Cindy looked at the dashboard clock. It was two in the morning. She didn’t want to go to Winfield’s party although she was sure it would be in full swing for the rest for the night. Still, she knew the tour farewell at Marvel Island required her presence, if only for a quick visit to make the rounds. Miles hated these things. It was up to her to carry Blossom’s banner. She realized she was being forced to front for her executive husband, just like she used to front for Jimmy when he was drinking. Damn, he was at it again. Maybe if she told him Les had come all this way … maybe he’d stop.
Miles paced the parking lot occasionally stopping to look at the lights of the island. He’d heard a sharp crack echoing across the water. He didn’t know what it was, so he didn’t let it bother him. He stayed close to the dock under the only floodlight still glowing after the others were put out. The Harleys glistened nearby. Cindy would be arriving soon with Jimmy’s girlfriend. He would turn them back to the hotel. At least he was good for something.
At the bottom of the stairs Winfield stopped short of crossing the room. Instead, he angled toward Jimmy and Nigel, staring at Stick with trepidation.
“Look, I’ve got money, but it’s a check. Let’s call it a night. You’ll have your cash in the morning.”
“But Mike,” Stick chided, sarcastically, “you and the big guy have already used some of the stuff.” He nodded at Alice. “This little chippy, too. I know how to take payback from her, but what are you gonna do for me?”
Whitehurst cut in before Winfield could answer. “Him, Alice?” he demanded to get the shaking writer’s attention. “And the one holding the gun? Who’s the third?” Alice trembled.
The leader of the retired FBI contingent whispered to the man next to him. “Take out the one in the doorway, nice and quiet.” He turned to the others. “I’ll go in after he clears the door. You come in behind, guns raised. No shooting, unless absolutely necessary.”
Alice turned from Nigel to the bikers assembled around Stick. Of course, she recognized the third man, but she couldn’t forget the gun in Hank’s hand. Nigel had a look in his eyes, one she’d never seen before, one that frightened her almost as much as the prospect of being raped again.
“Point him out, Alice!” Whitehurst stepped toward Stick.
“Keep the gun on him!” Stick ordered. “If he wants to be a hero, show him how it feels to take a bullet.”
Hank nodded, maintaining a deadly expression as Nigel advanced. When they were a yard apart, with Whitehurst towering a foot above the leader of the Vultures, Stick spoke again.
“You want to know who had your little chippy? I’ll tell you. It was me, Hank and that handsome devil over there.” He pointed at the biker who still held Alice and Tammy by the neck. “Woulda been more of us….” Whitehurst didn’t give him a chance to finish. He dove into the smaller man and wrestled him to the floor. Their bodies rolled into Hank a split second before the gun went off.
Jimmy dove at Hank, seeing his chance to neutralize the shooter before he could fire again, but the rest of the Vultures quickly moved to intercept. Hank stepped back just as Jimmy took a vicious club to his shoulder and lost his balance. Ellis caught him from falling and then rushed past to confront Hank as he raised the gun toward Whitehurst on the floor with Stick. Ted and Sonny flew into the other bikers, creating a diversion as Jimmy, unaware of the blood rushing from the open wound on his shoulder, saw Stick produce a switchblade from his pocket.
The second shot prompted the men outside to move in. One man leapt up from his crouched position and placed his palm around Chase’s face, covering his mouth as he dragged the surprised roadie away from the door and onto his back on the ground. Once down, he put his knee on Chase’s throat and pointed his gun in his face. He held his index finger to his lips signaling for silence.
The gun slipped from Hank’s hand when Ellis drove his shoulder into the large biker’s gut. It slid across the floor at Benson’s feet, but the drummer failed to notice because he turned to discover Chase being wrenched backwards.
Jimmy slammed into Nigel, forcing him off Stick just as the switchblade snapped open and streaked through the air. The strike, which was intended for the Australian’s throat, met Jimmy’s hand, slicing into his palm just as men in black rushed through the door with guns raised. The two outside the windows climbed through at the same time.
Benson was the first to notice the intruders. He let out a shout as he turned to find a gun pointed in his face. The leader quickly grabbed the drummer’s arm and pushed him back against the wall. Felix rushed in last, spotted the gun on the floor, and quickly bent to pick it up, just beyond Hank’s outstretched hand.
