Street Justice: Book 2 of the Justice Series

by Trevor Shand

  “What road is that?” Mario’s voice asked over the tiny speaker taped into Roger’s right ear.

  “I don’t know,” Roger replied.

  “That’s Lahore Road,” Ryan chimed in.

  “Are you sure?” Mario asked.

  “If Ryan says it’s Lahore, it’s Lahore,” Roger responded. He looked back through the window and gave Ryan a small nod. Ryan nodded back.

  “If you say so, I’m headed to Lahore, let me know if you have updates,” Mario chattered back.

  “Will do,” Ryan said into his mic, then looking at Ryan he cocked his head indicating he should follow. As the two men made their way down the steps, they saw Doug on foot tearing down the alley.

  Doug leaned against the coping of his Hummer’s turret. “So, do you think they’ll be in there?” he asked Clayton.

  “I think so,” Clayton said off hand.

  “Twenty bucks?” Doug inquired.

  “What? No. I don’t bet on things when someone’s life is on the line. Those are our men up there,” Clayton shot back with disgust.

  “Why? Do you think the rag heads are up there, waiting to hear this conversation before planning their move? Do you think any of our team is going to be more or less careful based upon this bet? Do you think God’s in heaven doing nothing but waiting until you place a wager with me, so he can snuff out one of our guys just to teach you a lesson? Come on.”

  Clayton paused, “I’m not saying I’m betting but I’d think they had to be prepared for this contingency and if this is in fact a safe house they’d have been smart enough to fortify it to hold out on an attack with the light arms we brought, so they should be holed up.”

  “Nah, these guys talk a great game and many really are willing to blow themselves up for the cause, but they lack conviction. They lack the conviction to do the daily work that needs to be done. Fortifying a place like this takes time. It’s something that needs to be worked on. I bet they haven’t worked on it. They are relying on the fact that they know the area, they know the people and the blend in. It’s easier than doing heavy labor on any given Tuesday to set up the apartment the right way,” Doug concluded.

  “You think?” Clayton thought about Doug’s statement.

  “I think twenty dollars worth,” Doug looked over at Clayton in the other Hummer.

  “Fine, I could use the money.” As the word money drifted out of Doug’s mouth the two men heard a shocking crash and the banging of metal on metal. “What was that?”

  “That was me, winning the bet,” Clayton said. He braced both hands on the outside of the turret and vaulted himself over the edge of his Hummer. He landed on the ground in a crouch and took off sprinting for the alley.

  Just then a noise emanated from the darkened doorway to the building. In a smooth flash Clayton was behind the butterfly triggers of his .50 caliber cannons with the barrels aimed at the doorway.

  The radio crackled, “It’s just us, we’re coming out, they aren’t up there.” Clayton cursed slightly under his breath as Doug disappeared around the corner.

  Ajmal and Zemar ran down the dusty alleyway out onto the packed dirt of Lahore. The popular street had steady car traffic and was moderately populated with foot traffic on the sidewalk. Zemar grabbed Ajmal’s arm and slowed the man, “Let’s blend in.” The two men dropped to a walking pace, threw their respective backpacks over their backs and strolled into the crowd.

  Doug rounded the corner onto Lahore and nearly ran over two women in full black burkas. The ladies let out a muffled scream from under the dark hoods. Doug caught them both to prevent them from falling. “Sorry ladies,” he said but he was already scanning the street. A smattering of old cars trailed up and down the road but none looked in a hurry. People wandered the street, talking, looking in store windows or just trying to get somewhere, but no one stood out as being too much in a hurry.

  “Damn, I think I lost them,” Doug said into the mic.

  “Don’t tell us that,” came Russ’ voice.

  Doug continued to scan the street, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. He concentrated at those headed away from him. Even if trying to blend in, he didn’t expect the two men would head back toward them. Doug saw the backs of a group of students. They laughed and talked. He noticed an older couple, holding hands. Him in his traditional robes and her draped in the customary burqa. He saw two men in backpacks. Something didn’t seem quite right. He couldn’t put his finger on it until he noticed the slighter of the two men breathing heavily. As if he was having trouble getting his breath, like from a combination of effort and adrenaline.

