by C. G. Cooper
No one hesitated as they jumped in their respective vehicles and headed north.
+ + +
Cal looked into the back of the truck’s cab to see if Neil was up and running.
CAL: You getting anything yet?
NEIL: Nope. I probably won’t get a damned thing until Top makes the next call. I’m worried this guy’s gonna lose the phone and then we’re shit out of luck.
CAL: Alright then, let’s make the call, Top. Remember, keep him on the line as long as you. Say anything you need to.
Although he was driving, MSgt Trent pulled out the stolen cell and re-dialed Dante’s number on speaker. He picked up after the first ring.
DANTE: Where the fuck have you been?
MSGT TRENT: I’ve been in my truck.
DANTE: What do you mean, you’ve been in your truck? I told that fool to have you give…Wait a minute, who is this?
MSGT TRENT: This is the fool.
DANTE: What are you talkin’ about?
MSGT TRENT: I’m the fool you owe money to.
DANTE: Where are my two guys?
MSGT TRENT: Don’t you worry about them. They’re nice and cozy.
DANTE: Fool, if I find out you killed them, son…
MSGT TRENT: Don’t worry, Dante. Calm down. I didn’t kill ‘em. I’m just after my money.
DANTE: Fool, I don’t even know who you are, asshole.
MSGT TRENT: I’m the fool you owe money to.
Neil poked his arm through the two front seats with a thumbs-up signaling that he’d caught the cell phone trail. He’d silently told them that he’d need about a minute after latching on to the signal before he could get a better location. The convoy was still about ten minutes from their target.
Now West sounded amused.
DANTE: Fool, if I owed you money, you’d either be dead or on a payment plan by now. I don’t know you. And if I don’t know you, that means I don’t owe you.
Trent glanced at Cal who gave him the keep going signal.
MSGT TRENT: I said you owe me. I didn’t say that you know me. It was actually one of your boys that I took care of over in the shitty little house in East Nashville. Motherfucker stiffed me out of ten grand last month when I came to deliver supply. I asked him to pay me and he told me to talk to you. Something about it being YOUR business.
There was a pause on the other end as Dante weighed the new information. He wasn’t an idiot. He wanted to keep all the customers he could get. Gangster or not, he was still a businessman.
DANTE: Look man, I don’t know what that idiot told you but I never stiff my customers or my competition. This town is too small for that shit.
MSGT TRENT: That’s what surprised me. I’ve been doing business with your guys for a while and this was the first time I ever felt cheated. So what do we need to do to get me my money back?
Trent looked at Cal who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I can’t believe this guy is buying this.
DANTE: How about I have a little talk with my boy and I’m sure we can get this thing worked out.
MSGT TRENT: How about I come over to your place and we talk about it?
DANTE: Sorry, man, that I can’t do. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll call you back.
Trent looked at Cal again, who nodded.
MSGT TRENT: OK. Call me back.
The line went quiet as the call ended.
CAL: Nice job, Top. I guess he took the bait.
MSGT TRENT: Yeah, but I wouldn’t count him out yet. He’s like a cornered rat. A SMART cornered rat. I could almost see the wheels in his head turning. Did you see how fast he calmed himself down? This is one cool customer.
CAL (thoughtful): Yeah.
MSGT TRENT: So, have you figured out what we’re gonna do with this guy when we get him?
CAL: I figured we’d just have to see how it plays out. I’m sure, with the experience you guys have had in the past, we can hatch up some plan to dump him on the police without anyone knowing it was us.
MSGT TRENT: Now you’re thinking. We can’t let him know it’s us either. That would be bad for you AND for the company.
NEIL: Good thing we’ve got a bag full of black masks back here.
Neil raised a small duffel bag on the seat next to him.
There was silence for a minute as Cal digested the conversation and planning the upcoming action. Worst case, they would miss West. Best case, they would find him. Then what? Part of Cal wanted to see West die by his own hands. The realist in Cal pondered the idea and knew it wasn’t the logical outcome. He could not put his people in jeopardy or endanger their livelihood. Furthermore, he did not want to be known as the wayward son that brought down his dead father’s company.
Think, Cal, think.
He’d just come to a decision when Neil tapped him on the shoulder.
NEIL: Put this in your ear, the team’s checking in.
Cal glanced back as Neil handed him what looked like a miniature hearing aid.
CAL: What do I do with this thing?
