“Well, needless to say, his testimony is crucial in the successful prosecution of this case. However, it has come to our attention that the gang was planning a retaliatory move to prevent Mr. Coats from testifying in court. The DA directed us to place him in immediate protective custody, which we have done. I’m afraid he won’t be available to come back to work until the court proceedings are finished.”
Wolf looked in the mirror again and saw that Coats’s eyes were the size of two saucers.
“I’m not sure, at this point,” McNamara said, still using his authoritarian tone. “It could take a few days, or a few weeks, or perhaps even longer.”
The conversation went on for a few more sentences, and ended with McNamara giving Goldsborough a cell phone number that McNamara said was his “undercover line.” When he ended the call he peered back over his shoulder and said to Coats, “Your job’ll be waiting for you when you get out. Now it’s up to you to get this matter straightened out and to fly right after that. No more drinking and driving.”
Wolf glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Coats was all smiles.
“Man,” he said. “That was great. Thanks, Mr. McGuffy. Or should I say sergeant?”
“Either or,” McNamara said, shooting a wink at Wolf. “I was a sergeant for a lot of years.”
“Po-lice?”
“Army.”
“That cool,” Coats said. “I’m a vet, too. Navy.”
“Well, I’m liking you better all the time,” McNamara said. “And I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’d put in a good word for you with Manny.”
“Appreciate it.”
“What’s the B stand for in your middle name?” McNamara asked.
“Beauregard. Named after my grandfather.”
“My middle initial’s B, too,” McNamara said.
“But in his case,” Wolf said, intruding into the conversation. “It stands for bullshitter.”
They all laughed, but Wolf felt only a scant bit of merriment.
Seeing Mac in such a good mood was almost worth the price he was going to have to pay with Kasey once they got back.
And we still have one to go, Wolf thought
The Elegant Suites Hotel
Phoenix, Arizona
Cummins was more than a little bit perturbed when they pulled into the hotel parking lot and Zerbe, who’d spent the better part of the return trip talking on his phone, told him to go get one of those luggage carts and bring it out to him. He continued to talk in some kind of obscure code to some guy named Dill who apparently was in LA.
“A luggage cart?” Cummins asked.
“Right,” Zerbe said, covering the phone. “So we can bring all the equipment in.”
He went back to his phone conversation and Cummins caught what he took to be the end of it: “Give me a call when you get in town and we’ll meet you.”
Zerbe hung up and Cummins wondered what that call was all about.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“Our weapons supplier.” Zerbe looked askance and said, “The cart?”
Exhaling loudly, so the other man would know of his displeasure at being treated like a Sherpa, Cummins opened the passenger door and slid out. “I ain’t no damn go-fer.”
“True enough,” Zerbe said. “But it looks like you could use the exercise.”
His irritating little staccato laugh followed.
After loading the stuff onto the cart, Zerbe stopped inside the front doors and went to the front desk. He still had on those dark sunglasses that looked like they belonged on some washed-up celebrity from a 1950’s movie clip.
“I need to reserve some rooms,” he said to the clerk. “I’ve got some members of my organization coming in tomorrow.”
That must be the Lion Squad, Cummins thought.
He waited while Zerbe read off the names from his smartphone.
“What kind of names are those?” the insipid clerk asked.
“South African,” Zerbe said. “We’ll be teaching a desert warfare seminar in the area for the next week.”
If the clerk was impressed, she didn’t show it.
After Zerbe rejoined him, Cummings waited until they’d reached the elevators and then asked, “Was that wise to tell her that?”
“It’ll head off a lot of questions if they see a bunch of rough men with rifles coming in and out at all hours of the day and night.”
“Rough men with rifles?”
Zerbe frowned. “I was paraphrasing Orwell. About who ultimately has to get things done. A good reminder of our task here.”
And a grim one, too, Cummins thought. He could hardly wait for this to be over with.
