Duty Bound (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Faraday leaned forward in the backseat. "I'm not picking him up eith--what the--ohh shit!"

  Seeing the news van in front of them suddenly make a hard left turn, Ashley squealed to the driver, "Follow them!"

  Despite the red light, the driver accelerated and was about to make the turn when he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a large refrigerated produce truck that had sped up and suddenly braked in the middle of the intersection, blocking the way. Faraday slid the van door back and yelled into his mike as he ran around the truck. "Parker, news van suddenly made left turn on . . . on . . . Christ! What the hell is the name of this street?" Faraday turned, searching for the street sign, and blurted, "Southwest Fourth Avenue heading north. We're blocked and can't follow! Get on it! I can still see them. They're still heading north-- Wait, they just turned west . . . they're out of sight!"

  Eli was thrown against the door as the van made a skidding right turn just after completing a left. Suddenly, the van seemed to leap into the air as it hit a speed bump leading into a parking garage. The van hit the pavement and bounced; the driver slammed on the brakes and skidded the vehicle to a bone jarring halt.

  Partially dazed from hitting his head on the van's ceiling when the van had landed from the bump, Eli tried to sit up and see where he was. Then his door opened and a huge man dressed in black wrapped his arms around him. Eli felt like he was being crushed and jerked his head back, feeling a horrific stinging sensation on the side of his neck. Kicking and squirming to free himself, he abruptly felt numb. His eyes blurred and became so heavy he couldn't keep them open. Feeling as if he were falling into a giant black hole, he heard a woman's voice say, "You're dead, Agent Tanner-- got it?"

  Chapter 18.

  The van stopped in the street, joining police cruisers and FBI vehicles in front of the parking garage. Seated in the front passenger seat, Ashley lowered her head. "Ed, I don't think I can do this."

  Ed Faraday opened the van's sliding door and got out. He opened Ashley's door and put his hand on her shoulder. "I understand. I'll find out, then come back and let you know."

  Ashley leaned back in the seat, wiping the tears from her cheek. Abruptly, she unbuckled her seat belt. "No, I have to know now. Just stay close to me, Ed; please stay close."

  Together they walked toward the garage entrance, where a young police officer lifted the crime scene tape for them.

  Seeing Agent Howard Parker approaching, Ashley braced herself.

  Parker motioned behind him at the news van. "No bodies were found inside," he said.

  Ashley closed her eye for a moment. There was still a ray of hope.

  "Any witnesses?" Faraday asked.

  Parker nodded. "We've got a woman who saw two black minivans leaving the back exit in a big hurry. She gave us a partial on one plate. We're running it now."

  He turned and gestured to a pile of clothes. "They were smart. They stripped them; the transmitters we put on Tanner and Miss Starr are still attached to their clothes. It was hurriedly done . . . the clothes were ripped from them. We figure the driver, one Pablo Fernandez, video man on Rita's crew, was in on it., He's been with the station for two and a half years. No priors--seemed clean, until now."

  Ashley took a step toward the van. "Signs of struggle?"

  "No blood, if that's what you mean," Parker said. "What we don't like is how the driver got the drop on Tanner.

  We're thinking maybe someone got in the van while it was parked outside the newspaper office. No evidence to support the theory as yet, but we did find a place behind all that equipment where somebody could have hidden."

  "What about Rita Lopez?" Faraday asked.

  "Her clothes are in the pile with the others, but we're doing a background check on her anyway. Right now we're going with the driver and a second person who got in the van. It's the only way we see it going down. The driver couldn't get them here alone. Once here, it looks like a crew was waiting for them. Had to be a minimum of three to four, probably more. Based on the time our witness said she saw the minivans leaving, it took them no more than two minutes to subdue the passengers, strip them, and move them to the other vehicles. The driver of the produce truck that blocked the intersection came clean--it was what you two thought, planned. He was paid five hundred dollars for his part. He was parked in the alley off the main street. He received word over a cellular phone to move onto the street and wait till the news van turned. When it turned, his instructions were to block the intersection. Bottom line is, this whole thing was well planned--pros for sure."

  Ashley looked into the front passenger seat. "Why didn't they kill them?"

  Parker shrugged. "We're asking the same question, and haven't come up with any answers, unless they want to make a trade for something."

  "You guys don't trade," Faraday said.

  "Yeah, that's common knowledge, so we're back to Agent Sutton's question: Why didn't they kill them?"

  "Information," said a well-dressed man stepping up beside Parker. "They're keeping them alive to see what they know."

  Parker gestured to the stranger, who had an unlit cigar stuck in one side of his mouth. "Agent Sutton, Detective Faraday, this is Agent Sam Ortiz from the DEA. He's the chief of the Organized Crime Division here in town."

  Ashley pinned the DEA agent with a stare. "It was Mendez, wasn't it?"

  Ortiz rolled the cigar to the other side of his mouth before looking at her. "Carlos Mendez is on the sixteenth fairway of his country club."

  "You know what I mean," Ashley said.

