Black operator complete.., p.7
Black Operator--Complete Box Set (Books 1-6), page 7
“He has to die.”
He glanced at her in surprise and quickly focused his gaze back on the highway. The indicator read one hundred and fifty, and every ounce of concentration was necessary to keep the speeding car on the road. “What?”
“He has to die. When we get the chance, give me the gun, and I will do it.”
He was thankful he wouldn’t have to kill again and repeat the experience of that village outside Bogota. But it was all wrong. He was the warrior, and he’d sworn to protect her. Killing that man was the only way to do it.
“No, I’ll do it. Assuming I get the chance.”
“You said you’d never use a gun again.”
He grimaced. “I did, but I made a promise I intend to keep.”
“Even after what happened before?”
“I’ll work it out sometime,” he almost shouted, forcing himself to stay in control of his racing emotions. “But don’t hold your breath. With this guy, it’ll be difficult just getting close enough to get the shot. Shit!”
He swore because up ahead the cops had formed a roadblock, and cars were starting to slow. He had no choice, and the speed bled off as he eased off the gas pedal and pressed down on the brake. He checked, but the Dodge was out of sight, and they’d lost him. They funneled through the lane of cars in single file, checking each one with care, until they reached the choke point, and they waved him to a stop. The traffic cop had his gun out, and he didn’t look friendly.
“Get out of the car. Put your hands on the hood, feet apart! Don’t make any sudden moves, or I’ll blast you.”
He obeyed, and Maria did the same. They covered them both, while another cop made a call on his radio. They saw him talking, looking at them, at the car, and nodding. When he’d finished, he came back. “You’re both under arrest for car theft, dangerous driving, and…” He patted Cris down and grinned. “Well, lookee here. This looks like a fully auto machine gun. I guess you know they’re not legal, Sir?”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Yeah.” He turned to the other cops who were watching. “Cuff them both. We’re taking them downtown. One of you follow us in the Audi. Let’s go.”
He tasted the bitter pill of defeat as they sat together in the rear of the cruiser. She glanced at him and sensed what was going through his head.
“It’s not your fault. We had no choice but to run. Otherwise I’d be dead, and you as well.” She forced a smile. “Look on the bright side, although we’re under arrest, we’re surrounded by cops. At least we’re safe from that madman trying to kill me.”
“Are we?”
She looked uncertain. “Well, yes, we must be. Inside a police station, there’s no way he could get to us. Why aren’t you convinced?”
“It’s not me who needs to be convinced, it’s the killer.”
They parked out front and pushed them inside. Cullum and Mason were waiting for them, and the younger cop managed a sneer.
“If it isn’t Bonnie and Clyde. I hope you enjoyed the freedom and fresh air. You won’t be tasting any more for the next few years.” He nodded to the cop holding Cris’ handcuffs. “Take him down to Interview Room 3. I’ll be there soon.”
Mason nodded a greeting to Maria. “Miss Tereshkova, I warned you about taking the law into your own hands. I called the Mayor, and he said for me to take a statement. Provided you haven’t broken any laws, and it looks to me like the guy you’re with was responsible for everything that happened, you’ll be free to attend City Hall this evening.”
“It wasn’t Cris Rhodes, dammit. Don’t you know there’s a man trying to kill me?”
“Sure I do, but like I told you, we'll handle it.”
“Detective, that killer is still out there!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him.”
Her look was scathing. “When?”
He didn’t reply, and she gave up trying to point out the obvious. A killer was loose, and they were dicking around with paperwork. He led her to another interview room, indicated for her to go inside, and told her to sit.
In the adjoining interview room, Cullum was less than happy. “Where did you get the Skorpion, Rhodes? Who sold it to you?”
“I want a lawyer.”
He pursed his lips. “Not yet, I need some information first. Tell me about the gun.”
“I’ll tell my lawyer.”
“Fuck you, Rhodes. You’ll tell me now. We have a one-man crime wave in this city, and I need to know where it’s coming from.”
