GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel

by Mike McNeff

  “I told them I worked with law enforcement.”

  Robin gave Chucky a hard look. “Exactly what did you tell them, Chucky? And don't bullshit me, because I know what a con man you are.”

  “I told them you and I were friends and I decided to spend my time helping you fight crime.” Robin gave Chucky a dubious look. “Don't worry, I told them I wasn't a cop.”

  “If you're really going straight, why don't you just get a real job and become a productive member of society?”

  Chucky looked out the window. “Rob, I can't do that. It's too boring. I need excitement in my life. In my younger and stupid days I thought I needed to pull scams and get away with it to put excitement in my life. Then you came along and put me in prison, thank you very much. I had plenty of time to think there. I knew you were an honest cop, so I decided to help you get bad guys. Besides, I don't need to work. Daddy is giving me stipend.”

  “I hope it's enough to live on.”

  Chucky laughed. “Rob, you really don't know much about rich people, do you?”

  “Never been one.”

  “Well, let's just say my stipend is about triple your salary.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “It isn't bad.”

  “Okay, let's get down to business. Who are these guys you bought the ordinance from?”

  Chucky handed Robin a slip of paper. “Those are the names of the guys. I only got the last name of one of them. The other two only gave me their first names. They're all pretty young, and one of them is definitely a gang banger.”

  “Yeah, military recruiting is going to hell lately. You got the stuff?”

  “It's in my trunk.”

  “What did they charge you?”

  “A hundred bucks an item.”

  “Let's take a look.” The men climbed out of the van and went to the back of the Mercedes. Chucky popped the trunk and opened a large duffel. Robin counted six satchel charges and eight grenades.

  Robin zipped up the bag, carried it to the van, and put it in the back. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope containing confidential investigation funds. He took out twenty-four one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Chucky.

  “What's the extra thousand for?”

  “Just because you've rejoined the wealthy doesn't mean I'm not going to pay you for your work. This is a good haul, Chucky. We need to get these guys.”

  “When do you want me to set up the next meet?”

  “We're tied up all next week, so call me in about ten days.”

  “Why so long?”

  “Read the paper in about two days.”

  “Okay, Rob. See ya in about ten days.”

  “Adios, Chucky.”

  Andy Jackson had talked Cathy into going to the Pima Air Museum. While Cathy did like to go to the museum, she didn't particularly want to go in the summer time. Many of the aircraft were outside, and she didn't like standing in the heat just to look at airplanes. She would rather be spending this Saturday morning swimming or hiking up on Mt. Lemmon. Andy even insisted on riding with the top down in his Jaguar on I-10.

  “Andy, slow down, honey.”

  “Aw come on, Cathy. This is a Jaguar. It's born to go fast.”

  “If we get stopped by one of my Dad's friends again, I will never talk to you…again.”

  Andy slowed down. “That's a little drastic, isn't it?”

  “Probably.” Cathy smiled at him.

  Andy took the Valencia Road exit and stopped at the light. Two cars, each filled with several Hispanic men, stopped behind them. Another car pulled up next to the Jaguar on the right side. They gave the Jaguar a hard look. Cathy saw them.

  “Andy, don't look now, but the guys next to us don't look very nice.”

  “There's a bunch behind us who don't look so nice either.”

  The light turned green. Andy thought about his .357 S&W revolver in the console. As he started to turn left, he opened the console. Suddenly, the car on the right accelerated ahead of the Jaguar and cut in front of it, under the overpass.

  “GO! GO! GO! ANDY!” Cathy screamed.

  Andy jerked the wheel to the left and jammed his foot onto the accelerator. The Jaguar surged, but one of the cars behind them slammed into the front left side. The Jaguar crashed into the car that cut in front, wedging the Jaguar between the two cars and blocking it from the rear by the third.

  Fury and fear surged through Andy. He grabbed the .357. The man in the front passenger seat in the car on the left tried to put a weapon through the shattered window. Andy recognized it as an Uzi. He raised his gun and fired at the man, but missed. The Uzi was now pointed at Andy at point-blank range. Andy fired again, and the man's head exploded into a chunky red mist. Cathy screamed. Andy whirled around and saw men trying to drag her out of the car. She was a blur of arms and legs, kicking, punching, and clawing. Andy shot the man trying to grab her left arm. A heavy blow to his upper right chest slammed him back in his seat. A man in front pointed a gun at him and fired.

