Lazar's Intrigue (The Jack Lazar Series) (25 page)

The
revolver fired again, and the bullet caught Harry in the shoulder. But Harry followed
through as though nothing had happened, wrestling with Hesterling for control
of the gun while the dinner guests dropped to the floor to avoid any chance of
being struck by a stray round.

Jack
attempted to break into the fight several times, but he repeatedly reared back
to avoid being shot by the waving gun, his heart beating wildly as he watched
the struggle slowly gain in Harry Benson’s favor.

Turning
the weapon toward Gerry, Harry fired the last three rounds, dropping Hesterling
to the floor in a plump, inanimate mass of blood. Harry stood above the man,
his mind apparently racing as sweat fell from his brow. His elegant clothing
was ripped and disheveled, a bloody hole ripped through the shoulder of his
dinner jacket. He held the smoldering gun in his right hand while running the
left through his hair, the pain from the torn muscle at the top of his shoulder
apparently stopping him midstream, and he let his arm down in frustration.

“Sean,”
Harry said in a desperate, sobbing plea. “My dear son. How did I let this
happen to you? Dear God. How could I have been so careless?”

Walking
over to him, Jack placed a caring hand on Harry’s good shoulder, and he spoke
to him with compassion and regret. “I’m sorry, Harry. I had no idea.” Jack took
the gun from his hand and laid it atop the buffet.

Marjorie
left the table to embrace her bewildered husband as a stream of quiet tears
flowed from her eyes. Lisa jumped to her feet as well and buried her face into
her parents’ embrace, wrapping her arms around both of them.

Jack
moved back across the room to the two bodies that lay on the floor, and he bent
down to place his forefinger on each man’s neck. He looked up toward the dazed
group of people and he shook his head, confirming that both men were gone.

“We
need to call the police,” Harry mumbled.

“They
should already be here,” Jack responded as he stood up and looked at his watch.
“They were supposed to arrive with the DEA about five minutes ago to arrest
Antonucci and Gerry. But I guess that won’t be necessary anymore.” He sighed. “Jesus,
what a mess.”

“Why
did the police come to my house? Why did you bring them here?”

“They
were coming here anyway, Harry.”

“Why?”

“Because
they knew Antonucci would be here. He was bragging this morning when we were
down in Colombia about coming to your house for dinner.”

“Colombia?
What were you doing in Colombia?”

“It’s
a long story. And I’ll be glad to tell you about it someday. But the short
version is that I’ve been helping the DEA take down Antonucci, and the
investigation took us to Colombia.”

“Why
didn’t you say something to me about all this?”

“Honestly,
I didn’t think you’d believe me until I had enough evidence, and I swear to God
I didn’t know the truth about Sean until tonight.”

“I
see.”

“Look,
let’s just concentrate on getting this awful mess straightened out right now. I’ll
go outside and get the police, and if they don’t have an ambulance waiting,
I’ll make sure they send one right over. We need to get your shoulder taken
care of.” Jack’s tone was sincere and caring. He knew he was better prepared
than anyone else in the room to deal with a situation like this, his
experiences over the last few weeks giving him a unique tolerance and strength,
and he felt completely in control.

“Okay,”
Harry answered softly, nodding. “And, Jack? Thank you.” Harry apparently recognized
Jack’s clearheaded state and appreciated the opportunity to let him handle the
arduous details while he concentrated on the wellbeing of his family. The
pressure he applied to his wound appeared to have stopped the bleeding, so Jack
felt sure the paramedics could treat his injury without taking him away from
his wife and daughter, who were no doubt terrorized by what happened.

“I
think it would be a good idea for everyone to adjourn to the living room until
we get this cleared up,” Jack instructed calmly. “I’m sure the authorities will
want to talk to every one of you before you go home.” He watched as the stunned
gathering of people filed out of the room. Even the governor seemed content to
remain silent as he engaged in an embrace with his wife.