“Ask my lawyer.”
He finally gave up. “You want to play it that way, you can cool off in the cells overnight. You change your mind, let me know.”
“I’m entitled to a lawyer, Detective.”
“True. Problem is, it might take me until morning to remember who to call. Let’s go.”
He gestured for Rhodes to stand and led the way out of the interview room. The door to the next room opened, and Maria came out, escorted by Mason. She gave him a worried look. “What’s happening?”
Cullum answered. “What’s happening is this guy is spending the night here while he thinks about telling us what we need to know.” Mason watched expressionless as his partner went on. “We have more than enough to charge him, and he’ll be spending some time in jail. How much is up to him.”
“There must be a way to…”
Mason interrupted. “Even your pal the Mayor can’t fix this one, Miss Tereshkova. The charges are serious. There’s no way around them.”
She glanced at Cris, her face sad. “I’m sorry. I have to do something to put a stop to all this.” She smiled at Mason. “I wonder could I have somewhere private to make a call.”
She was a friend of the Mayor, and he assumed she’d want to call her lawyer. “You may, but make it quick. You can use an interview room.”
She didn’t make it quick and didn’t emerge until a quarter of an hour later. But she felt relaxed. It was over. Mason was waiting outside, pacing up and down with impatience. He glared at her. “I thought I said to make it quick. Who did you call? Moscow?”
“Yes. May I speak to Cris Rhodes? It’ll only take a moment.”
He nodded, thinking of her talking to the Mayor if he made it difficult for her. “I’ll allow it, but one minute, that’s all.”
He led her to another interview room and opened the door. Rhodes looked up and smiled. “They letting you go?”
“I think so, but I wanted to let you know it’s over.”
“You what? How is it over?”
“I made a deal. There’ve been too many lives lost already. I’m standing down from the election, and they’ve promised to call him off.”
“You believed them?”
“Yes, they sounded sincere. Besides, I told them we’re protected by the police, and if he tries again, they’ll arrest him and find out who sent him. They won’t risk that kind of exposure.”
His mind was plagued with doubts.
The kind of people who send a killer to murder a political opponent don’t sound like the type to honor any agreement. Then again, what do I know about Russian politics?
“I hope you’re right.”
* * *
He’d parked the red Dodge Dart outside a gas station, five miles from the center of Chicago. The gunman was trying to figure where they may have gone when the call came in. They gave him the address of a police station, and he punched it into the satnav. He started the engine and drove into the city, following the directions.
He braked to a halt opposite the precinct and watched for a few minutes. Cops came and went, and he was careful to keep his head averted whenever anyone looked his way. After a few minutes, he began to revaluate, just in case she didn’t come out anytime soon. He couldn’t wait too long. They’d get suspicious and ask questions. Only one thing for it, he’d have to go inside, find her, and finish her. The orders they’d given him were clear. The target was running scared and trying to make a deal, but nothing had changed. He was to kill her, no matter what it took. He looked down at his clothes, dirty and disheveled, bloodstained after the hits he’d taken in the parking garage. He mentally shrugged. It was too bad. Any cop who pushed him too hard, he’d kill them. He ejected the magazine of the Wildey and checked the remaining ammunition. It was just as well. He was down to a single round. He inserted a new mag, thumbed off the safety, and climbed from the car, keeping his gun hand low to camouflage the weapon against his dark colored pants. He walked toward the precinct door.
A cop walked out from the building and gave him a strange look, but he walked on, and the cop ignored him. He started up the steps and stopped, rigid in shock. An older man in a crumpled suit was showing a young woman out of the building. He heard him say, “We’ll do what we can to find this guy and lock him up, Miss Tereshkova. But I’m certain he’s already a long way away. He won’t come anywhere near this place, now he knows we’re looking for him.”
