by Bill Craig
*****
Casey Rawlings knelt down beside her partner and held her jacket over the massive wound in her partner’s side while Lucy French dialed 9-1-1 to call for an ambulance. If they didn’t get help soon, Kendall Royce would die. Lucy was worried about the FBI Agent, but she was more worried about her partner and where he had gotten off to.
Chapter Fourteen
Garrett Moseby kept his eyes on the van as it swung onto the highway heading over to Clearwater. He stayed on its tail, never taking his eyes off it. While he knew about the riots in Tampa, he was still surprised by the lack of traffic as the two vehicles raced over the bridge. He drew his pistol and shoved it out the window with his left hand and started shooting at the van. The van began to swerve as the bullets let the driver know that Moseby was still on his tail.
*****
“Goddam, he’s a determined son of a bitch!” Cristo snarled. Bullets from behind them had spiderwebbed the van’s windshield making it hard to see where he was going.
“I don’t know who he is, boss, but he is damn good!” Fonesco growled from the passenger seat. He was now nursing a shoulder wound where one of the wild shots from behind had struck him.
“Gotta admire his moxie,” Cristo said, impressed and angry at the same time. He had never dealt with a cop like this before. “Toss a couple of grenades out the back,” he ordered.
“I can do that,” Fonesco grinned, digging into his bag. He pulled out two WWII pineapple grenades, pulling the pin on the first one and tossing it out the window. The car behind them swerved hard away as the grenade exploded. Fonesco tossed the second egg out over the top of the van. It exploded and lifted the passenger side of the pursuit car briefly into the air, but it slammed back down again, and more gunfire reached out from the chase car.
“Fuck, don’t this guy ever give up?” Fonesco shook his head.
“Apparently not,” Cristo snarled through gritted teeth.
“How are we going to shake him?” Fonesco asked.
“Looks like we do it the hard way,” Cristo replied. He drew a grenade from his harness and Fonesco did the same. They pulled the pins at the same time and tossed them behind the van. The grenades detonated at the same time and Garrett Moseby’s car went air born as the twin blasts lifted it into the air.
*****
The unmarked car slammed back down on the pavement in a shower of sparks as the tireless wheels sparked on the concrete road. Moseby slammed on the breaks, turning the air blue with his language as he called the bank robbers every name in the book, including some that had never been written down. He shoved the door open and stepped out onto the bridge, putting some distance between himself and the car as fire flared underneath the hood. Seconds later, the car exploded into a fireball. Moseby pulled out his phone and dialed Lucy French. He cursed as he watched the robbers disappear into Clearwater.
Lucy French answered her phone as she watched the EMT’s load Royce into the ambulance. Casey Rawlings stood beside her as they watched the ambulance pull out. A CSU team was on the way to process the bank. “What have you got, Garrett?” she asked when she answered the phone.
“The bastards got away from me,” Moseby told her, his fury evident in his voice.’
“Where are you?”
“On the causeway over to Clearwater,” Moseby told her.
“I’m on my way.”
“What about the riots?”
“The state police and county sheriff’s men came in and got things settled down for the night. Fire crews are putting out fires and the jails are full tonight. Hospital ER’s are pretty busy, too,” Lucy told him.
“The bastards got away. I hate that,” Moseby told her.
“I know you do, Gar. I get it. Best we can do is start looking for them in the morning,” Lucy said.
“I know that too,” Moseby told her.
*****
“We gotta dump this van and get off the street,” Cristo said, very aware of how noticeable the bullet riddled van had become people would remember it.
“Park down in a parking garage by the beach and we’ll walk to a hotel and steal a new ride in the morning,” Fonesco suggested.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Cristo agreed. He pulled into an empty parking space and the two men climbed out, each carrying a heavy duffle bag stuffed with stacks of cash from the bank robbery and went to get a room.
*****
Garrett Moseby was at the station before the sun had risen over the horizon. He had his second wind now. He had the scent of the bank robbers responsible for the mess that the city had become. Late the night before, the governor had declared a state of emergency. Now, the city was on lockdown except for emergency traffic and city government personnel. The city and county jails were over flowing with protestors and counter protestors, many who had come in from out of town. It was a goddam mess is what it was.
“What have you got, Garrett?” Captain Stanley asked, as he walked over to the detective’s desk.
“Nothing you are going to like,” Moseby replied.
“I figured but give it to me anyway.”
“It appears that we have a small group of ex-military guys that decided to start killing cops and set up a major race riot. Their motive was to cover up a robbery of a Federal Reserve Bank on the opposite side of town. They planned on the police being too busy with the rioters to answer the alarms from the bank. They might have got away with it if they hadn’t started going after Lucy and Casey. That pointed me in the right direction. However, the bastards got away after disabling my car on the bridge to Clearwater,” Moseby explained.
“So, what are you going to do now that they’ve committed the robbery?” Stanley asked.
“I plan on going to Clearwater to look for them,” Moseby said.
“You believe they stopped there?”
“I do. Their van was full of bullet holes and broken glass. Any cop that spotted it would have pulled it over. I figure they dumped the van, holed up someplace and plan on getting a new ride this morning with some of the bank money that they stole. I plan to catch them before they get out of town.”
