Dark justice, p.15
Dark Justice, page 15
part #7 of The Shadow Patriots Series
“What if we can't find you?”
“Take one of the trucks and go home.”
Both girls wrapped their arms around Winters which they always did when they were nervous. He squeezed tight to reassure them, as a tinge of guilt crept through him. They didn't like leaving him but would do as they were told.
“Keep the radios on but maintain radio silence. If for some reason I'm going to be longer, I'll click the radio three times. That way you'll know I'm okay but got held up.”
He escorted them back to the car and watched them tear out of the Cascades and head down Kibby Road.
A hollow pain shot up his chest and moved into his throat as they drove away. It was strange to suddenly be away from them. It made him realize how much he had relied on them to ease his grief. He'd grown so attached to them that being without them was like having a security blanket ripped away.
He slid into the car satisfied they'd be safer with the trucks.
* * * * *
Walt Hendrix or Walrus, as his fellow cops called him because of his over-sized beer belly and his love of eating fried catfish, had the displeasure of working this morning. He was driving up Kibby Road to check out the Cascades for a report of some of M & M's being killed there.
He had first checked in with Colonel Khan who had been tasked with cleaning out the remaining population, and also to catch any of Mordulfah's men who were keeping girls for themselves. This was a big no-no and broke a trust they had with the prince. Anyone caught was going to lose his head. For that very reason, Khan needed the help of the cops because he couldn't trust Mordulfah's men.
Walrus chuckled at the thought because if Mordulfah only knew how many girls they had rounded up and kept hidden, the prince would come unglued. Vatter had orchestrated a brilliant scheme to smuggle out thirty-nine girls from all the prisoners they had scooped up in their net.
The girls were of varying ages and appearances. Some were definitely better looking than others, but at this point, it didn't really matter what they looked like. They'd been without their party-house for a couple of months now, so everyone's standards had been lowered.
Walrus let out a yawn and thought about finding a place to sleep off his hangover. He'd been up half the night at their new party house in Detroit. Besides all the beer he had drank, he had visited several different girls.
He had the windows down hoping the breeze would help him stay awake. When he approached Weatherwax Drive he did a double take because, at first, he couldn't believe what was in front of him.
Chapter 33
Winters spun the wheels as he pulled out of the Cascades and turned north onto South West Avenue. The street would take him right to Michigan Avenue leading him through downtown and to the hospital. His excitement of a reunion had dwindled, but he still held out hope he'd run into some of the guys. For now, he was on high alert.
The closer to downtown he got the more he could smell the odor of charred buildings. Then the first corpse appeared lying on the side of the street. He slowed down and stared at the old man. Flies were buzzing around him, and birds had started their feast.
He turned away knowing if it weren't for the wildlife, then the bodies would just rot and spread disease.
By the time he made it to downtown, he was convinced the town had finally been invaded. He found more dead bodies and soon came up to barricades that Nordell had set up. The two of them had talked about the defenses of the town, and Winters recognized all the signs of their plan.
His spirit sank knowing he had missed leading the Shadow Patriots in defense of the town. He started to regret ever leaving. He stifled a yell to shake off the guilt. It wouldn't have helped anyway, and he needed to keep his head in the game.
He passed by more bodies as he maneuvered around the barricades. He recognized some of them and could only curse silently at how they died. Studying the blown-out cars, it was apparent the Jijis had gotten their hands on some RPG's. Mordulfah must have had help with the invasion. The Jijis they had fought would never have been able to get this close to downtown.
It was becoming apparent the Shadow Patriots were gone, and perhaps he should turn around and get back to the girls, but he had an uncontrollable urge to get to the hospital. Maybe some of his guys were still there, and Doctor Lunsford was patching them up. From the looks of the dead, it appeared the attack happened two or three days ago, and maybe they had come back. He needed to know for sure before trying to figure out how to find them.
He reached the hospital and reasoned that this was where the primary battle had taken place. There were dead everywhere and bullet-ridden vehicles. He looked up at the hospital and couldn't find a single window without bullet holes or blown out completely.
His mouth went dry as he pulled into the parking lot. He spotted the white Chevy truck he'd been driving and parked next to it. He looked in it and found the keys sitting on the floorboard.
He hustled inside the hospital with his M4 at the ready. The back entrance had been blasted out forcing him to climb over the debris to get inside. He walked down the hall recognizing several of his men. So many of them had been with him from the start, others they had picked up along the way.
He walked into one room where a dead man was handcuffed to the bed. It was the spy, Nick Posey. Winters couldn't help but smirk at the thought of him being killed by his own side. Poetic justice.
He left the room and continued walking down the hallway astonished at the number of bullet holes that riddled the walls. They told the tale of a ferocious battle. It probably happened early in the morning. Sneak in and hit the one area where most of the enemy slept. A good plan for them but unfortunate for his guys.
He hit the stairwell and hustled up the stairs. A breeze from the broken windows blew through the hot hallway. He'd seen enough dead to know they'd start to smell in the next day or so.
He turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. Blood rushed to his head making him dizzy as he stared at Elliott and Nate or what was left of them. Nate must have been putting up a hell of a fight for them to use a grenade. The damn thing blew out the entire wall and tore up their bodies. If he hadn't known them so well, he'd never have been able to recognize them.
He fought back his tears and rested his head on the wall. Elliott had been the first person he had met at the train station and had been his rock. He had given him sage advice over the last few months and had become a good friend. He had needed a good friend because he had lost all of his.
After a few minutes and a couple of deep breaths, Winters continued and headed to Reese's room. He was almost hesitant to look in her room fearing he might find her dead. That would have been a final blow of which he wasn't sure he'd be able to recover. He feared Mister Hyde was coming back and taking over. That was the last thing he needed as it would cloud his mind. His hesitation subsided when he didn't find any bullet holes in the walls as he neared her room.
It was empty, and the bed hadn't been made. She must have left in a hurry because she always made her bed. He then spotted her red crutch. It was leaning on the wall, and it made him smile. He had wrecked her other crutch, and she had insisted on a red one as it was her favorite color. She must be doing better if she left it here. He couldn't help himself and grabbed it before leaving her room hoping it would bring him good luck.
He'd seen enough to know the Shadow Patriots or what was left of them were gone. He needed to get going so he could figure out how to find them. He started walking down the hallway and heard the sound of engines through the open windows. He hustled into one of the rooms and looked out the window just as several vehicles were coming into the parking lot. He watched as they got out of the car. He lifted up his binoculars and realized these guys weren't the undisciplined rabble of Jijis they had been fighting. They were different, and they were coming inside.
Chapter 34
The headache Reese awoke with had subsided after taking the Motrin, but it was starting to come back and she was getting dehydrated. She'd been walking for the last thirty minutes and the morning air was getting warmer as the sun continued to beat down. She walked across an overgrown lawn to a garden hose, turned the faucet on and gulped down as much water as she could. Before turning it off, she squirted the water on her face to help cool down. The water helped drive away the pain she felt on the right side of her head. She touched it through her hair and felt a sizable bump.
The tall grass scratched her bare legs as she sat down to rest. Her left leg was sore, and she wished she had a crutch. A passing memory streaked across her mind. I do have a crutch. A red one.
The fleeting thought reminded her she couldn't remember much and hadn't even thought about her name. She grimaced at how silly it was but then struggled to remember it. Why couldn't she remember it? Growing frustrated, she gave up and exhaled. “Damn, I am fucked up.”
She continued to sit there while wondering which way to go. She was still confused as to why no one was answering their door and thought for sure she'd run into someone at some point.
She got up and walked back to Park Road. She looked both ways and decided she'd rather have the sun at her back and turned west. Her flip-flops slapped the pavement as she limped down the street. The street ended, and she had to make another choice. Left or right. She looked up at the sun trying to figure out which way it was going. It hurt too much to think so she turned left and walked a few yards but then realized the sun was in her eyes again, so she turned around and headed the other way.
She continued to walk along Weatherwax Drive and was about twenty yards away from Kibby Road when she finally spotted a car coming. A flash of energy exploded through her, and she waved her left arm to get the attention of a passing police car.
The cruiser's brakes screeched as it passed by and came to a full stop. It then spun its wheels backing up creating white smoke. The car then swung over and parked in the middle of the road.
The hairs on her arms stood as if charged by an electric charge and her hands turned clammy. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what it was.
The cop got out of the car, and the first thing Reese noticed was his oversized beer belly. He seemed familiar, but she wasn't sure why.
“Can you help me? I'm lost.”
“Hey, I know you,” said the cop as he began to waddle over to her.
Reese backed up a few steps unsure why he was making her nervous. “You do?”
“Oh yeah, you're that fine thing I liked to get it on with. Man, out of all them girls, you were by far, my favorite.”
The cop's voice was making Reese's skin crawl. She was in trouble and backed up a few more steps as he got closer. She met his eyes and didn't like what they told her. He wasn't there to help her, and she needed to get away from him. She ignored the pain in her leg and started to hobble across a lawn toward a small white house.
She was slow, but his beer belly made him slower giving her a slight chance. Her knees started shaking threatening to throw off what little balance she had. She didn't dare turn around to see how close he was for fear of tripping. She could hear his panting though and knew he was close. Why was he chasing her and how did he know her? The questions stormed through her mind and a flashing vision of being tied up and raped by him finally answered her questions.
Chapter 35
Washington DC
Sitting in the back of his chauffeur-driven limo, one could almost make out the steam rising from Perozzi's head as he stared at a poster mocking him. The bikini-clad girls didn't bother him, nor had the wrinkled skin on him, but the colostomy bag was just too much. How dare they disrespect him like this?
He had been told there were several more posters put up last night. Some even worse than this one. They were now all over town, and no attempt had been made to remove them.