Swifty’s Auto and Towing
Phoenix, Arizona
The area was a mixture of business and residential and looked like it had seen better days. They drove by Swifty’s Auto and Towing and saw a trio of tow trucks sitting by a one-story white stucco building that was surrounded by a ten-foot cyclone fence with three strands of barbed wire running along the top. The front of the building had a solid door and a window, and the side, which was inside the fence perimeter, had another regular door and two large overhead doors, all closed. The rest of the area was filled with cars in various states of disrepair. A big dog, a Rottweiler from the looks of him, sat by a doghouse inside the perimeter. The neon sign in front, now unlighted, advertised 24-hour towing and listed a number underneath.
“Okay,” McNamara said, perusing the file. “Myron D. Kites, male white, thirty-eight, six feet, two hundred and eighty pounds. Three counts of unlawful use of a credit card. Another paper tiger.” He glanced over his shoulder at Coats and added, “No offense, Lonnie.”
Coats was silent.
“I don’t like the looks of this one,” Wolf said. “Tow yards are dangerous places and I certainly don’t want to tangle with that canine.”
“Me neither,” McNamara said. “He kinda reminds me of me.” He took out his phone and told Wolf to drive on past.
Wolf knew from experience there was always a danger in confronting a bail jumper on his own turf, be it at his place of employment or his residence. That’s when most of the battles came about. The smartest thing to do would be to save this one for another day, but when he saw Mac take out his phone and punch in some numbers Wolf knew the big guy had a plan.
“If we can’t go to him,” McNamara said, “we’ll make him come to us.”
The phone rang a few more times and then apparently was answered.
“Yes,” McNamara said. “I need a tow.” He glanced up at the street signs at the next intersection and then snapped his fingers, pointing to the curb. They were perhaps three blocks away from the tow yard now.
Wolf slowed the Hummer to a stop.
“Yeah,” McNamara said, letting a forlorn tone seep into his voice. “I think my water pump’s out again.”
He listened for a moment.
“It’s a big one,” McNamara said into the phone. “A black Hummer.” He gave the location, which corresponded to the street signs. “You guys towed my other ride a while back and the guy did a real good job. I think his name was Myron, or something.”
McNamara grinned and held up his hand, making an O shape with his thumb and index finger.
“Okay, yeah,” he said. “But this baby’s cherry. I want somebody that knows what they’re doing. I’d very much prefer him, ’cause he did such an outstanding job the last time.” McNamara paused and then added, “All right. Be waiting on him.”
He terminated the call, grabbed the file on the subject, and opened the door.
“You guys are real cold-blooded,” Coats said.
All the good will from the ruse phone call from Sergeant McGuffy had seemingly vanished.
McNamara shifted in the seat and glared at him. “What are you complaining about? I squared it with your boss, didn’t I? Or do you have that short of a memory?”
“No, sir, sarge,” Coats said, suddenly flashing a smile. “I ain’t forgetting.�
��
“We might as well lift up the hood.” McNamara shoved the door all the way open and grabbed his cane.
Wolf searched for the hood release and pulled it, then got out himself. He and McNamara walked to the front of the Hummer and raised the hood. The heat from the engine radiated over them, and combined with the high temperature, made Wolf start to sweat almost immediately. He looked at McNamara. He was sweating, too, and he looked flushed.
“You feeling okay?” Wolf asked.
“Be feeling a lot better once we wrap up this second arrest.”
“I thought you promised Kasey you’d stay in the car?”
“I will,” McNamara said. “As soon as we got this guy cuffed and locked down.” His eyes scanned the area behind them as did Wolf. Presently, they saw a tow truck exit Swifty’s and start heading toward them.
McNamara flipped open the file and showed Wolf the mug shot of Myron D. Kites, then he flipped it closed and handed it to him. “Put this on the passenger seat and move off to the side there. I’ll stay here looking nice and non-threatening with my little, innocent cane here and strike up a conversation with him. Once we verify it’s him, you can move in and we’ll make the collar.”
“The collar?” Wolf smiled. “Where’d that come from?”
He placed the file under his arm.
