Blind Justice (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

During his time as an Army Ranger, Oliver Pike worked as his unit
’
s marksman or sniper, and he had always found the traditional rifle systems to be long and cumbersome. For this reason, once he became a mercenary and could afford to use whatever equipment he wished regardless of price, he had instantly fell in love with the Stealth Recon Scout made by Desert Tactical Arms. The bolt-action sniper rifle fired a .308 round from a bullpup design, which meant that the feeding mechanism resided behind the grip and the trigger. This allowed the Recon Scout to be one of the shortest, most portable, and effective sniper rifles on the market.

From the roof of the brownstone opposite his target, he flipped down the rifle
’
s bipod and calculated the variables—distance, bearing, wind speed, barometric pressure, ammo temperature, air temperature. Most of the calculations and factors were overkill in this situation. It was an easy shot, but he still liked to be thorough, and it was good to stay in practice.

The target sat alone at the sidewalk cafe across the street, eating her salad and tapping keys on the laptop that occupied the rest of the small circular table. The conditions couldn
’
t have been more ideal if they would have been by his own design—a stationary target in the open for a measurable period of time directly opposite a vantage point that was easily concealable and escapable. Perfect. The surge of anticipation and adrenaline he felt was better than sex. He didn
’
t believe in God, but staring down the scope, he estimated that he was as close to a supreme being as any of the maggots below would ever come.

“Are you ready?” Almeida said over his shoulder.

Pike placed his crosshairs directly over Annabelle Dixon
’
s skull and said, “Just say the word.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

At the order of the mysterious gunman, Jonas Black raised his hands while weighing his options. Without looking over his shoulder, he couldn
’
t even tell precisely where the speaker stood in the hall, whether a gun was pointed at his back, or if the attacker was unarmed and alone. In a voice so deep that it was difficult to understand, the man said, “Up the stairs.”

Black complied and led Munroe up a metal stairwell to the roof, while constantly scanning for a way to turn the tables on the aggressor. He saw none that wouldn
’
t result in a high probability of a tragic ending. The door to the roof was unlocked and opened onto a metal catwalk leading down to an area of weather-worn concrete tiles. A brick dividing wall surrounded this portion of the roof, and a greenhouse occupied the space. No one else was around.

The gunman told them to stop in the empty space between the access door and the greenhouse. The glass front of the greenhouse showed the reflection of the two men at their backs. Both had swarthy bronze complexions. The speaker stood with his arms at his sides, while his companion held a Glock pistol at his hip, pointing the gun lazily at their backs. It shocked Black to see that the first man was a bonafide giant, and to Jonas Black, that description wasn
’
t thrown around lightly. The stranger towered well over seven feet tall with a wide flat face and shoulder length black hair. He wore a long trench coat with what could have been an MP5 submachine gun concealed beneath the folds of the material. Black also noticed that the second man
’
s finger was on the trigger guard of the Glock, not the trigger itself.

The giant
’
s phone rang, and he handed it to Black. The voice on the other end told him to put the phone on speaker so that Munroe could hear as well.

“Mr. Munroe,” the man on the phone said in a Hispanic accent. “I figured it was time that we discuss the current situation like gentleman. You have something that belongs to my employer. A small flash drive. I find it unfortunate that people have been harmed because of something so small and inconsequential. I do not wish further hostilities, and I
’
ve been informed that you are a reasonable man. I have a simple request. Give me the drive and you and your large friend may go.”

“And If I don
’
t?”

“We
’
ll kill you and take it. And in case you
’
re considering something rash, you should know that another of my associates is currently looking down the scope of a sniper rifle at your friend, Ms. Dixon.”

Munroe
’
s jaw muscles tightened into tight cords, and his fists balled up. Through clenched teeth, Munroe said, “I
’
m going to reach into my jacket pocket.”

“Slowly,” the dark-skinned giant said.

Munroe
’
s hand came out of his pocket with a small, gray device that Black assumed to be the flash drive. He passed the drive back to the giant. “I gave it to your man,” Munroe said to the phone. “You going to kill us now like you did Gerald and General Easton?”

“The death of your friend was unfortunate, and I apologize for that. It was not by my orders. I
’
m afraid it was the result of overzealous private contractors. But you shouldn
’
t live in the past, Mr. Munroe. Try to focus on the present and live in the moment.”

“You work for Ramon Castillo, don
’
t you?”

The man on the other end of the line hesitated just long enough to show his surprise, and Munroe continued. “I have a friend who works on the FBI
’
s task force on organized crime. We had dinner a few weeks back, and he told me about how the Castillo Cartel out of Mexico has been worming their way into legitimate US companies that have fallen on hard times. He said that the cartels were a hundred times more dangerous than any group we
’
ve faced here in the United States. Fortunately, the Senate is preparing to ratify a new bill that would declare the cartels as terrorist organizations, which means that the government can grab any holdings or companies linked to them. It would be terribly inconvenient if any evidence surfaced that showed such a link between the cartels and a large US corporation, especially one with a lucrative military contract. I wonder if that
’
s what
’
s contained in the directory on the drive marked as
Money Transfers.
”

“You
’
re a clever man. Unfortunately, without the drive, you have nothing. I hope you
’
re clever enough to realize that this situation has escalated out of your control. This is your one chance to walk away. Give the phone back to my associates, and they will leave you in peace. But if you continue down this path, you will leave me with no choice but to engage in certain activities that I find…distasteful. Goodbye, Mr. Munroe.”

