Vigilante Assassin: An Action Thriller (Jake Wolfe Book 2)

by Mark Nolan

  The fire department arrived and insisted that the police leave the penthouse floor while they put out the flames.

  The elevator wasn’t working, so Roxanne and Beth hiked down scores of stairs to the ground floor.

  Terrell Hayes met them there with a first aid kit and bottled water. “Let me see your hands.” He cursed when he saw the scorched spots. “Drink this water, take deep breaths and hold these cold packs on your burns.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Beth said, smiling.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Terrell said.

  “Rox made me do it. She’s a bad influence.”

  “Hmmm, it’s always the quiet ones.”

  Roxanne drank some water and said, “I grabbed some tablets and phones, and a hard drive.”

  Terrell patted her on the back. “Good work, Rox.”

  Beth coughed. “Rox saved my life. My little boy almost lost his mom up there.” She vomited in the gutter at the thought of her son, Kyle, growing up without his mother.

  Terrell handed her a piece of spearmint gum. “Here, this might help settle your stomach.”

  “At least I’ll have minty vomit breath.”

  “Smells like victory.”

  Roxanne started crying as the shock wore off. She hugged Beth for saving her from falling down the stairs.

  Terrell gave Roxanne a piece of gum and said, “To quote a line from a movie, Tom Hanks said there’s no crying in baseball.”

  Roxanne smiled and gave him a punch on the shoulder.

  Jake was driving in the Jeep when he saw the top floor of a skyscraper explode. Glass and flames shot out of one side, debris rained down and a cloud of smoke rose into the air.

  Cody started barking and Jake punched the gas pedal, sending the Jeep roaring down the street. He saw somebody in a wingsuit flying through the air between skyscrapers. Cars began to stop as people stared at the building and the flying human.

  Turning on the Jeep’s police-style lights and siren, Jake began chasing after the person in the wingsuit.

  The flyer looked down at Jake and flew over a one-way street, flying against traffic. Jake turned and drove to a nearby two-way street and then turned again, racing in the direction the flyer had gone. He looked down each street he crossed, but didn’t see the suspect.

  He ran a red light, with siren wailing, turned and drove back to the one-way street. On arrival, he stopped in the intersection and looked for the flyer. Gone.

  Jake drove in a crisscross search pattern. It was too late, the flyer had disappeared. He cursed, drove back to the bombed building, and parked on the sidewalk. There were fire trucks and police cars everywhere. He put the badge on his belt, opened Cody’s door and kept him in the backseat as he outfitted him with an orange-and-black vest that said SEARCH DOG on both sides.

  “We’re going to search for survivors, Cody. Let’s go.”

  Cody barked once, then hopped out of the car and pawed at the sidewalk, ready to roll.

  Jake pressed his key fob to close the canine door, leaving the Jeep’s flashing lights on. He put on a windbreaker that said Search and Rescue on the back, clipped a leash onto Cody’s collar and walked to the front door of the building.

  A uniformed police officer stopped him. Jake showed him his badge. “U.S. Marshal. Is your K-9 team here yet? If not, I’d like to do a quick search for anyone who might be injured or trapped.”

  “Go for it,” the cop said.

  The elevators were off. Jake walked past them to a stairwell, picked up Cody, and carried him up the stairs to the penthouse floor. His leg muscles were burning when he reached the top. His phone buzzed with a text.

  Terrell: Did I see your dumb ass run into the blown-up building?

  Jake: Who—me? Nah, I’m at a 7-Eleven buying beer and cheese puffs.

  Terrell: Dammit, Jukebox.

  Jake and Cody searched the top floor. Cody whined as he went past the bombed apartment, and then alerted at one down the hall. Jake told the firefighters, “Coming through, please. Search dog doing his job.”

  They went into the living room that was soaking wet with water from firehoses. Cody strained on the leash and headed down the hallway toward the furthest bedroom. He went inside, sniffed the room, stopped in front of a closet, and pawed at the door.