  Airmen Sam Cowen and Jerry Parker had just finished the night shift with the Air Police at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and were heading to the apartment they shared near the U of A. They were on Valencia Road approaching I-10 when an accident took place right in front of them. A car had rammed into a Jaguar involved in the first accident. Hispanic men swarmed all over the Jaguar, some of them trying to pull a young woman out. Then gunfire erupted.

  Sam yelled, “Jerry, get the gun out of the glove compartment!” He accelerated his Chevy pickup toward the men and the girl. Another man came around the car that had rammed the Jaguar. Sam aimed the pickup at the man and skidded into him. The man went flying. Sam jumped out as Jerry jumped out the other side, a Beretta 9mm in hand.

  Sam pulled one of the men from the girl and grabbed him in a choke hold. He squeezed his forearm and biceps, wrenched the man's neck, and threw him to the ground. Then he headed toward another man, when Sam crumpled to the ground, shot in the back.

  Jerry Parker saw his best friend go down. Jerry had just shot the man near the front of the Jaguar. He turned to shoot the man who shot Sam. Another man popped up from the other side of the first car and fired at Jerry. The round hit him in left shoulder and spun him around. He slumped against the pickup. As the man came around the back of the car, Jerry shot him. He struggled to get up, but what felt like a sledgehammer slammed him in the head. He went down again. Barely conscious, he tried with all of his might, but nothing moved. He became sleepy.

  Cathy fought for her life. Her fear turned to pure fury when she realized Andy had been shot. Years of karate training her father had insisted she go to jumped into high gear. She used fists, feet, knees, elbows, forehead, and teeth, but too many arms and hands held on to her. A face appeared in front of her. She jerked her right hand free from whoever held it and jammed her fingers into the eyes of the face. The face erupted into a screams of agony. Cloth covered her face from behind. A chemical smell engulfed her. A balloon suffocated her. She struggled with all her strength, but consciousness slipped and slipped away. Echoes of screaming and curses faded into nothing.

  A shaken Hector Rubio tried to stay calm and control his driving. He drove west on Valencia and then south on Alvernon Way. What should have been an easy kidnap had gone very wrong. Out of ten men, only Hector and three other men were left. He himself had had to shoot Jesus after he shot the big man in a uniform. He shuddered as he thought of those mangled eyes.

  The other men in the car were all cursing and describing what they were going to do to Cathy Marlette when they got back to the ranch. They all had various injuries caused by her vicious struggle. Hector let them talk. No one would touch her until Miguel gave the go-ahead. He had specifically told Hector not to hurt the girl—he had plans for her.

  Hector worried about her. He held the cloth full of ether over her face longer than he wanted. When they put her unconscious body in the trunk, her skin looked like porcelain and her breaths were short and shal
low. He needed to check on her when they got to La Posada. He turned onto the Old Nogales Highway and headed south.

  Highway Patrol Officer Jim Albright drove westbound on I-10 approaching the Valencia Road exit. He was following a speeder, signaling the driver to stop with emergency lights. The speeder pulled over to the right on the overpass. Officer Albright exited his patrol car and walked up to the driver. Just then dispatch called him on his portable.

  “Tucson, Three Paul Forty-Three.”

  “Three Paul Forty-Three.”

  “We have a report of a multiple-vehicle accident under the overpass at Valencia Road.”

  “Standby.” Officer Albright walked over to the edge of the overpass and looked down. “Holy shit!” he uttered involuntarily. “Get out of here!” he yelled to the speeder. Albright ran to his car and turned on the siren. He drove a short way on the freeway and then turned onto the on ramp going the wrong way.

  “Paul Forty-Three, send me back up and multiple ambulances.” He pulled up to the scene. Several people were standing off. He saw a dead man. He had been shot. There were other bodies. “Paul Forty-Three, roll CI and the SO. This is a multiple homicide,” he said into his portable. Albright saw a body in the Jaguar. He recognized the Jaguar and his stomach twisted. He had stopped it before. Moving quickly to the car, he barely recognized Andy as the boyfriend of Sergeant Marlette's daughter. The lower left portion of his face was mangled flesh and bone. Albright checked his pulse. The kid's heart was still beating.

