“Yes, it should be interesting. Now, where is the map?”
“You don’t need a map. Just punch the address into the GPS and it’ll give us the location in seconds,” the driver insisted.
“I need more than directions to the place. I need to see how the streets are laid out around it. I need to see what the best approach is, and the best way to escape. We’ll handle it the same way we always do. We’ll check out the place for a day or two and then we’ll strike. After all, our intelligence package says this one is of some interest to the police. We’ll need to be especially quiet when we finally retire him. If it wasn’t for the damn papers we have to collect, we could just pop them all from a distance and be long gone before anyone even realized they were dead.”
“Well, we’ve done urban combat hits before and we made it look easy. We’ll do the same with this one. After all, our middle names are ‘precise’ and ‘stealthy’.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You sound retarded.”
“Well, eat shit. Let’s get these jobs done so I can get back the beach in Daytona. Bike week’s coming up,” the driver snapped.
“I take it back. I liked you better as a retard, than a biker.”
“You like me best because I’m a stone cold killer and nobody except maybe you is better at it.”
The map didn’t yield any good news for the would-be hit men. They quickly realized that they couldn’t just drive up to the man’s house. He lived on a cul-de-sac in a semi-rural area. Further investigation of the area in and around Tyler Stone’s house revealed that the police could be anywhere. Their best and safest approach would be through the heavily forested land around the house.
The next morning, they were sitting in the woods across the road from Tyler Stone’s home with a view of the front of the house and the whole street. Tyler Stone left for work at six forty-five a.m. with a police escort trailing behind him by a few seconds driving a non-descript Ford sedan.
They watched the house from the front for another two hours and absolutely nothing happened. They then moved around to the back of the house, where they watched it for another two hours. Still there was nothing moving. But as they were about to pull out and go check out Tyler Stone’s workplace, they spotted a man’s head pass by the window on the side of the garage. That confirmed for them what they had suspected. There were a pair of policemen in the garage.
It was standard procedure, after all, for protection details to stage officers inside and outside the location being used to house the person being protected. The team in the garage was there to backup the men in the street. The team’s presence also confirmed someone had tipped the police to their plans.
They spent the afternoon watching Tyler’s work and the employee parking lot. It was a busy place and there was the ever present police detail sitting across the street from the radio station. They ruled out hitting him there based on the number of people and the amount of auto traffic that passed the station. Too many possible ways to be delayed.
The more they thought about it the better staging a home invasion sounded. It would be a quick execution followed by an even faster search. They decided to watch Tyler Stone’s place one more night and day before making their move. They also decide to bring in a couple of extra hitters to help even the odds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
John Carpelli arrived at Bender’s office late in the afternoon. He brought with him a large suitcase style briefcase on wheels. It was just like the large wheeled briefcases that a dozen other men had lugged into Bender’s office throughout the day. The parade was in response to the police surveillance team that Carpelli had made the previous day.
He had arranged for several local actors to provide cover for his own stop at Bender’s office to pick up the documents pertaining to Anthony Conners and his business dealings. It was the first time Carpelli had been to Bender’s office during business hours. No one in the office, besides Bender, knew who he was. He had complete anonymity.
Once in the office, Bender explained that the huge pile Carpelli was packing into the briefcase was heavily condensed. He had taken each document and shrunk them to one-quarter size and copied them four to a page on both sides of the page. As it was, there were over four thousand pages.
“Sure you’ll be able to lift that into your trunk? Bender asked as Carpelli finished packing the briefcase.
“I borrowed a minivan. It has a lot lower deck than my car’s trunk, so I’ll manage. How much did you save for yourself?” Carpelli asked as he closed and locked the briefcase.
“I saved the smoking gun for my own immunity deal.”
“This is going to get real hairy, real fast, once Conners figures out we beat him to the punch.”
“I’ve watched the man work for too many years not to realize what he’s capable of. After today, I won’t be coming back here. I’ll go directly to the DA in the morning and tonight I won’t be going home.”
“If it all goes well, John, I won’t see you again. I just want to thank you for…well, everything. Thanks and good luck,” Jackson stated as he handed Carpelli a second smaller briefcase.
“What’s this?” Carpelli asked.
“It’s a bonus for a job well done.”
“Thanks.” Carpelli wasn’t the type to refuse cash when offered.
“Just a little something to improve your ‘luck’,” Jackson stated.
“Would you please stop saying luck. I’m hoping luck won’t have anything to do with it.”
Carpelli went directly to Ms. Hunter’s office lugging the stuffed briefcase with him. When he reached her office he discovered her hard at work with yet another set of clients assigned to the Public Defender’s office.
When she looked up from her desk, she quickly held up a hand and motioned for him to wait. Carpelli took a seat and waited ten minutes for the clients to leave. They were an elderly black couple who had a tenant dispute with some deadbeat landlord. If Ms. Hunter was attacking the case as a civil rights matter since the property owner was some rich white dude who lived in a city downstate and never stopped by to check on his property. Carpelli felt sorry for the bastard, especially if Ms. Hunter approached this case with anything like the fervor she had for April Jennings.