  “Got ‘em,” Doug whispered into his mic. He headed off after them, using a brisk pace but not trying spook them. Doug fell in a few steps behind the duo. One man was staring straight ahead, while the other did his best to check behind them using the reflection in store windows. Doug walked a little closer to the store windows than natural but not too close. Too close and he’d be spotted out of the man’s peripheral vision. But walking the natural line meant he’d show up in the reflections in the windows. Basically it was like a car’s blind spot and the key was to stay at the correct angle.

  The game of cat and mouse played out for two blocks until the man who hadn’t been checking for a tail did something unexpected. He turned around. In games such as these, there were rules, best practices to follow. Simply turning around to look behind you wasn’t in them. Doug tried to act casual but he was more than a little conspicuous in his fatigues, combat vest and helmet. When the young man made eye contact, Doug was not sure what to do, so he gave a little nod and kept his pace.

  Ajmal turned back around. For three more paces Doug thought he might have gotten away with it. Then the two men took off. “Crap, they made me,” Doug fired into his mic, no longer trying to or needing to be quiet, “They are headed up Lahore. Wait, they are headed across the street, west side of the street. Wait, they are stopping a car, they are carjacking the driver.” Doug stopped giving updates and took off running. This was his last good chance to catch them.

  “There is an American soldier behind us,” Ajmal told Zemar once he’d turned back around.

  “How did I not see him,” Zemar asked, “Never mind. We will have to make a run for it.” Pausing for a moment Zemar looked around. Obviously trying to blend in wasn’t working. Force was a list ditch--and most likely suicidal--option. Say what you will about the Americans, they were usually well trained and well equipped. So they needed to flee. Outrunning the American hadn’t worked. Just then Zemar saw an early ‘80s Peugeot 505 being driven slowly north by an older man. “Follow me,” Zemar said and he ran into the road.

  Ajmal followed him without knowing where they were going. Zemar jogged in front of the 505, making sure it had to come to a stop to avoid him. Once it was stopped he darted to the driver’s door. The old man at the wheel looked confused as Zemar opened the door.

  “What can I help you with?” the old man offered while instinctively raising his hands in a submissive manner.

  “You can get out of the car,” Zemar said, brandishing the weapon he’d been holding. With his free hand, Zemar jerked the door open, grabbed the old driver and pulled him roughly to the ground. Without even looking back he stepped over him and got into the still running car. Ajmal looked confused but followed suit on the passenger side. “Now let’s see these guys follow us,” Zemar said as he took the engine up to 5,000 RPM and dumped the clutch. The thin, nearly bald tires spun on the dust covered streets for just a moment before biting. The car surged forward.

  “They just took off in an old car of some sort, I think it used to be red and white, though it’s now more yellow and pink,” Doug said into his mic, as he pulled up from running in the middle of the street. He heard a lot of familiar noise behind him and turned to see his and Clayton’s Hummers behind him, blocking the roadway.

  “Need a lift sailor?” Clayton joked.

  “I…am…not…a…sailor,” Doug emphasized each word with
pride, “Infantry, feet on the street.” Doug launched himself up the front of his Hummer, stepping on the bumper, hood, roof then dropping neatly into the turret. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Clayton said with a laugh. Doug shot him a dirty look that Clayton either didn’t see because of the combat goggles or ignored. The big V8s growled and the heavy machines lumbered ahead, building speed methodically more than swiftly. Clayton’s Hummer took lead and soon enough the Hummers were hurtling through the streets at speeds that matched the smaller car’s speed. The Peugeot was smaller and lighter, the Hummers were wider and had professional drivers behind the wheel.

  “We’re headed north on Zekira, we’re headed east on Tamilin,” Clayton chattered into the radio, keeping Mario informed of where they were going. Clayton added to Doug, “Head over a block, but let him see you. We don’t want him taking a right and heading back into town. Let’s keep him heading North-East.”

