Karen pulled the sling over her shoulder and swung the weapon around a couple of times. “Feels balanced,” she said. “What’s this silver thing on the end of the barrel?”
“It’s a suppressor,” Ben explained. “Cuts down the velocity of the bullets a bit, but then it won’t blow out your eardrums when you fire it, either. Don’t hold onto it when you shoot. It gets hot fast. You want to try it out?”
“Might as well.”
“Okay.” Ben took a loaded magazine from the closet and walked around behind Karen. He handed her the magazine. “Goes in here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the bottom of the gun.
She snapped it into the weapon with only a little difficulty.
Ben reached across her shoulder. “Good. You’re a natural. This is the charging handle. Pull it back all the way and let it fly.”
Karen did as he asked and the bolt snapped forward, loading the first round into the chamber. “What now?”
“Pull out that wire stock at the back until it locks, and then put the stock against your shoulder. Aim it at that far wall over there.”
She laughed. “You want me to shoot holes in your barn wall?”
“Fuck it. It’s just a barn, and once we leave here we’re never coming back anyway.”
Karen aimed the weapon at the wall and pulled on the trigger. Nothing happened. “Something’s wrong,” she said.
“Move the selector switch off safety first.”
She reached down and flicked the selector switch to ‘F’.
“Now hold it tight and pull the trigger.”
Karen looked down the barrel and then lowered it to about waist-high. She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. With a soft rattle, spent shells poured out of the weapon and tinkled to the floor. As the bullets struck the far wall, daylight poured through and sawdust flew into the air. A brief moment later, the gun was empty. She lowered the barrel and stared at the gun in amazement. “It’s pretty easy to shoot,” she said.
Ben handed her two loaded magazines. “It’s yours, then.”
She found the release button, pushed it, and pulled the empty magazine free, dropping it to the table. She inserted one of the full magazines. “Should I keep a bullet in the chamber?” she asked.
“No,” said Ben. “It’s too risky. Just remember to chamber the first round and then turn the switch before you fire it.”
Karen flipped the selector switch to safety and let the weapon hang from her shoulder on the canvas sling. “I hope I won’t have to use this you know.”
“So do I,” Ben said. He turned to Ray and handed him an IMI Mini-Uzi, also with a folding wire stock. “You can walk into any bank with this and no one will see it until you take it out from under your jacket.”
“What do you carry?” said Ray.
Ben smiled. “Well, you two have some fairly high-powered weapons there, but one of us needs to pack something with a little more shock value. I mean a gun that will kill a fucking police car dead in its tracks.” He reached into the weapons closet one more time, took out a heavy rifle, and dumped it on the table with a dramatic thump.
“That’s an old BAR,” said Ray. “But it’s too short.” He picked it up and examined it. “You cut down the gas tube and the barrel, didn’t you?”
“That’s right, Ray.” Ben pointed to the stock. “See here? I switched out the old heavy wood stock for a lightweight composite one and put that sling on it. And you’re right, both the gas tube and the barrel have been shortened. I also machined the receiver a little so it won’t jam as often, and then put a homemade sight on the end of the cut-down barrel. You know who did this type of conversion a long time ago?”
“Who?”
“Clyde Barrow, that’s who. I got the idea from a book about his life.” Ben took the rifle back from Ray. “I taped a pair of custom-made thirty-round box mags together for this thing, and all of the bullets are steel-jacketed. They’ll take out an engine block.” He chuckled and swung the rifle onto his shoulder. “It shoots thirty-ought-six Springfield rounds. Do you know what those will do to a cop car?”
“A lot of damage, I’m sure,” said Ray.
“That’s an understatement. Have you ever seen where cops will take cover behind their cars and start shooting at someone?”
“Sure.”
“Well, this BAR will punch holes like Swiss cheese through any car, both sides, both doors. It’s like they have no cover at all, and with those steel-jacketed rounds, well, you can figure out the rest. And they’ll go right through body armor at close range, even Type 3 body armor.”
“Sounds like overkill,” said Ray.
“I don’t want to get caught. You should see what else I have.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have some LAWS rockets and a few frag grenades. Even a fucking Stinger missile. That’s in case they come at us from the air. And some old M-203 satchel charges. I took everything I could lay my hands on when I robbed that National Guard armory. After we hit that first bank on Friday, we’re never coming back here. It won’t be safe anymore. So we take everything. Just in case.”
A Stinger missile? Ray thought. Oh, Christ. He really IS crazy.
The next morning after breakfast, Ben laid out a large map of Northern California on the dining room table and began pointing to different spots marked on it in red ink. “Okay, guys. This is the plan. Tomorrow morning we hit First National in Eureka and then switch cars four blocks away in this Safeway parking lot. The next day, we’re knocking off the Mountain Bank’s main branch in Crescent City. We’ll pick up another car there first before we hit it. Two days later, we take out the Great Northern Bank in Ukiah. Then we switch vehicles again, follow Highway 20 across the mountains, cut over to the Interstate 5 freeway, and then head north for Seattle. Once we get to Seattle, my connection will hook us up with those passports and we can leave the country for good.”
“Are we going to fly out of Seattle?” Karen said.