  Jake grabbed the warm doorknob in his gloved hand, opened the door, and found a frightened little girl hiding inside. He spoke in a calming voice. “You’re safe now, the search and rescue dog found you.”

  The girl looked at Cody and started crying in relief.

  Jake thought of his father, who’d been a firefighter. He’d spent his career putting out fires in smoke-filled buildings like this one.

  A firefighter came into the room and gave the child a big smile. “I’ll carry you outside to the fresh air, okay? You’ll get to wear my hat and sit in a fire truck!”

  The stunned child nodded.

  The firefighter scooped her up and put his hat on her head. He spoke to Jake as he passed by. “Jake Wolfe? How’s your dad?”

  “He’s enjoying his retirement from the fire department, keeping busy at his winery.”

  “Tell Connor we miss him down at the station since he retired.”

  “I will.”

  “He’d be proud to see you helping us firefighters.” The man walked out the door.

  Jake got down on one knee and petted Cody. “You did good, buddy. You saved a child’s life. Let’s keep searching.”

  Cody barked once and resumed sniffing the ground and the smoky air. He sneezed and turned his head from side to side as he tried to find human scents among the burning chemicals. Jake coughed and spat on the smoldering carpet.

  Down on the street below, the firefighter came out the front door on the ground floor carrying the girl. They were filmed by the news media.

  A reporter named Dick Arnold asked, “How did you find this child?”

  “Jake Wolfe and his dog found her.”

  Arnold frowned and looked up at the top of the building.

  Chapter 43

  Jake and Cody searched the rest of the penthouse apartments but didn’t find any people or pets. Several firefighters arrived and ordered Jake to leave the area now that he’d cleared it.

  He led Cody slowly down the stairs, floor by floor. Halfway down, he picked Cody up and carried him the rest of the way, his muscles straining to hold the large dog. They arrived on the ground level, and he set Cody down.

  Jake looked out the front windows and saw Dick Arnold and his cameraman, along with lots of other local media people.

  Arnold spotted Jake inside. His cameraman began taking video while Arnold provided commentary saying Jake had no business being in that building right now.

  Various news cameras began broadcasting video and images of Jake and his SAR dog. Jake’s hair and jacket were dusted with debris. Cody’s fur was too.

  Some of the first responders asked Jake questions about what was going on. He stood there and directed traffic for a while, pointed out stairway doors, answered questions, and tried to help out. “So far, it looks like nobody was injured, thank God.”

  A female paramedic stopped, smiled at Cody, and gave Jake a fist bump. Cody woofed at her. She handed a bottle of water to Jake. “Is this the dog who found the child?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “I have a Chocolate Lab. She has that same smile as your dog.”

  “Thanks for the water,” Jake said. He got down on one knee, took a plastic bag out of his pocket and slowly poured some water into it while Cody lapped it up. Cody drank, coughed several times, and drank some more.

  Pictures and videos of Cody began to appear on television news programs and media websites.

  Out in front of the building, one of the onlookers approached Dick Arnold and told him he’d taken video with his phone before the news vans had arrived.

  “Good work,” Arnold said. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

  He showed him the video. Arnold saw
Jake and Cody hurrying into the building, as if they were some kind of rescuers instead of an unemployed bum and a dumb dog. “Email me a copy of that.” Arnold recited his email.

  A woman walked up to Arnold and handed him an eight-by-ten manila envelope. “You’ve been served.” She vanished into the crowd of onlookers.

  Arnold opened the envelope and found documents that said he was being sued for millions of dollars by the law offices of Bart Bartholomew, on behalf of Lauren Stephens. His boss was also being sued, along with the news corporation and the board of directors.

  Rival news crews broadcast Arnold’s angry face, and the legal documents in his hand.

