Scribe Awards. He is very active in animal rescue and animal welfare issues and has several cats.
Website: www.MichaelABlack.com.