by Mark Gilleo
Dan again checked the time. Time to head back and have a drink, he thought.
*
Five minutes later, Dan was on the darkest section of the block with the outline of the front steps to his apartment building in the distance. In the dim light, a nightcap with a good-looking brunette police detective danced through his mind.
Then he smelled patchouli oil.
Dan heard the footsteps behind him a split second before the man with the tattooed hand appeared to his front, stepping up from the entrance to an English basement of an old townhouse.
Where is number three? Dan wondered.
“Are you Dan?” the man with the tattooed hand asked in the darkness.
Judging by his silhouette, Dan assessed the man as tall and thin, his favorite physical attributes for an adversary in a confrontation without weapons.
“Depends on who wants to know,” Dan replied.
“We want to know, asshole,” the man with the dangling earring replied from Dan’s rear. Dan felt a hand shove him in the back and he stumbled forward for show, taking the opportunity to move to the flank. From his new position, with a townhouse somewhere behind him, Dan now had a dim panoramic view of his two new friends.
“Move,” the man with the tattoo said, unofficially announcing himself as the leader.
“Where are we going?” Dan asked.
“That way,” the man said, pointing in the direction of a dark street corner opposite Dan’s apartment building.
Interesting choice, Dan thought.
“I’m not carrying any money, fellas,” Dan said, raising his hands slowly. And if you want the four hundred dollars in my back pocket, you are going to have to take it. And that means putting hands on me. And that means subsequent medical attention. Maybe for all of us, but certainly for both of you…
“Put your arms down,” the man with the earring said sternly. “This isn’t a robbery.”
Dan did as he was told and peered into the dimly lit air to count the visible hands of his new friends. Concealed hands usually equated to concealed weapons. A cursory glance allowed Dan to register two visible hands, two concealed hands. Two perps, each with a weapon, Dan thought. And one missing perp, though I’m pretty sure he’s anything but missing.
Dan stepped down the sidewalk in the direction indicated by the man with the hand tattoos.
Nearing the dark street corner, with Dan walking in the middle position between the two perpetrators, a woman’s voice cut through the air. All heads turned in the direction of the sidewalk behind them.
“Looks like you could use some help,” Detective Emily Fields said, slowly coming into view as she reached the helmet party on the sidewalk. Her badge was hooked to her belt and her service pistol was in her grip. The men on either side of Dan exchanged glances and the man with the earring stepped away, opening space on the sidewalk and giving Emily two angles to consider. She responded by raising her Glock to eye level.
The man with tattoos said something in Spanish and the man with the earring started to laugh.
Dan did the honor of translating.
“They don’t care if you’re a police officer.”
“And my gun doesn’t care if I read them their rights.” Emily retorted in Spanish.
Dan watched the leader with the tattooed hand and waited for him to realize Spanish would not be a refuge for concealing communication.
“Thanks for the help, Officer, but I think I got this,” Dan said, winking at Emily in the faint light.
As Emily slowly stepped forward, pistol drawn, the missing third perpetrator appeared from between two parked cars and raised a knife to the side of Emily’s neck.
“Drop it,” the shorter, stockier man said, flashing a smile as if the group’s backup plan had worked flawlessly.
“I thought one of you was missing,” Dan said, hoping that Emily would understand there were no other actors scheduled to make an appearance in the play unfolding on the sidewalk.
Dan locked eyes with Emily and dipped his head as an indication for her to disarm. Emily complied and pressed the magazine release on her gun. She ejected the round from the gun’s chamber and it bounced into the darkness. A second later, both the magazine and gun clanked on the ground. The perpetrator with the knife on Emily’s neck moved to her rear. Then his desire for a weapon upgrade drove the man to a career-ending decision.
Stooping to pick up Emily’s discarded weapon and magazine, the man provided the split-second reprieve Emily needed. By the time he attempted to stand with improved weaponry, Emily had completed a stomp to the top of the man’s foot, a knee to the groin, and simultaneous carotid crushing blows to each side of the man’s neck. Through fleeting consciousness, the perp warily lunged at Emily and fell. The magazine and her service pistol slipped from the man’s hand and returned to the brick sidewalk. The entire assault was over in a matter of seconds.
Dan flashed a look of admiration and then his eye caught the movement of another knife, this one from the man with the tattooed hand in front of him. Dan noted the man’s grip on the knife and knew the assailant had experience with the weapon. Dan responded by moving into a standard knife defensive pose, his arms covering the center of his body, alternating high and low positions.
The man with the knife feigned a stab and Dan feigned a flanking move. The man’s second thrust with the knife was more accurate and Dan drove his forearm downward onto the wrist holding the knife. Despite the bone bruising impact, the man didn’t drop the weapon. Dan quickly tightened his grip on the wrist with the knife. The man fought Dan’s grasp as Dan cranked the man’s arm, spinning him in the direction of the cars parked along the curb.
