by Declan Finn
The best tactic to engage the shooters outside was to stay at the windows and hold the fort until cavalry arrived… leaving us vulnerable to the men coming from the hall.
The best tactic I could think of was to make a stand in the living room, backs against the wall beneath the window, and hope we could hold out, unless the three of us could retreat to a different room in the apartment.
In short, we were screwed.
When the going got tough, the tough started praying.
I love you, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold… We need a good solution.
Suddenly, without any warning, I was inside and outside at the same time. My vision was the ultimate split screen. I was outside, behind the gunmen. I was inside, still where I was.
I had to move fast in both cases.
Outside, I charged the three gunmen with the rifles. They probably figured they would be at a distance, so they didn’t have to worry about engaging many people at short distances. One was set up with his rifle on top of a car, using the roof as a platform. I leapt at him. My hands grabbed the back of his head and slammed it forward with my entire body weight. His skull made a dent in the car. The gunman didn’t fall down but merely staggered back. I grabbed him by the shoulders and swung him around, hurling him at the next gunman over. Even the third gunman noticed the attack by now. And I was the most important target—I was the one with the bounty on him.
I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From His temple He heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into His ears.
While the attackers were engaged outside, inside, I took the initiative. I charged for the door. The door kicked in as I was ten feet away. The gunmen tossed something in before backing away. I swatted at it with my bare hand, knocking it back out into the outer hallway. I dove to my right, into the first door I saw, landing on the tiled floor of a bathroom.
The flashbang went off in the hallway, blinding and stunning everyone trying to kill us.
The earth trembled and quaked, and the foundations of the mountains shook; they trembled because He was angry. Smoke rose from His nostrils; consuming fire came from His mouth, burning coals blazed out of it. He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under His feet.
Outside, there was still the third man standing. As they went down, I landed on them and flung myself forward, in a roll. I came to a stop past the muzzle of his gun and sprang up. I drove my left fist into his gut, slamming into his diaphragm. All of the air knocked out of him, I head-butted him, crushing his nose. Then I punched him in the throat with a right cross and delivered a right elbow to the side of his head. He slumped against the car. I grabbed the rifle, ripped it from his hands, and hit him over the head with it.
I turned around and found the other two gunmen getting up.
He soared on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, His canopy around him—the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of His presence clouds advanced, with hailstones and bolts of lightning. The Lord thundered from heaven; the voice of the Most High resounded.
Inside, I got up from the bathroom and charged the hallway. All of the gunmen were blinded and disoriented. I didn’t show any mercy this time. I slapped the muzzle of a pistol against a wall with my left hand, pinning it with my right. I brought my knee up, nearly to my chest, then stomped down on the first man’s kneecap, ripping it out of place. He roared in pain. I grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisted it out of his grip. Then I slammed it into his skull, muzzle first. I didn’t care if it discharged into his head. I twisted in a roundhouse arc and stabbed the muzzle into the temple of the man on my left. The strike might as well have been with a metal rod. His head snapped back so hard, his entire body torqued as he fell. The third gunman, behind the first two, blinked, clearing his eyes. I leveled the gun a foot away from his nose and fired. The brains that blew out the back of his head made the man behind him flinch. I aimed and clicked again, but the gun jammed…
And there were three gunmen still standing.
With great bolts of lightning He routed them. The foundations of the earth laid bare at Your rebuke, Lord, at the blast of breath from Your nostrils. He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.
Outside, I burst forward, kicking the gunman on top in the head. He fell on his cohort, knocking the gun offline. I brought my foot up, then stomped the gunman in the head, smashing his skull against the tarmac.
Well, that was easy. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.
Back in the hallway, I could either try clearing the gun jam or ignore it.
I reared back with the handgun and hurled it into the face of gunman #4. I took two steps forward and jumped over the three dead at my feet. My fist was cocked back far over my shoulder. As I landed, I led with my fist, knocking his head back and dropping him. I followed through, punching through the target instead of striking at it, so my fist was down by my hip when I landed. Gunman #5 was within easy reach, so I brought my fist back up, slamming the meaty part into the side of his mouth. Teeth flew as he fell against the wall. I followed up with a left roundhouse to his kidney. I reached over with both hands, grabbed the butt of his handgun and the portion around the hammer, and lifted the barrel right into his face. I slammed his own gun into his face twice more until he fell over.
The last gunman blinked his eyes clear, and they focused on me as I drove the muzzle of the stolen pistol into his gut. I came up to him, nose to nose, and bellowed, “On the floor, or in a box! Drop your weapon and show me your hands!”
His hands went up so fast, his gun went flying. I grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him to the wall, and face-planted him there.
Alex looked out into the hall as I cuffed the last man standing. “You mean we get to arrest one of them? Wow. Here I thought we were just going to have a trail of bodies from New Jersey to Long Island and back.”
“Did you call it in?” I asked.
“From Carlton’s phone.”
“Great. Let’s not be here when they show up.”
Alex frowned. “We’re going to need more handcuffs.”
“We have zip ties.”
Alex shrugged. “Sure.”