Then she was standing in front of him, the target, Maria Tereshkova, the final obstacle to him going home and claiming his just rewards. The shock was so great he was slow bringing up the gun, and that was all that saved her. He cursed to himself as she turned and ran back up the steps. He pulled the trigger, almost a reflex. The shot went wide, and he fired again, but the detective was between her and him, and the bullet took him in the side of his body. He bellowed in pain and anger, clawing for his weapon, but the gunman was already running up the steps, and he kicked it out of his hand. It slid away, and he ignored it, ignored the wounded cop, and raced through the doorway.
She was running like a hare, already halfway through the lobby, and an old cop behind the desk was reaching for his gun. He fired on the run, and the bullet took him in the arm. The man flinched as he took the hit and dived for cover behind the desk. The gunman kept going, firing another shot at the target, but she’d disappeared through an inner door, and he started after her. He was close.
Soon.
* * *
She ran through the inner door and came face to face with Cullum and Cris Rhodes. The detective held him by the arm, leading him away, and she stopped.
“He’s here. Oh, my God, I thought this was over. They promised!”
“Yeah, right. You mean he’s inside the building?”
It dawned on her the interview room was soundproofed, and neither Rhodes nor Cullum had heard the shots.
Cullum stared at her. “Who’s here?”
“The killer,” she shouted. “He just shot your partner, and he’s coming for me.” She pointed to the door. “Any moment he’ll be through there, and you won’t be able to stop him. Not one man.”
“He shot Doug? Jesus Christ, I’ll murder the motherfucker. Get out of my way!”
He gave her a violent shove with one hand and drew his weapon with the other. Holding out the Glock 17, he ran for the door. Tereshkova and Rhodes shouted at the same time, “Cullum don’t do it!”
“Fuck him!” He opened the door and almost ran into the gunman. The gun was at his hip, hand on the trigger, and he fired. As Cullum went down, Rhodes grabbed her and shouted, “Run!” He simultaneously snatched up the Glock.
They turned and ran back through the corridor. The gunman came after them, tripping over the body of the detective he’d just shot. His hand found the cop’s radio, and in an instinctive move, tucked it in his pocket and climbed back to his feet. Cris heard the crash as the big man hit the concrete floor and looked around. He snapped off two rounds as the shooter was getting up, not looking to see if he’d hit anything. They ran on, and a door opened the other end of the corridor. A uniformed cop walked through carrying a mug of coffee.
His eyes widened, and he shouted, “What the fuck!”
The gunman fired again, and the bullet smashed through the china mug and buried itself in the cop’s chest. They ran through the open door and were in another corridor. At the end, a crash bar protected an emergency exit, and he arrowed toward it. Hit the crash bar on the run, and rolled outside the building as two more shots whined over their heads. They catapulted back to their feet and ran to the front of the building. The Audi was parked right outside. He ran to the driver’s door and opened it, and by a miracle, the cop who’d driven it in had left the keys. He turned to her and shouted, “Get in!”
She didn’t need a second order and dove into the passenger seat. He started the engine, rammed the shift into gear, and floored the gas. The R8 leapt forward, racing away as the gunman emerged and raised his gun. He lowered it as he saw his target out of range. They didn’t see him run to the Dodge Dart and drive after them.
“What did you do, Maria? Who did you call?”
“The Kremlin office, a man named Ushakov. He agreed to stand him down in exchange for me recusing myself from the election. He lied!”
“Yeah, didn’t he just? I’ll try to lose him, but any more ideas like that one, run them past me first.”
“I will.” Her voice was hoarse. “What have I done, Cris? It may have got us killed.”
“We’re not dead yet.”
Chapter Three
Two cops stooped next to Doug Mason, and they looked at the bloody wound in his side.
“You’ll need to get that treated, Detective. I’ll call for an ambulance to take you to the ER room.”
“Forget it. What happened to the shooter?”
“He got away.”
“Shit. Where’s Cullum? We need to get after him.”
