Something told him that the bike had to be the clue that he had been looking for. It had to be the illusive getaway vehicle they suspected that Brunner had used to get away with when they had found the Civic. Why else had Brunner decided to return to the scene of the crime?
Morrell snatched the cellphone from the nightstand and called the station, and told them to check with the DMV and find out if Matthews owned a motorcycle.
Then he hung up and quickly got dressed. When they called him back five minutes later, he had just reversed the car out of the driveway. And the person on the other end of the line, confirmed what he had suspected, James Matthews was indeed the owner of a motorcycle.
The young officer gave him the relevant details and Morrell told him to pass on the information to all the other law enforcement agencies in Arizona and the neighboring states. Then he hung up and threw the cellphone in the passenger seat.
Maybe it wasn’t too late? Maybe Brunner was still using the bike and hadn’t dumped it in some unknown location where they were guaranteed not to find it. He seriously hoped that was the case, because if there was one thing they could do with now, it was a lucky break.
Then he put the transmission in drive and raced down to the police station. By the looks of it, today would be just as busy as yesterday.
“There you go buddy.” Thomas Wilson handed the key to the storage unit to the man on the other side of the counter in the small office of ‘Storage Kings’ in Long Beach in southern L.A.
The man, whose head was clean shaven and whom was wearing dark sunglasses, thanked him and exited the office. Then he got on his bike and drove down the road that ran between the beige metal sheds.
Wilson could hear the sound of the engine from behind the window, and he casually followed the bike with his eyes until it turned the corner about a hundred yards further down. Then he pocketed the two hundred dollars that the man had offered him when Thomas had explained to him that he wasn’t legally allowed to rent out a unit to anyone without a proper I.D.
Thomas had looked down at the money that had been placed on the counter and tried to hide his excitement as best as he could. The law might stipulate that he wasn’t allowed to do so, but he could be persuaded to turn a blind eye for an extra fee. It was after all cold hard cash, and he wasn’t in the business of turning it away. And considering that the fee had been higher than his daily salary, he had told the guy that he guessed he could make an exception just this one time. Heck, he would gladly have accepted a hundred bucks.
He gazed down at the contract he’d just filled out and studied it for a few moments. It was a twelve month lease, and just like his little fee, the guy had paid for it in cash. The name on the piece of paper said Dillon Murphy, but Thomas didn’t believe for a second that it was the man’s real name. Not that he particularly cared. As long as the guy wasn’t a terrorist looking to use the unit as an explosives cache, he could do whatever he wanted with it. And if that meant storing drugs, dirty money, stolen goods or something along those lines, it was none of Thomas’ business. That was of course provided he received his little fee.
He picked up the contract, turned around and placed it inside one of the filing cabinets that lined the back wall. Once that was taken care of, he parked himself on the red swivel chair again and picked up the book he’d been reading when the guy had entered the office ten minutes earlier.
Every now and then Thomas lifted his eyes up from the book and studied the area outside the office. The people renting the units could come and go at their leisure, but even so he liked to keep track of the people that dropped by.
This morning had been extremely quiet so far with only a few individuals entering and leaving the premises. He couldn’t see anyone out there, so he went back to reading his book.
He was about to complete the chapter, when he looked up again, and saw the guy he had just rented the unit to come walking back toward the main gate. So you stored your bike in there, Thomas thought, wondering if it perhaps was stolen. It probably was, why else would the guy store it in a unit under an assumed name?
He followed the guy with his eyes for a while and noticed that he’d put on a baseball cap. The backpack that he’d been carrying over his shoulders was still there. Only the bike and the crash helmet were missing. I wonder what you’ve been up to lately, buddy, and I wonder if I’ll see you again soon. Then he lowered his gaze and finished the chapter. When he looked back up again a minute later, the guy was gone.
Senor Emilio Martinez listened carefully to what the person on the other end of the line had to say. Then when the person had delivered his message, Martinez started talking.
“So it appears that our man has failed to carry out his mission. What about our target, do they have any idea where he is?”
Martinez had his left hand wrapped around a glass of coke, and he was rotating it slowly on the cardboard coaster and could hear the soft clanking of the ice cubes as they hit the side of the glass.
Martinez listened for almost half a minute, before he started talking again.
“Well, make sure you find out, and when you do, let me know straight away.”
Then he hung up and stared at the glass before him on the table. He was in a bad mood, although a casual observer would have failed to notice it, as he disguised his displeasure extremely well. It was something he’d always done. Disguising your emotions was essential if you wanted to succeed in this line of business.
The cause of the foul mood was that things hadn’t gone according to plan. He hadn’t heard a peep from El Juez for almost twenty four hours now, and that was completely out of character for his main hitman.
The brief phone conversation he’d had with the target yesterday, just before he had instructed detective Ryan to inform his colleagues about the car the target was driving around in and his whereabouts, also suggested that something sinister had happened to El Juez. He could think of no other explanation.
Somehow the target must have managed to overpower him. He was after all a martial arts expert, and he’d learned how to handle guns in the Marines. El Juez must have underestimated him, and let him get to close. And if that was the case, then the most likely outcome was that his compatriot was no longer among the living.