  Albright saw Deputy Craig Jenkins pull into the junction of I-10 and Valencia. Jenkins trotted towards Albright at the Jaguar. Albright was working to stop the bleeding from the boy's neck when he suddenly heard, “Sheriff's Department! Don't move!” Jenkins pulled out his gun and pointed at someone on the ground. Albright moved quickly over to Jenkins, who covered a man in a U.S.A.F. uniform on the ground with a gun in his hand. The man raised his head and tried to speak. Albright knelt down next to the man and moved the gun.

  The man looked at the officer and spoke with a weak and hoarse voice. “They…they took” The man's head went down for a moment.

  Albright got closer to him. “They took what?”

  The man raised his head again. “They took the girl.” The man passed out. Albright bolted up and immediately radioed dispatch.

  As he drove, Robin rehearsed in his mind how to tell Karen to take the kids to go stay with her parents for awhile. She wouldn't react well to the suggestion. Turning onto his street, he saw a car occupied by four Hispanic males coming down Sequoia Trail.

  Robin had trained many officers in his career. He often talked about the “little voice in your gut.” He told officers to trust that little voice, the subconscious mind telling you, “We have been here before. Watch out!” The hair on the back of Robin's neck tingled, and his little voice screamed.

  Robin picked up the microphone to his police radio. At the same time he saw a car with several Hispanic males coming around the corner from Modoc Drive. He keyed the mic, and, with the calmest voice he could muster, said, “Two Nora Six, Nine-Nine-Eight, Nine-Nine-Nine, Ten Forty-Two,” the emergency codes for an officer needing immediate help. Shots fired at his home. Robin's years of training, experience, and physical conditioning all came together in the next four minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

  Robin accelerated towards his house, ran the van over the curb, and bounced onto his front lawn. He turned the wheel hard left and braked, skidding the van broadside up to his double front doors in a cloud of granite rocks and dust. He jammed the gear shift into park and stepped in between the seats. Reaching over and unlatching the sliding side doors, he unhooked the detachable corner gun locker, grabbed his bug out bag, and jumped out the door. His mind repeated: Think - slow is fast.

  Robin could hear automatic gunfire and the thud of bullets hitting the van. He could also hear them smacking against the stucco siding of his house. Holding the gun locker close to his right side, he lowered his left shoulder and smashed into the left door. The door exploded open, and Robin tripped and skidded across the tile floor, slamming into the wall opposite the door. He hit it so hard, the dry wall partly caved in. He yelled, “GET DOWN, GET DOWN!” Think - slow is fast. Need a 360 defense.

  Bullets hit everywhere. Pieces of furniture, glass, and drywall flew through the air. Robin saw Casey on the floor and slid the gun locker over to him. “Get the rifles out!” he ordered. Robin drew his Colt .45. A man with an Uzi appeared at the front door. Robin shot him twice in the chest. The man fell back, spewing bullets into the ceiling. Casey slid the Galil over to Robin. Casey grabbed the MP5 and charged it.

  “Cover the back door!” Robin yelled. A man appeared at the front window on the left. Robin fired two rounds and the man went down, leaving Robin unsure if he had hit the suspect. The deafening noise thundered and reverberated in the house. Robin noticed Eddie lying down in the hallway. Eddie looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. Robin fired the last four rounds in the .45's magazine: one through the left window, two out the door, and one out the right window. He dropped the magazine out of the .45 and slammed a fresh one in and charged the weapon. Think - slow is fast. Need a 360 defense. He slid the gun over to Eddie. “Cover the back hallway, Eddie!” Robin did not have time to see what Eddie did, as he could see movement in the front yard. Several rounds hit the dining room table, sending wooden shrapnel into Robin's right shoulder, neck, and head. He heard Casey cry out in pain as Robin fired the Galil at the corner of the window on the right. He saw the reflection of a man in the van window and fired at the wall, approximating where the man was standing on the other side. The Galil's 7.62 rounds easily penetrated the wall, and blood spattered on his van. Robin heard his wife and daughter screaming behind him. He went prone and saw ankles and feet on the other side of the van. He fired at one leg and missed. He fired again, and a man screamed and fell on his side. Robin shot him in the torso. The other pair of legs started running away. He could hear sirens.

