by David Achord
We exchanged a few more texts about the job. She asked when I was coming back home. I originally thought I’d spend a couple of days in the Windy City, snooping around and such, but the more I thought about it, the dumber it seemed. I was wasting my time.
I texted back and said I’d be home no later than tomorrow afternoon. I looked at my watch and saw it was a little before seven. They were due to close any minute now. In fact, I could see the two body men actively cleaning up.
At promptly seven o’clock, the bay doors were lowered and the front door was locked. They would be leaving any minute now. The plan was to follow the owner to his residence and sit on it a while, if I could. At some point, I was going to need to get a few hours of sleep, maybe get a hotel room.
The two body men left and the manager went around turning off most of the lights, with the exception of his office. I saw him sit behind his desk. He produced a can of beer from somewhere and alternated between messing with his computer and talking on the phone.
As I watched, he drank three beers within thirty minutes. Soon, he got up and went to the restroom. When he walked out, he looked like he was going to close up for the night, but then a car drove into the parking lot. I watched curiously as the man walked to the front door, unlocked it, and waited for the vehicle’s occupants to get out.
When the two occupants exited the car, I said a silent prayer of thanks to the big man above for pushing me to Chicago. I was also thankful I still had my dash camera recording.
Chapter 43
It was dark out now, but the street lights were bright enough so I could see he still had a black eye. I was too far away to see any other injuries, and although I did not like Stainback, I was glad to see she got in some damage before she went down. The manager hurried to the door and unlocked it. Wolf pushed past him as he walked in. Pekoe paused at the doorway a moment and glanced back, as if looking for anyone who might be watching. It made me appreciate the blackout tints they’d put on my Explorer. Even though the front windshield was not tinted, the interior was dark enough to make it difficult for anyone to see me.
I watched as the three men talked in the front lobby. I could clearly see worry etched on the manager’s face. He didn’t like what Wolf was telling him. After a couple of minutes, they walked back into the shop area. As I watched, one of the bay doors was raised and a plain white full-sized van backed out. The manager watched the van stop at the intersection and then turn east onto Northwest Highway before closing the bay door. I waited a heartbeat and then started my Explorer.
The van was easy to spot in traffic, which allowed me to stay several car lengths behind. He continued into the Mount Prospect community, turned on a side street that passed by the Mount Prospect police department, and after he turned onto another side street, I had no option but to continue going straight. When following someone, if you take the same turns twice, and they notice, they’ll become suspicious. Three times and they’ll know they’re being followed.
I sped up, turned onto a parallel street and tried to see if I could spot the van. I didn’t.
“Damn,” I muttered. I was worried I’d lost him. He was either performing counter-surveillance or he had parked somewhere. I didn’t know which. I drove up and down several neighborhood streets with no luck. Stopping at a four-way intersection, I looked around, wondering where to go next. When I glanced to my left, I saw a white van parked in a drive several houses down. There was somebody standing beside it, but my vision was partially obscured by the growing darkness a bushy scrub tree.
Here is where the blackout tints were at a disadvantage. If I did a slow drive-by and whoever was outside happened to give me a hard look, or even a casual glance, the dark tints might make them suspect I was an undercover cop and spook them. I could not take that risk.
Or could I?
Technically, it was called extrajudicial punishment, which was a fancy way of saying vigilante justice. When I’d learned about Wolf and his boys, I told myself if I got a chance, I was going to kill them all. This was my opportunity. I could simply drive up, get out of my car, knock on the door, and open fire. It might be questionable, as the Feds would definitely be the investigating authority, but I was fairly certain I could get away with it. It would certainly save the taxpayers a lot of money.
Or I’d go to prison for the rest of my life. Decisions, decisions.
I sat there contemplating it until somebody behind me honked their horn. Instead of turning left, I went straight and found a place to park. Picking up my phone, I made a call.
“Hi, it’s your old buddy, Thomas Ironcutter,” I said when Hope answered.
“Hi, Thomas. What are you doing?”
She actually sounded happy I called, which made me warm and fuzzy all over.
