by Warren Ray
“Listen, ole Scar and me have walked into worse situations than this.”
“Glad to see you’ve volunteered yourself,” said Scar.
“Can’t let you have all the fun,” smiled Meeks.
“You sure you’re up to it?”
“Got me some great painkillers, and they don’t make me too loopy.”
Scar thought it best to let that one go and get back to business. “In case we can’t find Hadley, we need a backup.” He turned to Nate. “You think you can rustle us up some cops for a friendly chat?”
Nate’s eyes opened wide, pleased with his assignment. “How many you want?”
“One cooperative one should do it.” He turned to Bassett. “In case we have to go to the station, I’ll need you to lead some of the men and back us up.”
Bassett shook his head in disbelief. “You guys always operate like this?”
“Afraid so, we’re just a ragtag bunch, don’t have the luxury of big guns.”
“Alright then.”
Nate and his friend since childhood, Elliott, grabbed half the men and headed back to Saline, where they had busted up the party house four days ago. Nate thought if the place was still open, they could kill two birds with one stone, free more girls, and capture a couple of cops.
Scar instructed Bassett to have his men split up to travel, and then reassemble at a place of his choosing, somewhere close to the police station. Scar and Meeks then drove to Hadley’s house in Southgate, a one-story ranch with an attached two-car garage. After finding it empty, they headed downtown.
Scar pulled into the police station’s parking lot and noticed a few cops look up as they came down the concrete steps. The two of them got out and headed inside.
“What can I do for you?” asked the desk Sergeant, who looked annoyed that he was being bothered.
“We want to report a break-in,” said Scar.
“A break-in?”
“Yes, someone broke into our home this morning.”
“No offense or anything, but you do live in Detroit, these things happen all the time. There’s not a whole lot we can do about that.”
“Can’t you come by and find some fingerprints or something?”
“You’re kidding right?”
“Isn’t that what your job is?”
“Look, I’m sorry, but we don’t have the manpower or the time to investigate every single break-in.”
“Is there someone else we can talk to? I’ve got a friend who works here, maybe he can help us.”
“Who might that be?”
“Don Hadley.”
The sergeant raised an eyebrow. “You know, Don, do ya?”
“Yeah, is he here?”
The sergeant smiled and said that he’d be right back with Hadley.
Scar turned to Meeks and shrugged his shoulders.
A minute later, five cops with weapons drawn, surrounded them, shouting to put their hands up.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Scar yelled out.
“Hadley doesn’t have any friends,” said the sergeant.
“Well, there’s where you’re wrong.”
The cops rushed in and slapped handcuffs on them. They found the pistols stuffed in the back of their pants.
“You come in here armed, asking for Hadley? You’re part of those rebels.”
They protested as the cops led them downstairs and pushed them into a cell adjoining the one that housed Hadley.
“Here’s your friend, Hadley,” laughed the sergeant.
After the cops left, Scar looked at Meeks. “Well, at least we found him.”
“Is this one of those lemon, lemonade things?” quipped Meeks.
Scar ignored the jibe and turned to Hadley. “So what happened? Where’s the Captain?”
Hadley told them what had happened and that they had left an hour ago. Scar was frustrated, but he had needed to find a safe place for the injured men before coming to Detroit. He hadn’t had a choice in the matter and figured it was just the way it was.
“So, now what?” asked Hadley.
“We wait,” said Scar.
“For what?”
“The Cavalry,” answered Meeks.
Chapter 62
Bethesda Maryland
After leaving his meeting with Sam at the coffee shop, Green decided to go to Bethesda to check out where Pruitt lived. He wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there but felt the need to do something.
He tried to wrap his mind around the connection between Pruitt and Reed. Why would Reed need the services of a two-time con, and why would he be putting him up in a house that was way out of his league. Reed must use Pruitt for other things besides following people around.
As Green wove his way around the streets of Bethesda, he noticed the homes increased in size the closer he got to where Pruitt lived. The well-maintained lawns also expanded, and the trees provided ample shade.
He found the street and slowed down as he looked to his left for house numbers, counting the homes as he went. His heart beat faster the closer he got to his destination. Then he found it. The large house sat way back from the street and had a long driveway where a 911 was parked in front of the garage. As Green drove past it, the garage door opened and a man walked out.
Green turned his head and saw it was Pruitt. His palms started to sweat when he saw Pruitt turn his way. He immediately grew nervous wondering if Pruitt had recognized his car. He kept his eyes darting between the road ahead and his rearview mirror. Pruitt pulled out of the driveway and turned in his direction. Green pressed his foot on the accelerator. He reached the end of the block, made a right turn, and picked up speed. He kept his eye on the mirror, expecting Pruitt to follow. He let out a big sigh of relief when Pruitt continued straight. He parked his car wondering what to do next, and after a few moments came up with an idea.
After finding the items he wanted, Green walked out of a home improvement store carrying his purchases to his car. He stripped off his uniform jacket and shirt, leaving only his white t-shirt. He reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow fluorescent safety vest and hat. After putting them on, he drove back and parked his car on the street behind Pruitt’s house.