  Casey yelled because wood and metal shrapnel had hit him in the buttocks and leg. He didn't have time to look, because a man appeared on the patio. Casey aimed the MP5 and pulled the trigger. A stream of 9mm bullets smashed the glass doors and tore into the man. The burst surprised Casey. He thought he had put the selector switch on semi-auto, like his dad taught him. He stripped the magazine from the gun, reached over and pulled a fresh magazine out of his dad's bag, and jammed it into the gun. He charged the weapon and thumbed the selector switch.

  Sergeant Gabe Martinez, with siren blaring, drove like a man possessed. He barked orders over the radio to his men and the other units responding to the triple nine call from Robin. He directed units to enter the neighborhood from all directions. As he approached the back of Robin's house, Gabe drove his car over the curb and stopped right next to the wall. Grabbing his 12-gauge shotgun as he jumped out of the car, he ran to the back and bounded onto the trunk, then the roof and onto the wall. As he did, a man with an Uzi came through the side gate. The man saw Gabe, but Gabe snapped the shotgun to his shoulder and shot the man with a 00 buck round.

  Another man stood at a back window to the left. He raised his weapon toward Gabe just as the window shattered and the man went down. Gabe could see the patio doors were broken; a dead man was sprawled on the patio. He jumped down and took cover behind the pool filter. Another man came through the gate. Gabe rose and shot him. The round knocked the man back through the gate opening.

  Robin heard sirens coming from all over and gunfire outside. He could discern the comforting sound of 12-gauge shotguns. Rounds were no longer coming into the house. The gunfire died down. He looked at Casey and could see blood coming from his leg. He started toward him, but Casey said, “I'm okay, Dad.”

  Robin put a fresh magazine into the Galil and carefully moved to the front door, his rifle up against his cheek. The man he shot at the door lay face up and appeared to be dead. Robin stepped over the dead man and moved to the left of the entry alcove. He carefully moved to
look down the right side of the house by “slicing the pie” and saw the man he shot through the wall, crumpled against the right front tire of the van in a large pool of blood. Robin stepped over the dead man in the alcove again to the right side and pied down the left side of the house. He saw the man who had dropped at the window. He sat upright, holding his shoulder. Suddenly Robin heard,” Police! DON'T MOVE!” The wounded man looked to his left.

  Robin called out, “DPS to the suspect's right! I have him covered!”

  “Is that you, Sergeant Marlette?” Robin recognized the voice of Gene Blumen, one of Gabe's men.

  “It's me, Gene. You can move in and cuff him.” Gene appeared at the corner of the van and saw Robin. He put his shotgun against the van and grabbed the suspect and rolled him on his stomach. The man yelled out in pain. “Shut up, asshole,” Gene said as he put handcuffs on him. Two other officers appeared. More sirens were coming. Bullet holes riddled the van. Robin realized the van had stopped or slowed a lot of rounds. Gene looked at Robin with anger and anguish in his eyes. “They killed Johnny Gardner.”

  Robin stepped past Gene and looked a patrol car with officers all around it. Through the shattered windshield he saw Johnny Gardner's head slumped on the steering wheel. Robin's heart sank.

  He went back into his house and stared at the wreckage. Shredded pieces of furniture and drywall were scattered all over the living room and dining room. A thick cloud of dust hovered, and broken glass was everywhere. Bile crawled into Robin's throat. Karen cried and shook as she put towels on Casey's wounds. She looked up at Robin with frightened and angry eyes.

  Laurie cried out, “Dad! You're hurt!”

  “I'll be all right, honey.” Robin took her in his arms.

  “Rob! It's Gabe Martinez! The back is clear. I'm coming in!”

  “It's clear Gabe. Come in.” Gabe stepped through the broken glass from the patio door. Eddie came around the corner from the hallway, the .45 down at his side. He was trembling. Robin took the .45 and holstered it, then held his daughter and son. Gabe walked up to them.