Hacker For Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2)

by Wallace, Pendelton

  What to do with Higuera? He couldn’t let him walk out of here. How much did he know? What had he shared with that bitch he worked for? How deep did this cover up have to go?

  After what happened with that Harrison woman, after Metcalf, he was in too deep. He had to protect himself. There was only one way to do that.

  Freeman lit a cigarette and unlocked the door of his Charger. The stress of the last few weeks had forced him back into his old habit. He thought he had kicked tobacco after he was invited to resign his commission in the Corps. Once a Marine, always a Marine, he thought. Once a smoker, always a smoker.

  He took a few puffs and dropped the butt on the pavement. Then he thought better of it, picked it up and put it out in his ashtray. Can’t be too careful. He watched all the CSI shows on TV. Mrs. Freeman’s little boy was not going to leave any incriminating DNA evidence behind.

  Fortunately it rained last night. There was more rain in the forecast for today. Any evidence of his car having been in this lot would be washed away.

  He started the car and pulled onto Hanover Street. He could trust Sergeant Daniels and Private Dombroski to keep an eye on Taco Boy for a while. They were good men. He was always looking for a few good men.

  ****

  The tall gunman unwrapped a stick of Juicy Fruit and popped it in his mouth. He crumpled the wrapper and shoved it in his pocket. “How long are we gonna hafta wait?”

  The short member of the Mutt and Jeff team pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “As long as it takes. The Cap’n said he’d be back by five.”

  Mutt leaned back in a straight-backed chair and opened a copy of the Seattle Times. The Seahawks were gearing up for a game with the Cardinals.

  “You’re not worried about this?” Jeff asked, waving his semi-automatic pistol at Ted. “I mean, that Harrison woman. Now this. Don’t you think the Cap’n’s goin’ a little too far?”

  Mutt put down the sports page. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice. What can we do? Go to the police? ‘We helped kill a nice detective lady, now we’ve got another one we’re torturing. But please, sir, it’s not our fault.’”

  Jeff didn’t respond, he just chewed harder on his gum and holstered his pistol.

  “I’m not going to jail for this.” Mutt lit up his cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and stared at his partner. “The Cap’n knows what he’s doing. We’ve been through some tight spots with him and he’s always done right by us. I got a wife and kids to think about. I’m not going to do them any good in prison.”

  “What’s that?” Jeff’s hand went to the handle of the Smith & Wesson nine mil on his belt. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Mutt jumped up from his chair.

  “I thought I heard something, a scraping noise.” Jeff pulled his pistol free, clicked off the safety and silently moved towards the door.

  Mutt unholstered his piece and dropped into a shooter’s crouch, covering Jeff.

  Jeff reached for the door knob. He gently, quietly turned it. He took a deep breath, looked at his partner. Mutt nodded. Jeff started to pull the door open.

  “Police!” The door flew open in Jeff’s face. The impact sent him rolling across the floor. His semi-automatic clattering after him.

  Mutt was stunned for just an instant. It took him half a second to make the decision to drop the hammer on the two people charging through the door. It was too late.

  ****

  Catrina parked the burgundy Explorer three blocks from the warehouse. She stopped and took a deep, clearing breath, pulled on her bulletproof vest, then she and Jeff moved silently towards their goal. After working with Jeff for more than three years, she knew every move he made, every thought he thought. There was no need to use words.

  The warehouse was huge, more than a city block long. Roughly triangular in shape to fit the piece of land, the front end was rounded off. Parked carelessly amid the abandoned vehicles was a new Chevy Malibu with body damage.

  She felt her skin tingle. That was the car. Whoever was inside would be well-armed.

  What to do? Did she dare go in there with just Jeff and two Glocks? She already knew they had at least one Mac 10. She didn’t have firepower, but she had surprise. With a slight nod of the head, she surveyed the warehouse.

  The building looked like it had been unused for years. The windows were either broken out or covered over with decades of industrial grime. Trash and leaves swirled around the parking lot with the wind.