All fighting stopped as Felix stood, passed the gun back to one of the men in black and produced a gold shield, which he held up for everyone to see. “FBI!” he shouted. “Everybody up, with hands in the air!”
The bikers rose first, familiar with the drill and unwilling to take any chances. Nigel moved to take the knife from Stick’s hand, but stopped when he saw Jimmy writhing on the floor in a pool of blood. Stick scrambled to his feet, dropped the knife and raised his hands, stepping back.
The men in black moved in and used the muzzles of their guns to separate the bikers into a single group, apart from the musicians. One of them lowered his gun and stooped to pick up the knife. Nigel knelt close to Jimmy and then helped him get to his feet. Alice and Tammy held each other tightly as Felix went to the center of the room, scanning the faces. When he spotted Ellis he gestured for him to come over.
“Is this everyone?”
“No. We hid some girls in the rooms.”
“Find them and bring them here.”
A groan came from the foot of the stairs. Everyone turned to find Winfield lying on his back with a wound to his thigh. Felix motioned for Ellis to do what he was told, then walked quickly to the DJ, peering down at the blood trickling from his leg. “Gun shot! He’s in shock! First Aid now!”
The retired FBI leader lowered his gun, reached into a pouch in his fatigues and rushed over. He knelt down and ripped Winfield’s pants leg open from waist to ankle. Felix left him to his chore as he backed away and turned to the Vultures.
“Which one of you calls the shots?” The bikers smirked, arms raised above their heads. Stick shrank into the group, but Nigel yelled from his position with Jimmy.
“Him!” He pointed at Stick. The leader of The Vultures gave him a threatening look.
Cindy drove into the parking lot surprised to see the lone figure of a man leaning on a railing near the stairs to the dock. She wound through the parked cars until the headlights came around and bathed her husband in full view. When he recognized her car he hurried over and signaled her to stop. She rolled down the window.
“Miles, what are doing here?”
“Something’s going on over there,” he answered, pointing across the water. “Go back to the hotel. I’ll explain everything later.”
Cindy’s mind went into high gear. She shut off the motor and got out of the car. Miles shook his head in exasperation.
“Tell me, now,” she said, calmly.
Felix put his badge back into his pocket and then used his free hand to pull Stick out of the group of bikers.
“Face down on the floor!” he ordered, shoving the Vultures’ leader roughly by the shirt. “The rest of you get over here and get down next to him!” As the bikers shunted over and began to lie down, Ellis emerged from a side room with Kate, Marsha and Melinda. The three women covered their mouths in shock as they saw men with guns move in to cover the bikers. Ellis escorted them to where Alice stood with Tammy. Then he crossed the room and went up the stairs, gingerly stepping around Winfield as the team leader continued to administer first aid.
Felix looked at Jimmy, noting the singer’s pursed lips. “How bad?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I’ll live.”
Felix gestured toward the team leader. “Have him take a look.” Then he holstered his gun and went into the ki
tchen. He took the telephone receiver off the hook and punched in seven numbers. A few minutes later he came back into the room.
Ellis came down the stairs with two very young girls and another one, slightly older, all dressed in tight jeans and halter-tops. Felix’s eyes widened as he gestured for Ellis to bring the girls close. He ignored the older girl who had been sleeping with Travis, but his stare became fearsome when he looked the two younger girls up and down.
“Now, young ladies, no time for lies,” he said, producing his badge and speaking with authority. “How old are you?”
The two girls looked at each other nervously. “Fifteen,” one of them answered, leaving no doubt that she was telling the truth. Felix nodded, satisfied with the answer.
“Go into the kitchen.” He turned to everyone else. “You go into the kitchen, too, except Jim. Wait for me there. No one touches the phone. Ellis, take charge.” He watched Ellis lead the others away. “How’s Winfield?” he asked the team leader, tending to the stricken DJ.
“He needs professional attention.”
“What about Jim?”
The man stood and examined Jimmy’s hand and shoulder.
“All I can do is control the bleeding. He needs stitches.”
