by Bill Craig
“What the fuck indeed, Hernandez? We need to talk to you about Carter Hill,” Moseby told him.
“Who the fuck are you people?” Hernandez asked, heatedly.
“Tampa Homicide, asshole,” Moseby told him. That brought the guy up short.
“Homicide? Why you want to talk to me? I didn’t kill nobody!” Hernandez was quick to tell them.
“We never said you did, Tony,” Lucy told him, smiling at him.
“Then why the fuck you here?”
“Did you know Carter Hill?” Moseby asked.
“I know Carter. We served together over in the sandbox. Why you asking about him?”
“Because he’s dead. Somebody murdered him, and we are trying to find out why,” Lucy said.
“Carter’s dead? Son of a bitch!” Hernandez shook his head.
“Do you know of anybody that might have wanted to kill him?” Moseby asked.
“Not here, no. But, over in the sandbox? Plenty.”
“The sandbox?” Lucy looked confused.
“What we call Iraq and Afghanistan. Desert country, in effect. So, ‘the sandbox’, as we call it,” Hernandez explained.
“You work with any black ops units over there? Anybody that might have reached out to Carter Hill after he got back home?” Moseby asked.
“I can only think of one. A real strange dude named Cristo. He was one scary motherfucker! He took a liking to Carter after we backed his team on a few missions. Carter had transferred to his unit before he mustered out.”
“I was just glad to get the fuck back home,” Hernandez told them.
“This Cristo, did he have a first name?” Moseby asked.
“Not that I can remember. But he was a Marine Major. That much I do remember,” Hernandez told them.
“That helps, Tony. It helps a lot,” Lucy told him. She looked over at Moseby. He nodded, indicating that he had no more questions. “We’ll show ourselves out,” she told him.
“I sure hope so!” Hernandez said, meaning every word of it.
Chapter Eleven
“We should be able to locate this Major Cristo through the government,” Garrett said, as they left the building and started towards their unmarked car.
‘It would be good to know who we are up against,” Lucy agreed.
“It would. He said Cristo was Black Ops, which means he was probably Special Forces before that.”
“Which means what? Green Beret? Ranger?”
“At least one, if not both. One thing is certain, he’s a deadly motherfucker for sure.”
“And so are the men with him,” Lucy sighed, as they climbed into the car and pulled away from the curb.
“Yes, and they are killing cops as a distraction. We know that now. The only thing we don’t know is where they are and what their target is,” Moseby replied.
“I’ve been giving that last one a lot of thought. I think they are going to hit one of the Federal Reserve banks in town,” Lucy offered.
“The Federal Reserve banks are hard nuts to crack,” Moseby said thoughtfully, as he guided the car through the afternoon traffic.
“Normally, yes. But not when every cop in the city is occupied with out of control rioting in the streets. You know how hard it was to stop last night even with the National Guard’s help. The word I’ve heard is that the governor has authorized the guard to shoot into the rioters with live rounds if it gets out of control,” Lucy explained.
“Doesn’t that fool realize how much worse that will make things? Tampa will end up burning if that happens and there won’t be a damn thing that we can do to stop it,” Moseby sighed.
“I’ll call our FBI friends and see if they can talk some sense into him,” Lucy said, pulling out her phone.
“Good luck with that,” Moseby told her, as she dialed Casey Rawlings who picked up quickly.
“Rawlings,” Casey answered her cell.
“We have a name,” Lucy French’s voice sounded in her ear.
“That’s great. What is it?”
“Major Cristo, former Black Ops Commander. Also, word has it that the governor has authorized the National Guard to use live ammo tonight if attacked by protestors.”
“Is he an idiot?”
“That is an understatement.”
“Okay. I’ll have Kendall give him a call. He might listen to her. Also, I’ll run your man Cristo through our databases and see what I can find,” Casey told her. She hung up the phone and glanced over at her partner.
“The Florida State Governor has authorized the National Guard to shoot rioters tonight,” Casey said.
“He must be a special kind of stupid. Doesn’t he realize that will only make things worse?” Kendall Royce asked, shaking her head.
“Moseby and French were hoping you might be able to talk some sense into him.”
“I doubt it. Maybe the attorney general can.”
“That is way above my pay grade. Also, they got a name, a Major Cristo, a former Black Ops specialist. They think he might be the one behind the cop killings,” Casey explained.
“Call Quantico and have them run him. They ought to be able to turn up something, especially if he’s a CIA asset.”
“You think he might be? CIA, I mean,” Casey asked.
“I think that it is possible,” Royce replied.
“Well, shit,” Casey said, softly.
“That pretty much sums it up.”
*****
Wilson Brown entered the church. He hoped that the Reverend Hal was there. He didn’t want to talk to nobody else. The parsonage was in the back and that was where Wilson headed. Reverend Hal had kept Wilson from getting involved with gangs, paying him a weekly allowance for doing odd jobs around the church along with a few other kids. Wilson had seen friends who were gunned down in drive-by shootings because they had chosen to run with gangs instead of staying away. It had broken his heart, but it had, also, shown him that he was on the right path.