He got out and took a clipboard from the bag along with some paper fliers he had picked up in the store. Finally, he tucked his gun in the small of his back and nonchalantly walked down the street.
Anyone who wore a yellow vest and hat, carrying a clipboard, looked like a municipal worker and could go most anywhere without question. He remembered seeing them in his own neighborhood and didn’t give it a second thought because they looked like they belonged.
He reached Pruitt’s house, paused at the end of the driveway and thumbed through the papers before walking up the long empty driveway. He proceeded around to the back. Trees and shrubbery filled the small backyard giving him cover from prying eyes.
Sweat started to bead on his forehead and nerves shot through his body as he approached the patio. He hoped to God no one else lived there, but then remembered his disguise. He was a public servant; he belonged there and was doing his job. He pretended to look for a meter as he looked in the windows for any signs of life. No lights were on and he didn’t hear any sound. He found the meter, which sat near a window on the opposite side of the driveway. He casually looked around before pulling out his gun. He used the butt end to break the glass. The noise, though slight, sounded like a cannon shot to Green. He waited a few moments to see if it had aroused any attention.
After he was satisfied he was still alone, he squeezed through the basement window into what appeared to be a bedroom. The room looked unused. “Hopefully a spare,” thought Green. He quickly moved into the hallway and up the wooden staircase. If anyone was home, they would have heard the creaks a couple of the steps made as he traipsed up to the main floor.
The home had a modern décor. In the center of the living room sat a big gray leather couch, with white and black pillows resting on either end. A mirrored coffee
table stood between the couch and a white marble fireplace, which had black book shelves on either side of it. A big flat screen television hung above the mantel. Large black and white scenic photographs in black frames decorated the gray walls.
Green admired the room. “Definitely not Pruitt’s style,” he thought. Satisfied no one was home, he relaxed as he walked around looking for anything that might give him an idea of what to do next. He found a room with a computer and figured this was his office.
The room had a Spartan look, with just a desk and chair. A laptop and printer were on the desk. He sat down in front of stacks of papers and photographs of people. He started to rifle through the photos and recognized some of the subjects. There were pictures of Senators and Members of the House, all in compromising positions with women. “Blackmail,” thought Green. Other photos were of numerous VIP’s meeting in restaurants and bars. Those pictured were men and women who didn’t necessarily agree with the new government.
“So, Reed has Pruitt spying on people. No wonder he lets him stay here,” thought Green.
He finished going through the photos and started in on the stacks of papers. Right on top was a note with a license plate number. A note referring to the state department and a name scribbled next to it. He grabbed his clipboard and wrote down the name, and then continued going through the papers. Toward the bottom, he came across a list of names. He studied the names and recognized a few of them because these were names of power players in the district. Some of the names had check marks by them, with two crossed out. Panic shot through him when he recognized one of the names. He remembered the man had died in a car crash.
Green knew he’d stumbled onto something big and decided to make a copy of the list and some of the photos. Just as he had finished copying and was putting everything back, he heard the front door open. He froze momentarily, then put the copies on his clipboard and stepped into the hallway. He peeked around the corner. An older, heavyset Hispanic woman, walked into the kitchen. “Damn, a housekeeper,” he thought. He waited until she reached the kitchen and quietly snuck back to the staircase. He slipped down the stairs, trying to remember which steps creaked. His fifth step was the one he forgot. It squeaked loudly enough for him to stop in mid-stride.
“Hola. Señor Pruitt, is that you?”
Green tried to lighten his weight on the step by grabbing onto the banister. He skipped the next two steps, and then two more, before reaching the carpeted floor. He made it around the corner just as she came to the steps asking again for Señor Pruitt. Green hurried back to the spare bedroom and climbed out the window. He ran across the lawn and tore through the trees to the neighboring house. His heart raced as if he were in combat. He realized he was walking too fast for a salaried worker, and forced himself to slow down as he made his way along the sidewalk to the end of the block. Relief came when he finally reached his car.
Chapter 63
Detroit Michigan
Bassett had been waiting in angst for the last forty-five minutes and figured something must be wrong. He tried raising Nate on the radio, but couldn’t reach him. He didn’t want to wait any longer. Bassett couldn’t think of any other alternative, but to storm the place. The station didn’t appear to be overcrowded with security and he thought he could do it with the men he had. After all, they had the element of surprise on their side. He asked Mr. Peterson to stay behind to keep trying to raise Nate. He got on the radio and ordered the men waiting around back to attack.
Two cars filled with Bassett and seven of his men drove into the front parking lot. Another car filled with four men entered through the back. They all jumped out carrying their weapons. Bassett held the Colt M4 Carbine Hadley had given him. As he raced up the stairs, all he could think of was Meeks’ comment that they were a ragtag group.
He entered the building and the desk sergeant’s eyes opened wide. The sergeant tried to go for his sidearm. Bassett let off a quick spurt of bullets that exploded into the man’s chest. The force threw him back against the wall. The loud cracking of the guns alerted the cops in the building. Bassett’s men spread out and stormed down the hall firing their weapons. The cops returned fire.