William Carlton looked out of his apartment. He studied the beaten and the dead on the floor. “And you were criticizing me for advocating lethal force?”
I smiled at him as I shoved the thug on the floor. “Just the context you were using it, Counselor.”
Carlton nodded. “Come, let’s walk and talk. You can’t have much time before the locals show up.”
He escorted us out the front door. He quickly outlined his legal strategy—okay, less of a strategy and more of a script—and I added a few notes. A lot of things needed to be set up in short order.
Including the hint as to where Alex and I would be hiding.
Carlton scoffed at my suggestions, and I made more than a few. He said, “I’ve been a lawyer longer than you’ve been alive. I can handle being subtle.”
I made a hurt face. “I can be subtle.”
He rolled his eyes back up to the floor above. “I saw you being subtle. When the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.”
“When people are using nail guns at you, a hammer is the only reasonable answer.”
Carlton sighed. “In any case, get thee gone. I’ll tell the police that I handled them all myself, single-handedly, challenging them all to unarmed combat. Or something.”
I laughed as Alex and I made it out of the building. I was still smiling as I got into the car and pulled out.
Alex waited
until we were out of the bottleneck that was Knightsbridge Road, then asked, “Why are we sure that Carlton needs to be given a hint about where we’re hiding? What about those people who cry a lot to find you?”
It took me a moment to figure out what he meant. “Do you mean scry?”
He scoffed. “Whatever.”
“One thing I remember about all of this magic crap—it has problems working over or near water. Or was it salt water? Either way, that’s another reason to hang out at King’s Point. It’s surrounded by water, and the house itself is nearly on the dock.”
“Should I ask what books you read that in?”
I smiled and thought I’d tease him a little. “I think it was by Kim Harrison.”
“Doesn’t she do urban fantasy?”
I merely said nothing.
“We’re gonna die.”
Chapter 19
The Case of the Discarded Detective
ADA William Carlton walked into the judge’s chambers. The phone on his camera was on so that Alex and I could track exactly what was going on during the proceeding. The video was uploaded to a private internet site on the Dark Web. Because the bad guys weren’t the only ones who could use a TOR connection.
Also in the room was Bokor Baracus, and the enemy himself, Mayor Hoynes.
Mayor Ricardo Hoynes was an anomaly for New York City in that he was a semi-(big-L) Libertarian. He was less anomalous in that he was a loudmouth who wouldn’t know how to shut up if the city depended on it. Big-Ls, like Hoynes, preached “freedom to think for yourself,” then browbeat and bullied anyone who disagreed with him.
Hoynes was, for lack of a better term, a blockhead. His head looked like a rectangle. His skin pallor was mostly gray. His eyes were BS brown, and he kept trying to pass for Hispanic. His claim to fame within the Barrio (Spanish Harlem) was marrying a Miami woman who had backed Castro…and was run out of Miami soon after.
Today, he wore a hideous pink tie with tiny blue stripes, a pale blue shirt, and a gray suit.
“Angry” Judge Jacob Vargas had a full beard, closely cropped, and an eye patch over one eye. His hair was black and left in a crew cut. Vargas was well-known for being regularly pissed off, hated other lawyers, and generally didn’t care what other people thought of him. To go before him was to come in prepared to offer no sophistry, BS, or obfuscation. He was perfectly fair. He hated everyone equally. But waste his time, and he was the worst enemy one could ever have.
He gave all of us a hard look, with eyes like obsidian. “What exactly are we doing here? Bill, you better not be screwing around.”
“Your Honor, you must know me better than that.”
He scoffed. “Don’t jerk me around. Most of the lawyer jokes I know are walking the halls. What is this about getting an APB rescinded and an injunction against the mayor?”
Hoynes leaped to his feet. “A police officer tried to kill my deputy mayor last night. For some reason, Carlton’s trying to protect him.”
Carlton shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t know that the mayor’s office even had the ability to put out an APB on a police officer.”
Hoynes glared at me. “Attempted murderer.”
Vargas glared at Carlton so harshly I expected the camera to melt and for us to lose visual at any moment. “There is an eyewitness. It sounds like they have more than enough to hang him.”
Carlton’s tone was so calm, you’d almost think he was ignoring both outbursts. “Except, your honor, this APB came barely 12 hours after the fourth attempt on this officer’s life. Two of those attempts were made by corrupt members of SWAT and bomb squad. There was even an attempt by the gang unit to go after one of Nolan’s informants. All so that they could collect a twenty million dollar bounty on Nolan’s head from the Dark Web. Putting an APB out on him is an invitation to be killed by other corrupt cops, or criminals with police scanners.”
Vargas blinked, surprised. He stared daggers at Hoynes and Baracus. “And he had some time to go to…” He glanced at the brief before him. “Monmouth to assassinate Mister Baracus? Why would he do that?”
“He’s insane!” Hoynes insisted. “He’s been out to get me for nearly a year.”
Vargas went back to Carlton. “Has he?”
Carlton coughed. “What the mayor means is that Detective Nolan released several videos a few months ago where the mayor made some … unfortunate comments about his constituents.”
