by Hugh Macnab
Before leaving the office, I dial in the order, making sure to put the charge on my credit card. It will be delivered in thirty minutes. Time for me to get home, so I can at least join Trace for a drink.
It’s nearly eight-thirty before I get to the apartment and the pizza still hasn’t arrived. I decide on coffee rather than a Corona only to find I’m out of filters. Now I have a major decision to make. Instant, or a trip to the 7-eleven. I choose the latter. Trace offers to get them at half-price - but when I decide I need my coffee, I’ll pay any price. I tell her to start with her pizza if I’m not back and throw on my light-weight jacket.
Walking through the dark car park, there’s no-one in sight, but I still have that prickly feeling that someone’s there somewhere. I halt suddenly and whoever is following me is quick, but not quick enough to prevent me from hearing one extra footstep. I pull my Glock, whirl round and scan everywhere.
Nothing. Maybe Trace is following me. I already know she’s good, but then I doubt she would leave the apartment when her pizza’s about to arrive.
One more check before re-holstering my gun and continuing the journey.
At the store, I buy the filters and a six-pack of Corona - hearing Trace reprimand me in my head, for wasting another four dollars - and start for home.
I only make it across the street when I find Chico Vegas leaning casually against a parked car at the curb-side.
‘Evening detective.’
‘Are you following me, Vegas?’
‘I’m just standin’ here, mindin’ my business, man. That’s what I’m doin’. Ain’t no law against that? You know. Passin’ time.’
‘Good. Cause if I thought you were following me, I wouldn’t be happy about it.’
‘Don’t get riled, man. This is my hood too.’
I’m getting frustrated now.
‘What do you want, Vegas?’
‘You know, detective, Every time I see you, you carrying beer.’
‘And every time I see you, I get a pain in my butt. So tell me what you want?’
‘I was just wonderin’ if you remembered our last conversation?’
‘About leaving you alone? Can I just point out you’re the one who’s following me around. I’ve no need to see you again, ever! Am I clear, Vegas?’
‘But what about your friends? You gotta long list of friends.’
‘If you mean the entire Sheriff’s department? Yes, I have a lot of friends. And if any of them are interested in going after you for as much as dropping a cigarette butt, I’ll be cheering them on.’
‘I don’t smoke.’
‘Not tobacco anyway, Vegas? You’re not telling me you’re weed-free?’
‘Never touch the stuff, detective. It’s illegal.’
‘Look, Vegas. It’s been nice talking with you, and if you wanted to remind me to leave you alone, consider your message delivered. Now, I’ve got a coffee percolator I would rather spend my time with.’
With that, I push past him, feeling his eyes penetrating my back. At least I hope it’s my back and not my butt. I don’t want to even think about him being close to my butt. It’s had enough trauma recently.
39
Nine o’clock in the morning sharp and I meet with the Sheriff as planned. I start with the highlight. The discovery of the stiletto.
I’m disappointed.
Not only does he already know, but he’s also received the confirmation from Forensics. He ended up telling me it was the murder weapon. Regardless, he congratulates me on solving the case. I point out that it has been a team effort. He grunts. I guess he’s heard that line before.
Moving on to the serial-killer case, as I hoped, he had no problem agreeing to involve the Press and find the overtime budget.
I make my way back to the team, pass the message of congratulations on, give them the news that we are going to the Press, then leave them to take care of the detailed planning. They need me upstairs. The results are back from the drone night-flights over the SCG drug location, and I want to keep up to date.
I’m late to the meeting, and this time we’re crowded into the room. I can see Jerry and his guys, and recognize one or two others from past cases, but most of the faces are unknown to me. I reckon they’re DEA agents. 007 is on his feet explaining what they now know about the compound we’re planning to take down.
'The compound has three buildings. The main one is approximately twenty-thousand square feet and is where the drug packaging operation takes place. From heat signatures, we estimate that there are about a hundred people on site in total. Around sixty of these are workers who are most likely a mix of illegals, and others who are being coerced. The remaining forty we have to assume will be armed members of the SCG.
‘The two remaining buildings are smaller, with one a doss-house for SCG members, the other a kitchen where food is prepared and served every six hours.’
I ask a dumb question. ‘Where do the workers sleep?’
The initial silence tells me just how dumb it was, and I catch a hint of amusement on 007’s face as he answers.
‘They don’t need a doss-house because they don’t sleep. From observing during the past few days, we think they work twenty-four-hour shifts. There are two work-forces and they rotate every day. They’re bussed in and out in the middle of the night.’
‘Where are they taken?’
‘Good question, detective. At this moment, we don’t know the answer to that.’
‘Isn’t it critical?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, if we find where they’re taking them, we might get some of them to talk to us. Confirm the number of SCG guards and their locations, for instance.’
‘Good thinking, detective. The change-over is due tonight and we’re already planning to follow the buses. Until we know where they are going, it’s impossible to plan beyond that.’