  “You got this?” Russ asked Mario over the wind, screeching tires and the howl of the engine. At one point Russ heard the rub of the tire on the inside of the wheel well as Mario was able to get the Hummer’s long suspension to bottom out in a sharp corner Russ didn’t think they’d make, but they did.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got this,” Mario growled, never taking his eyes off the road.

  “OK,” Russ continued, “Because I was just asking, I mean I can come down and take the wheel if you don’t think you can handle this.” Russ was grinning ear to ear as he continued to chide Mario but at the same time he held onto the turret’s rim, trying to keep him from banging too hard on the edge as Mario made the truck do things it was never designed to do.

  “Shut up before I come up there and kick your ass while driving with my feet. Hell, I’d drive better with my feet than you could.”

  “Probably,” Russ agreed and quieted down, letting Mario get back to what he was doing.

  Clayton’s voice came over the radio, ”Where are you guys?”

  “Thirty seconds,” Mario said jerking the wheel left, “Any chance you can get him to take a left in the next few blocks? This part of the city is a straight grid, I can adjust once I know which street he’s on.”

  “You got it,” Doug’s voice came over the radio.

  “You heard the man,” Doug shouted to his driver, “Go drive him.” Before he finished his statement, Doug’s back was pressed a little deeper against the back of his turret. The engine note went from a roar to a howl as the turbos spun to full capacity. The suspension thudded and chattered across the road surface. At thirty miles an hour, the pavement would seem smooth but at eighty every bump and seam was magnified.

  The big vehicle picked up a bit more speed. The wind whipped off the side of the buildings on either side of the narrow road and slapped back at Doug. Doug ignored the tiny pecks and concentrated on the road ahead. He was looking for a road on which they could take a left, to drive the Peugeot to Russ and Mario but there did not seem to be much ahead. There was a small alley, much too small for the Hummer and they’d lose too much speed trying to make the corner. As his eyes shot further up the road his body shot right. The right side of his abdomen, where there was no body armor, slammed into the Hummer.

  The tires shrieked and started to bounce up and down like jack hammers. The entire vehicle started to rotate and the tire’s traction broke free. The front and rear corners of the giant truck barely missed two cars parked on either side of the road. Doug’s head snapped right as if someone had dropped a sack of cement on it from the side. He held on with both hands.

  As the big vehicle slowed just a bit, the wheels regained traction. Doug relaxed a tiny bit. With traction restored they would drag to a halt quickly. He would figure out what went wrong first, then start yelling. But Doug’s moment of relaxation was quickly snapped. Rather than hearing the engine continue to lop along, idling while the car drifted to a stop, the engine suddenly came to life with a building rush of energy. The wastegates popped like little fire crackers and pebbles pinged the walls behind the them.

  Suddenly the wheels bit and the car shot forward. Initially Doug thought they were headed at the store fronts until he realized their objective was actually the tiny alley Doug had discounted as being too narrow. The wide truck hurtled at the narrow gap that did not seem to be widening as they headed toward it. As they slid between the buildings the driver’s side of the hood scraped the corner, then both side mirrors were flattened to the side of the vehicle with a loud crash and a spray of glass. Finally the passenger side rear quarter panel grazed the wall and the truck aligned itself with the alley. They fit, not by much, but they fit.

  As they hurtled down the alley with inches on either side, Doug’s driver pushed the truck even harder. Within seconds they bounded out of the alley, a few car lengths ahead of the 505. The brakes squealed for a brief moment scrubbing off some speed then the car darted left. Clayton’s Hummer, which was close behind, made the same left clipping a light pole and sending it to the ground. Doug was slammed forward and his Hummer’s brakes clamped down and the truck scrubbed off speed. Doug could hear cursing from inside as the Hummer hit and ran up onto two cars parked on the far side of the road.

