Targets Down

by Bob Hamer

  Dmitri slipped away and headed south. He saw the woman struggling with Cano. She attempted to fend off the advances, but she was exhausted from the journey. She needed her energy to survive the desert, not protect her virtue. Cano clawed at her clothing and ripped her dress. She looked down at the only piece of clothing she possessed and began a compliant cry. Dmitri had seen enough. He raced to her aid and pulled the leathery Mexican off.

  "No!" shouted the woman.

  Cano started to rise, flailing wildly at his attacker.

  The woman again shouted, "No!"

  Her screams were directed at Dmitri not the rapist.

  The men wrestled each other to the ground. Cano scratched at Dmitri and tried to reach for the gun holstered on his side. Dmitri hit the coyote in the face, but without the proper leverage the blow had little impact. Cano rolled on top. As Cano spit at his attacker, Dmitri grabbed a rock and clubbed the human trafficker on the side of the head. The Mexican went limp. He would never get up again.

  By now the others ran to the sound of the screams. When they arrived, they found Cano on the ground, blood flowing from the back of his head and the woman in tears, dress torn, crying into her hands.

  The men were angry but not at the rapist. They jumped Dmitri and cursed with every kick and blow they delivered. He killed their ticket to opportunity all to protect a Mexican whore who knew the rules before the journey began. The beating was savage, and Dmitri was left to die alongside the coyote.

  The travelers returned to the layup. The strongest of the group picked up the rifle Cano carried on the trip. "I've done this before. I can find Three Points. We rest later."

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Matt arrived midmorning and pulled up to the warehouse garage door. He unlocked the back door to the warehouse and punched the alarm code into the keypad just inside the door. Pulling the heavy chain, he lifted the garage door just enough to pull in his car. Elvis was blasting through the sound system, "Suspicious Minds" . . . "We're caught in a trap."

  Once he had the car in the warehouse, he turned off the ignition and as he was exiting the car, J. D. Pinney ran in.

  "Hey J. D., I wasn't expecting you. You come for a car?"

  The heavily tattooed biker pulled a gun from beneath his shirt.

  "What's this all about?" asked Matt.

  "If Boris won't ask you, then I will. How come your last name is Wallace?" yelled J. D.

  "I hope the questions get tougher than this my friend. My dad's last name is Wallace," said Matt calmly and holding a steady gaze on the man with an automatic aimed in his direction.

  "So how come your wife's name is Hogan?" There was anger, maybe even confusion, in the voice.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Your wife is my wife's kid's teacher?"

  "Say what?" said Matt trying to act confused but knowing where this was leading.

  "Your wife's a teacher, right."

  "What difference does it make what my wife does?"

  J. D. shook the weapon at Matt. "Answer the question, or I'm going to splatter your brains all over the warehouse."

  "Hey, just calm down. I don't understand what's going on."

  J. D. fired a shot over Matt's head, and it lodged in the wall on the far side of the warehouse. "Is your wife a teacher? You better answer my questions. Boris doesn't like liars or traitors. A ditch off Mulholland might be your final resting spot if you don't answer my questions."

  "Okay, look, just calm down. I'll answer your questions. Yes, my wife is a teacher."

  "So why is her name Hogan?"

  "Who said her name was Hogan?" Matt was trying to buy time but knew a violent confrontation was inevitable.

  J. D. fired a second shot, this time closer, the sound echoing throughout the building.

  "Yeah, my wife's name is Hogan. That's her maiden name. She didn't want to change it when we got married. You know, she's one of those liberated broads."

  "She don't look liberated to me. How come, if her name is Hogan, your name is Wallace?"

  "I just answered that. Look, let me show you."

  Matt started to slowly reach toward his back.

  "No!"

  Matt's undercover weapon, a SIG 239 was still in the car; he failed to stuff it in his waistband as he exited his vehicle.

  "I'm just going for my wallet. I want to show you my driver's license and a wedding picture." Matt started to walk toward J. D. as he was reaching to his back. In a calm, almost soothing voice, he said, "I'm just going to get my wallet, J. D., that's all. I want to show you this. I think once you see my license and the wedding picture, this will all be cleared up."

  Matt reached back and pulled out his wallet. J. D.'s eyes followed the leather wallet as Matt slowly moved it forward.

  The two most important rules in any street fight: always cheat and always win! A good loser is still a loser and often dead.

  "You ever do something you know would trouble your mom?" said Matt.

  J. D. looked at Matt, confused and unable to process the question.

  In the time it took for J. D.'s eyes to roam from Matt's face to the wallet, Matt pounced. Anything can be a weapon in the right hands. He threw the wallet in J. D.'s face, distracting the biker long enough for Matt to spring forward, thrusting his left hand upward at the base of J. D.'s nose, shattering bone and cartilage. It was an odd fluidity of grace and movement. Matt grabbed for the gun, twisting it as J. D. swung wildly with his free hand. Both crashed to the ground, wrestling for control of the automatic. Matt's strength bore out. With a free elbow, Matt delivered another vicious blow to J. D.'s face then managed to twist the weapon, toward J. D.'s neck. J. D. grabbed the barrel of the weapon, and just as Matt jerked it, the gun discharged, the round powering through J. D.'s chin and out the back of his skull. A pink mist lingered in the air. This was no movie fight scene packed with dramatic tension. It was real. It was quick. It was over. Death was instantaneous; maybe he'll suffer in the next life.