Wilson knocked on the office door. “Come in,” called a familiar voice. Wilson pushed the door open and was surprised to see Miss Loretta sitting in the chair across from Reverend Hal. Wilson felt his throat closing in shock. He hadn’t been aware that the two knew each other.
“Hey there, Wilson, come on in,” Reverend Hal said, smiling broadly. Miss Loretta looked at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Suddenly, Wilson felt very uncomfortable.
“You’re busy, Reverend, it can wait,” Wilson told him, starting to back out of the room.
“Nonsense, Wilson. Miss Loretta was just telling me how much help you have been to her and her organization in these dark days,” Hal smiled at him.
“I’m happy to be of assistance, sir, ma’am. I just . . . I gotta go, I got things to get done before the march tonight,” Wilson said, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. He took off at a run and ran as fast as he could to get out of the church. Who could he trust? He had to tell somebody about what he had overheard, but who?
Even Cristo checked his watch. It was almost time. He took a moment to look over his team. They had all been briefed and everyone knew their job, even the replacements. This robbery should go off without a hitch. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a number that he had on speed dial. Somebody answered on the other end. “Get the ball rolling,” Cristo ordered. Then he hung up and looked at the men in the room. “Gear up, it is time to rock and roll!”
*****
Kendall Royce did not look happy when she got off the call to the Governor of Florida. Her expression alone was enough to tell Casey that things had not gone as planned. “So, no good news?” Casey asked, as Royce joined her.
“None that you would notice. The governor is adamant that the Guard will shoot to kill if violence breaks out during tonight’s protest. His very words were, and I quote, “These animals need to learn that we will not back down to their demands!” Royce sighed.
“Doesn’t he realize what is going to happen if he goes through with that?” Rawlings as
ked, stunned at the news.
“I don’t think he even cares,” Royce replied, with a huff.
“Then the whole city is fucked.”
“Pretty much.”
*****
Garrett Moseby answered on the first ring and listened to what Rawlings had to say. He lowered his head, took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Thanks for the update,” he told Rawlings before breaking the connection.
“What is it?” Lucy asked him.
“Bad news. The governor refuses to back down, even with the FBI and the Justice Department leaning on him.”
“That can’t be good.”
“It is not.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“We find these assholes and we take them out,” Moseby said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I like that idea,” Lucy told him.
“I thought that you might,’ Moseby chuckled.
“It’s not original, but it works.”
“Call Healy and tell him what’s going on here. We need to stop the Guard from firing on the protestors tonight if things get hairy. Maybe Healy can talk some sense into the governor,” Royce ordered.
“Let’s hope so,” Rawlings said, as she dialed the Tampa office of the FBI and asked to speak to Special Agent Eric Healy.
“Healy,” he answered.
“Boss, this is Agent Rawlings. We’ve got one hell of a problem,” Casey started. Speaking quickly, she outlined the fact that the governor was ordering the National Guard troops to fire on protestors if things got violent for a third night in a row.
“Well, shit! Okay, I’ll give him a call and see if I can talk some sense into him,” Healy advised, before hanging up. Casey looked over at Royce.
“SAC Healy says he’ll do what he can.
*****
Moseby and French were back at headquarters with a street map of the city taped to the wall in the conference room. Lucy was calling out the street addresses of the Federal Reserve Banks and Moseby was putting green pins at each location on the map. It didn’t take long since there were not that many. Captain Stanley walked in as they worked. Moseby was now placing red pins at the site of each police ambush and officer involved shooting of a black or white person.
“What have you got?” The captain asked.
“Well, the red pins are where our officers were targeted. The green pins are the Federal Reserve Banks in town. Look at them and tell me what you see,” Moseby said.
“Okay,” Stanley said, stepping forward to study the map. He looked at it for a couple of minutes, just soaking it in, his mind quickly adding and dismissing patterns until only one remained. “I see it,” he said, finally.
“We think this is all about setting up a robbery. We also think that they are planning on hitting the Federal Reserve Bank while the entire force is occupied dealing with the riots,” Lucy said.
“All these dead officers just to stage a bank robbery? It sounds a little far-fetched to me,” Stanley said, doubtfully.
“The killers have made no demands, but they have put BLM propaganda at each ambush site. It makes sense, Captain Stanley,” Moseby confirmed.
“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. I’m still not totally convinced.”
“My gut tells me I am right, sir. That’s always been enough in the past.”
“This isn’t like any case you’ve ever worked in the past, Garrett. This time we’re sitting on a fucking time bomb that can burn this city to the ground unless we can put a stop to it. Not to mention the fact that the idiot in the governor’s mansion has authorized the National Guard to fire on the crowds at the first sigh of violence!” Stanley roared.
“That is exactly what we are trying to stop, Captain Stanley.” Lucy cut in, giving her partner a warning look as he balled his hands into fists. She knew her partner was just about ready to take a swing at the captain, a move that would end his career.