Chaos ensued as gunfire erupted all over the station. Bassett could hear it from the back of the building. A shot splintered a doorway he was using as cover. He crouched down and peered around the corner. The hall contained more cops than he had expected. He took more fire as he turned to find four of his guys lying dead in the hallway. His position was collapsing.
A bullhorn crackled. “You’re surrounded, Bassett. Your men around back have already surrendered. Give it up, now.”
Bassett couldn’t hear any more gunfire in the background. He looked out the window. More cops were coming in through the front. They had him.
Bassett threw his weapon around the corner. He motioned the others to do the same.
“Lay down spread eagle,” the bullhorn cracked again.
The cops came storming over them yelling at them not to move. They fell all over him as they bound his hands behind him with flex cuffs.
Cox came up to him. “You actually thought you could just waltz right on in here and take over my station? You dumb-ass puke.”
Millsap snatched up the M4. “This is one of ours.” He took it and slammed the butt end into Bassett's stomach.
Cox turned to Millsap. “Get them all downstairs.”
Chapter 64
Grosse Pointe Michigan
Winters sat alone in a locked, windowless room in the basement. The room had a bed with a comfortable mattress. Overall, this was better accommodations than he’d had the last couple of nights sitting in a jail cell. His head still throbbed in pain from the blows he’d received from Cox. He worried about what was happening to Reese and Sadie. He could see right away that Mordulfah was quite taken with Sadie, and had no doubts about his plans for her. He closed his eyes and asked God to save both the girls.
He then thought about what might happen to him. He supposed they would torture him for information. He didn’t think he had anything of value to tell them, but then thought they would do it simply for revenge because he had killed their men. Regardless, he knew he was in for a world of pain.
His door unlocked and Wali came in and motioned him to get up. The two of them walked upstairs and into a large room with a long table placed in the center. Mordulfah was sitting at the end of the table, eating.
“Come in, Mr. Winters. Sit here next to me. Would you care for some food?”
Winters turned slightly to show his hands still in flex cuffs.
“Wali, remove Mr. Winters restraints.”
Winters rubbed his wrist and sat down.
“You must be hungry. Please, I don’t like eating alone.”
Winters stared at the strange food and wondered what it was.
“I’m afraid it’s all we have here, but I promise you, it’s very good.”
Winters played it safe, grabbed some fruit, and started to devour it. He snickered to himself thinking that he probably looked like a movie cliché, shoving food into his mouth.
“Did they not feed you?”
“Not so much.”
“Yes, well that Captain Cox is a brutish man, but he has his uses.”
“I see you pay him well enough.”
Mordulfah let out a laugh. “What do you Americans say, every man for himself.”
“Not everyone,” Winters responded curtly.
“And you would be the prime example of that. Tell me, Mr. Winters, what exactly motivates you?”
“Saving the innocent, of course.” he answered quickly.
“Saving the innocent, but from whom are you saving them?”
Winters thought about that for a moment. “Besides you?”
Mordulfah gave him a small wicked laugh. “Yes, besides me.”
“I know there are some in my own country that are involved.”
“As has been your experience. I would imagine you’d like to know who’s i
n charge.”
Winters already knew the answer to this question. It was the billionaire puppeteer Gerald Perozzi, who held all the strings of power. Winters had learned this from James Boxer, the former commandant of the National Police, when they captured him in St. Paul, Minnesota, some weeks ago. Boxer had told Winters the government wanted to be in complete control of the country and they would use any means necessary, even if it meant hiring terrorists. Neither party cared how many died in the process or what might happen to innocent women and children. What Winters didn’t know was the extent of the conspiracy. He had been fooling himself, thinking they would stop after he had shut down the Patriot Centers. The only thing that did was to force them to come up with different strategies. This is where this Saudi prince came in. Winters knew the man had to be getting something out of the deal.
“What I’d really like to know is how much Perozzi is paying you?”
Mordulfah seemed surprised by the question. “You know about Mr. Perozzi?”
Winters nodded.
“It would appear you are more knowledgeable than I was led to believe.”
“How much to be his lapdog?” asked Winters
“Quite the opposite, it is Mr. Perozzi who is the lapdog.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Perozzi thinks he has the upper hand in our deal, but rest assured, in the end, it is I who will come out on top.”
“Must be one hell of a payout.”
“My terms with Mr. Perozzi are not important.”
“Then tell me.”
Mordulfah gave Winters a cold stare. His dark black eyes looked right into Winters like an X-Ray. “They’re not important. What is important are the next few days of your life. Tomorrow, after I wed Sadie, and celebrate her birthday, we will begin your punishment.”
The words ran down Winters’ spine like a cold shot of Novocain. The pedophile was going to marry Sadie first. So, this is how you justify raping little girls. Winters did take a bit of satisfaction, knowing Sadie had lied to him about her birthday. This probably bought her an extra day. “An extra day for what though, a rescue?” Winters wasn’t holding out much hope. He wondered what was happening to Reese, but decided it was probably better not to dwell on that.