AT 29

by D. P. Macbeth

  The two men turned away. “Lock the door,” Jimmy ordered. “Then gather the drugs and flush everything down the toilet.”

  In the corridor, Nigel led the way to the next room, but Jimmy stopped and spun the big man around. “What have you been doing?” Whitehurst stared without answering, a wild look in his eyes. “If the cops come we could be headed for jail.”

  “They hurt her, mate. I’m going to find out who.”

  ***

  Felix took the wheel, saying nothing as Miles closed his door. He pressed the accelerator and made a sharp turn onto the street as the wheels squealed in protest. Two blocks later, while they waited for a light to turn green, McCabe gathered the courage to speak.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Eight men will meet us at the dock. We’ll figure out what to do when we get there.” The answer had a tone of finality. Miles elected to remain silent the rest of the way.

  ***

  Nicky’s body was gently lifted from the desktop and placed inside a large black bag three times his size. Sister Marie stood to the side, leaning on her cane next to Sister Monica, watching the men in white go about their work. The nurse was across the office, speaking softly to one of the policemen who had a small pad and pencil in his hand. The two nuns watched as the bag was placed on a white stretcher and rolled to the door.

  ***

  The phone rang just as Les finished packing.

  “I have only one option,” the night manager said. “There’s an Aeromexico flight that leaves in an hour for Mexico City. From there you can transfer to Qantas and get to Sydney. There’s an hour’s wait from there to Melbourne.”

  Les didn’t hesitate. When she hung up she turned to Cindy with tears flowing down her cheeks. “We have to hurry. My flight leaves in an hour.”

  ***

  Ellis went back into the main room and searched the faces of those assembled. The Riland brothers had joined Sonny and Ted in the center of the room, still tucking their shirts into their pants. Travis was at the top of the stairs, making his way down. Eugene stood by one of the windows, while the rest of the backups from all of the bands milled about in groups of two and three. There were fourteen men of varying sizes. Melinda, Kate and Marsha were safely shut away in a side room off the rear patio. He relaxed slightly, feeling better about the odds.

  Alice took a seat on the chair Nigel had previously occupied, watching while Tammy went about the business of collecting the implements on the table. She cast a sidelong glance at the writer who trembled with tears streaming down her cheeks. High, the resourceful groupie decided. Not a good high, either. She’s strung out.

  She took the small pan from the Sterno stove, its contents bubbling, but almost burned away. The odor was familiar. Tammy had smelled it many times. After canceling the flame, she carried the pan into the bathroom. She poured the small amount of liquid into the toilet and flushed. Then she put the pan into the sink and turned the faucet on full, letting hot water wash away the residue. She kept the water running as she returned to the room and picked up the syringes and leftover joints. She went back into the bathroom and closed the door. She tossed the joints into the toilet and flushed again. Finally, she dropped the syringes on the ornate tile floor and stamped down hard on each one. It took several heavy blows to shatter the needles and plastic into small pieces. When she was satisfied, she picked up the pieces and threw them into the toilet, flushing twice to make sure everything disappeared completely.

  Nigel seemed to know exactly which room Winfield occupied. He turned the knob and went inside without knocking. Jimmy followed, unfazed when he saw the DJ propped up with pillows on top of the queen-sized bed. He was alone, looking peaceful with no sound except the low voices of a television show coming from the screen in an opened cabinet several feet from the foot of the bed. Winfield looked up and smiled, high as a kite. On the bed next to him was a square piece of brown cardboard. On its surface was a small amount of white powder together with two small chunks of a yellow substance that looked like jagged edged pebbles. A curled hundred-dollar bill, partly unraveled, was next to the pillow.

  “C’mon in,” Winfield said, in a dreamy voice. “Got my own party, right here.” He gestured to the cardboard.

  Jimmy crossed to the bed and picked up the cardboard, careful not to spill any of the powder. He took the rock cocaine in his fingers and carried everything into the bathroom. The toilet flushed behind him as he came back into the room. Winfield seemed not to care as he collected the hundred-dollar bill and put it into his shirt pocket.