  "Yeah, I know, but you're wrong. I went over this with Agent Tanner yesterday--Mendez is inactive. This could have been done by one of three dozen crews in town."

  "Jesus H. Christ," Faraday blurted. "Surely you've got a couple of big boys who are suspects."

  "We do, Detective, and we're workin' it," Ortiz said.

  "Who's your number one?" Ashley asked quickly.

  "Terres," Ortiz said, "a Colombian who's come up through the ranks in the past three years."

  An agent holding a radio ran up to Agent Parker.

  "Howard, the police just received a call from a man who said he just witnessed a man and woman being shot just off an access road to Hammock Park--he said four men dressed in black did the shooting then got into two dark minivans and drove back to the highway and turned north."

  Ashley reached for Faraday's arm.

  Brickell Key Marina, Miami Ted nodded as he looked at the forty-eight-foot cabin cruiser gently rocking in its berth. "Looks good--how's the engine?"

  Glenn stepped from the pier to the cruiser's deck. "Virgil checked it out and looked over the maintenance records, says it was overhauled only four months ago."

  Ted stepped onto the deck and headed for the pilot's cabin. "How much you pay for it again?"

  "Fifty-five five--it's a steal for that. The lady's husband died last month; she's moving back to New Jersey to be with her daughter. She wanted seventy but took my first offer. The lady said they took her out no more than a dozen times in the past two years, and I believe her. Take a look below; it looks like it just came out of the showroom."

  Ted took the steps down into the plush paneled cabin and made a quick walk-through inspection of the galley and small bedrooms before nodding again. "Ya done good, Glenn. Get all the equipment stowed aboard and have one of the guys do some shopping to stock the galley--don't forget to tell 'em about dog food, canned, the good stuff. And some treats. Also rig us a diving platform that can be attached to the stern, portable, so we can break it down easy."

  "I got us a prefab aluminum one when I bought the scuba gear this afternoon. Also got us some racks for the tanks that we'll install on the deck."

  "What about the fishing gear?" Ted asked.

  "Since it's just for show, I picked up six rigs real cheap from a pawnshop. And to make it really look good, I bought some sleeves for the railing to hold the poles so it looks like we're really serious fishermen. Anybody looking at us when we're under way
will have no doubts what we're going to be doing."

  "Charts and navigation equipment?"

  "Got it. She's equipped with the ML-8000 II Loran Navigator, Edson radar, and Titan communications--all of it worked great when I took her out before I bought it."

  Ted walked up the steps into the pilot's cabin and stood behind the wheel. "I'm goin' back to the place and pick up Bonita. You and the guys be ready to shove off at 1600 hours. We'll take her out a little ways and get Virg and Ramon checked out in their gear and take 'em on a practice dive to make sure they don't drown out there."

  "Ramon says he's dived before; it's Virg I'm worried about. He says he can do it, but the look on his face tells me he's not all that confident."

  "I'll take Virg down; you take Ramon. Once they see how shallow the bay is, they'll both do fine. The problem will be getting them used to the boards. Tonight, you and me will do the recon and check out the yacht. Tomorrow we'll take 'em down again and have 'em use the boards until we know they can handle them. They'll be ready for the real action tomorrow night."

  Glenn allowed himself a small smile. "It's almost ironic, Ted. You know what the name of this boat is? The Revenge.

  The lady said her husband named her that because his company fired him from his job because of his age. He sued them for discrimination, he won, and this baby was his present to himself. I never thought the day would come, Teddy.

  We're really close to doing it, aren't we?"

  Ted stared vacantly toward the bay. "Yeah, Glenn, tomorrow night it's finally going to be over. Mendez will wish he never messed with Team Two-two. We're back, and this time it's our turn."

  Matheson Hammock Park, Coral Gables Seated in the backseat with Faraday in Agent Parker's car, Ashley felt guilty about her giddiness. Still several miles from the scene, she already knew the male seen being shot was not Eli. Agent Parker had a radio set to the Dade County police frequency and had listened to all the reports.

  The first arriving officers at the scene described the dead male as fully clothed and Hispanic. After checking the contents of his clothing, they had ID'd him as Pablo Fernandez, the news van driver. The female victim was Rita Lopez. She had been lucky. She'd been shot twice, in the side and in the shoulder. Unconscious but under paramedic care, she was en route to the hospital.

  Parker was following a police cruiser and turned off the highway into the park's parking area. Two minutes later Ashley stood in shin-high saw grass looking down a low embankment at the driver's still form. A balding M. E. squatting beside the body glanced up at Parker. "He took two pops in the base of the skull, a .22. Officers found the casings. No exit wounds, very clean."

  A park police officer approached Parker. "Sir, I found Miss Lopez over there . . . ten yards from the male. I recognized her immediately. She was nude and had sustained two gunshot wounds to the--"

  "We heard your radio report, Officer. Where is the witness?"

