“Just drive,” responded Pollard.
The driver quickly pulled around Gonzetti’s transport, and just before he turned north on Main, Pollard looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a transfer van pulling up to the bays behind them. They were three blocks away when an explosion rocked the police station.
Moments later they heard sirens from emergency vehicles and fire trucks headed their way. Pollard looked in the rear-view mirror to see Gonzetti and Tildon still following them and black smoke billowing into the sky.
Pollard pulled his service weapon and pointed it at the driver’s head. “Pull over in that parking lot,” he yelled.
“What are you doing?” yelled the driver.
“Pull over,” yelled Pollard as he pressed the gun hard against the driver’s head. The van slowed and pulled into the parking lot of a closed furniture business.
“Go to the far side,” yelled Pollard. While still pressing the gun hard against the drivers head he slipped his free hand into the driver’s jacket to retrieve his pistol. “Put these on. Put them on,” yelled Pollard, dropping a pair of handcuffs in the driver’s lap as they pulled to a stop.
“Don’t move,” he said as he slid out of his seat and opened the passenger side rear door, keeping his gun pointed at the driver’s head. He used his free hand to release the anchor on Kyler’s handcuffs. “Get out and stand next to the front fender,” he yelled at his prisoner. Using one hand he anchored Kyler’s cuffs to the bumper guard, then moved to the driver’s side of the van and opened the door.
“What are you doing?” yelled the driver.
“Get out and get in the back,” yelled Pollard pointing his gun menacingly close to his head. The driver slid out of his seat and got in the back of the van. Pollard immediately anchored his cuffs and secured him with a seat belt to restrict his movement.
“You want to tell me what you are doing?” yelled the driver.
“I didn’t tell you where to meet me,” said Pollard as he finished securing the driver with one hand. “How did you know?”
“What are you talking about?” yelled the driver, struggling against the belt and handcuffs.
“I didn’t tell you which transfer bay,” said Pollard, pushing the driver’s head with the barrel of his gun. “How did you know the prisoner was in the interrogation room by that bay? There are six bays, why that one? And how did you get there so fast?”
“Are you mad, let me out of here?”
“Maybe I’m mad, maybe I’m mistaken. But if I am there’s no real harm is there?” said Pollard as he slid the passenger side door closed. The driver began yelling at the top of his lungs and tried to break free of his restraints. Pollard loosened the anchor securing his prisoner to the transport bumper, grabbed him by the arm and pushed his gun against his rib cage, “Walk.”
They crossed the street and moved quickly away from the van. Five blocks away he stopped to answer his communicator.
“Pollard this is Detective Wyston, Chief Lyen said to give you a call about interrogating your new prisoner.”
“Tell Lyen I need to be picked up immediately; I’ve got the prisoner with me. Call when you’re on your way.”
He hung up and began walking again. They made it to Hall Street when an explosion behind them rocked buildings on both sides of the street. A fireball rose hundreds of feet in the air over the spot where the police transport van had just been ripped apart by the powerful blast.
“That could have been us,” said Kyler.
“That was their plan,” responded Pollard. A dark transport pulled to the curb next to them and Gonzetti rolled down the window. “I need a safe house,” said Pollard immediately, “someplace where this guy can’t be found.”
“I have a place,” said Gonzetti. “You’ve arranged a pick up right? Once you’re collected don’t stop anywhere, just drive. When you’re off the street we’ll find you and you can follow us to the house. Here, put your com number in here,” he said handing Pollard his communicator. “Don’t take any calls if you don’t recognize the caller or the number, and don’t take any calls from the police station. You won’t know who’s calling, you don’t know who you can trust, and you don’t want to be found. Got it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
The dark car pulled slowly from the curb and drove away. Pollard watched it for several blocks until it turned right into an alley and drove out of sight. “Let’s walk.”
They reached the next cross street and he guided his prisoner across to the right. “Not too fast,” he said, “we don’t want any unnecessary attention.”