“I’ve got an ambulance coming to the dock. Do what you can. Jim, when he’s finished, come into the kitchen.” Then Felix walked over and nudged Stick with his foot. “You and your pals stay put, understand?”
“Yes, boss,” the biker answered, mockingly.
Felix went to the door and beckoned for Chase to be brought into the house and positioned next to Benson against the wall. “Keep these two here until I come back.” Then he went into the kitchen.
A pair of headlights rounded into the parking lot. Miles watched with dread when he read the stenciling on the side of the oversized van: MEMORIAL HOSPITAL. Beneath the large lettering were smaller words: Mobile Transport Unit. The amber light array, affixed in a row across the vehicle’s roof, was unlit.
Cindy also looked at the ambulance. “It going to be a long night.”
When Jimmy came into the kitchen, squeezing a bandage in his injured hand and holding another over his shoulder with his other hand, Felix beckoned him to his side with Ellis. “How are you holding up?” he asked, looking at the bloodstained white gauze.
“It’ll keep. Where’s McCabe?”
“Waiting at the dock. Now, here’s what I need you to do.”
The two men leaned in as Felix issued instructions. He told Ellis to herd everyone to the dock where one of the men in black waited with a launch. “Get everyone into the launch and head to the dock.” He turned to Jimmy. “Miles says you have a private townhouse at your disposal?”
Jimmy nodded. “A couple of miles from here.”
He turned back to Ellis. “Take the key from Jim. You get everyone into cars and make sure they rendezvous at the townhouse. Everyone stays put until I get there. No phone calls.”
Felix sent everyone but the bikers, Jimmy and Winfield outside. He made sure Ellis led the group down the pathway to the waiting launch. Then he hurried ahead of the line and gave instructions to the man at the dock. When the launch pushed off he quickly stepped back to the house, went through the downstairs and signaled for the two men guarding the rear exits to come inside. Jimmy waited next to Winfield who was now propped into a sitting position, legs stretched out, wincing, but otherwise silent. When he reentered the main room Felix went straight to Benson and Chase.
Two EMTs exited the ambulance, circled to the rear and pulled a stretcher from the interior. Once on the asphalt, one of them slid his hand under the frame and raised the mobile bed to full height. They rolled it to the top of the stairs. Miles and Cindy watched with growing alarm.
A launch motored to the dock. A minute later the Blossom group, together with three girls neither Miles nor Cindy recognized, climbed the stairs and came into the parking lot. Ellis was in the lead. Miles hurried over.
“What’s going on over there?”
“Your security man has things under control.” Ellis betrayed a lack of calm.
“Is anybody hurt?”
“Winfield got shot in the leg. Jimmy took a knife in his hand.”
“Oh my God!” McCabe looked at Cindy, unable to process the disaster. She pressed ahead of her husband and came face to face with Ellis.
“What did Felix tell you to do?”
“To take everyone to Jimmy’s townhouse and keep them quiet.”
“Then do it,” she ordered, taking control. Then she walked purposefully to the EMTs standing by the stretcher.
“Who called you?”
“FBI. Told us to standby here.”
“Are you prepared to handle a gunshot?”
The EMT’s eyes widened. “Stabilized?”
She shouted back to Ellis. “How bad is Winfield?”
Ellis shouted back. “Getting first aid. That’s all I know”
The EMT looked at Cindy. “I’ll call ahead.”
“NO! FBI orders.” She lied.
“Yes ma’am.”
“The drugs, where are they?” Felix demanded of Benson.
The drummer blinked, beginning to realize that in the eyes of the law, he was one of the bad guys. He looked at Chase for reassurance, but the roady made no effort to meet his gaze.
“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help you. Where?”
Benson came to his senses and nodded to the black bag on the floor next to an overturned chair. Felix followed his eyes, but did not move to retrieve the bag. Instead, he turned to the bikers, facedown on the floor.
“On your feet!” he shouted, extra loud. Once they had all risen, he grabbed Stick and shoved him toward the bag. “Pick it up!”
“Easy, FBI man,” Stick sneered, showing a lack of concern.