*
In the seconds since dispatching the first man, Emily had reacquired the magazine for her service weapon and was reaching for the gun. The man with the earring, having seen his friend disabled, reached the unloaded weapon first and kicked the pistol down the sidewalk. The man followed the kick of the weapon with a kick directed at Emily’s head. The intended head shot missed as Emily raised her hands in defense. She blocked a third kick with her left forearm. The perpetrator’s subsequent punch was telegraphed and slow, and Emily sidestepped the incoming fist and drove her right elbow to the side of the man’s temple. Stunned, the man with the earring reached his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Not waiting to see the pocket surprise, Emily drove a kick to the testicles of the man with the earring, producing a grunt that quickly melted into a whimper. She immediately followed the family-jewel greeting with a knee to the face.
*
The leader of the group still held the knife in his hand and Dan still controlled the man’s wrist and arm. The sound of Emily jamming the magazine back into her Glock and racking the slide grabbed the attention of the knife-wielding man. The distraction provided by the loading of the gun was all Dan needed. With a sudden change in direction, Dan forced the perpetrators arm against the natural movement of every joint in the man’s limb. A crisp snap was followed by a muffled scream. The danger of the knife ended with the perpetrator’s torso crashing into a parked vehicle.
Dan turned and watched as Emily stepped into the space on the sidewalk between the two men lying at her feet. She had both hands on her service weapon, eyes focused down the barrel, her targets at pointblank range. The first man, who had received the simultaneous blows to his carotids, was already ambling to stand.
“Time to call it in, Dan. 911. Tell them you have an officer in need of assistance,” Emily said. She moved towards the building to gain a clear shot of the three men in varying states of recovery.
Dan glanced over as the man with the freshly broken arm also struggled to get vertical. Dan raised his foot, stepped on the man’s ribs, and pushed him back to the ground. Then Dan pulled out his phone to call 911.
The force of the bullet impacting Dan’s chest sent him staggering backwards. A second bullet hit the brick on the townhouse inches from Dan’s head. Dan slumped to the ground as Emily dove for cove
r. Crawling across the sidewalk, Emily reached Dan as his eyes closed. She grabbed his still open phone and completed the call to 911. Placing the phone on the ground as she barked out orders for immediate medical assistance and police backup, she began chest compressions interspersed with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Chapter 31
Wallace parked his squad car on the curb and ran into the emergency room at GW Hospital. Police shield in hand, he bypassed the half-dozen cases standing in line at the registration desk. The security guard on duty stepped forward to intercept Wallace, noticed the badge, and nodded.
“Dan Lord,” Wallace said tersely to the woman in purple scrubs behind the registration desk.
“Room six,” the woman replied, pointing down the light blue hall to her left. “He’s getting ready to be released.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Covered in perspiration, Wallace arrived at the doorway of the room and spotted Emily’s profile at the curtained partition on the right. Steps later, Wallace tugged the curtain to the side and entered. Dan was sitting upright on the adjustable bed, his pants on, a thick roll of ace bandages wrapped around his chest. A nurse stood next to his right arm, checking the printout of the EKG machine.
“Does someone want to explain exactly what the hell is going on?” Wallace said, pulling Emily to the side. “Dispatch reported he was shot and wasn’t wearing a vest.”
“He was shot. It hit. Center mass.”
“What am I missing? Someone’s going to have to start explaining.”
Emily tried not to smile. “Dan here has taken to wearing bulletproof clothing.” Emily nodded in Dan’s direction as if to highlight the living and breathing evidence receiving medical treatment.
“No injuries?” Wallace asked.
“Two broken ribs and one fantastic bruise in the making. But otherwise he’s fine.”
The nurse who had been checking Dan’s vitals turned away from her patient, slipped by Wallace and Emily, and exited while whispering something about men and guns.
“The nurse said I’m free to go,” Dan said. “And let me say, I had no idea how fast service at an emergency room could be. Turns out, if you come in with a police officer, you get to cut the line.”
“Smart ass. Damn near gave me a heart attack,” Wallace said.
“Time to get in shape.”
“You think this is funny?”
Emily interjected. “No, we don’t think it’s funny. We’re just a little ahead of you on the emotional roller coaster.”
“I don’t recall a psychology degree on your résumé. You want to give me the rundown of what happened?” Wallace asked.
“It started with a mugging,” Dan said.
“Another mugging?”
“An attempted mugging. Three men. Emily here took out two of them. She left me one for exercise.”
Wallace raised an eyebrow. “How considerate. Ever seen them before?”
“No. Well, I saw them ten minutes before on another block. They were walking the neighborhood.”
“And you let them follow you?”
“I didn’t let them do anything. The leader of the group addressed me by name before the altercation. It wasn’t random. The guys spoke Spanish.”
“MS-13?”
“They weren’t MS-13,” Dan and Emily said almost simultaneously.
“Why’s that?” Wallace asked.
Dan answered. “Because they were Mexicans. Different accent all together. MS-13 members are almost exclusively El Salvadorian.”
“I’ll have to brush up on my Rosetta Stone Spanish,” Wallace said. “Any ideas?”
“I have a few. Starting with the obvious. It was professional hit and whoever shot me wasn’t interested in your partner,” Dan said.