“Been binge watching Blue Bloods and Law and Order during my recuperation.” McNamara grinned. “How do you think I keep up on all the latest?”
Wolf slipped the Taser out of its holster, snapped off the cartridge, and placed it in the lower left pocket of his BDU blouse. He put the Taser in his other pocket.
“Why’d you take the cartridge off?” McNamara asked. “We might need to shoot him.”
“If we need it, I’ll use a drive-stun. I’m not going to be shooting it with you standing next to the guy.” Wolf didn’t want to say that he was concerned about Mac being able to move out of the way quickly if things turned bad.
The tow truck was getting closer and Wolf moved to the other side of the Hummer as it came abreast. The driver slowed, glanced out the window, and waved.
About all that Wolf could tell was that the guy was white, heavyset, and smoking a cigarette. So far it was still too early to tell if it was Kites.
He watched the tow truck pull around and park in front of the Hummer. Wolf shifted over
Wolf opened the door and placed the file folder on the seat, then eased the door back closed. He moved over to the sidewalk and assumed the air of an interested onlooker. McNamara stood by the upraised hood.
As the driver waddled closer Wolf thought he strongly resembled the photograph in the file. The tip of the man’s cigarette glowed brightly and he squinted and flipped open the cover of a tablet. He set the tablet down on the corrugated bed of the truck and began punching on the keyboard.
“You called for a tow, right?” he asked.
McNamara took a step toward him and said that he did. His eyes shot over to Wolf with a look of semi-alarm.
Mac was trying to tell him something, but what?
“What kind of a gun is that?” McNamara said in a loud voice.
A gun. That changed things substantially. They hadn’t counted on this wrinkle.
The second time in two days I’ve brought a Taser to a gunfight, Wolf thought.
And Mac had made a point of leaving his Glock at home this morning since they were going into the Federal Building, rather than taking the chance of locking it in the trunk of the rental with the Taser.
“It’s Colt Cobra,” Kites said. He was busy putting information into the tablet. “I’m gonna need to see your driver’s license and two credit cards.”
Two credit cards for a guy who had outstanding warrants for credit card theft. It was a no brainer on just how Kites was getting the account and security code numbers. The tablet probably took excellent pictures of the fronts and backs of all the customer’s stuff.
Wolf began to walk toward the front of the tow-truck, figuring Mac would keep the guy engaged long enough, the safest way would be to approach the subject from the rear.
Actually, he thought. The safest way would be to just cut their potential losses and abort this mission right now. They could come after good old Myron another day … Good old armed Myron. But Wolf knew Mac wasn’t about to do that. Once he had the hook planted, he didn’t want to let go of the pole and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by a pistol, even if he didn’t have one himself.
Wolf walked past the front of the truck then hung a left, as if he were going to cross the street. He glanced both ways and saw a mean looking revolver riding in a holster on the right side of a massive gut. It was virtually swallowed by a dollop of fat.
“I heard about them,” McNamara said. “A kissin’ cousin to the old Pythons, right?”
“They’re bringing them back, too,” Kites said. “Ah, the credit cards and drivers’ licenses?”
McNamara gave a “Sure thing” nod and hooked his cane on the grill of the Hummer. He shifted his weight, as if going for his wallet in his right rear pants pocket, and then stopped.
“Hey, mind if I take a look at it?” he asked, his face twisting into a smile. “I been thinking about buying one of those.”
“Then go to a gun store.” Kites stopped typing on the tablet and straightened up. “You said you know me, but you don’t look familiar and I sure as hell don’t remember towing no Hummer.”
“What’s that old saying?” McNamara said, his brow furrowing. “My other car’s a Mercedes.”
With that, he pivoted and grabbed Kites’s right arm, twisting it back.
Wolf ran toward them, digging in his pocket for the Taser.
Kites swore and he tried to pull away, but McNamara put more pressure on the man’s arm and the pair shifted back and forth in a ludicrous two-step.
“Bail enforcement agents,” McNamara shouted. “You’re under arrest.”