Two minutes later Pollard’s communicator rang. He checked the number against his recent calls and then answered the phone. “This is Pollard.”
“This is Detective Maither, I’ve got Detective Wyston and Chief Lyen with me in an unmarked white van. Where are you?”
“I’m on Toner Street, east of Main,” replied Pollard.” “We’ll be in front of Li Chi’s.”
He hung up and guided Kyler into the small courtyard framed in hedges that fronted the restaurant. Several minutes later a white van drove by the restaurant headed west. A man walking on the opposite side of the street halted opposite the restaurant, flashed his badge, and proceeded across the street and into the courtyard.
“I’m Maither.”
“Show me some identification,” said Pollard, pointing his gun at the man’s chest. Maither slowly retrieved his identification and passed it to Pollard with his badge.
“The van will come back to pick us up and we’ll go to the task force office,” said Maither.
“That won’t work,” replied Pollard. “Once we’re picked up I’ll get a call from Blake Gonzetti and he’ll tell us where to go.”
“Gonzetti? Gonzetti has fingers in every criminal organization I know of,” replied Maither. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Gonzetti came to the police station with Matt Tildon, Les Kyler’s self-appointed attorney,” said Pollard. “He told me if I didn’t move Kyler he’d be dead before you could talk to him. Those two explosions you heard were meant to silence Les Kyler. If it wasn’t for Gonzetti, he’d be dead.”
“I don’t like this. What’s Gonzetti’s interest in this guy?”
“I don’t know, but we do it Gonzetti’s way or your task force is not involved,” replied Pollard. “Do we have a deal?”
In less than a minute Maither had Chief Lyen’s agreement and the van pulled in to pick them up. Kyler was put in the fifth seat at the rear of the van. Pollard and Maither climbed into the second bench seat behind Wyston and Lyen. Wyston drove the van east on Toner Street and turned north on Galaxy Drive. Just as they made the turn Pollard’s communicator rang and Gonzetti gave him directions.
“Maybe we could get some information out of Kyler while we’re on the way,” suggested Maither under his breath so Kyler couldn’t hear him speaking.
“No questions,” replied Pollard quietly. “Gonzetti said he needs to talk to him before anyone on the task force. If we want his help, those are the terms.”
They drove for twenty minutes before Pollard received another call. The look on his face as he listened to the caller’s instructions suggested he was very unhappy about what he was being told. After several minutes, he turned off his communicator and threw it out the window. The implication wasn’t lost on anyone in the van – there was a mole in the police department and if they had access to information on computers at the station Pollard’s police communicator could be tracked.
“Turn right at the next intersection and right onto the carriageway,” he said to Wyston. Forty-five minutes later they arrived at the address supplied by Gonzetti. Wyston turned into the driveway and the garage door immediately opened.
“I think we park in there,” said Lyen nodding to the garage.
“Chief, are you sure about this?” asked Wyston.
“Gonzetti’s not the only one who knows how to track a van,” said Lyen. “Our team is monitoring our locator signal
. If there’s trouble, we’ll have backup moments away.”
Once they disconnected the prisoner’s cuffs from the floor anchor they were escorted inside to a large room whose windows were covered with blackout curtains. “These are detectives Wyston and Maither, and this is Chief Lyen,” said Pollard to a man standing near a large leather sofa at the far end of the room.
“Come in, come in. Have a seat,” he said gesturing to the overstuffed chairs and another leather sofa. “My name is Gonzetti, Blake Gonzetti; you may have heard of me. If not, it don’t matter.”
Lyen glanced around the room and selected a chair close to a wall that allowed him to see all the doors. Pollard guided Les Kyler to a chair near the leather sofa where Gonzetti stood. “Have a seat,” said Pollard to his prisoner. Then he selected a chair opposite Gonzetti. Wyston stood near an empty leather sofa.
“I believe you met Mr. Tildon?” asked Gonzetti looking toward the attorney. “He has acquiesced to provide Mr. Kyler legal representation if Mr. Kyler is cooperative in this matter. If he chooses to not be cooperative, he will need more than a brilliant attorney. Let’s begin, shall we?” and sat down on the sofa.