“Keep it up, tough guy!” Felix answered. The other bikers shifted in place, unsure of what Felix intended as Stick picked up the bag. Felix waited for him to go back to his spot with the other Vultures before speaking again. “All right, gentlemen this is how it’s going to play out.” He pointed to the men circling the Vultures with guns raised. “These men are going to escort you to the launch and make sure you get back to your Harleys. You’re all going to saddle up and go back where you came from. You reading me so far?” Some of the bikers looked up in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right. You get a pass, but only if you head up the highway and motor straight back to where you came from. Stop for gas, nothing else.”
“What about this?” Stick held up the black bag, as surprised as the others.
“Your business for now, but we’ll be watching you all the way. Stop for any reason other than fuel and we’ll swoop down and lock you up. Do I make myself clear?”
Stick studied Felix, incredulous. “You graybeards can’t be cops! Who are you?”
Felix moved close to Stick. “Care to test that theory?”
“I’m just saying…”
“Shut up, Stick!” Hank raised his arm for silence.
“That’s right, big guy. Push back and you’ll all spend the next twenty years in jail. Don’t ask questions and you’ll be free. Now move!”
The gunmen ushered the murmuring bikers toward the door. Jimmy watched from his position near the stairs, glancing once at Benson, who was staring at him with a questioning look. He averted his eyes, not wanting to give the drummer the sense that they shared some bond. Everyone waited in silence for the bikers to leave. A few minutes later, as the sound of the launch engine rose from the water, Felix gave the signal for the rest of them to move. The FBI men collared Benson and Chase, pushing them ahead while Felix helped the team leader lift Winfield and carry him outside. Jimmy followed. The mansion was left in disarray; furniture overturned and broken, windows kicked in, shards of glass and splatters of blood speckling the carpet. The lights remained on in most of the rooms.
Cindy and Miles shrank back into the dark when the Vultures emerged at the top of the stairs. Not a word was s
poken as the toughs sauntered defiantly to their Harleys, climbed on and started their engines. One of them had a black bag in his hand. He opened a saddlebag on his rear fender and placed the bag inside, making sure to snap it shut before climbing onto the seat and roaring off at the head of the pack. A man in black put down his gun, took a pen and paper from his shirt pocket and jotted something down.
Within minutes, the second launch glided to the dock. Jimmy jumped out first, catching a line from Felix in his good hand. When the launch was secured, Winfield was hoisted up and carried carefully up the stairs. Cindy grabbed for Miles arm as they watched the attendants secure him to the stretcher. Winfield was conscious. He looked around frantically, then, spotting Miles a few feet away, shouted for him to come close.
“I’ve been shot!” he exclaimed, in a high-pitched voice.
Miles tried to calm his agitated partner. “They’re taking you to a hospital.”
Winfield’s eyes were wide with fear. “This can’t get out. If the Manhattan D.A. gets wind of what happened, I’ll go to jail. I won’t see my daughters. I’ll be ruined.”
Felix came over. “They want to put you in the ambulance.”
Winfield clutched Miles arm and made his appeal. “This has to be kept quiet.”
Felix cut in. “It’s all arranged. You keep your mouth shut and we will, too.”
Cindy came over with Jimmy by her side. She tapped Felix on the shoulder. “I’m taking him to the hospital. We’ll follow the ambulance.”
“I’ll go with you,” Miles answered.
“No,” Felix said, emphatically. “You have work to do. She’ll take care of Jim.” He turned to her. “Get him fixed up as quickly as possible, then both of you get over to his townhouse. No matter who asks, don’t answer any questions. Don’t stop anywhere. Hospital, then back to the townhouse. Okay?” Cindy nodded, took Jimmy by the elbow and led him to her car.
Sixty-Four
Les watched the dark sky outside the window of her half empty plane. She couldn’t sleep although it had been thirty-six hours since the last time she’d shut her eyes. Then it was a happy time, soon to be reunited with Jimmy. Now, it was a time of dread, not knowing what awaited her when she finally reached Melbourne. Leaving Nicky was a mistake, a dangerous separation he couldn’t handle. The damaged little boy wasn’t ready to be left alone. She clutched the rosary beads in her hand and resumed her prayers.
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