“No,” said Ben. “Not from any U.S. airports. It’s too risky. There’s a town on the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula called Port Angeles. You know where it is?”
“Yes,” said Ray.
“We’ll buy us a boat there and then cross to Canada over the Straits of Juan de Fuca and hide out for a while in Victoria. We can present our phony passports and say we’re on vacation. Later, we can fly out of there to maybe Samoa. Or maybe take a long ocean cruise if flying out won’t work.”
“Why Samoa?” said Ray
“They don’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. I’ve already been down there on vacation a couple of times. It’s paradise. If you decide to move on elsewhere, that’s up to you, but that’s where I think we should go first.” Ben stretched his arms. “If you two don’t like the idea of living in the South Pacific, then you could try the Cape Verde islands maybe. That’s off the west coast of Africa. Or maybe the Maldives, south of India in the Indian Ocean. No treaties there, either.”
“Samoa sounds okay to me,” said Ray. He pointed to the map. “But before of any that, we have a big job ahead of us first.”
Karen walked up and sat two cups of steaming hot coffee on the table. “You two had just better know what you’re doing,” she said. “It almost sounds like you’re planning a war.”
“That’s a good comparison, Karen,” said Ben, “because that’s exactly what we’re doing.” He folded up the map and sat down. “I don’t think anyone’s tried to do what we’re going to do,” he said. “Hitting three banks in five days, that is. And we’re not settling for the cash in the tellers’ cages. In fact, we don’t even waste our time with that crap. I found pictures of all three of the managers of those banks on the internet, and then I memorized their names and faces. We’re going to force them to give us all the cash they keep in the vaults.”
“I’ve heard they also mix dye packs and bait money into that stuff,” said Ray.
“Don’t worry. I know how to spot that, and I know h
ow to motivate those bank managers not to try that one on us.”
“How do you do that?”
“Same way I did when my ex-partner and I took down that other bank for the eighty grand. I put a gun to the manager’s head and told him if he were foolish enough to try slipping me the bait money, I would blow his head off. He almost pissed all over himself.”
“Well, that would do it, I suppose,” said Karen dryly.
Ben turned up his palms. “You gotta show ‘em you mean business, and that means putting the fear of God into them. You make them believe you’ll do exactly what you say if they don’t comply. You can’t come off like a frightened amateur; otherwise, they’ll start trying to stall you until the cops show up. Then you’re screwed.”
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, followed by a gruff voice. “Police! Open up!”
Ben held up a finger for quiet, and then spoke softly. “Ray...did you pack everything I told you to in the truck and then rope that tarp over it?”
“Yeah. It’s all ready to go. Keys are in the ignition.”
“Go into the bedroom with Karen and wait. I’ll get the door.”
Ray grabbed Karen’s hand and they hurried off to the back bedroom. She snatched up the MP-5 from a nearby table as they fled.
“Coming!” Ben shouted. He went to the door and opened it.
Standing on the porch were the same four cops who had stopped by the previous day. The tall one touched his hat. “Good morning, sir. You remember me, right? Sergeant Ackerman?”
“Oh, sure I do, sergeant. What can I do for you?”
“We’re still investigating that shooting,” Ackerman said. “We’ve been going from house-to-house along the road and asking people for their cooperation.”
“Cooperation?”
“Well, we’d like to take a look around your place. This isn’t official,” he said. “We don’t have a search warrant, but no one has refused us yet.”
“I don’t understand,” said Ben, trying to keep his manner casual. “I already said I didn’t see anything that night. I was in bed.”
The cop looked apologetic. “Well, yes. We know that. But there’s always a chance the killer might be hiding out on your property and you wouldn’t even know it. Wouldn’t you feel safer if we just took a look around?”
Ben stepped aside. “Sure. Come on in.”
The cop swept his hand toward the barns. “Not your house, sir. I meant take a look around the property.”
“Oh, sure. Feel free to look around all you want,” Ben said.
“Thanks,” said Ackerman. “We won’t be too long. Please stay in the house while we’re checking. I’ll come back when we’re finished.” He turned away and the other three officers followed him toward the barns.
Ben shut the door and put his back against it, breathing hard. When they go into that loft, he thought, they’ll find everything we didn’t pack. Like those two extra M-16’s I left there. He went to the side window of the house and peeked through the curtain. He saw two police cars out front. Both of them were empty. He spotted the four cops walking in a group up the hill toward the barns. He went to the bedroom door and flung it open.
“Four cops are outside,” he said quickly. “They’re headed for the barns. They’re going up and down the road and asking everyone if they can look around. I couldn’t say no. When they see what’s in that loft, we’re fucked. It’s raise or fold time, buddy.”
“Shit!” said Ray. “What do we do now?”
“We’ve got to take them down somehow, and do it without killing them if possible.” He nodded to Karen. “Everything’s in the truck, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Sneak out the back door and wait in the truck for us. We’re probably going to have to make a quick exit.”
“Why don’t we just go now, while they’re up at the barns?” said Karen.
“Because they’ll be on our asses a minute later,” said Ben.
“Okay. What are you two going to do?”