“You mean we, don’t you partner?” Lucy said, as she walked in carrying two cups of coffee. She sat one of them down in front of Moseby and sat down in her chair behind the desk that faced his.
“Then why are you wasting time here? Get a move on and I’ll call and clear it with the chief over at Clearwater,” Stanley told them. He turned and headed back to his office. Lucy looked at Moseby.
“You heard the captain. Let’s go,” She said, standing.
“Lucy, I . . .,” he started to say.
“Shut up, Garrett. I’m a big girl and I can damn well take care of myself without you going rogue and running off on your own. That stunt you pulled last night could have gotten you killed.”
“I know,” he sighed.
“Fine. I’m driving,” she told him, as they headed for the elevator.
*****
The sun was just starting to climb over the horizon as they crossed the bridge. They already had sunglasses on and the air conditioner in the unmarked was blasting. It was just past six.
“Where to?” Lucy asked, finally.
“Let’s check the main drag along the beach. If I was going to dump a vehicle, that’s where I would do it,” Moseby replied.
“Then what?”
“If I were them, I’d find a place to hole up for the night.”
“So, if we find the van, that gives us a place to start looking?”
“You got it, partner,” Moseby told her.
“Fair enough,” Lucy nodded, heading for Clearwater Beach.
*****
Kendall Royce opened her eyes. Her head was very fuzzy. She could hear noises like monitors beeping. Her hand felt funny. She looked down and saw an IV. “What happened?”
“You triggered a bomb when you moved into the bank. You’re damn lucky you weren’t killed,” Casey Rawlings told her.
�
�Did we get the robbers?”
“They got away. Moseby almost had them but they blew out his tires on the Clearwater Causeway.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Pretty much. The SAC said to tell you ‘good job’ for finding out about the robbery.”
“Bullshit, but thanks. Why are you here? Why aren’t you with Moseby and French tracking down the bastards?”
“Because you’re my partner and I wanted to be here to make sure you are okay when you came out of it after the doctors operated on you. I guess I shouldn’t have bothered,” Casey said and stood.
“Casey.”
“What?”
“Thank you,” Royce told her.
“You’re welcome,” Casey said over her shoulder, as she walked out of the room. She didn’t hide the fact that she was smiling when she walked away. Royce pretended to be a bad ass with brass balls, but Casey knew the truth. Kendall Royce wasn’t as hard as she pretended to be. She knew that because Casey was the same way.
*****
Lucy was cruising the main street filled with high rise resort hotels when a patrol car called in the shot-up van parked in a hotel garage. She stepped on the gas and got to the scene within a couple of minutes. The car had been abandoned in a hotel parking garage. Two Clearwater Beach police units were in the garage and the uniforms were checking the vehicle over. Lucy pulled into a parking slot and she and Moseby went to join them. They showed their creds and the uniforms deferred to them. Captain Stanley had been good at his word.
The engine was cold after three hours. That came as no surprise. Moseby and French stood looking at the vehicle. “What now?” Lucy asked him.
“Let’s check the van and see what we find,” Moseby told her.
They started forward. Moseby went to the front of the van and opened the driver’s side door. French went around to the other side and opened the passenger door. The inside was full of broken glass and shell casings. Lucy was the one that spotted the blood. “You got one of them,” she said.
“Good to know that,” Moseby replied.
“Well, I thought you ought to know,” Lucy smiled at him.
“So, at least one of them is wounded. That is good news,” Moseby told her.
“Yep. Now, we just have to figure out if the boss man figures the wounded guy is a liability or not.”
“There is that,” Moseby nodded, solemnly.
“What’s your read?”
“I think we need to check out all of the hotels within walking distance,” Moseby told her.
Chapter Fifteen
The hotel, Shephard’s Beach Resort was the closest one. Moseby and French headed there first. They were looking for two men that had checked in late the night before. Moseby was still running on adrenaline from the night before and strong coffee. French had at least gotten a few hours of sleep. Moseby had seen both men, but it had been impossible to memorize them in the fleeting moments.
He would have to trust his gut. Fortunately, they were early enough that the night shift staff were still on duty and awaiting their replacement’s arrival so that they could go home for the day. Moseby didn’t envy them their shift. He hated working nights, but some cases it was inevitable, like this one.
Moseby held the door for French and then followed her into the lobby and across the floor to the front desk. He pulled out his credentials that identified him as a police officer and showed them to the desk clerk.
“What may I do to help?” she asked with a deep south accent. She was thin and surprisingly crisp for having worked all night. She had short red hair that curled just below her ears. Her name tag read Toni.
“We’re looking for two men that would have come in late last night, probably carrying large duffle bags. Did anybody fitting that description check in last night?” Moseby asked, offering her a smile.
“No, sorry. The only people that came in was a family of four from Michigan. Did you check over at The Pier House?” Toni asked.
“Our next stop,” Moseby smiled at her again.
“Well, you come back some time and we can grab a coffee,” Toni said, handing him a small slip of paper. It had her name and phone number on it.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Moseby smiled again and followed Lucy outside.