“I’m a little tired, but nobody gives a shit about that. Guess where I am?” I prodded.
“If you say you’re in Chicago, I’m going to go weak in the knees,” she said and laughed.
“I’m in Chicago,” I said.
She was quiet a moment. “Are you really? I mean, I’m working right now, but I should be able to get away in an hour or so.”
“Don’t clock out just yet,” I said. “I just spotted Wolf and Pekoe going into a house in Mount Prospect.”
I heard her gasp. She then got the attention of somebody. “I’m putting this on speakerphone. Tell me what you’ve got.”
They listened attentively while I explained everything. When I was finished, a man’s voice came over the phone.
“Hold your position, sir. I am going to send some undercover units to that street and evaluate what you may have. What is your current location?”
I told him, even though I had no idea who he was. But he was with Hope and that was good enough for me. Ten minutes later, a dark blue van drove into the parking lot. Hope and another man emerged from the back. She smiled when I got out of my car, but her body language told me there would be no warm embrace. I hoped it was simply because the man was her supervisor and she wanted to maintain her professionalism.
“Hello, everyone,” I said.
The man, his persona screamed he was a man who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. He wasted no time on pleasantries.
“Let me see the dash cam video you told us about,” he ordered.
“Certainly. Come sit on the passenger side. Hope, why don’t you take a look at it as well.”
She nodded gratefully and got into the back seat. I sat back in the driver’s seat and manipulated my dash cam. In a minute, I had the recording playing. After the first viewing, the man turned back to Hope.
“Is that them?” he asked.
“It appears to be, but Thomas has been up close with both men. If he says that’s Wolf and Pekoe, it’s Wolf and Pekoe.”
Only then did he refocus on me and fix me with an appraising stare. After a couple of seconds, he extended his hand. “I’m William Lighthorse. I’m in charge of the Chicago office. We’re going to need a sworn statement from you in order to obtain a search warrant for that house.”
He could tell from the expression on my face I did not like it. He gestured at Hope. “Agent Delmonico can ride with you back to the office and expedite the matter.”
He was interrupted by his portable radio barking. Whoever was tasked with doing a drive-by of the residence just informed him the van was still parked in front of the house. The voice was calm, at first, but then he became excited.
“Break-break! Three men are exiting the house. I’m slow rolling down the street so they aren’t alarmed, but it looks like they’re loading up. Two of them are carrying suitcases and one of them is cradling something in a blanket. It’s hard to tell. Andy, drive down the street and see what you can.”
“10-4,” another man said. Hope and I exchanged a glance. The same man spoke again.
“They’re on the move,” he said. “Three males. One is a confirmed suspect and it looked like it was a child wrapped up in a blanket, Pete. They’re t
aking a right and heading toward Evergreen.”
Special Agent-in-Charge Lighthorse made a sweeping gesture with his hand at Hope. “Let’s go.” He then focused on me. “Wait here.”
I didn’t like it. I wanted to be in on the takedown. I caught a somber, pleading gaze from Hope. She did not want me to make any waves. I understood and gave her a subtle nod. She responded with her own grateful nod before running to the van.
So, there I was, sitting in my SUV in a parking lot on the side of the Northwest Highway. I didn’t even have a radio to listen in on the activity.
“Damn,” I muttered again.
I decided to at least make myself somewhat helpful. I went into the menu of my dash cam and created a dedicated file for the video I currently had. I’d no sooner accomplished this, when I heard the sirens. I could not yet see them, but I could hear them, and they were getting closer. I hurriedly hit the record button and started my car.
I sat in the parking lot, listening to the sirens getting closer. As luck would have it, they sped right past me. It was not a high-speed chase by any means, maybe sixty or seventy miles-per-hour, but it was reckless nonetheless and the suspects sideswiped at least one car when they blasted through an intersection.
I followed, but kept several car lengths between us. Within a matter of seconds, four marked police cars joined in. Whoever was driving the white van really tried to outrun the cops, but the engine was not finely tuned. Whenever they hit the accelerator, a thick black cloud burst out of the exhaust pipe. They did not stand a chance outrunning the patrol cars. I had no idea where they were trying to go; escape was all but impossible.