  Catrina and Jeff slid up to the building like waifs of smoke. The windows were too high in the wall to see into. A substantial looking door was the only access on front side.

  They circled the building, moving without a sound. Loading docks lined the north end of the building. As they walked around the building, she kept a constant eye out at the roofline, power poles and light poles. No visible security cameras.

  That didn’t mean there weren’t any hidden cameras. They were so small nowadays, you could hide them most anywhere, but on a building this old, that had been out of service this long, she didn’t think anyone would spend the money on that much security. Unless they really had something to hide.

  A steel door, bolted from the inside was the only opening in the south side. Damn. The front door would have to be it. There was no other way in.

  Returning to the front door, Jeff tried it while Cat held her nine millimeter Glock at the ready.

  “Locked” Jeff mouthed.

  Catrina nodded, holstered her gun and pulled a set of lock picks from the pocket on her vest. The lock was child’s play. It was designed to keep honest people out.

  She returned the picks to her pocket and retrieved her pistol. She checked the safety, then nodded to Jeff. He silently twisted the knob. She drew a deep breath. .

  Would there be a welcoming committee? These guys had at least one assault rifle. Her fingertips tingled. Thankfully, the handle on her Glock was designed to accommodate wet palms. She felt rivulets of sweat trickling down her back.

  At PoSPD, they never would have entered a building like this without at least a bulletproof shield, maybe a SWAT team. Oh God. You better be worth this, Higuera.

  Jeff tested the door. It opened silently.

  The inside of the warehouse was a vast empty space. Through the semi-gloom, Catrina saw a door in the opposite wall. She motioned to Jeff and they moved silently across the open space. There was no cover here. They were exposed. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. It took all of her control not to open fire on every creak in the building, every trick of light.

  After several silent steps they stopped to listen. The only sound was the traffic on the bridge overhead. They moved forward.

  Jeff reached the door first. He slid to one side, holding his pistol cradled in his bent arms, breathing hard. Catrina took the other side of the door. They looked into each other’s eyes. Time froze.

  She had been here before. Life or death waited behind the door. She listened. Voices. Someone was in there. She pointed to her chest, then the floor. To Jeff and the ceiling. He nodded.

  The world closed in on her. Everything else in her life disappeared. She forgot about the lousy ex-husband, her troubled son, that thing that Tom had just told her, Alison’s soft caresses. It didn’t matter why she was here. No Alison, no Donna, no Ted. The only thing in her world was the sight on the barrel of her pistol.

  She gave a slight nod. Jeff took his left hand off of his pistol and reached for the door knob.

  It turned before he could reach it. The door stared to crack open.

  Jeff threw this weight against the door. Catrina heard a surprised cry from the other side.

  Her training kicked in. “Police!” She hit the floor and rolled through the door, coming up with her gun leveled.

  The tall man staggered back, his pistol flew from his hand. The short one stood in a shooter’s crouch.

  Time went into slow motion. She saw the man’s mouth move but didn’t hear his words. She saw the flash o
f fire from the pistol’s muzzle. Sometime, hours later, she felt the concussion of a bullet pass by her head. She didn’t have time to think. Her gun exploded three times. The short man was lifted from his feet.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw the tall man dive to the floor and come up with a pistol. Jeff’s Colt barked three times. She saw the tall man jerk, then go still. Jeff moved rapidly forward and kicked the gun away from his hand.

  She was transfixed. Pools of blood formed under the two men. No, that was two bodies. She floated across the floor. Had she done this? A living, breathing human being lay inert at her feet, a lump of meat.

  Her stomach revolted. She threw up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and heaved again. Her stomach wouldn’t settle down.

  Everything moved in slow motion. The world was black and white. Jeff, always the professional, kneeled at each of the bodies and felt for a pulse. He shook his head.

  Catrina just stood, shaking, her feet rooted to the ground. She had never dropped the hammer before.

  “The kid looks like he’s in bad shape.”

  Jeff’s words brought her back to the real world.

  She saw Ted, naked, tied to a chair. He was semi-conscious. He looked weirdly pale beneath his dark skin. No, he was almost blue. She took a step over to him, ripped the black bag off of his head.