Martinez didn’t feel any great sadness when thinking of the death, only annoyance of having to change his plans. The target should have been taken care of by now, but he was still running around, making them look like fools. And that was not good for their reputation. It made them look incompetent and weak.
But it wasn’t all bad.
Ryan had been able to triangulate El Juez’s cellphone to a rubbish bin inside the shopping mall where they had located the car. He had of course kept this vital clue to himself, which meant that the cops were unaware of the cartel’s involvement in yesterday’s murders.
The cops still seemed to be of the opinion that it was the target that had carried out these acts. And that was a good thing, because it meant that the target was scared and on the run. And individuals who were scared and on the run tended to make mistakes, and when he did, they would be there, ready to deal with him.
Martinez leaned forward, lifted the glass up to his lips and took a few more sips of the ice cold coke. Then he sat back and gazed out over the calm blue ocean and the sunlight reflecting off the surface. Even though it was only ten o’clock in the morning, the temperature was well above eighty degrees. Martinez sighed, and hoped that the breeze that so often frequented this area would return and make things a little more bearable.
Far out in the distance, a large ship was heading north, probably bound for one of the large oil refineries in Texas or Louisiana. En-route to the land where the target was hiding at the moment.
Martinez bit into his lower lip and followed the ship for almost a full minute, imagining how great it would have been if they could have filled their products on similar ships and brought them in legally to the states. Maybe one day they would?
When
he finally turned away from the ship, he looked down at the glass without really paying any attention to it, and his thoughts started drifting back toward the target.
Despite having lost his number one hitman, and a very trusted employee, Martinez had to admit that he’d gained some respect for Brunner. Despite the fact that the man had cost him a considerable amount of grief and unnecessary headaches. The gringo had shown himself to be a worthy opponent. He had proved that he was able to look after himself, and that he was competent enough to thwart a serious attempt on his life.
Under different circumstances, Martinez might have considered taking him on as an employee on the US side of the border. There was always a need for loyal employees that could easily blend in with the majority population, and not stick out like sore thumbs, which was often the case with his other employees from this side of the border.
He lifted the glass again and finished the rest of the coke. Then he grabbed one of the ice cubes and rubbed it across his face. It felt nice, and for a few moments he forgot about the hot and humid weather.
I should go back inside and spend the rest of the day in the house, he thought. Just take the day off, turn the air-con down low and just put my legs up. But the thought only lasted for a second or two, and he smiled to himself for even having contemplated it. This was a 24/7 kind of deal, and there was very little time for relaxation.
He flung the ice cube over the railing and reached for the phone again. Then he dialed a number that he knew by heart and sat back in the chair when it started ringing.
A few moments later, someone answered with a muted ‘Si’.
“It’s me,” Martinez said. “I need to see you straight away. I have a problem that has to be dealt with as soon as possible on the other side of the border.”
Then he hung up the phone, stood up and started walking back toward the house. There would be no rest until Brunner had been dealt with, and he would do anything in his power to ensure that it happened as quickly as possible.
He passed through the wide doors and entered the house, and felt the cool air from the ducted air-con hit his skin.
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Hervey
Other books by Hervey Copeland;
No man’s land
Links; US UK
“Author Mark La Croix has left the hustle and bustle of the city and is leading a quiet life in a cabin, deep inside the Colorado Rockies. While working on his latest novel, he makes a gruesome discovery and uncovers secrets that some would want to remain dead and buried.
Soon Mark becomes a target and is forced to run for his life. The nearest town is thirty miles away, and the only way to escape is through the forest. The people chasing him are hot on his heels, and will stop at nothing to prevent him from getting out of the wilderness alive. But Mark is determined, and he promises himself that he's not going to end up as a silent victim in the dark, black forest.
A fast paced novel in the vein of first blood, where the protagonist is pushed to the limit and determined to survive at all costs.”
The Bad Country – A Horror Novel
Links; US UK
“David and Mary are on their way to visit David’s parents in Montana. During an unscheduled stop in an isolated mountain town in Idaho they make a gruesome discovery. It doesn’t take long for the townfolks to turn against them, and they are forced to flee. But fleeing is easier said than done.
They’re all alone, surrounded by wilderness and hostile locals who are willing to do whatever it takes to protect the town’s horrible secret.
A bone chilling horror tale from the cold, dark North Country.”
Behind Enemy Lines
Links; US UK
“In this International Mystery & Crime novel, an immigrant owned restaurant in Zurich is firebombed by a group of Neo Nazis. Because of the sensitive nature of the crime, the authorities want the perpetrators caught quickly, and thus the case ends up in the lap of police senior investigator Rudi Schneider.
The motive seems clear-cut, but an episode from the past forces Rudi to change his approach. Soon he discovers that nothing is as it appears, and the investigation becomes a race against time.
Sit back and enjoy a fast-paced police detective mystery, set in and around Zurich, Switzerland.”
Shock and Awe Page 18