“Okay, okay,” Kites said, but his left hand was fishing for something in the detritus that litter the back of the tow truck. He came up holding a three-foot-long metal crowbar and lashed out with it.
The hexagonal ridged tool struck the McNamara’s forehead and a spray of crimson droplets swirled in the air. McNamara shifted his body and leaned forward roughly jamming the other man into the hard metal frame of the truck’s bed. He used his left hand to ratchet Kites’s right arm upward and reached down with his right to try and pluck the revolver from the holster. The crowbar waggled menacingly as Kites drew it back, but Wolf was next to him now and grabbed it. He twisted it loose just as McNamara gained possession of the Cobra and slammed it into the struggling man’s face. A stream of bright red blood burst from each nostril and sprayed outward. Wolf dropped the crowbar into the truck and angled the man’s left arm behind his back. Moving in unspoken unison Wolf and McNamara lowered Kites to the asphalt and Wolf knelt on the man’s left arm. Reaching for one of his sets of handcuffs, he ratcheted the hasp over the left wrist, then reached for the right arm, which McNamara still held securely.
Kites grunted in pain. “Stop. You’re killing me.”
“If I’da wanted to kill you, asshole,” McNamara said. “You wouldn’t still be breathing. Now quit struggling before I get real mad.”
“Don’t bend my arms like that,” Kites said. “I gotta bad shoulder.”
Wolf saw that he was going to need a second pair of cuffs and reached over to grab McNamara’s. He then cuffed one section of that set over Kites’s right wrist and secured the two empty sections together.
He looked to McNamara, who now had a steady stream of blood flowing from a jagged cut the upper left section of his forehead, just along the scalp line.
“You all right?” he asked.
Mac grinned. “Yeah, luckily he just hit my head.”
Office of Emanuel Sutter
Bail Bondsman
Phoenix, Arizona
After dropping McNamara off at the Emergency Room Wolf drove directly to see Manny in
the hopes that he could enlist some help in squaring away the paperwork for the two bail jumpers. Mac had disapproved of that plan, wanting to demonstrate his toughness by foregoing a trip to the ER.
“This ain’t nothing,” he’d said. “Hurt myself worse shaving out of a steel pot with no mirror.”
“Well, you’re bleeding all over Reno’s car, too.” Wolf cocked his thumb back over his shoulder. “And so is Mr. Kites. I’m going to have to take it to one of those deluxe car wash places.”
“Yeah,” Kites said. “And you’d better get me some medical attention, too. I’m gonna sue your ass for hitting me.”
McNamara turned in his seat. “Take a number, asshole. But just remember you hit me first, in the process of a lawful arrest. And you also resisted.” He held the Colt Cobra up in front of the screen. “Not to mention this.”
“Hey, I got a permit for that,” Kites said.
“Oh yeah? Let’s see.” McNamara took out his cell phone and made a call to Kasey. “Yeah, I need you to run a gun for me and check on a CC permit for it.”
Wolf could hear the sound of her voice buzzing on the phone. He was grateful that the words were indistinct.
McNamara frowned. “Just do it. And I’m fine. It’s all over but the crying.” He waited and covered the speaker. “She says she’s getting ready for a date. You think it’s with you-know-who?”
Wolf resisted the temptation to say Rod. “Who else is it going to be?”
“I don’t know,” McNamara said. “Anybody but him.”
Presently Kasey came back on the line and whatever she said made McNamara grin like a clown.
“Thanks, honey,” he said and hung up. He shifted in the seat and looked at Kites. “Myron, When the cops see that you had this pistola on you, you’re gonna be facing a bunch of new charges. Did I tell you my best friend’s buddy is a lieutenant on Phoenix PD?”
That had shut Kites up temporarily and when Wolf pulled up at the hospital, McNamara got out of the car and walked in, motioning Wolf to pull off.
At least we avoided the cost of an ambulance, he thought, hoping that Mac hadn’t sustained any serious damage. That damn crowbar had been almost the size of a baseball bat.
Devil's Fancy (Trackdown Book 2) Page 12