Vargas paused a moment. Then the beard broke out into a slow, smooth smile. “Oh, yes. All of those entertaining clips about the mayor’s opinion about how good aborting the gene pool of Harlem meant crime went down. This is the same cop? Interesting.”
Hoynes drew himself up, making an ugly scowl. “Excuse me. That has no bearing on the APB. Deputy Mayor Baracus saw Detective Nolan try to kill him.”
Carlton calmly asked, “How could he tell Detective Nolan apart from the rest of the gunmen?”
Judge Vargas winced. “Pardon?”
Carlton picked out a folder and put it down on the desk. “Those would be the other dead bodies. They’re all covered with MS-13 tattoos. And there are bullets all over the crime scene. There were reports of automatic weapons fire and explosions. Are we to believe that the Deputy Mayor was close enough to clearly see Detective Nolan in the dead of night, in the middle of a firefight, with automatic weapons, and come away without a scratch on him?”
Carlton gestured at Baracus, and he was correct. The bokor was immaculate and perfectly dressed.
“Please. If Nolan were actually there, I could argue that he was trying to save Mr. Baracus. Though lord only knows why he would, given what he’s been put through. His family is in danger, there is literally a bounty on his head. But somehow, he made time to get to Deputy Mayor Baracus’ just in time to thwart an MS-13 assassination attempt on the Deputy Mayor.”
Vargas’ eyes narrowed again. “Are you seriously trying to spin that one on me, counselor?”
“Absolutely not. It’s poppycock. Given the evidence at hand, we could take the facts as given and spin any story we want out of them.”
Hoynes’ jaw hung open, while Baracus was cool and quiet. Hoynes at least hadn’t counted on the fact that there was no evidence that Alex and I had injured the bokor. They couldn’t exactly tell Vargas that we had come in, slashed Baracus with a knife in several places, stabbed major joints to pin him to the floor, and yet didn’t have a scratch on him the next morning.
Though to be honest, it looked very much like Baracus had already thought of it and he wasn’t surprised Carlton had brought it up.
Judge Vargas’ lips pursed, trying to keep in his anger. When he spoke, his voice came out strained and enraged.
“What. The FUCK. Are you assholes. DOING?” he roared.
Hoynes’ eyes narrowed. He jabbed a finger at Vargas. “Watch your tone with me, Jacob. Or I’ll make your life miserable. I’ll—”
“You’ll get out of my office before I have you thrown out!” Vargas roared. “And if you waste one more minute of my time, I’ll see you both in lockup for contempt of court.”
Carlton merely smiled as he stepped out of the way of Carlton and Baracus. Hoynes gave Carlton an evil look. Literally, his eyes flashed red, with a hint of electrical cracking around the edges. He was pissed off and ready to hurt someone. If the ADA wasn’t careful, he was going to be the target of the warlock’s rage.
Vargas barked, “Carlton. Out.”
Carlton followed the other two. Hoynes whirled on Carlton, jabbing his index finger into his face. “What game do you think you’re playing, Carlton? Whose side do you think you are on? Nolan’s or the city’s?”
Carlton arched his bushy brows. “I am, as always, on the side of justice. And truth. You may not be familiar with either of those concepts. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long day ahead of me, followed by a meeting in King’s Point, and then I get to go home.”
The mayor flinched. “Where?”
“Home is Great Neck, if you don’t mi
nd. I’m there all the time. When I can. Now, please, good day. And the next time you want to put a hit out on a detective, make certain your story is straight. Be well.”
Carlton wandered off.
Back in our hideout, Father Richard Freeman, OP, sat with us as he watched the court drama unfold. Freeman was in his late forties, skinny, with just enough gray at his temples to make him an interesting stunt double for a comic book scientist. He wore his black shirt and white collar with a lab coat over it. He was a bit nebbishy, but what would you expect from someone with three PhDs? In German, he would have been addressed as doctor doctor doctor Freeman.
We had Freeman brought in simply and easily. While I had been worried about his phone being wiretapped, or his movements being monitored, or even the ADA’s phone being wiretapped by the unscrupulous, I did something simple: I messaged his pager.
Alex sat on my right, with Freeman on my left. My partner said, “I’m surprised Hoynes didn’t Jedi mind trick the judge. That’s how he gets people to vote, isn’t it?”
The priest shrugged. “Strong emotion is difficult to shift. It’s hard to sway someone’s thoughts if they’re so pissed off that they can barely think. Granted, that means the judge’s thoughts were an open book, but the judge knows nothing about us or our plans.”
I shrugged. “Technically, I barely told Carlton our plan. They could mind read him until doomsday, and they wouldn’t know the full extent of our plans.”
Father Freeman leaned back in his chair and studied us. “So, what have you two been up to?”
Alex scoffed. “Busy.”
Freeman smiled. “I can imagine. May I borrow Tommy for a moment, Alex?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’m going to head out to get some food now that the APB is lifted.”
Alex left. Freeman said nothing for a long moment. “So, Tommy, what are you thinking?’
“I’m thinking that Hoynes needs to go down. We have some feelers out now. We can consider dropping him in jail. Frankly, I’ll look forward to it.”