‘There can’t be many places you can sleep sixty people?’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Abandoned motel maybe?’
‘And you know of such a place?’
‘I think there ara couple not too far off Rte 41 up East of Fort Myers. When they built the I75 extension in the early 80s, they abandoned them. It was like the death of Rte 66 but for Rte 41 motels.’
‘Okay, we’ll have someone check them out.’
After this, 007 returns to his main presentation.
‘The aerial recon shows two gun emplacements, most likely armed with heavy duty Brownings and rocket-launchers. These are manned 24/7. At least ten armed guards patrol the perimeter constantly, with probably another ten inside controlling the operation.’
‘We can take out the gun emplacements and the external guards easily enough, but our concern is still how to avoid the innocents inside being caught up in crossfire. Any ideas, anyone?’
The room is quiet for a few moments, then Jerry chips in.
‘Can we infiltrate some of our guys in on the next buses?’
‘If the detective is right, and we find where the off-duty shift is staying, that would work.’
‘Can I ask how you will take out the gun emplacements so easily?’ I ask.
‘Technology. We use remote-controlled robots to deliver a variety of charges, both lethal and non-lethal. Against this level of firepower, we will use lethal force.’
‘And the perimeter guards?’
‘Our attack will be at night. Two experienced snipers will paraglide in, and land on the roof of the principal building. Ten men, ten shots, minimum fuss. We will coordinate this operation with the destruction of the gun emplacements and the primary force crashing through the front gates.’
‘With a little luck, the entire operation will be over in less than five minutes.’
With nothing else to add, 007 addresses the whole room. ‘You will not talk to anyone outside this room about anything you have just heard. Surprise is key to a successful operation, and to protecting lives. If we can find where the next shift are be
ing accommodated, rather than wait to watch the buses, we will run the operation tonight. We’ll decide the exact timing after we assess whether we can get people inside the operation.’
007 asks for any final questions and when the room remains quiet, invites Jerry and a couple of others to stay behind for detailed planning. I’m apparently excused. I try not to feel put-out. But I am. Fuck. I’d just helped them figure out how to get people inside the operation. You think I would have at least earned a place at the planning table.
Later, back downstairs, I’m minding my own business when 007 appears beside me and sits down.
‘Thanks for your inputs today. They were helpful. I’ve been struggling with the same questions you came up with, but would never have known about those two motels.’
‘Have you checked them out?’
‘Yes. You were right. There are armed guards at both with buses parked at the rear out of sight.’
‘What’s the next step?’
‘It’s already happening as we speak.’
‘You don’t hang around, do you?’
‘Life’s too short, Sammy.’
I’m left wondering if there’s an implied innuendo for me personally.
‘So, what’s happening.’
‘We’re jamming cell phones and taking out all the armed guards. Once that’s done, we talk to the occupants of the motel, explain the operation and ask for their cooperation.’
‘And if they don’t want to help?’
‘We will replace some with our own men anyway, and will promise all illegals citizenship. That should just about get us the number we need. I doubt the SCG will notice a few missing.’
‘Who will drive the buses?’
‘We’ll negotiate deals with some of the guards. If they play along, we’ll offer them reduced sentences, or maybe even possibly avoiding prosecution altogether depending on their degree of involvement. Once they realize we’re going in with serious firepower, they will most likely play along.’
‘So, we’re all systems go for tonight?’
‘Yes, but that’s why I stopped by. I hadn’t expected this to move so quickly. We won’t be having dinner as I promised, I’m afraid.’
‘Let down on a first date. That’s not much of a start to a relationship, Mister Bond.’
‘True. But wait till you hear what I have in mind for a second date!’
‘Promises, promises,’ I laugh. ‘I can hardly wait.’
After that update, I’m restless. Other than the public appeal, there’s little happening on my serial-killer case and that’s worrying me. We have answered all the questions we set out with, but now still have no idea how to catch our killer.
I need to talk with Dan. I know he’s a keen fisherman. I wonder if he has ever used human bait?
40
It’s a quiet afternoon in Homicide. The office is virtually empty. Everyone out catching killers, apart from me. I’ve told the team to take the rest of the day and go home. They’ve earned it.
This leaves me alone and thinking. Thinking not about how to catch my serial killer, but of what’s wrong with 007’s plan to take down the drug operation. He’s highly experienced, and moved quickly when I gave him the suggestion about the disused motels up by my parents’ place. So, why am I feeling we’re all missing something?
Mulling this over, I wander off to look for a coffee and find Kathy doing the same.
‘I thought you were taking off?’
‘Nowhere to take off to, Sammy. Or more precisely, no-one to take off with.’
‘So, coffee for two,’ I smile.
We sit together chatting about nothing and everything for a while, then she asks me what’s going on with the DEA in the house? I swear her to absolute secrecy, then give her an update on the plan for the middle of the night and tell her I’m worried that everyone is missing something.