Reed must have instructed the police to leave them up. He had no doubt his fat friend was still pissed off at the way he embarrassed him in front of Stormy. Oh, where was that girl? Reed was to blame for letting that one slip away. She would have been the best looking girl, he would have had without paying for it. She was high class, and Reed screwed it up for him. And now, he was enjoying the payback with these posters. He suspected the fat man had even paid for them.
That explanation was making more sense than anything else. Always consider the timing of things. Those blasted recordings are sent to him and now the posters. Hell, it was probably Reed who had sent the tapes, seeing as how he was the one who did the wiretap. Paranoid bastard. He was trying to make a power play with what cards he had, but those weren't much considering all the money with which he had been funding everything. Reed had money but not anywhere near as much as he had.
Perozzi reached for his cell phone and decided to call Kurt Melnick, the commandant of the National Police.
The phone rang a couple of times before Melnick answered.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”
That was more like it. Respect. Melnick didn't need to ask who it was. “Why haven't these posters been taken down?”
Melnick leaned back in his seat. He had been expecting this call and was actually surprised it had taken the old man this long to make it.
“I was instructed not to,” said Melnick knowing what the next question was going to be. He didn't really care and enjoyed playing with the old guy. He didn't particularly like him, and besides, he worked for Reed who had been his benefactor for most of his career.
“And,” fumed Perozzi losing his patience.
Melnick held back a chuckle. “Mister Reed, sir.” He could hear Perozzi's breathing, and it was coming in short rapid gasps. Melnick wondered if he was going to go into cardiac arrest. Maybe the colostomy bag wasn't too far off the mark. Again, he decided to wait for the next question rather than offer the explanation.
“Why?” Perozzi demanded between gasps.
“Sir, he felt it was a good way for everyone to let off a little steam.”
“He did huh? You listen to me. I want every single one of those posters taken down by the end of the day.”
“It's Sunday, sir. There's no one I could call to do it,” lied Melnick.
“If you don't get this taken care of I will literally have your hide. You understand what I'm telling you?” threatened Perozzi.
“Sir, I'll see what I can do. I'll make some calls.”
“You'd better,” yelled Perozzi before hanging up.
Melnick broke out laughing while dialing Reed's number.
“Good morning Kurt, let me guess, he called you.”
“He did indeed, sir.”
“Hell, took him long enough.”
“He even threatened me.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah, something about literally having my hide.”
“That would be par for the course for him,” said Reed convinced that Perozzi already tried to kill him in the parking garage.
“What do you want me to do?”
Reed had already given it some thought. “Call Alex and have him do a full court press on the posters but in a good light on the talented but unknown artist.”
Melnick let out a laugh. “I like it, sir. I'll call him right now.”
* * * * *
Alex Dauber began trembling when his phone rang. Did Melnick already know he killed his minders? It didn't seem likely, but still, it was odd he was calling on a Sunday.
He hit the button and said hello.
“Alex, Kurt here.”
“What's up?”
“Making a call for Mister Reed.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you know those graffiti posters all around town?”
“Of course I do. Everybody's talking about them. I thought we were supposed to ignore them.”
“Nope. Reed wants a full expose on them. Television and print.”
“What's the angle?” asked a relieved Dauber.
“How creative and daring the artist is and that they were done in good humor, blah blah blah. Oh, and how did they get them so high up on those buildings.”
“I know just what to do,” said Dauber. “I'll even handle it myself and have it on tonight's broadcast.”
“Excellent, buddy. I can't wait to see it.”
Dauber hung up the phone and shook his fists. This was a perfect lead-in for what he had to do to get his daughters back. He turned to his wife who was just as nervous as he was. What he had put her through was unforgivable, and he had to lie to her to convince her that he wasn't the bad guy here. She relented, but deep down he wondered if she wasn't holding back something.
Did those bastards show her those pictures? He had no idea those pictures even existed, but there was no denying them. He'd been having sex with underage girls for the past year. It started out innocent enough while partying on a private island. He'd been offered a couple of girls who, he was told, were eighteen, but both looked like they were fourteen. He later found out that one was fifteen and the other one was, indeed, fourteen.
Deep down he knew, but he had lied to himself. Besides, all the girls from that weekend had been flown in from other countries, and no one would ever know. The next trip to the island was easier, and he didn't bother to lie to himself. He was hooked, and it just grew from there.
He had recognized a couple of the girls in the pictures and where he was. It was right here in a DC Hotel. That damn Bruce Pruitt must have had the room set up with one-way mirrors. Now he realized why the girls were so easy to obtain. They wanted pictures in case they ever needed to blackmail him.
Of course, that's precisely what was happening right now only it was the wrong people doing the blackmailing. The chickens were coming home to roost, and his daughters were paying the price for his deviancy. The bastards better not hurt them. That bitch from last night said they wouldn't, but he didn't trust her. He wanted nothing more than to use the gun he retrieved and shoot her skinny ass.
He turned to his wife and told her who had just called and how it was the perfect way to get those recordings played. He knew just what he was going to do.