The van and the caravan of police cars sped down the road at maybe sixty or seventy. I followed along; hell, it was easy to keep up. After a minute, I saw a bunch of flashing lights several blocks ahead. I knew at least one set of spike strips awaited the fleeing gypsies. I closed the distance at about the same time the driver of the van tried to swerve and avoid the spike strips. He was unsuccessful. The tires blew with a puff of dirty air emanating from them. The van started swerving in spectacular fashion and hit an oncoming car before coming to rest. The cops and the Feds immediately surrounded the van with guns drawn. One of the Chicago cops, a woman, wisely stayed in her car and began barking orders over her PA system.
“Driver, this is the police, turn your vehicle off and slowly step out with your hands up!”
I turned into a parking lot and stopped well over a hundred yards away and positioned my SUV so the dash cam could capture the takedown. All other traffic had come to a standstill. Some people actually got out of their cars and were filming with their phones, oblivious to the possible danger they were putting themselves in.
The back doors of the van abruptly exploded open. From my point of view, I couldn’t see what was going on in the interior of the van, but suddenly I saw spouting flames instantaneously followed by the sounds of automatic weapons fire. The closest cop car was riddled with bullets.
I instinctively scrunched down in my seat, even though the focus of gunfire was directed onto the cops and cop cars on the street. I could discern two different calibers of gunfire coming out of the van, one of which was a heavier caliber machine gun. The cops returned fire, but the amount of lead being sprayed in their direction severely hampered their accuracy. As I watched, two cops fell and one of the cars caught on fire. It’s not like the movies—that car was not going to explode immediately—but it was going to explode.
A cop tried to run into the line of fire and rescue one of his compadres. He was instantly cut down. I don’t know how much ammo the gypsies had, but they’d already shot off well over a hundred rounds. It looked like one of the Feds had been shot through the window of his undercover car. The van Hope was in was riddled with bullets and I was fearful she’d been hit as well.
The firefight continued and gunfire from the van continued in sporadic bursts. They had so much ammo, it was almost like they expected this. The burning cop car started with flames peeking out from under the hood, but now it was fully engulfed. A couple of tires exploded and there was a lull in gunfire. Pekoe suddenly stuck his head out. He had a revolver now and began firing again. I guess they finally ran out of ammo for their machine guns. Somebody, I’d guessed it was one of the street cops, put a round in his forehead. Pekoe dropped immediately. Scratch one bad guy.
Suddenly, the patrol car’s gas tank exploded. Wolf took advantage of the distraction by jumping out of the driver’s door and taking off at a sprint. The man could run fast, I had to give him that. One of the undercover Feds took off after him. Wolf fired a handgun over his shoulder. He quickly emptied the revolver, but scored a hit on the Fed, who went down in a heap. Wolf dropped the weapon and headed down a side street, which was, coincidentally, where I was parked.
He ran past, within ten feet of me. He was much too fast for me to try to run him down, but I had never left my SUV and it had been unscathed by the gunfire. He ran past a big blue water tower and toward a white multistory building. The entire street was blocked with cars and people who’d been shot all to hell. I hopped a curb and drove down a sidewalk in pursuit.
Wolf looked back and saw me. I mean, he did not actually see me, but he saw a blue Ford Explorer speeding toward him. He probably assumed I was a Fed. He darted left, toward the building. I assumed he was still armed, perhaps with a backup, so I stopped behind a truck parked by the curb. He yanked on the door to the business, but it was locked. That did not stop Wolf. He launched a powerful kick and shattered the tempered glass. Barreling through it with his shoulder, he disappeared into the building.
I parked, got out, and ducked momentarily behind the truck. Looking back toward Northwest Highway, all I could see was carnage and destruction. A couple of car alarms were going off and in addition to the police car, there was at least one other car on fire. I heard multiple sirens in the distance. Additional help was coming but I had no idea how long it’d be before they got here.