“She was hitting on you,” Lucy laughed.
“Who could blame her? Even if I am almost old enough to be her father,” Moseby replied.
“Only if you knocked her mother up at fifteen,” Lucy snorted.
“Are you saying I’m old? I’m not even forty yet.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I’m younger than the captain.”
“By what? A day?”
“Wait until I tell him you said that,” Moseby teased her.
“He’ll take it as a compliment,” Lucy smiled. The entered the lobby of The Pier House. A young Cubano named Ernesto was manning the desk there. Moseby let Lucy take the lead with him.
“Excuse me, Ernesto, I’m Detective French from the Tampa PD. Did you have two men check in here late last night? They might have been carrying large duffle bags,” Lucy offered.
“No, nobody like that came in. I am sure,” Ernesto replied.
“Okay, thank you,” Lucy replied, giving him another smile, as she and Moseby turned and headed for the door. “Do you think this might go quicker if we split up? You take one side of the street and me the other?”
“It might at that,” Moseby told her. He didn’t like the idea, but he knew that Lucy was right. They could cover more ground if they separated.
*****
Casey Rawlings couldn’t believe what she was hearing from Captain Luke Stanley. “You let them do what?” she bellowed.
“I let them follow the evidence. Something that from your reaction, I am guessing your agency didn’t really want them to do,” Stanley glared at her.
“Do you understand the danger they are in? Cristo and his crew are some of the most vicious bank robbers the FBI has ever gone up against!” Casey said.
“It would have been nice if you had shared that bit of information before the city went up in flames,” Stanley matched her glare with one of his own.
“We didn’t know before last night who we were up against,” Rawlings snapped back at him.
“I’m having a tough time believing you.”
“I really don’t care. Where are Moseby and French now?”
“Over at Clearwater Beach hunting down the bad guys.”
“I hope to God I’m in time to keep them alive!” Rawlings declared, as she spun and ran towards the elevator.
*****
Cristo was awake. Fonesco was still out, probably due to the sedative that Cristo had given him to help with the pain from his wound. It had been a near thing, getting him up to a room that had been obtained as a single. Even though it had two king-sized beds in it.
This morning, Fonesco had a fever. He was rapidly becoming a liability to Cristo. He would have to do something about that. It would have to be done soon.
Cristo was smart enough to know that the cops would be looking for two men. That’s why he had gone in alone to rent the room. He had chosen this place because it overlooked the marina. If they could steal a boat and make it out to sea, they could go anywhere. At least Cristo could. More than likely he would dump Fonesco into the sea, especially if his delirium persisted.
Cristo knew that the cops were not far behind them. He could feel their presence, even if he hadn’t actually seen them. The hunters were out there, trying to catch his scent. He took the elevator down to the lobby. There was a small room filled with vending machines. One of them had over the counter medicines in them. Cristo bought a few packets of extra strength Tylenol and a bottle of water and went back upstairs.
*****
Moseby entered the next hotel. A cute blonde with a dazzling smile looked up to greet him. Moseby asked her about late check-ins from the night before. “We did have one, but it was only one guy with
two black duffle bags,” Mindy told him. He had read her name tag.
“What room is he in?” Moseby asked, showing her his badge.
“Uh . . . room 347. He signed in as Christopher Grace. Is he in trouble?” Mindy asked.
“Not at all. I just need to ask him some questions. Can you give me a key to his room?”
“I can do that, detective,” she nodded pulling out a plastic card and slipping it into a reader. A moment later she pulled it out and handed it to him.
“Thank you, Mindy. You’ve been a big help,” Moseby told her before heading for the elevators. He thought about calling French but decided against it. If she wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be in any danger if things got hairy.
*****
Lucy French had struck out at the remaining hotels on her side of the street and was heading back down on Moseby’s side. She wondered if he had any better luck than she had. Her partner was going through something. It was really bothering him, but he didn’t want to admit it. It had started when Charlie had been killed and it seemed like he was falling into a deep dark hole. Try as she might, she was having a hard time from keeping him from going all the way down the rabbit hole.
If something didn’t give soon, she would have no choice but to talk to the captain. Maybe, Moseby had been in the Homicide department too long. Possibly, he had looked into the darkness one too many times and now it was reaching for him, trying to pull him into the abyss.
She had to do something to help him, even if it meant putting him behind a desk for a while. He might hate her for it at first, but she knew that he would eventually come around.
*****
Moseby stepped out of the elevator on the third floor. He had his service weapon in his right hand looking for the room numbers and figuring out which way he needed to go to find the room of Christopher Grace, aka Cristo. He had a feeling that Cristo wouldn’t be in the room alone. In fact, he was sure of it. He was pretty sure that he had hit one of the two robbers in the chase onto the bridge.
It was a better than even bet that the wounded man was in the room and that Cristo had snuck him in after checking in. More than likely, he was taking care of his buddy until he could figure out how to get rid of him. One thing that Moseby knew for a fact. There is no honor among thieves, no matter how much television and the movies tried to romanticize it to the contrary.