Cliff Roberts Thriller Box Set

by Cliff Roberts

  “That’s just it. These guys are pros. They’ll jam your communications and they will sneak up after dark, killing as they go. You won’t be able to call out for help. Their weapons will be silenced so you won’t know when they start their attack. They’ll come from at least two directions at once and your nine millimeters or forty calibers will be overwhelmed by their fire power. They might have even spotted your men at the 7-Eleven and are planning on taking them out first.”

  “Harcorte, you sound like my old lady. Where did you learn all this crap you’re shoveling?” Beals snidely inquired.

  “Look, Beals, I taught the class. It’s my job to know these things and I’m telling you, you need more back up and you need it now,” Carpelli tried to stress the point.

  “So, have you left town yet?” Beals asked changing the subject.

  “Yeah, I’m on the road. You need to get more men there. I don’t want to read someplace that six cops and the man they were supposed to be protecting were killed in an attack on a suburban home.”

  “Look, Harcorte, there’s ten of us, not six.”

  “The men at the 7-Eleven will never get out of the parking lot, even if they’re not eliminated first. Damn it, listen to me!”

  “Okay, I’ll call it in and see if the Captain will okay it, all right?” Beals finally sounded as if he might do it.

  “I’m telling you, if you don’t, they will kill you tonight.”

  “What do you know that you’re not telling me?” Beals asked.

  “I don’t know anything for sure. It’s just what I would do if I were making the hit.”

  “Good luck, Harcorte. But we’re pros, too, you know, and we’ll handle it. Enjoy your retirement and drop us a line now and then,” Beals hung up at that point and Carpelli punched the dashboard of his car in frustration.

  For several minutes he sat fuming over Beals’ lack of concern. He had done his best to warn the asshole and if he didn’t take his warning seriously, no skin off his back. He needed to just keep heading south to his new life and stop worrying about people he wasn’t attached to nor would ever see again.

  John Carpelli put his car in gear, pulled out of the rest stop and promptly took the first official traffic-only turn around and headed back.

  As he did so, he thought about something Beals had said. “Good Luck.” He had wished him good luck. Why was everyone wishing him good luck? To his way of thinking, luck had nothing to do with it. It was all planning and perseverance.

  After hanging up, Beals woke Williams and explained that Harcorte had called and what he had said. They talked about the merits of what Harcorte suggested they do, but they felt it wasn’t a good idea to call for more men based on a gut feeling of some non-police officer, who was at this moment running for his life to some unknown location.

  They both felt they could handle four to six men simply because they had the element of surprise on their side. But just to be on the safe side, they both put on their Kevlar vests and double checked to make sure their guns were fully loaded.

  Then Beals called the two teams outside the house and informed them to put on their vests, if they didn’t already have them on. He started to tell them to look sharp but decided against it because it sounded like he was trying to mother them. He did, however, let them know they had received a tip, saying they should expect company tonight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Tyler Stone arrived home shortly after seven in the evening. He sat in his car for the longest time dreading having to spend another night with the two stooges, Detectives Beals and Williams. Beals had told Tyler when they had first moved in, it would be only for a few days and that was three days ago. Since Harcorte had stopped to see him a second time, his life had turned into a nightmare.

  Now there were supposedly some hired killers out to kill him simply because his wife had left him for a mobster’s son. Then to top it off, the police had moved in with him and followed him everywhere he went, in an effort to protect him from the mobster hit men. He was beginning to think his only real mistake in all of this mess was to have killed the cheating bitch to begin with.

  Finally, he dragged himself out of his car and into the house. He had brought home pizza again because he wasn’t exactly set up to have house guests. If they would have let him, he would have stopped at a real restaurant on the way home, but no way. He was limited to three restaurants from which he could get takeout, a Chinese place, a burger joint and the pizza place he had just stopped at. They were the only places the police could be sure his food wouldn’t be poisoned.

  The real pain was that he had to bring home enough food for himself and the two detectives, which was why he had two extra large pizzas instead of just one, which would have been more than enough for him.

  From where they were watching, Red and Green couldn’t help but notice that Tyler Stone had a really healthy appetite. They rightly assumed there was at least one police officer in the house. They had seen this setup before in Detroit and shared the new intelligence with Yellow and Blue.

  John Carpelli went back to his office where he picked up his own Kevlar vest and the extra plate he had for situations where he would be out in the open and an easy target. It had saved his life twice so far and he was hoping it would hold up for the charmed, third time. He also grabbed his own night vision goggles and headed out into the woods surrounding Tyler Stone’s house.

  Tyler, Beals and Williams ate their dinners in separate rooms. Tyler went to the master bedroom, logged onto his computer and began playing games.

  Beals took a couple of slices of pizza, a glass of Tyler’s special sweet tea and went into the back bedroom to watch a little television news while eating. After the news, he would try to get a little nap in before he stood watch tonight with Williams. After hearing from Harcorte, they both thought it made sense to do so.

  Williams settled in on the couch with a whole pizza and a two liter, then surfed channels until he found a movie to watch, while waiting for something to happen.