The two uniforms glanced at each other, and the one who’d spoken first replied. “He’s dead, Detective. The bastard shot him.”
Mason closed his eyes, and he felt wearier that he’d felt in a long, long time.
He’s dead,” he repeated dully. “Help me up, and Officer Stewart, you come with me. Ferrer, put out an APB. I want every cop, every CCTV camera, everything looking out for that character. He’s too dangerous to leave roaming the city streets. Stewart, let’s go.”
He grimaced but followed the Detective as he started for the exit. A shout from beside the desk stopped him, and he looked at his old friend Traub. The wounded desk sergeant was lying on the floor, his face screwed up in pain. He knelt beside him.
“How bad is it, Phil?”
Traub tried to turn toward him and groaned. “It hurts, but not as much as knowing that bastard got away. Is it true about Cullum?”
“It’s true. He has a lot to answer for, and now he’s a cop killer. I’m going after him.”
Traub glanced at the blood on Mason’s shirt. “You don’t look too good yourself.”
“I’ll manage. I won’t rest until this guy is either dead or in custody.”
He grimaced. “I guess you feel you owe that much to Larry Cullum.”
He didn’t answer at first. “Yeah, maybe.”
“What’s maybe mean?”
He sighed. “That business at the Chicago Court, someone tipped of the media. I reckon that’s how the killer found out where they were. If he hadn’t done it, maybe he’d still be alive.”
The Sergeant looked down at the floor and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, er…”
He looked at Traub, and it came to him in a flash. That man he’d seen at the desk, of course, he’d seen him on TV. A so-called investigating journalist, and he sometimes hung around the precinct before they tossed him out on the street. Always fishing for any kind of story, no matter how much damage or hurt it caused. Provided it was sensational, and put a few bucks in his pocket. Dennis Conway. It was all there, in his body language, the hesitation, and the flush of guilt spread over his face. “You’re saying you told that sewer rat Conway? Jesus Christ, Phil, why’d you do it? How much did he pay you? You don’t need the money.”
“That’s what you think, pal. That bullet I took all those years ago, it still causes me trouble. I need stuff for the pain. Doug, there’s no other way I can keep going. If I lost my job, I’d go crazy.”
“Stuff? What do you mean, stuff?” He got it then. “You’ve been buying illegal street drugs. Jesus Christ, Phil, you’re a disgrace. You got our own men killed, and there’s me blaming Cullum. If you weren’t hurt, I’d break your fucking head open.”
“Doug, I…”
“Forget it, Phil. You’re as bad as Conway.”
“No, I…”
“Just stay out of my sight. I have work to do. Cop work.”
He stalked out, clutching his bloody side, and Patrolman Stewart fell in behind. He seated himself in the passenger seat, and Rob Stewart, a first-year rookie, got behind the wheel. “Where to, Detective?
“First, help me get a dressing on this before I bleed out. They’ll have put out the APB, so we should get something back soon. When you’ve finished the dressing, we’ll head south.”
“Why south?”
“Because that’s the direction the Russian girl and her boyfriend went. Wherever they’ve gone, you can bet your bottom dollar that big bastard won’t be far behind. He’s like a fucking bloodhound. Someone is sure to see him. That little sports car is distinctive, hard to miss. Now he’s killed some of our own, every cop will be out looking. When we know where that R8 has gone, we’ll go there. That’s where we’ll find him.”
“You’re sure about this? It seems like a long shot to me.”
“It’s a dead cert, Patrolman. I’ll call air support, and we’ll get the helicopter up. This fucker isn’t getting away, not again. He goes down, period.”
* * *
Rhodes drove fast to get out of the city, and as they left the outskirts, she gave him a worried look.
“Cris, where are we going? We’re leaving the city behind, and surely out here he’ll be able to track us.”
“It’s a risk, sure, but we need somewhere to hide out. DEA maintains a safe house outside the town of Joliet, that’s about thirty miles away. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for us, and we can hide out there while we figure out our next move.”