Wallace turned towards Emily. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Your new partner can certainly handle herself,” Dan chimed in.
“I guess the two of you are a match made in heaven.”
“I’ll take her in my corner any day of the week. She has a nice range of moves. Incapacitation stuff. Some Krav Maga. Some old school jujutsu. You could learn a thing or two.”
“We have a date for yoga tomorrow,” Wallace said. “Maybe I’ll start there.”
“Yoga? That’s manly.”
“It’s a start,” Wallace said, again turning towards Emily. “Not that it’s any of my business, but what you were doing in the neighborhood at that hour?”
“We were meeting to go over some of the details on the pusher case. Grab a beer. I was off duty.”
Emily blushed just enough for Wallace to see the possibility of a real date with Dan was on the table. Graciously, he changed the subject.
“No word on the perps yet,” Wallace said. “I heard the BOLO on the radio. We have a description of a getaway vehicle. A neighbor reported three men getting into a car around the corner from the crime scene.”
Dan responded. “Keep an eye on the hospitals. One has multiple fractures of his right arm. Heavy hand tattoos. If he ever wants to use his arm again, he is going to need to see a doctor. The other two are suffering from what is known in the medical community a serious ass whooping.”
“You want to tell me how they got away?”
“I was performing CPR.”
“On a person who had the wind knocked out of him and may have been momentarily unconscious,” Dan stated plainly.
“The rules of CPR are clear. Do not stop until you are relieved of your duties or are physically unable to continue.”
“Or if the patient starts speaking,” Dan added.
Emily grabbed Dan’s toe at the foot of the bed and twisted it.
“We were pinned down by a sniper who had us in a location of his choosing. Even if I hadn’t been incapacitated and Detective Fields wasn’t concerned for my well-being, the suspects probably would have slipped away. Taking cover was the first order of business,” Dan said. He moved his feet to the side of the bed and let them hang.
“What about this body armor you were wearing?” Wallace asked.
“It’s not body armor. I was wearing a shirt from a bulletproof clothing line.” Dan rubbed the ace bandage around his torso. “Fortunately for me it worked as advertised. Miguel Caballero earned my respect tonight.”
“Who the hell is Miguel Caballero?”
“A designer of high-fashion clothes. All of it bulletproof. He works out of Bogota, Colombia. You can probably guess the history of his company.”
Dan slipped his butt off the mattress and reached into the plastic storage bin on the frame under the bed. He grabbed his jacket and held the garment up to the light.
“There’s the hole, right there. Center mass,” Dan said. “Went right through the jacket and was stopped by the shirt.”
“Taking the Boy Scout motto of ‘Be Prepared’ a little far, don’t you think?” Wallace asked.
“You can never be too careful,” Dan replied. “I ordered a few items from Miguel after the little bombing incident at my office last year. It seemed prudent. I told you I have a long list of people in DC who don’t care for me.”
“I’m starting to not care for you.”
“What are you complaining about? I was the one who was shot. And that shirt cost a thousand bucks. I got a deal for ordering in bulk.”
“Good thing it wasn’t a head shot.”
“Professionals go for the torso first on a long shot.”
“Lucky for you.”
“Indeed.”
“You want a lift home?”
“I’ll pass. I have a few thing to do.”
“Revenge?”
“Not tonight. But there is something you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you keep me in the loop on the ballistic results? I would like to know the caliber of the gun that shot me.”
“Will do.”
“And another thing… it may be a good idea to stop by the Welli
ngton residence and inform the congressman of the specifics of this little incident face-to-face. He doesn’t need to know his wife hired a private detective and that the detective was the one who was shot, but I think everyone should cover his or her ass. This might be a prime opportunity to let Congressman Wellington know of a potential danger in the neighborhood. God forbid something does happen. You don’t want to be known as the detective who didn’t warn the congressman there was a serial killer on the streets.”
Wallace nodded. “I’ll make a call, but congressmen and senators fall under the security umbrella of the Capitol Police force, not Metropolitan Police. Everyone is a little touchy about their turf.”
“Are you saying they won’t do it?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying they will do it their way.” Wallace paused. “Just like someone else I know.”
Chapter 32
Wallace walked up behind Emily in the lobby of the City Gymnasium, which was neither a gymnasium nor in the city. The white building at the top of the hill near Seven Corners had spent decades as various department stores, swapping out names and signage with changes in ownership every few years. It wasn’t until the large building had been converted into a health club, and a stream of healthy bodies could be seen crossing the parking lot, that people considered the location as a place to stop.
Emily turned from the front desk and smiled at her partner. Then she handed him a key attached to an adjustable wristband.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Wallace said, small gym bag in his massive grip.
“I didn’t. You talked yourself into it with that ‘anything a girl can do’ comment.”
“That part is still true.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Our yoga class starts in fifteen minutes. After that, if you still feel like you need a workout, the wristband lets you do whatever you want for the entire day.”
Ten minutes later, dressed in workout battle fatigues, Wallace stood outside the door to the yoga room as sweaty bodies filed out. He leaned into Emily. “These guys sure did sweat.”