  According to the local weather report there would be thunderstorms overnight and around nine just as the sun set, a cool breeze kicked in signaling the storm front wasn’t far off. Carpelli approached Stone’s home from the north, the opposite side from where the police cruiser was parked. He knew there were police both out front and out back somewhere, so he figured the hitters would be moving in behind them so they could take them out on the way into the house. It made perfect sense. By eliminating them as they approached, they wouldn’t have to worry about any calls for backup.

  Carpelli spent the first hour after dark using his night vision goggles, trying to locate the hitters, but had no luck. If they were there, they were way back in the woods. Carpelli slowly crept across the open field on all fours until he tucked himself in behind a small pile of dirt that was overgrown with weeds. It was the perfect place to hide and only a few dozen yards from the house. He stayed there on his stomach for the next four hours.

  Between dark and two a.m., Red and Green slowly worked their way around behind the police car which was parked on the south side of the t-shaped cul-de-sac opposite Tyler Stone’s house. From there they had a good view of the front of the house and fair view of the back door which was on the side of Tyler’s house, right behind the kitchen.

  Yellow and Blue took full advantage of the fact the officers in the garage had a limited field of view and had sneaked up right next to the garage, where they set up the jamming device and waited for the two a.m. go time. With the wind steadily increasing, the rustle of the trees hid any noise the four hit men might have made, leaving the officers completely unaware they had company.

  Around midnight, the alarm on Beals’ watch woke him. He got up and checked in with Williams, who was engrossed in some shoot ‘em up movie and informed Beals he may as well get some more sleep, nothing was happening. The guys outside said everything was quiet and it was fixing to rain.

  Beals, feeling a bit antsy after talking with Harcorte,
asked them to make another situation report. He then called the backup team down at the 7-Eleven and asked for their status before heading upstairs to check on Tyler. So far, everything was clear.

  On his way upstairs, he grabbed a Kevlar vest out of the back room for Tyler to wear. Upon entering the master suite, he found Tyler sacked out on the bed, still dressed in his work clothes, with the lights, TV and the computer all on.

  “Tyler,” Beals shook him slightly but Tyler failed to wake up right away. “Tyler!” Beals called out louder and this time shoved him.

  “What? What’s up?’ Tyler asked groggily, failing to react as if his life might depend on it.

  “It’s time to shut off all these lights. Plus, I want you to put this Kevlar vest on and sleep with it on tonight.”

  “You don’t really think something’s going to happen tonight, do you?” Tyler stated as he rolled over away from Beals and the vest.

  “Yeah, I do. Call it a gut feeling and put the damn vest on.”

  “This is bullshit! I want my life back. I can’t take much more of this shit. I didn’t do a damn thing. It was that crazy bitch I’m married to that did all this. Where the hell is she, anyway?” Tyler whined as he sat up and put on the vest.

  “We have it on good authority that she’s dead. She was killed, along with Danny Conners. They were killed by men working for his father. The fact April survived was a mistake on their part. The men who killed your wife and Danny Conners are also dead according to our source.

  “It appears Danny was skimming money from daddy’s drug business and when daddy found out, he killed him for it and anyone who might have heard anything or was possibly told anything by Danny.

  “Since he was doing both your wife and your sister-in-law, they were targeted along with Danny. You got lumped in for good measure, just in case, Wendy might have told you something she overheard.

  “If we hadn’t been investigating you, you might not have been targeted. I’m sorry about that,” Beals shared Harcorte’s story with him for the first time.

  “Who told you that?” Tyler inquired.

  “Mr. Harcorte did, just before he left town. He, too, is a target of Anthony Conners, along with the attorney that hired him. Anthony Conners doesn’t like loose ends,” Beals explained and Tyler’s face broke into a big smile as he finally felt relief, knowing Harcorte hadn’t betrayed him. “What’s with the smile?” Beals asked.

  “I don’t have to spend money on a divorce attorney now,” Tyler grinned.

  “No, but you’ll have to have pay an attorney to get the court to declare her dead before seven years have passed. Be sure to get a copy of our report on the case. It should go a long way to convince the judge.

  “Now, put the vest on and keep your thirty-eight on the nightstand where you can get to it quickly,” Beals requested and turned away to go back downstairs. As he went, he reiterated over his shoulder, “Turn these lights out before someone shoots you through the windows and get the vest on!”

  Tyler switched off the lights then the TV and then the computer before slipping on the vest. He then lay back down and despite the vest being uncomfortable as hell, was fast asleep within ten minutes.

  Carpelli was starting to doubt his gut, until lightning flashed overhead and his doubts were erased. The lightning lit up the night making the night into day, for just a second. It was then Carpelli spotted what he was dreading, two men crawling across the ground towards the police car.

  He cursed himself for not thinking of a way to warn the two officers beforehand. It slipped his mind, just like it had slipped his mind to bring a more powerful gun with him. All he had was three handguns, with which at a hundred yards he wasn’t going to hit anything.