“What have you got for me?” Ms. Hunter asked as John stepped through the door to her glass-walled office.
“Some papers, enough to wallpaper a skyscraper. The two bundles on top are Danny’s private books. You’ll find names, addresses, phone numbers, friends, relatives, employment records and every deal Danny ever made for his dad, including exactly how much he stole and where he hid it. It should get April a cushy job in some state capital.
“Then there are lots of lesser explosive papers on dad, which should make it easy to get search warrants for every commercial building he owns, his attorney’s office, each of his homes and all his cars and trucks as well.”
“That should make it a breeze for April,” Ms. Hunter stated.
“Yeah, she’ll get another chance to have a good life,” Carpelli replied.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” Carpelli stated.
“Stick your neck out for a stranger.”
“I didn’t stick it out for her. It’s just a side benefit. My head’s on Conners’ chopping block as well. As soon as I’m sure that Conners will be spending some extended quality time inside a maximum security hell hole, I’ll arrange to disappear to a place of my own choosing. I’ve got a bit of a nest egg that should see me through.”
“I hope it all works out for you. But if you decide to stay around here, I could use an investigator like you. It doesn’t quite pay what you’re used to, but it’s steady,” Ms. Hunter stated.
“Gee, almost an offer I couldn’t refuse. You know, there’s bound to be a need for a good attorney wherever I end up. I could use a good attorney to send work my way. I’ll just get bored and fat if I retire.”
“Gee, almost an offer I couldn’t refuse
,” Ms. Hunter retorted.
“You may want to think about it before you dismiss me.”
“Oh, I will. Drop me a line and maybe I’ll change my mind. I like sun, sand and water.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m picking out a new home.”
“Can you help me put all but the top two bundles in the safe for now?” Ms. Hunter asked.
“Uh… I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Why don’t you make out a delivery receipt and I’ll drop them off except for the two top bundles. You can deliver those when you see the DA later today. This stuff is volatile and I don’t want anyone thinking you’ve got them.”
“Just looking out for me, huh?” Ms. Hunter stated.
“Plus, they weigh a few hundred pounds. I doubt you could get them out to your car, let alone up the courthouse steps.”
“Okay, you win. I don’t want to break a sweat on my way to see the DA, anyway.”
Carpelli delivered the files a half hour later to the DA’s office and had the clerk sign for them. Now, it was up to the courts not to fail the public. He had done his part and then some. He drove off thinking he should just keep driving at this point. If things went well, Tyler Stone would survive the coming attack on him and the hit men would be arrested and convinced to become state’s evidence, while Tyler spent the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the police and Nate Harcorte.
Jackson Bender would spend some time in a country club prison under another name and then disappear into witness protection.
April would pick up the pieces of her shattered life in a new town with a new background story, ending up hopefully happier and smarter for her trouble.
Big, bad, Anthony Conners would be convicted of racketeering, extortion, drug dealing, loan sharking, attempted murder, murder, interstate fraud and scores of other counts dealing with his illegal activities. He was hoping he would get the state’s death penalty for the murder of Wendy Stone and his son. That was Bender’s smoking gun, a supposed tape of Conners ordering the hit.
That left just him. For the moment, everyone thought he was Nate Harcorte, except for Bender. If things went according to the plan, he’d be reported to have died during the capture of the hit men. He would then be free to disappear wherever he chose. No one would be the wiser.
It was a good plan, he’d covered all the angles he could think of and he was confident that the plan would succeed. With that being the case, Carpelli wondered why he was feeling as though he had forgotten something. No matter how many times he went over the plan, it seemed perfect, yet something kept nagging at him. Something kept nagging at him, telling him he’d made a mistake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The two men arrived via the train, casually walked through the small station and out to the parking lot where they climbed into the waiting Chevy Suburban with the blacked out windows. They didn’t have any luggage because they were told everything they’d need for their one night assignment would be provided.
They were given a quick tour of town and shown the fallback rendezvous point which just happened to be the same abandoned warehouse, Haydon Industries, where Tyler Stone had chosen to toss the trash from the cleanup of the murder scene the night he killed his wife.
“Okay, if we run into trouble,” the man who was sitting in the front passenger seat explained to the driver and his two new recruits, “this is our fallback point. We’ll regroup here.”
“We rented a second car for you to drive. It’s parked over there by the fence.” He waved off to his right.
“To protect our identities and to keep things simple, we won’t be using our real names on the comlinks. I’ll be Yellow. He’ll be Blue,” he stated as he pointed to the driver. “You’ll be Red,” he pointed to the man on the right in the back seat, “and you’ll be Green,” he pointed the man on the left. “Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Green said. “When do we see the layout of the target and hear what you have in mind?”
“We’re going there now,” Yellow replied, and fifteen minutes later they were walking through the woods to the same spot where Yellow and Blue had watched the house the last two mornings.
“Okay, there will be a police car parked out front of the house tonight. Your job,” Yellow stated addressing Green and Red, “will be to eliminate them before they can come to the rescue of the guys in the house.