She suggests we go back to the conference room and review the detailed plan.
It’s gone eight before we figure out what’s worrying me. I asked what was at the rear of the building and was told it was a landfill site, zoned for more small commercial properties.
The thing that’s been bothering me is that if I were in a compound with a drug operation, I would never just have one way in and out. I would worry about becoming trapped far too easily.
But the only other way out would be over the landfill, which 007 explained is probably mined as a precaution.
This is what’s niggling at me.
Recently I watched a MASH rerun where the Vietcong could run through a minefield because they knew where the mines were. Our troops couldn’t follow.
If I were Chico Vegas, and wanted to protect the rear of the compound with mines, I would arrange with the landfill company, to ensure there was an escape route.
The problem is, I can’t see 007 being convinced of this, so I call Jerry and tell him I think he has more than enough tactical support for the takedown, so I’ll skip the take-down and concentrate on my serial-killer case instead.
After that, Kathy and I both head home to get some rest, both knowing it’s going to be a late night.
I explain to Trace that I’ll be leaving extra early the following morning, so want to get to bed by ten. She’s fine with that and asks if we have time to watch some tv first. When I agree, she asks if I’ve ever watched a series she likes called Supernatural. I say no, but am happy to try it. This pleases her. She gives me the run in. It’s a story that follows two brothers - Sam and Dean Winchester - as they hunt demons, ghosts, monsters and other supernatural beings. Not something I would ever choose, but it doesn’t seem fair to inflict non-stop MASH on her. So, we give it a go.
By ten-forty-five we’re three episodes into the first series and I’m firmly hooked. I liked the look of Sam, or the one I call the handsome one. But Dean is more my kind of guy. A man of few words, and lots of action. He also gets into trouble quickly, which I connect with.
If I hadn’t the early morning start planned, we could have been on an all night bender. As it is, I ask Trace to wrap it up, and we both hit the sack.
I set Alexa for twelve-thirty and sleep well until then. An hour and a half will have to do. I can catch up the following night.
Showered, dressed and ready by one. I go downstairs and find Kathy already waiting for me in an unmarked. We head out to the landfill site.
The contractors have fenced off the entire site and secured the gate with a simple chain and padlock. It takes two seconds with the bolt-cutters and we’re inside looking for the best place to park up. We want line-of-sight, but not to be too visible to anyone hurrying out of the targeted yard.
The landfill is mostly barren, but we manage to partially obscure the car behind some scrub that has survived, which is more than any of the indigenous life forms have done. I hate the fact that we’re slowly covering the whole of Florida in concrete.
We both have night-vision glasses and Kathy has brought a flask of strong black coffee. We’re good to go.
The buses are due at two am. The strike force will then hit the compound as soon as the change-over of workers is complete, and the buses have left. I reckon around two-thirty. I’ve no fear we will miss the action. Noise travels at night, and 007 is planning on making plenty of noise. By my watch, we have less than an hour to wait. I pour two coffees and make myself comfortable.
The first thing we hear are two quick explosions, one immediately on top of the other. I realize, that will be the gun emplacements being destroyed. Then a loud crash tells us the heavily armed vehicles are through the gates and heading for the doss-house and canteen. After that, there’s a lot of shooting. Mostly automatic.
Throughout this, Kathy and I are monitoring the action. I’m feeling a little guilty for not having told 007 what we’re up to, but not when I see the figure appear out of the rear of the doss-house and make its way to the fence. It’s definitely a man, but we can’t make out any more at that distance.
When he reach the fence,
we watch as he lifts one post out of the ground, moves it aside, slips through and then replaces it, leaving no trace of his exit. The shadowy figure then starts out across the landfill exactly as we thought. He’s following a carefully pre-determined path, zig-zagging his way towards us.
As soon as he starts to run straight, he’s through the minefield and coming our way. We wait until he’s close enough, then switch on the headlights and throw open the doors.
‘Armed police. Throw down your weapons. You’re surrounded!’
No point telling him there’s only the two of us.
He stops, frozen like a deer in the headlights.
‘Hands on your head!’
He obeys.
‘Down on your knees!’
He obeys again. I’m guessing the guy doesn’t want to die.
We walk towards him. It is Chico Vegas, just as I expect. Saving his ass while his men go down in the compound. Sounds about right to me.
Kathy grabs one of his arms and twists it behind his back, ready to apply a tie wrap, when he recognizes me.
‘Detective. What a surprise.’
‘Hello, Chico. Seems we just keep bumping into each other.’
‘Always good to see you. Though not sure about right now.’
‘Maybe you aren’t, but I am. This is exactly where I was hoping we would meet. And after this, I don’t think we’ll be meeting again for a long time.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be too hasty, detective.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I’m being hasty, Chico. I’ve been wanting to put you away for quite some time.’