  He lay there arguing with himself for several seconds over what he needed to do and how it was suicide to do it. Then he prayed to God for his protection as he was about to do something incredibly stupid.

  The two figures, dressed completely in black, jumped up and ran for the police car, and Carpelli did the same. He fired his unsilenced handgun at the men as he ran. Everyone jumped whether they were outside the house or inside. Everyone that is, except Tyler Stone, he was sound asleep, dead to the world.

  The garage guards jumped and looked out the windows. Williams got off the couch and moved around behind it. He wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep and the loud bangs were part of the movie on TV or not.

  Beals was up and standing next to the bedroom door, his gun at the ready, while the two guards in the car in front of the house— the men Carpelli was trying to help—sat up straighter, turned off their interior dome light and then switched on the car’s headlights. At the far edge of their range they could see a man running towards them, firing what appeared to be a handgun in their general direction.

  Carpelli was firing for affect more than effect. His shots were flying all over as he ran forward. The two black-clad figures continued forward even when the police car’s lights flashed on and the driver opened his door, stepping out with his gun drawn.

  The officer in the passenger seat was trying to raise anyone he could on the radio to report there was a problem out front, but was having absolutely no luck getting through.

  As the driver crouched behind the car and stared at the crazy man running towards them, the man in black on his side of the car fired two shots into the back of his head. The officer in the passenger seat turned to see what was happening with his partner when the man on his side of the car fired point blank into the back of his head.

  Carpelli dropped his empty gun and pulled a second one from his belt, continuing to fire at the two men in black. Another twenty to twenty-five yards and he’d be within range and just might hit one of them, but he would never get that far.

  After eliminating the two officers, both men in black turned their attention to Carpelli and fired at the same time. Carpelli was still a good seventy five yards out but it didn’t matter. The assault rifles were designed for ranges of two to three hundred yards and they had little difficulty reaching Carpelli and being on target.

  Carpelli was hit by both rounds, both in the chest about four inches apart. He was immediately knocked backwards as if hit by a Mack Truck. He landed on his back with his chest feeling as if it were on fire and unable to catch his breath. He saw stars and streaks of light not associated with the lightning overhead as he battled to remain conscious. The men in black assumed he was dead and continued on towards the front of the house.

  Around the back of the house, Yellow and Blue weren’t wasting time hunting for the two men in the garage. When the first flash of lightning split the darkness overhead and the gunfire erupted out front, they jumped up, ran back ten yards from the side of the garage, turned around and fired.

  They sprayed the building with their silenced MP5s, each one emptying a clip into the structure. The officer who was on the side of the old Nova that faced toward the garden was hit and killed despite his Kevlar vest. He’d been spun around by the first few rounds and the remaining bullets struck him in the side where there wasn’t any protection.

  The other officer had been on the opposite side of the car when the firing began and avoided being hit because the car was between them. But as Yellow and Blue ran for the side door, Blue stopped and emptied a second clip into the front of the garage. This time the officer wasn’t so lucky. He was struck in the head and died instantly as he crouched next to the car.

  “Red, Green, wait for my signal to breech the house. I want this to be a simultaneous two pronged attack.” Yellow called out over the comlink.

  “Roger that, Yellow, waiting for your signal,” responded Green, who along with Red were racing up to the front door.

  Carpelli recovered enough to catch his breath and sit up as the two men reached the bottom of the stairs and began climbing to the front door. When they reached the door, one stood on each side of the door and waited.

  Carpelli slowly dragged himself up to a standing position. It hurt like hell, but th
e double plate had done its job and saved his life a third time. He reached to his side, pulled his third and final gun from its belt clip, another Sig-Sauer forty caliber with a twelve round clip. God, he hoped it would be enough.

  He struggled to his feet and slowly staggered forward towards the house. His chest was on fire but he knew he would live and he was pissed off. The two men on the porch were totally focused on their next actions and failed to notice that the guy, the one they hadn’t counted on and had assumed was dead, wasn’t dead. In fact, he had gotten up and was coming after them.

  “Okay, on the count of three, we breech the house,” Yellow called out.

  “Roger that. On the count of three,” Green replied.

  Simultaneously, Blue prepared to kick in the side door and Red prepared to do the same with the front door, as Yellow began the countdown. “One, two, three,” and both men kicked in the doors.

  Williams had crouched in the corner behind the arm of the couch, listening hard for any sounds that might give away someone trying to break in. When the front door burst inward, he immediately turned and fired towards it. Unfortunately, he fired about chest high, while the intruder was sliding in across the floor.

  It was a well-orchestrated maneuver by Red and Green. When Red had kicked in the front door, Green dove into the house and immediately saw Williams in the light of the television. He fired five shots. He was an excellent marksman and all five shots hit within a six inch circle on Williams’ chest. Williams was blasted back into the corner of the room where he died from the concussion of the rounds against his body despite the Kevlar vest. The five successive blows simply stopped his heart.

  “One down, not our target. Repeat, one down not our target,” Green called over the comlink as he surveyed the room for more targets. Yellow was busy crossing the kitchen while Blue raced down the basement stairs to clear the basement.