After
Jack was comfortable everything was under control, he walked to the front of
the house and carefully opened the door, expecting to usher inside a huge
complement of police officers and DEA agents. But all he saw was the valet
sitting in his seat, texting on his cell phone.

“What’s
going on out here?” Jack asked as he finished opening the door and stepped
outside, looking around in a state of shock.

“Sir?”

“You
haven’t seen any police cars?”

The
young lad sprung from his seat looking perplexed and scared. He scanned the
area around him as if something terrible was supposed to be happening. “No,
sir. Should I have?”

“Actually,
yes. We have quite a situation going on inside. Didn’t you hear the gunshots?”

The
valet staggered backward as if someone had hit him. “Gunshots? No!”

“Just
settle down. Everything’s under control now.” Jack pulled the cell phone from
his pocket and dialed 9-1-1 to summon the police and an ambulance. He called
the DEA’s Los Angeles office next, which was a number he had committed to
memory several weeks earlier when he was trying to track down a certain young
woman.

“Duty
officer,” the voice answered. “May I help you?”

“Is
Ben Sanders available?” Jack asked.

“I’m
sorry, sir. He’s no longer with the agency. He resigned this afternoon. Can I
put you through to Agent Langstrom?”

Jack
paused for a moment as he digested Ben’s suspicious change of heart. Apparently
the man decided to resign instead of revitalizing his career with the DEA, and
he had no intentions of helping Jack with Antonucci tonight. But why didn’t he
call Jack to let him know?

“Um,
sure, I’ll talk to him,” Jack responded solemnly. “That would be fine.”

“Langstrom.”
The man’s voice was young but resonant.

“Agent
Langstrom? My name is Jack Lazar. You may have heard of me?”

“Sure
have. In fact, I’d love to talk to you if that’s possible. I just got handed
this Antonucci case, and I can’t make heads or tails out of it. Ben Sanders
came in here this afternoon to tell us that Agent Anapoulos died in Colombia,
that the accusations being made against you were false, and he was resigning
because he couldn’t handle the job anymore. Then he threw this totally worthless
file in my lap and left without so much as an explanation. I’ve tried to track
him down, but I have no idea where he’s gone. So as far as I know, you’re the
only person alive who can shed any light on the case.”

“You’re
probably right,” Jack sulked. “I guess I should have seen this coming.”

“So
when can we get together?”

“Well,
that’s why I’m calling. You need to get over here right now. We have two more
dead bodies to add to your case. And one of them is Antonucci.”

“No
shit?”

“Yeah.
No shit.”

“Did
you do it?” Langstrom inquired cautiously.

“No,”
Jack answered. “But I was here when it happened. It’s a long story, and I’ll
explain it to you when you get here. The police are also on their way.”

Jack
gave Langstrom directions to the Benson estate, and the young agent arrived in
less than twenty minutes accompanied by an older counterpart. The police had
already begun questioning the guests in the living room, and their
investigation quickly turned its focus on Jack after determining the nature of
the two killings. The officer in charge, Lieutenant Grubbs, was well aware of
Jack’s arrest warrant, which had been mysteriously withdrawn just hours ago,
and he was convinced there was something suspicious about it.

Grubbs
looked like the type of person who didn’t trust anybody, Jack thought, and his frenzied
attitude, no doubt enhanced by at least two packs of cigarettes a day, made his
methods that much more intrusive.

“I
haven’t done anything wrong, Lieutenant,” Jack insisted. “Just ask anyone in
this room. I only came here tonight to talk. I wasn’t the one carrying a gun or
attacking people. That was Gerald Hesterling.”

“According
to the information we were given,” Grubbs snarled, counting on his fingers,
“you and that rogue DEA agent were responsible for killing at least one police
officer, destroying a police helicopter, shooting up an unmarked cruiser, and destroying
millions of dollars in private property. And now, for some reason, you’ve
decided to bring all that trouble back here to LA where we already have more
problems than we can handle. It seems like wherever you go, people get killed
and property is destroyed, so don’t sit there and tell me this would have
happened if you weren’t here.”