“Once you’ve put the men in the police car down, you’ll attack the house. You’ll enter the house through the front door. We’ll,” Yellow pointed towards himself and Blue, “be moving in from the back of the house. We’ll take out the two guards hiding in the garage and we’ll enter the house through the back door, which is on the side of the house.
“To ensure we are not disturbed, we’ll be setting up a radio and cell phone jammer in the backyard eliminating any calls for reinforcements. When we’re done, we’ll leave the same way we came in and meet back at the abandoned warehouse. We’ll drop off the rental car and wait until nine a.m. to drop you off at the train station again. Then you’ll head back to Detroit the same way you came.
“Here is a picture of the guy we have to kill.” Yellow handed them two pictures. “I want both of you to carry the picture with you. This guy is our high priority target but shoot to kill anyone else you encounter.”
“What about our gear?” Red asked.
“We’ve got heavy duty Kevlar body armor, night vision goggles, and MP5s with suppressors.”
“What time are we making our move?” Green asked.
“We’ll make our move at two a.m.”
“That’s simple enough. Where can we get something to eat and catch some sleep until we’re needed?” Red asked.
“We’ve got a hotel room out by the interstate for you. The information is in the car. We’ll head back to our hotel as well. We’ll meet back here at the warehouse at six o’clock tonight. We’ll suit up and go over the plan one more time before we execute. You’ll be coming to this spot to start with and adjusting to the location of the police car. Any questions?”
“Nope,” Green and Red replied simultaneously.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
For a man with two million dollars plus in financial freedom, John Carpelli wasn’t exactly enjoying his freedom. He’d managed to drive only as far as the first rest stop on the freeway about twenty miles down the road from the city.
His old policeman’s gut was telling him he had overlooked something, something important that was going to become a big problem. He sat in his car watching the traffic and mulling over the details he knew.
He knew that April Jennings was already in protective custody. He knew that Jackson Bender had gone into protective custody first thing this morning. At eight a.m. tomorrow, raids would take place at seven different home and business locations belonging to Anthony Conners. They would take place simultaneously along with the arrest of Anthony Conners and five or six of his top lieutenants.
Ms. Hunter should be safe simply because she’s just an attorney working for a client that is now in the custody of the Feds; and the DA was safe for the most part by virtue of his public persona. This left only Tyler Stone.
Why was he worrying about Tyler Stone? He didn’t owe that guy anything. He helped the guy get away with murder. He could have told Detectives Beals and Williams about his suspicions, then they would have dug up the garden, found the bodies and Tyler would be on his way to death row. It was what he deserved, but no, he had to set him up as bait to hang Anthony Conners.
He had chosen the lesser of two evils, the little evil over the big evil. Was that what was bothering him? Was he suffering from a guilty conscience? After all, hadn’t he committed murder and, so far, gotten away with it himself? Hell, he had killed several people for money, but he told himself they were all bad people who deserved it. Did Tyler sleep at night by justifying his actions, just like he did? Did he tell himself that his wife deserved to die because she cheated on him, broke his heart and broke her wedding vows? H
e supposed he had to. Everyone had to tell themselves some sort of lie in order to get through life. We all justify our actions, from cheating on our taxes to cheating on our spouses.
He sat mulling it over for the next six hours until he realized that he wasn’t feeling guilty; he was concerned for the detectives who were protecting Stone.
Then it dawned on him—a pro, like himself, after seeing four or more police officers guarding Stone, would call in extra help. They had no choice but to make the hit on Stone, since they took the contract. So, they had to do what they had to do, to get it done.
How many would he bring in if he was going to do it? He thought about what the hitters knew or could figure out about the detail watching Stone. He knew he’d bring another four guys with him.
He would also create an extra advantage for himself by setting up a radio jammer to keep the police from talking to each other and calling for backup. It would be the type of jammer that would jam both radio and cell phone, but leave the channel he was using for a comlink unaffected.
He’d make sure his team had the latest in body armor, night vision and close quarter assault weapons. It then occurred to him that it was going to be a blood bath. He grabbed his phone and called Detective Beals.
“Beals,” the detective answered.
“Beals, it’s Harcorte. I think we need to talk.”
“Okay, talk.”
“Look, I’ve been thinking. It was a mistake to set up Stone as bait. These guys are real pros. They don’t miss their targets and they don’t get caught. I think it was a big mistake thinking they would only have two guys come to town to make the hit. I know if this were my job, I’d bring at least four guys besides myself. I’d have them in full body armor and arm them with assault rifles. You need to call for more backup right away.”
“What are you babbling about, Harcorte? We have ten men assigned to this operation already. It took a good deal of begging to get this many. Besides, whoever they are, they don’t know we’re in the house already and even if they have been watching, they’re going to see two guys out front and two guys out back. They won’t know about the four other officers down the road at the 7-Eleven. They’re twenty seconds out when we call for them.”
Cliff Roberts Thriller Box Set Page 34