NEIL: I forgot you haven’t used one of these yet. It’s one of my latest gadgets. The boys in the field love it. It’s going to let you communicate with the rest of the team. You’re the only one that everyone will be able to hear all the time until you tap the side there. (He pointed to the slightly raised edge on the side of the earpiece) Tap it once to talk.
CAL: How powerful is this thing?
NEIL: Thanks to my mad skills, it’s got a range of just over a mile. The battery is another one of my designs and will give you about twenty hours of straight use without recharging.
CAL: Nice.
Cal slipped the tiny piece of communication gear in his left ear. He tapped the side of the earpiece.
CAL: This is Snake Eye Six, teams check in, over.
Each of the six teams, including Brian and Andy, checked in with their respective assigned team numbers.
CAL: OK, listen up. We’re about five minutes out. When you get into position, I want your baby birds on the fly, over.
Each team confirmed. The quick plan Cal had laid out for the team prior to departure was that each pair would have one of the spy drones for easier reconnaissance. Upon final check in each team would launch their Baby Bird (Cal had named the drones much to the chagrin of Neil who thought they should be called something more sophisticated) and discretely recon the objective. It would be tricky in the light of day, but the miniature size of the Baby Birds decreased the likelihood of detection by curious civilians.
+ + +
DANTE (thinking out loud): Something’s not right about this.
Two of the hired guns glanced up in confusion and Dante just waived them back to their card game.
He mentally processed each of his customers and drug partners. He knew the two men running the operation that had apparently been raided by the mysterious caller. He’d made a quick call to one of his call girls to go take a peak inside. The soonest she could be there was in ten minutes.
Shit. Dante thought. He didn’t like other people having the upper hand. West didn’t like owing people either. It seemed like ever since that damn thing with Shorty he was neck deep in favors. He was a criminal, but a relatively honest one. His crew always delivered and never tread on some else’s territory unless provoked or if it was marked for acquisition by Dante himself. By keeping that tight rein on operations, N.O.N. had seen solid growth in income and recruitment since 2005. West did not want that to go to hell. So what should he do about this caller he supposedly owed money to?
+ + +
NEIL: I’ve got him!
CAL: Where is he?
Neil swiveled his laptop so Cal could see and tapped on the property address. Cal relayed the information to the rest of the teams. The net just got a lot tighter.
CAL: We’re five minutes out. Let’s get him back on the phone just to make sure.
MSgt Trent hit redial.
DANTE: Yeah?
MSGT TRENT: So did you find out where my money is?
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DANTE: Not yet.
MSGT TRENT: That’s not good, brother.
DANTE: I know, I know. Look, I’m working on it. It doesn’t help that I can’t get a hold of the two boys you handled.
MSGT TRENT: Not my problem, Dante. Maybe I should come by and visit.
DANTE: Look, man, I think you know that there’s no way I’m gonna tell you where I am, so how about we just calm down and wait.
MSGT TRENT: I’m not so good at waiting, Dante. What if I told you your boys told me where you’re hanging out?
The comment disturbed Dante. Deep down he knew there was no way his crew had snitched. Hell, he hadn’t even told them where he was hiding. He wasn’t stupid.
At the same time, the paranoid part of Dante West made him peek out the front window of the house. He didn’t see anything suspicious. Besides, he had a house full of firepower ready to defend himself. The problem was that he just couldn’t shake the confidence of this deep-voiced caller.
DANTE: I told you, man, there’s no way you know where I am. Give me another couple of minutes. I’ve got a girl going over to the house. In two minutes, I’ll know which of my boys I need to squeeze to get your money.
Trent looked over at Cal who motioned to draw out the conversation.
MSGT TRENT: What if I told you I’m on my way to your place right now, Dante?
DANTE: I’d say you’re bullshitting me.
West peered out the window again. The other men in the room had gone mute and were watching Dante.
MSGT TRENT: I don’t bullshit, Dante. I’m gonna get my money one way or another.
West put his cell phone on mute and yelled at his crew.
DANTE: Get up off your asses and pack your shit. I think we’ve got trouble coming.
The men started running around gathering their gear in a fairly organized manner. These men were not novices to danger. They already had their weapons at the ready as each headed for the back door and their escape vehicles.
Dante took his cell phone off mute.
DANTE: I’ve had enough of this conversation, man. Even if you are on your way, I’m gonna be gone. I’ll call you from another phone later, if I feel like it.
The conversation ended and the line went dead.
Cal tapped on his earpiece and started instructing his assault teams.