  One of Jake’s friends at his former employer ran a story about how Arnold had spied on Lauren Stephens when she was grieving her husband’s death, and smeared her with a hit piece about her and Jake Wolfe. She said Arnold was now being sued for libel. Meanwhile Lauren had donated to a local service dog school, and Jake had helped rescue a child from a bombed building. The news story showed Cody in his vest, Jake wearing the U.S. Marshals badge, and a firefighter carrying a child to safety. The reporter had called Arnold’s employer with questions, and she’d been told that Arnold was no longer employed at the company.

  Somebody sent the news video to Arnold and he watched it on his phone. He turned and glared at the building, but Jake and Cody were gone.

  His phone rang and he got a call from his boss. “Sorry, Dick, but the board voted to eliminate your position. Please come to the office, turn in your equipment and clear out your desk. You’re fired.”

  Chapter 44

  Jake and Cody walked to the Jeep and got inside. He sent a text to Terrell.

  Jake: Was that explosion related to the Stephens case?

  Terrell: Yes, Beth and Rox found the IP address of the computer that sent you a weaponized sound.

  Jake: I chased somebody who was flying through the air in a wingsuit, but they got away.

  Terrell: That was the perp.

  Jake: I’ll send you a video from the Jeep’s dash cam.

  Terrell: Thanks.

  Jake: Are Beth and Rox okay?

  Terrell: Yeah. They almost got smoked but they’re doing fine.

  Jake looked over at the smoldering building and shook his head. “This has to stop, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to end it.”

  Cody stuck his head between the front seats, put his paws on the center console and growled at the building.

  Jake looked at the contacts on his phone and found a Russian woman he’d once dated, named Luba. He hadn’t talked to her in a long while, not since she married a young millionaire who owned an internet startup funded by his rich dad.

  Jake looked off into the distance, remembering the past, and he made the call.

  Luba answered. “Jake, you promised you’d never call me again.”

  “I’m sorry, Luba. I’m not calling about … us. I need your advice regarding a problem.”

  “Girl trouble? Why am I not surprised?”

  “No, Russian mafia trouble.”

  “Are you crazy? Stay far away from them. I should end this call right now.”

  “Wait. You and your family and friends are all such good people. Where did these violent gang members come from?”

  “The russkaya mafiya here in San Francisco came from Russian prisons.”

  “Prisons?”

  “Some time ago, the US government allowed Russians to apply for political refugee status and seek asylum. That’s how my family made our way here—and we all work hard and pay our taxes. But someone in the KGB or FSB saw it as an opportunity to empty Russia’s prisons and send their very worst criminals to the United States.”

  “Did all the criminals settle here in California?”

  “No, but one particular gang chose San Francisco as their rendezvous point. The gossip on the street is that most of them are violent criminals who were serving long prison sentences for murder, rape, and assault.”

  “And now the Russian government doesn’t have to spend money feeding them prison food for decades to come.”

  “All of my friends and family are afraid of the gang members. We avoid them like the plague.”

  “So, your community wouldn’t be upset if the gang was put back in prison or run out of town?”

  “No, we’d be thankful.”

  “Is there anybody I could talk to who might have useful information about how to make that happen?”

  “No, Jake. Nobody will talk. It would be too dangerous for their loved ones.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be asking me these questions. Think of your family, and your dog.”

  “How did you know about my dog?”

  “I don’t remember. Maybe somebody mentioned it at church.”

  “The folks at your Russian Orthodox Church talk about me and my dog, huh?”

  “I’m afraid, Jake. One of the russkaya mafiya who was in prison for murder now drives by my home every night and stares at my front window.”

  Jake’s voice went cold. “Who is he? What’s his name? Do you have his license plate?”

  “No, Jake. Don’t.”

  “Tell me, Luba.”

  “I have to go now. I’ve said too much.”

  “Say one more thing. I need a name.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’ll put a camera on your building and get a video of him driving by. I’ll find that man, no matter how long it takes, and then I’ll—” Jake took an angry breath and let it out.

  “Please don’t ever call me again, Jake. You are my … how do you say it? Weakness.”