Black handed the phone back without turning around. In the reflection on the greenhouse, he saw the giant place the phone into a pocket. Then he watched each of the men carefully, expecting one of them to raise a weapon. And, if either of them did so, he was ready to make a move. Jonas Black didn
’
t intend to go down without a fight.

But neither of them made an aggressive gesture. They simply started backing toward the exit. The giant said, “Don
’
t move or turn around. And don
’
t try to follow us. If we don
’
t call in again in five minutes, the sniper will kill your friend.”

Black couldn
’
t believe it. The man on the phone had been telling the truth. They were leaving them alive. He felt the terrible weight of fear and uncertainty lifting as hope that he would live to see another day crept into its place.

And then Munroe shattered that hope as he said, “
Wait. You’
re forgetting something.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Munroe knew how lucky he had been to survive the confrontation with the men who killed Gerald. Repeat the same scenario one hundred times, and he would make those shots a quarter of the time, probably less. That realization bred fear and doubt, and the helplessness he experienced led him to devise a method by which to defend himself. Tobi Savoy provided the tools necessary to level the playing field and give him an option if attacked, an option for a situation exactly like the one in which he now found himself.

“What are we forgetting?” the giant Hispanic man said at his back.

“The key code for the drive.”

“What key code?”

Munroe tried to fake exasperation. “I would have just kept it, but since you
’
re actually going to let us live, I don
’
t want this coming back on me later. I want to put this whole mess behind me.”

He heard the giant step closer. “Then give me the key code.”

“I
’
m going to reach into my other pocket and retrieve it.”

Munroe lowered his hands and reached toward his jacket with slow and nonthreatening movements. His hand slipped inside the pocket and gripped a small device that resembled a hockey puck. Fingers danced over the detonator, and then he dropped the grenade down the back of his jacket, letting it hit the ground and roll toward their attackers.

~~*~~

Black wasn
’
t sure what Munroe was up to, but he was positive he wouldn
’
t like it. The black circular device that fell from beneath Munroe
’
s jacket confirmed that suspicion. He managed to look away, but it wasn
’
t enough.

A blinding flash and deafening explosion seared Jonas Black
’
s senses. He had experienced the sensation many times before—the detonation of a flashbang grenade—but there was no defense against the attack, no way to get used to it or fight through the pain.

He felt hands wrap around his bicep and urge him to move. He stumbled in the direction the hands led him. His vision had gone white, and a high-pitched ringing beat against his eardrums. The PT845 pistol rested in his right hand, but he wasn
’
t sure how it had gotten there. The hands pulled him down into a crouch. He smelled something moist. Vegetation. Fertilizer. The greenhouse?

Finally, the white dots started to clear from his vision, at least enough so that he could see his surroundings. Munroe crouched beside him in the greenhouse. Apparently, the blind man had set off the flashbang, covered his own ears, and then dragged Black to cover with him.

Munroe
’
s lips moved frantically, but Black couldn
’
t understand the words. The ringing blocked all other sounds.

In what seemed like slow motion, the greenhouse exploded all around them. Shards of glass flew everywhere, filling the air, as the gunmen opened fire from outside. On instinct, he pulled Munroe down and close to him. The plants disintegrated under the barrage. Soil and mulch and water droplets mixed with the glass shards in a hurricane of dust and debris.

The translucent glass had kept the gunmen from seeing in to get a clear bead on their targets, but now the panes had been destroyed in several spots. He saw a face appear in one of the openings. The man who had held the gun on them. The man
’
s head pulled back from the opening, but Black could still see the man
’
s shadowy frame in the adjoining pane of glass.

He raised his gun and squeezed the trigger in quick succession. The ringing in his ears had decreased slightly, and he heard the man cry out in pain and fall.

One down, but the giant was still out there.

Staying in a low crouch, Black moved back to the greenhouse
’
s entrance. Upon reaching the door, he used the frame as a pivot to scan the area beyond. No sign of the large Hispanic man. Maybe he had fled with the flash drive.

Black knew that the force of the sound wave had pushed the little hairs in his inner eat flat, causing the ringing sound. But the effect had begun to wear off, and another noise registered over the high-pitched hiss. His senses still disoriented, it took a second for the source and direction of the sound to register.

When it did, he wheeled around in time to see the giant bearing down on him, the huge man
’
s dark face contorted in pain and rage.