  “Ted, Ted, are you all right?”

  His eyes moved. He looked up without recognizing her.

  “Are you an angel?”

  Chapter 30

  Ted was back on board the Defiant. Chris was there, and Meagan and Jack too. That couldn’t be. Meagan and Jack were dead. Shot by the terrorists.

  The terrorists. There was their boat. A big green fishing boat. It was only a couple of hundred feet away. He could plainly see their faces. Alison Clarke? What was she doing in the pilot house? And Metcalf. He stood on the bow with an AK-47 in his hands, blasting away.

  Ted felt the bullets whizzing all around him. He saw Jack hit, then Chris.

  Freeman, that bastard Freeman. He was on the afterdeck. He leveled his gun at Ted. Ted saw the fire from the barrel. Then someone shoved him aside. Meagan had saved him. Blood poured from Meagan’s body.

  Then Meagan popped up. She was dressed all in black. Her tight sweater curved around her ample bust line. Wait a minute. Meagan was short, Meagan was flat chested. Who was this tall blonde woman? She pulled an automatic pistol from the clip-on holster on her belt. She cradled the weapon in both hands and ripped off three shots. Freeman crumbled.

  Blood flowed freely from the blonde woman. She ignored it, turned and fired another spread of three rounds. Metcalf flew backwards.

  “Ted, Ted, are you all right?”

  He felt the bag over his head tugged away. He opened his eyes. He looked up into a woman’s face, ringed by blonde hair and a halo from the bare bulb hanging in the center of the room.

  Is she an angel?

  ****

  Ted heard voices. They sounded familiar. He felt a blanket wrapped around his freezing body. Hands tugged at the ropes restraining his feet. He heard the woman’s voice say something about a key. Minutes later, he felt the handcuffs dropping from his wrists.

  Slowly the world was coming back into focus. Jeff was there. He had a camera. He was taking pictures. Of Ted, of the two men lying on the floor.

  Off in the distance he heard sirens. Then saw flashing blue lights erupt through the windows.

  “Cat, are you all right?”

  He recognized the voice. He looked up and saw the crater marked face. That detective. The cop that was sweet on Cat.

  Catrina had her arms around him. She was shaking. He held her tight.

  “I’m okay.”

  It was Catrina. That was Catrina’s voice.

  “We need an aid car. Higuera’s dying of hypothermia.”

  “One’s on the way.” Bremen separated from Catrina and walked over to look at the bodies. He reached in his pockets and pulled out surgical gloves. “Call CSI. Secure the scene. Get us extra units, we’re gonna have the press all over this.” He was talking to someone standing in the doorway. A good-looking young man in a leather jacket with a military haircut.

  “We need to get something warm in Ted.” This was the first time Jeff had spoken. “You guys have a thermos in your car?”

  “No. We don’t get many hypothermia calls.”

  Ted felt the tension between Jeff and Bremen. These guys had some history.

  “I’ll go find a Starbucks.” Jeff moved towards the door.

  “Freeze. You’re not leaving the crime scene. Marty, take Mr. Jefferson outside and keep an eye on him. When the uniforms get here, you can take his statement.”

  The blanket helped. Ted’s clothes were cut to pieces. He would have to find something to wear.

  From out of nowhere, paramedics rolled a stretcher up to Ted’s chair. Gentle hands lifted him onto the stretcher, wrapped him in warm blankets and strapped him down. The paramedic placed an oxygen mask over his face. The gas filled his lungs with warmth.

  More people in uniform began to show up. People with cameras, measuring things, picking up things.

  “Bremen.”

  Ted recognized the voice. He turned his head to see the small Assistant DA.

  “What the fuck do you have going on here?” Petrocelli’s words dripped with venom. “I got word that Flaherty was involved in a shooting.”

  “We’re still surveying the scene, taking statements. I don’t have enough to report on yet.”

  “What’s to report on? It looks fairly obvious to me. Flaherty and her boy Jefferson have just shot two people. Take them in. This looks like at least murder-two to me.”