  "Actually, sir, there are ten of them. As you can see, this access road is clearly visible from the northern part of the park. We have four locals who were drinking beer just over there at that picnic table, and six others, tourists, were sunbathing just beyond the table. One of the locals had a cellular phone and called it in, but when I arrived I found all ten had witnessed the shootings. They all say pretty much the same thing. The two vans pulled in and drove down the side access road and stopped over there. Four Hispanic men dressed in black got out along with the male victim and Miss Lopez. It was Miss Lopez's being nude that got everybody's attention. The witnesses say the male was walking in front of the others when one of the men dressed in black placed a small pistol to the back of the victim's head and fired. They say it was so muffled they aren't sure if they heard one or two reports. Many of the witnesses thought it was staged for their benefit because it didn't sound real.

  Miss Lopez was being kept on her feet by two men; the witnesses say she appeared unconscious. The two men held her up and a third shot her twice. All the witnesses agree they heard the two shots. The bodies were left where they fell, and the four men got back into the dark vans and backed up, turned around there, and drove onto the highway, heading north."

  "Any of the witnesses see anybody else in the vans?"

  Parker asked.

  "No, sir, I asked all of them. Both vans had dark tinted glass. I also asked about plates. We have the last van's complete plate number and I already called it in. The second van was so close to the first they couldn't see its plate."

  "Any witnesses touch the victims?"

  "They didn't touch the male because he was obviously dead; Miss Lopez is a different matter. When I arrived, three of the males were bandaging her wounds with towels to stop the bleeding. The rest of the witnesses were pretty shaken up and were staying back. I got here within five minutes of the call, sir."

  Parker motioned to two agents who had just arrived. "Get written statements from the officer here and the witnesses.

  And start on descriptions of the shooters." He walked over to a lone paramedic who was standing by an ambulance.

  "You from the attending team?"

  "Yes, sir. The officer told me to wait for the FBI. I guess that's you, huh?"

  "Yeah. What was the status of Miss Lopez?"

  "Good. None of the bullet wounds was life-threatening. If you're going to be shot, those were the places to be hit. I'd say she didn't feel a thing . . . she was doped up on something; she was out like a light. All her vitals were normal when we arrived, and stayed that way until my team left with her."

  "Exit wounds on both hits?"

  "Just the side wound. In and out clean. No exit on the shoulder hit. It was a .22 on her, too."

  "You can go now. Thanks for waiting," Parker said. He turned to Ashley and Faraday. "They execute a near perfect abduction, then drive out here in broad daylight and shoot their inside guy and Miss Lopez in front of an audience.

  Why doesn't that make sense to me?"

  Ashley looked in the direction of the picnic table. "They had to have seen the beer drinkers sitting there--maybe they wanted to be seen."

  Faraday wrinkled his brow. "They make a pro hit on the driver with two in the back of the head but botch shootin'

  Lopez. Uh-uh, they didn't want her dead. Nobody said nothin' about the guys in black being masked--in fact they said they were Hispanic. Are they that stupid? Lopez can ID them."

  "She was drugged," Ashley said. "Maybe she can't ID them, but I still agree with you both; it stinks. We need to talk to Lopez and see what she says."

  Parker nodded and said, "Maybe Tanner and Starr were drugged, too--that's good. It gives them more time. Whoever wants them is going to have to wait until they come out of it."

  "Then what?" Faraday asked.

  Parker looked at the detective for a moment, lowered his eyes, and started walking toward the car.

  Eli finally managed to open his eyes. Having to squint because of his pounding headache, he saw a blurry figure directly across from him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then forced his eyes open wider. It wasn't a horrible dream after all; the nude form of Stacy on the carpeted floor across from him told him it was real. She was facing him, her arms behind her, her face partially covered by her dripping wet hair. Somebody splashed her with water like they did me, he thought. I can feel the drops rolling down my neck and shoulders. And I'm naked, as she is.

  Eli tried to move, but a sharp pain slashed down his neck into his shoulders. That was when he figured out that his hands were tied behind him. Okay, what about the rest of you? he said to himself. Are you hurt? Wiggle your toes . . . okay. Now your fingers . . . okay. Nothing so far, nothing must be broken. Where . . . where are we?

  Taking in another breath, he exhaled slowly and tried to scan the small room. A boat . . . we've got to be on board a boat of some kind . . . a big one because I don't feel any rocking. A cruiser maybe . . . a nice one, but old. Teak paneling, polished brass portholes . . . yeah, I feel the vibration of the engine n
ow but I don't think we're moving . . . maybe it's the generator. Do they have generators? Okay, you're moving your head all right now Let's try your hands . . . no.

  They're tied to something behind me . . . what? Doesn't matter, can't see it. Is Stacy all right?

  To his left he heard a door open and a moment later a big man wearing black slacks and shirt leaned over and looked into his eyes. "Bueno, you wake."

  Turning, the big man walked over to Stacy. He leaned over and swept the plastered hair back from her face.

  "Senorita, wake, por favor! Senorita must wake! Ahh bueno! Habla esparzol? No? No problema, I speak good ingles. I see you on TV . . . you lookin' good. I think maybe you lookin' better now." He smiled as he gently cupped her right breast and squeezed. "No plastic aqui. Bueno . good, very good."