“Have we ever met Mr. Kyler?” asked Gonzetti.
“I don’t think so, but I’ve heard of you.”
“Good, if you’ve heard about me that should be helpful. Let’s get right to the heart of the matter shall we; why you’ve been brought here to talk to me. I’m Joe Dentonne’s uncle. About six years ago my young nephew took a rap for someone and went to jail. He was never involved in the crime he was accused of or involved with the syndicate in any way for that matter; he was completely innocent.”
“But Joe decided to go to jail because his friend had a wife and two young kids and he didn’t want him away from his family for six years because of one mistake. Joe was scheduled to get out of the Central Government Detention Facility in six days. But that’s not going to happen is it? Because Joe was killed when the second bomb at the prison exploded near his cell. They found his body crushed under the rubble from that blast.”
Gonzetti paused for a moment to make sure Kyler was following his explanation. “Now you know and I know that Clephor Dilinger was behind the recent attacks on Implacto, including the prison bombing that killed my nephew Joe. That material you tried to sell to Pollard was found at every bomb site, so that links you to the bombings.”
“Clephor Dilinger knows you were picked up and why, and he knows you know where he’s holed up. So, he tried to kill you in the holding cell at the police station to keep you from talking. Dilinger’s a real piece of work. If Pollard hadn’t moved you when I told him to you’d be a dead man. Looks like one of Dilinger’s informants at the station was driving the transfer van that picked you up. That must have been the backup plan. But Pollard here outsmarted him; so lucky you.”
Gonzetti paused again to let what he said sink in. “So, here’s how we are going to proceed. You are going to tell us where Dilinger is hiding. If you do, Detective Pollard here might be able to convince the prosecuting attorney that you were helpful and get your sentence reduced, and I can use my resources inside the joint to make sure you’re protected and have all the things you need.”
“But if you refuse, then we have two options. First, your attorney Mr. Tildon has already made arrangements through certain judicial connections to post your bond. So, Detective Pollard is free to release you, and he will, he’ll put you out on the street right in front of the police department building for everyone to see, including Dilinger’s men. You won’t last one day.”
“Of course, you may want to take your chances and hope you make it to jail. The government’s best facility couldn’t keep Dilinger in, so do you think it can keep him out? And as I’ve already admitted, I have friends inside every facility on Implacto. If they found out that you had a chance to help nail the guy that murdered my nephew Joe, and you didn’t help me, well, I can only imagine what they might do.”
Gonzetti paused again then continued. “It’s your call. You can help me and get help for yourself, or you can refuse and take your chances. But if you wait, and Dilinger relocates before we find him all deals are off.”
Gonzetti stood up and opened a drawer in the wooden table next to the sofa and pulled out a thick, braided metal wire coated in plastic with locking shackles on each end. He connected one end to Kyler’s hand cuffs and the other end to an anchor hidden below a removable slat in the floor.
“We’re gonna step out and fetch lunch from a nice takeaway deli down the street. While we’re gone you can have a private chat with your attorney here. You know, to get any details that might help you make a wise decision.”
With that, Gonzetti motioned to the door. “I’ll drive,” and straightaway led everyone else out of the room, down the hall and into a second car garage opposite where the police van was parked. Once inside his car he turned to Chief Lyen, “I think that went well, Chief. By the time we get back with lunch I think Tildon’s client will be willing to talk.”
Just as Gonzetti predicted Kyler was more than willing to help capture Dilinger, and provided the address of the location where he was supposed to be hiding out. Lyen immediately got on his communicator and told his secretary Mona to call everyone on the task force and have them assemble in the conference room immediately.
“We don’t have long to act,” said Gonzetti when Lyen finished his call. “Tomorrow the morgue will have autopsy results from the cadaver they pulled from the department’s transfer van, and at that point everyone including Clephor Dilinger will know it wasn’t Les Kyler that was killed when the van exploded. As soon as he finds out Kyler is still alive he’ll start moving his hideout pronto.”