~~*~~

Munroe knew that he could do little to help Black, but he could save another member of his team. If their attackers were to be believed, at that moment, a sniper
’
s aim centered on Annabelle.

He pulled out his phone and issued a voice command to dial her number. With each unanswered ring, his despair grew. Finally, after five rings, she picked up.

“
Hello?
”

“Don
’
t show any reaction or surprise. Act as if this is just any other phone call. Listen to me carefully. I
’
m told that you
’
re at a sidewalk cafe. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

“I
’
m also told a sniper is watching you right now, but we
’
re going to deal with that. Are there any cars parked nearby?”

“There
’
s one right across from me.”

“Good. When I tell you, I want you to hang up the phone, sit it down casually, and act as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Then count to ten and dive toward the car. Get underneath it and stay there. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I
’
m going to call the police. You stay under that car and wait for them to arrive. I
’
ll call you back in a minute. Okay?”

“Not really.”

“You
’
re going to be fine.”

“Deacon, I—”

“No time for that. Hang up now and start counting.”

~~*~~

Annabelle placed the phone down on the circular patio table and pushed her salad away. As she counted down from ten, she popped her neck and tried to look around at the other people in the restaurant casually. She didn
’
t want the sniper to sense that anything was wrong.

Nine. Eight.

She watched a young couple laughing in the corner. The man
’
s hand rested lovingly over his companion
’
s.

Seven. Six.

The waitress approached and asked if she needed more water. She smiled and said, “No, thank you.”

Where was she? Three? Two?

She supposed it didn
’
t really matter. Moment of truth.

Trying her best not to betray her intentions, she tensed her muscles to spring from the chair. She willed her trembling legs and arms to coil into tense strands, like a cobra ready to strike. She realized that this could be her last moment on Earth, and the thought froze her in place. So much life left to live. So much she still wanted to do. So many missed opportunities.

But she wasn
’
t dead yet. She tried to focus on that and forget all the rest.

And then she dove toward the car.

~~*~~

The huge Hispanic man struck Black with the force of a freight train. He lifted completely from his feet and struck the reinforced frame of the greenhouse door. Pain shot down his spine and through his legs.

The giant grabbed a handful of his shirt and threw him onto a raised metal shelf containing potted plants. The huge man ran him down the length of the table, the clay pots shattering against his skull.

When they reached the end, the giant let him fall to the glass covered ground and then smashed his face against the concrete. He felt the loose shards of broken glass slice into his forehead, and blood ran into his eyes.

He fought against the giant
’
s grip, but the stranglehold of the man
’
s huge fists was impossibly strong.

The giant jerked him from the ground, and arms like tree trunks wrapped around his chest and squeezed. He couldn
’
t breathe. He felt his ribs flex and pop. With his arms still free, he slammed both fists against the giant
’
s head and neck, but the crushing embrace didn
’
t loosen.

Spots again filled his vision, this time from lack of oxygen. His fingers groped over the giant
’
s flat face and found the eye sockets. With one hand on each side of the broad face, Black drove his thumbs into the giant
’
s eyes.

A roar of agony escaped the big Hispanic
’
s mouth, and the pressure released from Black
’
s midsection. He continued to press his thumbs into the man
’
s skull, but the giant shoved his arms up between Black
’
s and knocked them away.

The eye trauma would have disabled most men, but instead of halting the giant
’
s attack, it only served to enrage him further. The huge man was like a snarling animal, full of fury and a singular consuming desire to kill.

He fell on Black with all his strength and weight. Meaty fingers wrapped around Black
’
s neck, and the giant
’
s weight drove him back to the concrete.

He kicked and punched the giant
’
s side and rammed his fists against the man
’
s head, but screaming in agony and insanity, the giant didn
’
t even register the blows.

Unable to breathe. Throat crushing. Fingers scrambling, searching. Pain everywhere. Terrible unmovable pressure. Vision growing lighter and then darker. World fading.

In a mad rush, his fingers slid over something sharp. Frantically opening and closing his fist, he pulled the shard of glass closer. Then it was in his hand. The shard
’
s sharp edges sliced into the meat of his fingers, but he barely noticed, just one more ache in a world of pain.

With his last reserve of strength, his arm shot upward and jammed the glass into the giant
’
s neck.

The huge man fell back. His fingers clawing at his throat as blood spurted onto the concrete. The giant
’
s body convulsed for a moment and then laid still.

Black wanted nothing more than to just fall back and rest. He wiped blood from his face. The taste of copper and stomach acid occupied his aching throat.

Then he remembered Annabelle.

He pulled himself up and searched the ruined greenhouse for Munroe. The blind man still crouched near where he had left him. “Annabelle?” he said in a harsh croak.

Munroe
’
s sunglasses had fallen off at some point, exposing his dead blue eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks.

“We need to get help for Annabelle!” Black repeated.

Munroe nodded. His voice cracked as he said, “I just spoke to her. She
’
s safe.”

Black bent over with his hands on his knees and said, “Have you reconsidered that body armor yet?”