Chicago had strict gun laws, which caused me to keep my Springfield XD secured in my lockbox, but I wasn’t going to chase Wolf unarmed. As quickly as I could, I unlocked it, performed press check, and made my way to the broken glass door.
The sign on the building identified it as a bank, which, hopefully meant all of the employees were gone for the evening. The door Wolf went in was a back entrance, beside the drive-thru lanes. As soon as I made my way to the door, I saw Wolf running out the back, toward a parking lot.
Damn. He’d succeeded in getting me out of my vehicle. He had a good lead on me, at least fifty yards. If I ran back to my SUV, there was a good chance I’d lose him, so I gave chase. He continued across the street into another lot which provided parking for a strip mall of commercial businesses. As he reached the end of the lot and rounded the corner, he looked back. When he recognized me, he slowed and stared. And then, that reptilian smile spread across his lips.
I had to admit, it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but I wasn’t dissuaded. After all, I had semi-jacketed hollow points loaded into my Springfield. They were proven manstoppers. More than enough to take him down.
Maybe.
I slowed from a sprint to a cautious jog as I went through the parking lot and around the building he disappeared behind. He was nowhere in sight. I stopped and looked around. There was a woman looking down on me from a second-story window and she had a phone in her hand. I had no doubt she was calling 911 and telling them a man with a gun was chasing another man. For that matter, if a local cop drove up and saw me, they were likely to shoot first and ask questions later.
I did not have a holster on me, so I did like they do in the movies and stuck my gun into the waistband at the small of my back. I pulled my shirttail over it and looked back up at the woman. Two other women had joined her. One was staring at me, the other two were peering at the area of the parking lot to my left. I started working my way through the cars, looking between and under them as I walked.
As I ro
unded a Range Rover, Wolf suddenly appeared from the other side of it and hit me in the face with a roundhouse kick. I had managed to get my hands up and take a step back before his foot made contact. It landed against my hand and side of my head. The impact jolted me. I stepped back quickly and tried to shake the numbness out of my hand. Wolf pursued and attempted to kick me again. I managed to sidestep this time and the only thing he kicked was the air. He continued trying a series of kicks and punches. I was doing a good job of avoiding any of them landing with full strength, and I even managed to get in a punch or two. He shook them off and continued pressing me so aggressively I did not have the opportunity to grab my gun. I finally tried a different tact
“You hear those sirens? They’re almost here for you.”
He stopped a moment and gave me a baleful stare. “Not soon enough to save you, eh?”
Before I could respond, he lunged forward and attempted a side kick. I already had about fifteen feet between us, but even so, he almost got me. I backed up quickly and began reaching for my gun when I crashed against the side of a parked car.
He smirked with those lizard lips as he charged in and hit me with a spinning wheel kick. This kick caught me on the side of the head, right above the left ear. It hurt, no doubt about it. It hurt like hell and I saw a few stars. I’d had a grip on my gun and was pulling it out of my waistband, but his kick rattled me so hard I lost my grip. My gun dropped to the pavement with a sickening thud.
He glanced down at it. It was all I needed. I caught him with a left hook that was hard enough to knock out most men. Unfortunately, his knees did not even buckle. So, I did the only other thing I could think of: I grabbed him in a bear hug.
When I was a young kid, my Uncle Mike took me to a pro wrestling match at the fairgrounds located off of Nolensville Pike. A bear of a man with long greasy hair and a walrus mustache and wearing nothing but a Speedo swimsuit stood in the middle of the ring, taunting the audience. He loudly proclaimed he was unbeatable and issued a challenge. Anyone who could escape one of his infamous bear hugs would win a hundred bucks. A young man in his twenties accepted the challenge and climbed in the ring. He was no small fry himself, almost as big as the wrestler. The wrestler shook his hand and then immediately grabbed him. The young man struggled feverishly, but the big man was like a human vise. After a minute or so, the challenger went limp and passed out. The wrestler dropped him on the mat and smirked at the crowd. There were no other challengers.