“We’ll be ready to move tomorrow,” responded Lyen. “My team is already getting building specs on Dilinger’s hideout and maps to plan the assault. We’ll need a safe place to keep Kyler until the assault is completed.”
“There’s no safer place than here,” responded Gonzetti. “Tildon and I will keep him company while you get Dilinger. When you do, I’d like to have a private word with him, just to let him know how miserable his time is going to be in the joint before they end his miserable life.”
“I think we might be able to arrange a discreet meeting. That’s the least we can do considering the help you’ve given,” said Lyen. “Answer a question for me, Gonzetti. Why didn’t you use your own resources to get Dilinger?”
“I couldn’t take a chance on him disappearing underground while I worked it out. My best shot at Dilinger was to help prevent that little snot Kyler from getting blown away so we could find out where Dilinger was hiding before he vanished.”
“Then, I let the dust settle and see how all this affects my business. It’ll cost me big. I lose a safe-house, rankle a few well-placed kingpins that no one wants to make unhappy, and maybe take a hit to my reputation. But if that’s the cost for a chance to square up with Dilinger for what he did to my nephew, so be it.”
An hour and thirty minutes later Lyen was standing in his conference room. He listened as a task force detective explained the layout of the building where Dilinger was thought to be hiding, and how to attack the building. Then another detective displayed a map of the area and traced three routes that would be used by the assault teams to approach the building.
Finally, a third detective described the whisper drone they would be using, “Just before the teams reach the site our drone will make a pass over the building. If we don’t see anyone outside, or on top of the building, all three teams go immediately.”
“What if Dilinger has men posted outside?” asked Maither.
“The drone has a 50-caliber swing cannon and five hundred rounds of ammunition,” replied the detective, “it’ll take single shots or bursts of up to twenty-five rounds. We can target individuals visually through the camera or heat patterns using infrared sensors. That should be enough to coax anyone inside. Once they’re in the building we alert the teams to begin the engageme
nt; they won’t be far away.”
“Everyone is outfitted and ready then?” asked Lyen.
“Each team member’s gear is laid out in the back room – nothing but the best,” answered the detective. “We assemble here at 4:00 IPT, that gives us an hour to suit up, an hour to reach the site, and that puts us in position an hour before the first sun rises. The drone will be airborne in ten minutes and will make its first pass at 6:15 IPT. Men outside or no men outside it doesn’t matter, by 6:25 IPT the drone will have done its job and the assault teams can advance well before first light. Once the building’s power is cut the teams will enter the building and start clearing their assigned areas. We’re using ghost protocol Chief; whoever is in that building is in for a very nasty surprise.”
“I’d like them alive if possible,” responded Lyen.
“That’s the plan Chief.”
“What about us?” asked Maither.
“You’re on team three. Wyston’s flying the drone. Chief, we have you with Wyston and Roker in the command van if that’s okay with you.”
Lyen nodded his concurrence. “Maither, Wyston, you need to check your gear. I assume everyone else did that before we arrived,” he said, surveying the conference table. “Good job everyone. See you at 4:00 IPT.”
At four the next morning everyone dressed quietly as they mentally rehearsed their assignments. Just before five they were ready to leave. Four unmarked transports were outside, each designated to a specific route it would take to their assigned positions.
“On the way to our posts, give some thought to what these men did to our country, to innocent people, mostly people with no political agenda whatsoever,” said Lyen. “Take every precaution to protect yourselves and take no life without extreme provocation. That decision remains the onus of our judicial system. Anyone have any questions? Fine, let’s go.”
The teams’ departures were staggered to draw less attention, but routed so they would arrive at their positions about the same time. The command van reached its position and Lyen and Wyston pulled the whisper drone from its trailer as each team checked in. Wyston did a final drone check, and five minutes later, she was at the controls as the drone took off to make its first high altitude pass.
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