  “Where’s the rest of it?” Jimmy demanded.

  “There, mate.” Nigel nodded to a corner. A black bag was lying open on the floor. Jimmy went over and picked it up. He put the bag on the bed beside Winfield, who leaned forward from his prone position with a question on his face.

  “What’s up?”

  Jimmy didn’t answer as he took the bag’s contents and placed them one by one on the bed. There were two plastic jars each containing white powder. One was marked with a C the other an H. Beneath the jars he found two glass vials, each containing a dozen pieces of rock cocaine. Next to them was a leather pouch, weighing a pound, packed with still moist marijuana. He felt around inside then lifted the black bag and turned it over. Nothing more emerged. There was no gun. Winfield tried to sound serious.

  “That’s mine,” he said, turning his eyes to Nigel.

  “We’re taking it, mate. The bikers are making trouble. They hurt Alice.”

  “Did you see a gun?” Jimmy interrupted.

  “No gun, no. Nobody’s wrecking the place, are they?”

  “Not yet. Are you sure there’s no gun?”

  “Never saw one.”

  “Tammy says you owe them money.”

  “Tomorrow, when I cash a check.”

  ***

  Cindy did her best to get the story from Les. Les wept as she detailed everything she knew, which was just enough to make her frantic. By the time they reached the airport, Cindy settled her down with an assortment of logical explanations, but Les remained shaky as she opened the door and jumped out. A lone Aeromexico station was open. The ticket agent seemed to be expecting her. With the suitcase checked through to Melbourne, Les clutched her ticket and turned back to Cindy. Tears appeared once more.

  “I’ll just make it to the gate.”

  Cindy embraced her. “I’ll tell Jimmy.”

  “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I’ll be waiting for him in Melbourne.”

  ***

  Jimmy tried to coax Winfield from the bed, but the DJ showed no inclination to move. “You handle it,” he said, casually. “I’ll stay here and have my own party.”

  Jimmy looked at Nigel. “He’s too high. Leave him here, but take the bag.”

  Jimmy put the drugs back into the bag and carried it to the door. Winfield called after him, seeming to forget all urgency. “Bring it back when you’re finished.”

  ***

  Miles noticed one car with four men inside as Felix came to a stop in the lot.

  “I thought you had more men.”

  “They’ll be here.”

  The men opened their doors as Felix flashed his headlights and got out to meet them. Miles tagged along, feeling inconsequential. As the other five engaged in conversation, he studied the four men dressed in black shirts and slacks. They were the same age as Felix, but looked to be in better shape, standing over six feet tall with close-cropped hair and broad shoulders. Another car entered the lot just as Felix broke away to brief Miles.

  “Retired FBI. This must be the rest of them.”

  They watched the car come to a stop. Four more men got out and came toward them. They also wore black shirts and pants. The cuffs of the pants of all eight men were tucked neatly into heavy black boots that made no sound as they walked.

  “That’s everyone,” Felix announced.

  The odds are getting better, Miles decided. He began to feel that his decision to hire Felix w
as the best thing he’d ever done. The ten men huddled in a circle. Felix took control.

  “Twelve bikers on the island. That’s their Harleys over there.” He pointed. The men turned to look, then returned their attention to Felix. “There might be a gun, maybe more than one. There are drugs and maybe we’ll find a few of them hopped up. That’s dangerous, so look sharp. There’s a launch at the dock.” He addressed the leader of the men wearing black. “You got some gear?”

  The leader pointed to his car. “In the trunk. Vests and Remington 870s.”

  Miles listened, fascinated by this side of life that he’d never seen before. On closer inspection, all of the former federal officers carried themselves with authority, deadly serious. The leader spoke again.

  “We should disable the bikes.”

  Felix looked at Miles for a long moment before answering. It made the executive feel uncomfortable. He replied without taking his eyes off McCabe.

  “No. This goes down quietly. No police and no publicity.” He pointed at the four corners of the lot where floodlights rested on poles. One light bathed the motorcycles. “One of you take out three of the lights. Leave the one over the bikes. I want to steer them straight to their rides and make them clear out fast.”