“We’re going to stop them somehow,” said Ben. “And then disable their vehicles.”
Ray and Ben ran into the kitchen. Ray grabbed the Uzi and Ben took his BAR. Ray held the back door open for Karen as she snatched her purse and ran for the truck. The two men went out behind her, but in the opposite direction, following the four cops toward the barn as quietly as they could.
“As long as they don’t turn around,” whispered Ben. He cocked the BAR gently, and then went into a slow trot to try to gain ground on the cops, who were now less than twenty paces from the barn.
Ray Morris said nothing. He kept his eyes on the four uniforms ahead and pulled back the bolt on the Uzi. He wondered if Ben was planning to open up on the cops with the BAR as soon as they got within range. He hoped not.
Chapter 5
As the four officers entered the barn, Ben pointed to a spot near the open door. “Take that side and wait,” he said softly.
The two men stayed low and took positions on each side of the door. Ray sneaked a quick peek around the door and saw one of the cops pulling down the ladder leading up to the loft. All four of them had their backs to the door for the moment.
Ben looked for himself and then pulled back quickly. He gave a thumbs-up and a ‘go’ sign. Leveling their weapons, both men stepped into the barn.
“Freeze!” Ben shouted.
The cops whirled around in surprise and started to reach for their pistols. Ben fired a quick burst from the BAR. With an ear-splitting roar, the heavy slugs tore up the earthen floor at their feet. “Don’t!” Ben yelled. “Get your fucking hands up!”
Ray flanked the four cops to the side and kept his Uzi trained on them. They raised their hands.
“Get their guns,” said Ben. “Stay low. I don’t want you in the line of fire. Do it from behind them and then check their ankles for backups, too.”
Ray crouched down and went from one to the other, pulling out their pistols and tossing them into a pile a few feet away. He felt along their ankles and found three of them were carrying backup weapons. He removed those as well. When he got to the end of the line, he stood up and pressed the barrel of the Uzi into Sergeant Ackerman’s neck. “I know you’re carrying a backup weapon. Where is it?”
“Inside my shirt,” the cop said, gritting his teeth. “Fuck you.”
Ray pulled on Ackerman’s shirt until a few of the buttons popped free. He reached inside and found a small revolver in a shoulder holster. He tossed it into the pile of weapons now sitting by the door.
“What do we do with them now?” said Ray, stepping back.
“We leave them here.” He waved the barrel of the rifle at the officers. “Kneel down,” said Ben. “Don’t worry. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”
“Why the fuck not? You already killed one cop, didn’t you?”
“That was necessary,” said Ben. “Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll splatter you all over this barn.”
The four cops dropped to their knees. One of them, the youngest, was pale as a ghost. The other three had angry expressions.
“Handcuff them, Ray,” said Ben. One of the cops opened his mouth to say something. Ben glared at him. “Didn’t you hear what I said to your buddy there? Keep your trap shut unless you want a bullet in it.”
Ray took his time removing pairs of handcuffs from the belt of each cop and then securing their wrists behind their backs. Then he took the radios from their service belts and smashed them to pieces on the ground.
“Okay, Ray. Get that rope hanging on the wall. Loop it through their arms and then tie them all together to that support post. That should hold them for a while. And get that burlap bag over there and put all those guns in it. We’re taking them with us.”
“Right.”
After they were finished, the two men backed out of the barn and closed the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Ben. He started running back to the house as Ray followed.
“I�
�ll get the truck!” shouted Ben. “Take care of those radios in the squad cars and pull the distributor cap wires!”
While Ray went to work smashing up the radios and popping the hoods on the two police cars, Ben ran into the kitchen and trashed the two telephones inside the house by throwing them hard into the nearest wall. Satisfied that he had done everything possible to delay the alarm, he ran outside to where Karen was waiting in the truck. He tossed the BAR into the bed of the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”
“Ben? Did you two kill those cops? I heard some shooting.”
“Nah. Just scared ‘em a little. But we’re in big trouble for sure now. We took away their guns and radios and tied them up. No worries, though. By the time they get loose we’ll be long gone.” He put the Ford pickup in gear and pulled around to the front of the house. Ray had the hoods on both police cars open now and he was wrenching the wires loose.
“Hurry up goddamnit, let’s go!” Ben shouted.
“That’s it!” said Ray. He jumped into the truck and dropped the burlap bag full of pistols on the floorboards.
“What’s that?” Karen asked.
“The guns those cops were carrying,” Ray said. He reached down and felt around inside the bag. “And I found one of these in their cars.” He held up a police radio, a walkie-talkie type, and pretended to talk into it. “Officers need assistance,” he said.
Ben laughed. “Yeah, yeah. That’s funny, Ray. Better put on your seat belt.” He jammed the accelerator to the floor and headed for the main road in a cloud of dust. “Let’s go to Eureka. There’s a bank there we have to do some business with in the morning.”
Less than ten minutes later, Sergeant David Ackerman of the California Highway Patrol had already freed himself and his three fellow officers. It had been simple enough. He had managed to pull a small pocketknife from his back pocket, cut the ropes, and then reach his handcuff key.
Revenge Story Page 6