Jack
took a hostile tone now, and he pointed a threatening finger at Grubbs. “I may
have been the catalyst, Lieutenant, but I was hardly the cause of all this. Like
I said before, I just came here to
confront Hesterling and Antonucci,
not to kill them. He and Antonucci were the ones doing illegal drug deals, not
me. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and let you blame me for what
they brought to the table. Besides, I think it’s a miracle that only the two
bad guys ended up getting killed tonight. You should be happy about that.”

Jack
noticed the two DEA agents strolling into the room and looking around. “Agent
Langstrom?” he called, flagging them down, desperate to be saved from the
exasperating interrogation.

“Ah,
yes,” the sturdy young man responded as he walked over. His short brown hair
was cleanly groomed, his double-breasted suit well-tailored, and he had a
spring in his step as if energized by the excitement this new case had to
offer. “Mr. Lazar?”

“Who
the hell are you?” Grubbs barked, visibly annoyed with their interruption.

Both
agents flashed their badges.

“DEA.
I’m Agent Langstrom, and this is my partner, Agent Burke. We’ll take over the
investigation from here.”

“Like
hell you will! Haven’t you heard of proper protocol? Besides, I just know
there’s something wrong with this guy’s story. Mr. Lazar, here, had a warrant
out for his arrest until a few hours ago, and I’m not letting up until I find
out why it was suddenly revoked.”

“Mr.
Lazar is a solid citizen who has been cooperating with our agency on a very
important investigation,” Langstrom explained deftly. “The warrant was issued
by mistake. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

Jack
looked back at Grubbs with satisfaction.

“Seems
like you guys make a lot of mistakes these days,” Grubbs grumbled.

Langstrom
rolled his eyes. “Maybe so. But we need to take this gentleman to a debriefing.
People are waiting for us.”

The
lieutenant stood firm while he apparently decided whether to cooperate. “I don’t
like this. It makes my neck itch. And whenever my neck itches, I know there’s
something fishy going on.”

“The
man is our responsibility now,” Langstrom said. “If he’s done anything wrong,
we’ll take care of it. I assure you.”

Grubbs
finally waved his hand in surrender. “Fine. Take him. I’ve got dinner waiting
for me at home anyway.” He turned to Jack and snarled once more. “You just
watch your ass, Mr. Lazar. If you get even a traffic ticket, I’m taking you
down.”

“Got
it.” Jack turned his back to Grubbs and shook hands with the two DEA agents. He
started to walk away with them but diverted momentarily to give his respects to
an overwrought Harry Benson, whose bloody shirt had been torn away at the
shoulder, and a bandage covered the wound that had already been sewn up by the
attending paramedics. Jack empathized with Harry’s refusal to be taken to the
hospital and his desire to be with his family.

Jack
shook Harry’s hand in friendship and respect. “I’m really sorry about all this,
Harry. If I had any idea…”

“Not
another word,” Harry said. “You helped uncover the truth about my son tonight,
and I’ll always be thankful to you for that. I guess I can accept his death a
little easier now, as odd as that may seem. Just knowing he was a victim and
didn’t kill himself as a result of my poor job as a father…well, it’s good to
know.”

“I
just wish it didn’t have to happen this way.”

Harry
sighed as he looked around, as if ensuring no one else heard what he had to
say, and he spoke under his voice. “I wish I could say that I regret having
killed Hesterling here in my own house. But I can’t. That man willingly
murdered my son, threw it right in my face, and then tried to kill me as well. So
in my mind the poor bastard deserved to die, and I’m glad I was the one who
killed him.”

“I
understand,” Jack answered, and he shook Harry’s hand again. “It was also
self-defense. Remember that.”

“I
will.”

Jack
started walking away when Harry stood up to detain him again.