  Unlike J. D. Pinney's threat, it was his brains, not Matt's, now splattered throughout the warehouse.

  Matt ran to the garage door and lowered it as fast as he could. How could three shots not bring a crowd? No one came running. No inquisitive tenants in the business complex. As the door closed, Matt collapsed on the floor. He was bathed in sweat, and his hands began to shake. This was not his first deadly shooting. They are never easy, but this one was personal. J. D. Pinney saw to that. This shooting involved more than just the job. This went beyond the FBI, the shooting team, paperwork, and another psychological examination by someone who never wore a badge or never pulled the trigger, at least not on the job. This involved his wife.

  A million thoughts ran through his mind but foremost was Caitlin. He just shot the father of one of her students. How could he explain this to her? How could she explain it to her student, whoever that was? He blamed himself for taking a job this close to home. He should have stayed out of the San Fernando Valley. He should have stayed out of Los Angeles. Why did his adrenaline addiction have to impact the only person he truly loved? Caitlin got wrapped up in the World Angel Ministry investigation. He vowed never to involve her again and now this. The greater Los Angeles area had a population of seventeen million. Couldn't he find a couple of targets who weren't connected to his wife in some tangential way? He threw his hands to his head and looked toward heaven. How could he continue this life without losing his soul?

  He had to call Dwayne, but first he had to think. He had to process all that happened. He let his shoulders drop and rolled his neck as if that might alleviate the guilt. The facts would look like an execution to the media, always happy to exploit any weakness perceived or real in the FBI.

  It took several minutes before Matt pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Dwayne. Within the hour Dwayne,
ADIC Jason Barnes, and SAC Pamela Clinton arrived on the scene.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  The sun baked the blood oozing from Dmitri's wounds. The cackling of chicken hawks circling overhead awoke him. Soon the animals of the desert would begin feasting on Oscar Cano's dead body. Cano wasn't the first man Dmitri killed, and if Dmitri's plan worked, he wouldn't be the last. Pain radiated through his body, and it was difficult to breathe. He assumed a rib or maybe two were broken. He crawled under the Rape Tree and attempted to get his bearings. He thought he knew where he was. He just wasn't sure how he would get where he wanted to go.

  "YOU OKAY?" ASKED JASON Barnes, the ADIC.

  "Yeah."

  "You look like crap."

  "Thanks."

  "We need to shut this down immediately," said Pamela Clinton.

  Both Barnes and Dwayne waited for Matt to explode, but he said nothing. There was a long pause before Barnes interjected, "Pamela, let's hear what Matt has to say before we make any decisions."

  Matt proceeded to detail everything. He explained the break-in at Caitlin's school, the unnamed student, the accusations of a deceased J. D. Pinney, and his statement "a ditch off Mulholland."

  All speculated he probably meant Annika, but he could have also meant Dawn Platt. She was still missing. Her body might be resting at the bottom of a mountaintop ravine.

  Clinton interrupted several times, expressing her desire to terminate the undercover operation, but Barnes let Matt talk. The ADIC listened intently, understanding the ramifications of the shooting and the importance of continuing the investigation. Finally, he spoke, "Pamela, the whole purpose of this investigation is to identify the people who attacked Flip Mitchell's wife, killed the minister, and killed at least two Ukrainian women. We have circumstantial evidence of at least one person's involvement, and I think we will soon learn of others. If there is a way to keep this operational, that is my intent. I trust my undercovers, and I particularly trust this undercover." He put his hand on Matt's shoulder. "I don't put someone in an operation like this without expecting some problems. I admit this is a problem. It's a big one, but we have overcome obstacles in the past, and we will again." The boss paused then looked at Matt, "Do you want to proceed?"

  Matt's eyes were fixed on the floor, and he nodded slowly.

  "I was expecting a little more enthusiasm," said Barnes.

  "It's not the undercover operation. It's Caitlin. How am I going to explain this to her? I just killed the father of one of her students." Matt looked up at Jason Barnes and shook his head slowly. "She loves all of her students. I've never seen a more dedicated teacher. I just don't know how to handle this."

  "Are you willing to continue the undercover operation?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay, so we're agreed we continue the op," said Jason Barnes. He looked at Clinton. "Except for you. You're opposed, I know. I knew that before we came here. When Congress asks, I'll tell them you voted no." Turning to Matt and Dwayne, he said, "Now let's discuss how we handle this situation. Any suggestions?"

  Clinton said, "Let's pull up this guy's rap sheet. He's served time."

  Dwayne added, "Those are prison tats."

  Barnes said, "Our first priority is protecting Matt. The shooting is righteous, but we can't leave the body here. That will raise too many questions with Boris."

  "And his crew," said Dwayne.

  "We can handle the shooting investigation in house," said Barnes. "Any ideas?"

  There was an extended silence.

  "Let me get a hold of Danny Garcia. He can be our LAPD liaison. He can run interference with RHD," said Dwayne.