  One of the men headed toward the first light pole, while everyone else returned to the cars to collect their gear. Felix went to his rental and opened the trunk. Miles followed, curious to see what his colleague was doing. He watched Felix slip into a vest that fit tight around his chest. He zipped the vest snugly to his chin then reached back into the trunk and pulled out a handgun. Miles knew nothing about guns. He realized that he should have expected Felix to have one, but it shocked him just the same.

  “Is there an extra vest for me?”

  Felix fitted a holster onto his belt. “You’re staying here.”

  The sound of breaking glass shattered the quiet. Both men looked across the lot to see the first light go dark.

  “Those are my people over there. I have to go.”

  “No arguments, Miles. I have enough misgivings about this already. It’s my way and that means you stay here.” It was final.

  Ellis paced the floor. He tried to foresee what was to come. In his youth he’d been a part of a few brawls. Of course, in those days he was just a kid like the youths he’d befriended in his gang. The men outside weren’t the same. They were into drugs, a business they meant to protect no matter who got hurt. Jimmy and Nigel came down the stairs. Ellis met them, eyeing the black bag.

  “What did you find?”

  “The drugs, but no gun.”

  Eugene retreated from the window. “They’re coming!”

  Sixty-Three

  A moment later the locked doorknob jiggled. The men in the room went silent and turned toward the door. A face peered into the house through one of the windows. Shouts came from outside then a heavy pool chair crashed through the window, tumbling amidst shards of glass to the spot where Eugene had been stationed a moment earlier. Ellis rushed toward the broken window just as a leg was thrust through to clear away the jagged glass and wooden frame. On his way, Ellis picked up a small metal side table. He brought the table down on the biker’s knee. Another pool chair crashed through the widow on the opposite side. Other than Ellis, no one moved as another Vulture jumped recklessly through the broken window into the house and immediately sprinted to the door. Ellis tried to stop him, but he was too late. The biker unlocked the door and more Vultures rushed into the room carrying heavy metal implements wrenched from tables and chairs they’d obviously disassembled at the pool.

  To Jimmy the scene seemed to unfold in slow motion. He was immobile like the others, unsure of what to do even as he watched Ellis trying to defend their space in a frenzied lone effort. Nigel was the next to take action. He hurtled past Jimmy and met the first biker coming through the door with a heavy blow to the chin. The biker went down, but the two behind set upon the big Australian and pummeled him with the heavy pieces of metal in their hands. After a particularly vicious blow Whitehurst went down, dazed. Jimmy continued to watch in horror. The bikers had re-donned their leathers, thick black jackets, leg chaps and heavy black boots. Some also wore gloves. All wore red bandanas, marking their allegiance to the warrior Vultures.

  Ellis swung his metal table at anyone that moved near. One of the bikers saw the bag on the floor and shouted to the others who moved toward it. Jimmy continued to watch until it dawned on him that Ellis was being cornered. Before moving in, he scanned the men in leather for the big one Tammy called Hank. If a gun presented itself, he’d be the one carrying it. She said Stick would be close by, possibly with a knife. None of the Vultures surrounding Ellis fit the description. Nor were Chase or Benson anywhere to be seen. He spotted another table like the one Ellis was using. In a rush, he picked it up with both hands and flew toward the bikers around Ellis. In a fury of unconscious offense he swung the table with all his might, crumpling the frame on the spine of the first body in his path. The injured biker cried out in pain, then limped away bent over and red-faced with anger. The other Vultures turned, suddenly under assault on two sides as Ellis regained the offensive with his table.

  Ted entered the fray, slugging the biker that Nigel had earlier waylaid. Whitehurst remained on the floor as the biker toppled over him. Next, Ted put his strong arms under Nigel’s shoulders and pulled him back from the melee. He shouted for the dazed singer to stay down, then yelled at Sonny and Eugene to help Jimmy and Ellis. Ten bikers were in the house. Two were on the floor and a third remained locked away upstairs.