  “Mr. Petrocelli, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. Let’s wait until CSI clears the scene and we have a coroner’s report. Don’t let your hard on for Flaherty cloud your judgment.”

  “Don’t let your hard on for Flaherty cloud your judgment, detective.”

  “That’s sergeant, Mister. Assistant DA.”

  The paramedics rolled the stretcher out of the room. Ted saw a high ceiling over him, then gray sky. He was lifted down some steps. The stretcher rolled up to the aid car and he was shoved in without a pause. His last view of the crime scene was Cat, following the stretcher, tears flowing from her gray eyes.

  Ted tried to find his voice. His throat ached, his lungs were empty. “Freeman. . .” he croaked softly. “It’s Freeman.”

  Then the aid car doors slammed. A moment later the siren screeched and the car lurched forward.

  ****

  Richard Freeman, dressed in a crisp black SS officer’s uniform with a swastika arm band, paced the floor, leather riding crop held behind his back with both hands.

  “Come, come, Mister Higuera. You vill talk. We haff vays of making you talk.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Behind Freeman, Gina, in a black lace Merry Widow, garter belt with black fishnet stockings, stiletto heels and a peaked Nazi officer’s cap lounged on a straight-backed chair.

  “Come to the Cabaret, old friend,” she sang, her huge breasts heaving with each breath.

  Pain seared through Ted’s testicles.

  “Talk, you sniveling little bastard.” Freeman whipped Ted in the face. “Where did the Queen of Hearts hide the teacake?”

  Huh? Ted opened his eyes. He was blinded by bright light.

  He was lying on an operating table, a flood light inches from his face.

  “Keep him covered. Keep the IV going,” a gray-haired woman in a lab coat was saying from very far away. “I want vitals every thirty minutes.”

  The room spun. All color drained from the scene. He saw a clutch of nurses in shades of gray.

  “Teddy.” Meagan stood there, bare naked with holes in her chest. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “No” Ted struggled to keep his thoughts straight. Meagan couldn’t be here. She was dead. “I still have stuff I hafta do.”

  Meagan reached out an
d caressed Ted’s forehead. Her soft hands felt cold.

  “Come with me Teddy.”

  “Teddy, ven aca.” It was Abuelito, his great-grandfather.

  The room filled with people. Jack MacDonald, the old SAS agent killed on the Inside Passage with Meagan, Juanito, his childhood buddy killed in a drug deal in East LA. They were all there; his friends, his family. It felt so good, so natural. The room glowed with love.

  “Mister Higuera, can you hear me?”

  He looked up. A blonde woman in blue scrubs held his wrist, looking at her watch.

  “How are you doing?”

  He tried to speak, but all that came out was “Aghhh.”

  ****

  Catrina paced back and forth at the emergency room. Jeff sat on the floor, slumped against the wall. No one thought to call Chris or Gina. Catrina tried calling Ted's parents, but the only number she had was for his father's restaurant. As expected, it was closed at this hour.

  "You okay, Cat?" Tom Bremen asked as he came through the automatic door, three cups of coffee on a cardboard tray, trailed by detective McGinnis.

  "Yeah, I'll be fine." Catrina didn't believe it. She'd never be fine again after the shooting. "What did you find out?"

  Jeff stared at the floor, taking no notice of the conversation. When Tom handed him the cup of coffee, Jeff just put it on the floor and continued staring.

  "Daniels and Dombroski were MS employees. Worked in the security department for Freeman. Freeman says he has no idea what they were up to."

  "But Ted clearly said that Freeman did it." Catrina sipped at the lukewarm coffee. "I know I heard it just as they put him in the ambulance."

  "Then he better pull through. He's our only witness."

  "Higuera?" the young doctor called as he came through the swinging door.

  "Yes," Catrina spun to face him. Jeff jumped up from the floor.

  "Are you family?" the doctor asked.

  "No. . . I'm his employer." Catrina suddenly felt a chill run through her. "His family is in California, we haven't been able to reach them. Is he okay?"