  Finally the engine cut out and it seemed almost too silent. Doug heard more cursing from inside the cab. He ducked down and said, “Listen, you did a good job, you got him turned left. Few others could have made that turn down the alley and who knows how long it would have been waiting for the next road. You drove him left, which was all that was asked of you. Great job.” He patted his driver on the shoulder, “Will this thing still drive?”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course it will,” the driver said.

  “Then let’s fire it back up and let’s head over to see the victory,” Doug said. The Hummer rolled back off of two cars, the front of a brick red sedan and the tail of a puke green compact. The owners could file a grievance with the US Army to have the damages paid for. The truck hit the ground with the sound of scraping metal and a large whump. It bounced for a second on its suspension but after a quick check, it seemed no worse for the wear.

  “Where is he?” Russ asked.

  The radio crackled, followed by Clayton shouting, “Not sure. Doug is one street over and in position to drive him over but there’s no place for him to cut across. I’m right behind him, I’ll see what I can do.” Kneeling a bit, he shouted into the cabin at his driver rather than use the intercom, “It doesn’t look like Doug is going to be able to steer this guy left, we’ll need to do it, go get ‘em.”

  The driver already had the throttle of the Hummer nailed to the floorboard but somehow found a few more millimeters of travel. The driver headed up on the left side but the 505 darted right before they could nose around. The Hummer hit the 505 in the rear but it didn’t even dent the bumper of the legendarily stout Peugeot.

  Clayton’s driver dropped back and tried to get around to the left with similar results. Dropping back yet again, Clayton’s driver feinted up the left side then at the last moment zigged right. The ploy worked, the Peugeot didn’t move right and the Hummer’s nose came up on the right side. Then Clayton and his driver realized why the Peugeot hadn’t moved right. It wasn’t because they’d been fooled but because a 1970s Volkswagen Beetle was parked half on and half off the curb.

  “Christ,” the Clayton’s driver cursed as he jerked the wheel left. The nose of the Hummer did succeed in ripping off the plastic cover to the 505’s bumper but didn’t cause any real damage and didn’t slow the car’s speed. The Beetle did not fare as well. The right corner of the Hummer clipped the left rear of the tiny car. Being rear engine and rear drive, all the weight was in the rear, so as the Hummer spun the back end, the car pivoted around the rear and the nose slammed into the rear wheel of the Hummer. The truck bounced and it rolled up and over the nose of the Beetle.

  “That’s going to leave a mark,” Clayton joked as the large vehicle bounced back to earth. A couple of the team members eked out nervous chu
ckles. “OK, now what?” Clayton asked his driver.

  “I don’t know, I’m thinking,” Clayton’s driver snapped back a bit harsher than he meant to.

  Clayton looked forward at the speeding Peugeot trying to form a plan when the road fifty yards ahead suddenly filled with what looked like a wall. In the split second it took Clayton to realizer the wall wasn’t a wall but Doug’s Hummer, his driver was already slamming on the brakes. The 505 locked up its front discs for a brief moment too. Then the driver of the more agile car released the brake, gunned the engine and cracked the car hard down a side straight.

  “Well that will work,” Clayton said, the big Hummer’s engine surged to follow the little car. The truck aimed for the small road to the left, clipped the far wall and continued the chase. Clayton shot a quick salute to Doug’s Hummer which was now sitting high on two cars that had the unfortunate chance to be parked across from the alley.

  “They are coming to you,” Clayton said into his mic as a small grin crossed his face. The wind picked up speed and the dust bit his cheeks a bit more but he didn’t care. He knew this was coming to an end, they were going to get their man.

  Russ’ radio chirped, “They are coming your way.”

  “Did you hear that Mario?” Russ asked.

  “What? Was I supposed to be listening to the radio?” Mario replied with heavy sarcasm, “Of course I got that. Now, how much finesse do I need in the stop?”

  “None, just get him stopped, but don’t put them in the hospital, we need the alive and able to talk,” Russ replied.

  “Sure thing boss,” Mario answered. Mario scanned the road ahead and saw about half a block up the road from where the Peugeot would enter, were two cars double parked. He drifted off the gas a bit and the Hummer’s engine deepened a little.