  "Why would Robbery-Homicide get involved?" asked Clinton.

  "Because they investigate every officer-involved shooting in their jurisdiction regardless of the agency. They'll work with us and Danny is good."

  "What do we do with the body?" asked Barnes.

  "That's why we need LAPD," said Dwayne. "We cut them in now. We do the investigation here; then we move the body to some remote area and have them rule it a suicide."

  "Whoa," said Clinton. "Can we do that?"

  Barnes nodded, "I think we have to if we plan on keeping Matt's credibility in tact. I will take full responsibility. This can work. The wound looks self-inflicted. This guy's not going to have insurance, and if he does, we'll work with the family and the insurance company at the appropriate time. The undercover op isn't going to last forever. No insurance company I know would be cutting a check tomorrow anyway." Barnes looked at Matt, "You can chime in at anytime. Can you live with these facts if that's what we put out?"

  "Sure. The way J. D. was talking he came alone, and I think he came on his own. I'm suspecting he was out to prove himself to Boris by conducting his own investigation. He was hoping to take me back to the club, forcing me to confess to my true identity."

  Jason Barnes then said, "Matt, give Boris a call. Feel him out. See what he says. If you think it's safe, then we continue to march. Once we know Boris is still onboard, we put the rest of the plan into action. And Matt, regardless of what we finally decide, you and I will go meet with Caitlin and explain what happened."

  Clinton added, "I'm willing to go with you. It might help having a female there."

  "Thanks, Pamela," said Matt with sincerity. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to overwhelm my wife. Just having the ADIC in the room might put her over the top. She'll think I'm circling the drain as it is."

  Everyone let out a collective laugh, more to relieve the tension than at the gallows humor.

  Like every great commander, Jason Barnes assessed the situation, controlled the confusion, developed a plan, and executed it.

  Matt walked back to his office and dialed Boris, who picked up on the fourth ring, "Yes."

  "Hey, it's Matt."

  "What is it?"

  "How much longer are you going to keep the Mercedes and Honda Accord in my warehouse?"

  "Why, you find a buyer?"

  "No, I just get nervous one of these owners is going to report the cars stolen before you get them shipped overseas."

  "If that happens, I kill the owners," said Boris with a laugh conveying more truth than humor.

  "Yeah, but that doesn't keep me out of jail for possession of stolen property."

  "It will not be long, maybe another day or two. By the way, is your wife a teacher?"

  "Yeah."

  "I did not know."

  "I thought I told you that. Yeah, she's a teacher. Why? You need help with your homework?"

  "No. I think I have something that belongs to you."

  "What?"

  "J. D. came in here the other day with your wedding picture. He made a big deal out of the fact your wife is his stepson's teacher."

  "No kidding. Small world but how'd he get the wedding picture?"

  "He said he took it from her desk the other night."

  "The other night or the other day?"

  "The other night. What difference does it make?"

  "There was a break-in at my wife's school the other night. Someone torched her room and beat up a security guard. You don't suppose that goofy piece of white trash smacked around some old man just to get my wedding picture?"

  "He could have. J. D. is crazy. If he were from my country, we'd think he spent too much time sniffing the Chernobyl air after the reactor exploded."

  "Well, when you see him, tell him if he wants a wedding picture of me and my wife, I keep one in my wallet. He can have it."

  "Next time you come by, you can pick up the picture."

  "Thanks, Boris. I'll talk at you later."

  Jason Barnes, Pamela, and Dwayne came in from the monitoring room. Barnes led the discussion, "You're good to go, Matt. Let's go see Caitlin."

  CH
APTER SEVENTY

  The battered traveler reached Three Points, Arizona, population just under six thousand. The dry desert heat absorbed most of the sweat, but Dmitri knew his ragged clothes smelled of stale perspiration. Since he wouldn't be welcomed at many public restaurants, he looked for vending machines to meet his immediate needs. He converted his money to U.S. currency before crossing the border, but money in the desert wasn't worth much. When resources are scarce, everyone is in the same economic class. None knew he was carrying thousands of dollars on the journey.

  The motel clerk accepted the cash deposit. It wasn't the Marriott but Dmitri didn't care. He needed a shower and a bed, any bed. He planned on sleeping for hours, maybe even days before he headed to Los Angeles.

  BORIS BANGED ON THE door.

  Matt was on the phone with Dwayne and looked out between the blinds. "Gotta go, boss, looks like I've got company. Not sure I can get the cameras activated."

  Matt raced to the hallway, flipped the light switch three times, and as the file cabinet opened, he hollered, "Just a second."

  Matt turned on the machine and closed the file cabinet. He popped into the bathroom and flushed the toilet, then raced to the front door and released the double deadbolt.

  "Sorry, I was making a head call when I heard you pounding. Don't get much company. What are you doing here?"

  Boris looked around Matt, trying to peer in and see down the hallway. The water in the toilet bowl was still running and could be heard from the doorway. "What's a head call?"

  "I was taking a dump. You're getting pretty personal."

  "What kind of business doesn't keep its doors open during business hours?" said Boris, angered he had to pound several times on the door.