“Fine. I’ll give you two units, the rest are going to be watching the protest march,” Stanley told her.
“Thank you, sir,” Lucy told him. Captain Stanley turned and headed out of the room. She looked over at Moseby who was taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly to calm himself. His hands were no longer clenched into fists. It was a good sign.
“You did good, Luce,” he told her.
“That your way of saying thank you for keeping you from doing something stupid?” She smiled at him.
“You could call it that,” Moseby said, smiling back.
“Were you really about to punch him out?” Lucy asked.
“I was. He’s acting like a dick.”
“That is really part of his job description.”
“Maybe. He gave us two cars. So, let’s put them to use in the best possible way.”
“We can do that.” Then she asked, “Where do you want them?”
“Both need to be within easy reach of the two Federal Reserve Banks on the far side of town. We’ll be closer.”
“Gar, what do you really think is going on?” Lucy asked him.
“I think a rogue military unit is going to hit the Fed Reserve tonight.”
“Do you think that they are active military?” Luce asked.
“No, that doesn’t feel right. I think these assholes are ex-military, but they think that the country turned their back on them,” Moseby replied.
“Why is that?” French asked.
“Because the system is fucked, Lucy. It cost less to train a new soldier than it does to fix a Vet,” Moseby told her.
Chapter Twelve
Moseby drove as they headed for the bank that was the farthest away from where all the riots and marches were taking place. It made sense, though Captain Stanley had chosen to disregard their theory. “When we get there, you take the shotgun,” he told French.
“Got it, Gar. You got anything extra in the trunk? Besides our vests?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah, an M-16 and a bag full of extra magazines for the rifle and out pistols and a box of double ought buckshot for the shotgun.”
“I always knew you were a boy scout.”
“Nope, I just like to plan ahead, especially given the recent attacks on cops and the damned riots.”
“Right.” Lucy rolled her eyes at him.
“One of these days, those eyes are gonna roll right out of your head,” Moseby told her.
“Yes, mom,” Lucy giggled.
“What?”
“My mother used to tell me the same thing when I was a teenager,” Lucy laughed.
“God is going to get you for that,” Moseby flashed her a grin.
Lucy smiled. This was the Garrett Moseby that she was used to, not the angry cop that he had become when their brother officers had started being gunned down.
They reached the street a block away from the bank that Moseby had figured for the target. One of the other cars was staking out the other bank, and the second car was acting as a roving patrol between the two banks. Moseby pulled up to the curb and parked. They got out and went to the trunk and geared up in vest and extra gear and then got back in the car.
“So, what now?” Lucy asked him.
“Now, we wait.”
*****
“Kendall,” Casey called after her partner. Royce stopped and turned to wait on her.
“What have you got, Casey?” Kendall Royce asked.
“I just a call from Moseby and French. They are pretty sure that the guys behind the cop killings are ex-military and that the shootings were a ruse to cover up a robbery of one of the Federal Reserve Banks in town,” Casey told her.
“Did he say which one?”
“He and French are at the one on the opposite side of town from the marches and riots are taking place. They have a second car covering the other bank in that area,” Casey reported.
“It sounds like they may be on to something,” Royce nodded.
“So, how do you want to do this?”
“I think that we’ll join your new friends. Everybod
y here is caught up in helping handle the marchers and possible violent protestors. Even the SAC didn’t want to hear me out.”
“Wow. Okay. So, what now?
“Now we go back up Moseby and French,” Royce shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door. Rawlings following at her heels.
*****
Evan Cristo and his men were in three cars. He had called the men he had hired to cause trouble and made sure that they were planted within the marchers and the counter-protestors and gave them the go ahead to start the violence.
“Get ready, boys, we are about to hit the mother lode!” Cristo told his men as they approached the bank. “Let’s get this mission over with and then we can retire to some place in South America with no extradition.”
“Sounds good, boss,” one of his men called back.
*****
Wilson Brown headed for the police headquarters. He hoped that somebody there would believe what he had to say. If there was a chance to stop the violence, he knew that he had to take it. The fact that there were so many outsiders taking part in the march intending to cause more chaos was a troubling thing to the young man.
Wilson felt a chill run down his spine and he saw all the uniformed officers pulling on riot gear. He had a bad feeling about what was about to go down this night. He hoped that he could reach somebody who had enough power to do some good.
The desk sergeant was an older black gentleman whose name tag read Conners. Wilson swallowed hard. “Sir?” He asked, hesitantly.
“What do you want, boy?” Conners asked him.
“Sir, I needs to speak to somebody about the march tonight.”
“What about it?”
“There is going to be trouble, sir. A group calling themselves the Islamic Nation is aiming to start it. I heard them tell Miss Loretta that much after she invited them to participate in the march. Their head man said it would light the fires of revolution and destroy the city,” Wilson explained.
“You stay right here,” Conners told him as he reached for the telephone. He knew that this was something that Captain Stanley needed to know.
*****