  “Goodbye, Luba. Promise me you’ll have a happy life.”

  “Bye, bye, Jacob.” Luba started crying and she ended the call.

  Jake looked off at the horizon. He thought about what might have been. Luba had wanted to marry a man with money. He hadn’t been that man—yet. Her impatience had ended their promising relationship. He hoped she’d made the right choice when she married the dull guy with Daddy’s cash, and he wished her all the best in life.

  Chapter 45

  A cargo van drove slowly past Sarah Chance’s pet clinic, circled the block and drove by again. Two men sat in the front seats, and two more men and a woman sat on the floor in the empty cargo area.

  The woman got to her feet in a crouch, looked out a window and studied the clinic as they passed by the second time. “Park over there. Let’s do this.”

  The driver parked, and both men in the front seats double-checked their pistols.

  Sarah sat at her desk, finishing up some paperwork. Her desk phone chimed and her assistant said, “I have a call for you from the law offices of Bart Bartholomew, on line two.”

  “Thank you, Madison.” Sarah pressed a button. “This is Sarah Chance.”

  “Miss Chance, my name is Moon Hee and I’m calling on behalf of attorney Bart Bartholomew.”

  “I owe Bart a favor. How may I help?”

  “Our client, Jake Wolfe, has updated his will and named you as guardian of his dog, Cody, in the unlikely event of his death.”

  Sarah paused for a moment. The thought of Jake being dead and Cody all alone was unsettling. “So, if Jake died, I’d adopt Cody?”

  “Yes, you’d be named legal guardian. Do you accept this nomination as guardian, and the potential responsibility for the lifelong care of Cody? It’s my duty to inform you that he’s apparently a retired war dog who may have PTSD, behavioral challenges, and lingering war injuries to deal with.”

  “Yes, I accept. I also have a power-of-attorney form Jake signed regarding Cody.”

  “Could you please scan that form and email a copy to me, for Mr. Wolfe’s file?”

  “Yes, of course. I wish all my clients would provide for their pets in their wills.”

  “Well, Mr. Wolfe is an attorney, so I’m sure it’s something he was taught in law school.”

  Sarah’s brows furrowed. “No, Jake isn’t an at
torney. He’s a photojournalist, or was until recently.”

  “Oh. I hope I didn’t spoil a surprise. Well, it was nice talking with you, Sarah. Goodbye.”

  The call ended, and Sarah sat there thinking about Jake. If it were anyone else, she’d dismiss the idea that he might have become an attorney without ever letting on, but Jake was full of surprises. You just never knew what he might do.

  “Speaking of surprises…” Sarah took her phone out of her purse and read Jake’s text for the umpteenth time.

  I think I might be falling in love with you too, girlfriend.

  She shook her head, bewildered by men. The male species just didn’t make any sense. One minute they would be an EUM—emotionally unavailable male, and the next moment, they might act self-aware and say something like this. Had Jake enjoyed a liquid lunch today? Was there going to be a full moon tonight?

  Maybe she would change her mind, accept Jake’s dinner invitation after all, and try to figure out what he was thinking.

  She got up from her desk, grabbed her coat and purse, and walked into the front lobby. She set her purse on the counter and spoke to her assistant. “Okay, Madison, that’s it for today. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You’re leaving work on time for once? Why? Do you have a date with that hot guy again?”

  “I’m thinking about it, although I should probably go home, enjoy a glass of good wine, and go to bed early for some much-needed sleep.”

  “Oooh, is bad boy keeping you up late at night? Tell me all the sexy details.”

  “That’s … not going to happen.”

  Madison laughed. “I’m sorry, but I just ended a relationship, so I’m hoping to live vicariously through yours.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a relationship—not yet anyway.”

  “Is that what you’re hoping for?”

  “I don’t know. My wish list for an ideal man would be a homeowner with a college degree and a secure job who wants a marriage and kids, likes salsa dancing, and is amazing in bed. Jake certainly qualifies for the last one, but none of the rest.”