  With Sonny and Eugene close behind, Ted sprinted toward the Vulture closest to Jimmy and dove headlong. The momentum of the tackle sent both men into Jimmy and all three onto the floor. Sonny dove on top, swinging his fists at anyone in leather. Eugene found himself confronted by a man his size, but more seasoned in the ways of brawling. He took the bass player down with a single punch. The rest of the musicians, led by Travis and the Riland brothers, joined in as best they could but, like Eugene, found themselves no match for the tougher bikers. Ellis continued to hold his own, but Jimmy could offer no help as he struggled to extricate himself from the heavy bodies that pinned him to the floor.

  One by one, the musicians went down. Ted took a blow to his head. Ellis was forced into the wall and pinned. Jimmy was kicked repeatedly in the chest and stomach. In minutes, the Vultures had control until Whitehurst rallied and re-entered the maelstrom with merciless swings of his fists. It was down to Sonny and Nigel, holding their own for another minute, blood spewing from facial cuts, before the earsplitting explosion from the muzzle of a gun suddenly brought the fighting to an end.

  All heads turned toward the source of the blast. Standing just inside the door was the big man, Hank, a smoking handgun raised toward the ceiling where a basketball sized hole still trailed wisps of dust and smoke in the air. On his right stood Stick with a look of mirth on his face. Behind the leaders, Benson glared at Ellis, his neck and throat red. Chase cowered at the door, no longer looking the defiant, swaggering roadie he once projected.

  “Get up, all of you!” Stick ordered.

  Felix heard the unmistakable sound of a .357 Magnum from his perch at the front of the launch. He turned to see looks of recognition on the faces of his retired FBI colleagues. He didn’t dwell on what the gunfire meant. It was too late to change what might have happened. As the launch came close to the dock, he signaled for the motor to be cut, allowing the vessel to glide in silently. He jumped out, followed quickly by the others, guns drawn.

  “I’ll take it from here,” the leader of the men in black ordered. He tapped Felix on the shoulder. “You stay out of the way until we get things under control.”

  The opposing forces slowly got to their feet, separating with shoves and swearing as they moved to opposite sides of the room. Hank brought his gun to waist level, pointing it at the musicians as Stick stepped forward. The wiry leader let his eyes rove among the faces of the musician
s until he settled on Ellis.

  “Bring me the bag!” he commanded.

  Ellis looked at the biker with contempt. He strode to the spot where the bag lay on the floor and kicked it forward with his foot. Stick knelt down, unzipped it and looked inside. Then he zipped it shut and stood up.

  “Where’s the money?” he demanded.

  “Take it up with Winfield,” Ellis answered. “He’s upstairs strung out on the crap you gave him.”

  “I will,” Stick sneered. “You got one of my boys. Where is he?”

  “I’m here!” a voice shouted from the top of the stairs. Everyone turned to look. Jimmy’s defeated adversary was standing with Alice and Tammy on either side. He gripped the neck of each woman with his hands. Winfield was behind him, looking thoroughly frightened. “I was tied up, but not so good.”

  Whitehurst yelled in anger. “Let them go!”

  The biker took no heed, forcing the girls to walk down the stairs in front of him. Stick waited until they reached the first level before he ordered them to come to his side. Alice was shaking with fear. Tammy glanced at Jimmy as she was propelled forward. Stick nudged Hank and pointed at Alice.

  “Remember her?” he mocked. Then he turned his attention to the top of the stairs where Winfield continued to stand. “Get down here, junky. We need to settle up.” Winfield followed orders.

  One FBI veteran was left behind to guard the launches. Felix followed the others up the path. When they reached the pool, two men circled around the house to cover the rear exits. The others continued on to the front of the mansion. The leader stopped again, pointing at the smashed windows on either side of the front door, which was ajar with the figure of a man silhouetted in its frame. He held up two fingers and pointed, signaling two of his men to take positions near the windows. He watched each man move off and waited until they reached the corners of the façade where they knelt and crawled as close to the windows as possible. When he was satisfied that his backups were in place, he came close to the rest of his team.