CAL: All teams, get the Baby Birds ready. Target is on the move, I repeat, target is on the move.
It was overkill to let his men know to prepare their firearms. These were veterans who rarely went to the bathroom without a weapon. They’d be ready when asked to execute. Each knew without being told that action within a civilian neighborhood required extreme caution. Firepower wouldn’t be used except as a last resort. As Standard Operating Procedure each member was given multiple tasers in the event close contact warranted non-lethal intervention.
As they rounded the second to last turn approaching the address provided by Neil, Cal pulled down his ball cap to conceal his face as much as possible. He didn’t think wearing a black mask in a neighborhood would be the most inconspicuous disguise. Besides, he wasn’t planning on letting Dante get a look at him.
The others didn’t bother with the masks either. No one really thought West would call the cops and describe them to a sketch artist.
Cal heard his earpiece beep and listened to team #3.
TEAM 3: Six this is Three. I think we just saw our target roll by. He’s in a nineties model maroon Honda Accord. Target is driving and there are four other targets inside. Big boys too. How copy, over?
CAL: Roger, let’s launch all Baby Birds now, keep…
TEAM 2: Six this is Two (Andy and Brian), we’ve got three other vehicles leaving the target address.
CAL: Dammit. All teams, any ideas on how to exploit this situation, over?
There was a pause as each team pondered the question they’d already been calculating. They all knew the danger of exposing themselves. A prolonged chase and shootout was not in anyone’s interest. It was Andy who spoke up first.
ANDY: Six, I think we need to go with Plan B.
Plan B was to call the local authorities and give them a good location on the wanted gang leader. Cal wrestled with the thought. He wanted nothing but to get the man who’d killed his beloved. But how could they take the man out without engaging a bunch of armed gang members in the middle of the city?
In the desert of the Middle East, he wouldn’t have thought twice. The decision would’ve been easy. This war was a different story. His team wasn’t riding to battle in armored vehicles and combat gear. They were pursuing a wanted criminal in the heart of America wearing normal clothes and carrying a few measly weapons. Cal knew what he had to do.
CAL: Roger that. I’ll make the call.
Cal picked up the disposable cell phone that Neil had provided at step-off and dialed the number for Nashville’s Metro Police Department. He relayed the pertinent information to the operator then hung up twenty seconds later.
His head hung down for a couple seconds and then he looked at his friends.
MSGT TRENT: Don’t worry, Cal, the cops won’t get this guy. We’ll find him later.
Cal nodded and looked back at his cell phone. If only he could use it to call in some artillery support or even some 30mm mortar rounds. As he daydreamed, he heard reports from the teams. West was slipping through their fingers.
TEAM 2: Six, Two, the cars have split up onto different roads, over.
TEAM 4: Six, Four, still have eyes-on target with Baby Bird, over.
TEAM 3: Six, Three, still have eyes on target. Target is speeding up, over.
TEAM 3: Six, Three, cops just spotted target’s car. Wait one…lights are on, target is speeding up, over.
TEAM 2: Six, Two, the two cars we’re following just sped up too, over.
TEAM 4: Six, Four, target is outpacing Baby Bird, over.
TEAM 3: Six, Three, trying to casually keep up with the chase, but they’re really moving now, over.
Cal looked up and tapped his earpiece.
CAL: All teams break pursuit and meet-up at rendezvous point Charlie, out.
His face covered in silent frustration, Cal took the earpiece out, bent toward the console, and turned on the police scanner.
+ + +
DANTE: Where the fuck did this guy come from?!
Dante accelerated through the red light. His four passengers looked back toward the trailing police cruiser.
One minute they’d been driving down Dickerson Pike matching the speed limit, then some cop had turned on his lights and pulled up behind them.
Not easily scared, West was now completely spooked. First, the call from the mysterious money collector and now the cops were onto him? This was the fourth car he’d had since being on the run. All the tags were legit and the car wasn’t stolen. What the hell was going on? Was it possible the guy on the phone was a cop?
As he let that thought tumble through his mind, he continued to accelerate and speed through intersections. He swerved to miss cars and put more distance between him and the now fading cop car. He’d had each of his escape rides specially equipped with new racing engines straight out of one of Fast and Furious. The cops didn’t stand a chance unless they got a helicopter up above. West wasn’t going to give them that opportunity.
Being the savvy criminal that he was, he’d already planned out multiple contingencies for escape. Right now, he was on his way to one of his many safe houses where he’d pick up another ride and move from there.