Right To Kill - Right to Kill Part 26
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Right to Kill Part 26

Nate!

This wasn't the man who'd kidnapped LG's husband in Caracas. It was also clear this man was younger than Tomas by at least ten years.

"You're not Tomas Bustamonte," Nathan said. "Who are you?"

The man coughed up blood and grimaced. "Brother."

"You're Tomas and Ursula's brother?"

The man nodded.

"Why did you make me shoot you? You could've given up."

"No . . . she'd kill me."

Nathan put a hand on the man's shoulder. "What's your name?"

"A-Ashton." The man shivered.

"Where is she? Where's Ursula?" It was worth a try.

"Mounnnn-"

The man's eyes became unfocused, then lifeless. Their brother had effectively committed suicide rather than face Ursula's wrath. The word chilling came to mind.

The wail of a second siren penetrated the neighborhood.

Nathan searched the man, found a wallet, a cell phone, and some keys. Without examining them, he put the items in his waist pack, then used his phone to take a picture of Ashton's face. After checking the picture for clarity, he stowed the 1911, grabbed Ashton's collar, and dragged him over to the hedge paralleling the building.

He hefted the body over the hedge and placed it where it couldn't be seen from the street. A quick scan with the TI confirmed no one was around. He returned to the vehicle with the broken windows and picked up his expended brass. Using his ski mask, he did his best to sweep the broken glass under the car. He couldn't get all of it, but took care of the biggest pieces.

Time to go.

He wanted to run, but if anyone happened to see him, it would bring the police into this area. The first officers to arrive should be tied up at the lowrider. At a brisk pace, he walked south, back toward the Expo line.

The approaching sirens made him extremely uneasy.

Although tempted to circle back and get within radio range, he decided that was the wrong direction to go. Once Harv left the dealership, his friend would make contact via cell. Speaking of, he needed to call Cantrell using the encrypted phone.

She answered on the fourth ring. "I've got you over a click away from the dealership."

"Any word from Harv and LG?"

"Not yet. It's my next call. What's your situation?"

Being as brief and concise as possible, Nathan recounted the foot chase, the gunfight with the gangbangers, and the final shootout with Ashton Bustamonte several blocks away.

Cantrell said, "It's surprising to learn that Tomas and Ursula had a younger brother. There's nothing in their files about him. I'll have our people look into it. He might have lived in the area."

"Maybe we can use this to bait the twins."

"It's a possibility."

"You wanted us to disrupt Cornejo's dealership-consider the mission accomplished. The showroom is absolutely trashed. Multiple fatalities. If Tomas and Ursula weren't in the dealership, it's safe to assume they know about the attack. Or will shortly."

"I'm counting on it," she said.

"I've got Ashton's cell phone, but I haven't looked at it yet. I wouldn't be surprised to see recent texts or calls to Tomas or Ursula."

"Clear the immediate area first. I'll be in touch."

The call ended.

Nathan angled across the Expo tracks and looked at the intersection with the shot-up lowrider.

Nothing had changed.

Seeing the carnage in retrospect felt wholly different, a harsh reminder of how deadly he still was.

He pulled off his NV visor and goggles and stashed them in his waist pack. There was nothing he could do about his black tactical clothing but duck into the shadows should a police cruiser arrive.

Avoiding streets, he made his way south toward I-10. Every twenty yards or so, he formulated a new escape plan, by looking for shadowy places, walls, or parked vehicles to hide behind.

He now counted at least four sirens coming from every direction. To err on the safe side, he decided to put more distance between himself and the Expo crossing.

A few dogs around the neighborhood answered the sirens, but he didn't notice any lights coming on; this wasn't an area where sirens were uncommon, but the automatic gunfire was.

At the next intersection, he turned south and resumed his trek toward I-10. He found an alley with parked cars and settled in for the wait.

How many men had he killed tonight? He leaned his head against the wall and tried to block the thought pattern.

It didn't work.

Nine. Nine men. It didn't matter if they were "all bad." The number was sobering and the day was just beginning. Them or him. As true as that was, it didn't make it any easier. Although their operation had disrupted Cornejo's empire, and possibly yielded a means of finding the twins, it had come at a high price. Making matters worse, the convergence of cops into the area meant Harv and LG had to abandon the dealership or risk being trapped inside. Despite what he'd told Cantrell, it was hard to think of their mission as a success.

He checked his phone to make sure it was still set to vibrate. It was fairly dark in this alley, so he donned his NV visor but left it pivoted up.

Nathan's respite was short lived.

Coming from his right, he heard running footsteps, at least three or four strong.

Had Cornejo's goons tracked him? No way. He'd made sure he wasn't followed. He took a deep breath, reached into his waist pack, and grabbed the butt of his Sig. He now wished he'd chosen a tighter gap between the parked cars.

It only took a few seconds to realize the footsteps were getting louder. Who in the hell was running around out here, especially now? They seemed to be running toward the action, not away from it. It had to be street punks. He'd seen some tagging in the area. With a little luck, they'd race past without seeing him.

Willing himself to be invisible, he held perfectly still. Two young men ran past his position, followed by a third who- Turned his head.

Crap. Nathan knew he'd been seen.

The kids' footsteps stopped.

A head slowly appeared around the edge of a parked car to his left.

"Hey, someone's in the alley."

"Who is it?"

"How'm I supposed to know? Just some dude sitting between the cars."

Nathan evaluated the kid who'd found him. African American. Athletic shoes. Pants halfway down his scrawny ass. Black tank top. Purple headband. Definitely the look of a gangbanger. Possibly even armed and dangerous.

"Spooner, come check this clown out."

Nathan couldn't believe his luck. What were the odds? Not that bad, given the automatic gunfire and police activity. Maybe these three were planning to check out the action. If they'd arrived at the intersection where he'd engaged the lowrider before the police, they would've scored some fully automatic Kalashnikovs. Not a bad night's haul.

The first two kids came back, both apparently Hispanic.

"What the fuck you doing in our alley?" the biggest kid asked.

"Just chilling for the night," Nathan said.

"Well, you picked the wrong place, old man."

Old man? He felt his blood pressure increase. Well, relatively speaking, he supposed. None of these kids could be more than eighteen years old.

"That's a nice night-vision rig. We'll give you five bucks for it."

"Add three zeroes and it's yours."

"It's already ours. What else you got?"

"Anger-management issues," Nathan said.

"Say what?"

"I'll speak slowly and use small words. I. Get. Mad."

The youngest kid said, "Come on, Spooner, let's leave this guy alone. He ain't hurting nothing."

"He's in our alley and he ain't paid the rent."

"Here's the deal," Nathan said. "I'm giving you five seconds to walk away. After that, I will hurt you. I'm in no mood to deal with a bunch of worthless street rats."

"Spooner, let's go, man. This guy's nuts."

"Fuck him. I'm going to teach his white ass a lesson." Spooner pulled a compact semi-auto from his pocket.

Before the kid could point it at him, Nathan had his pistol out of the waist pack.

He fired a single round, driving a bullet through the kid's bicep. The kid's gun clacked on the asphalt.

The kid on Nathan's right reached into his sweatshirt pocket, presumably to pull a gun.

Without taking his eyes from Spooner, Nathan shot the second kid in the shoulder, then sprang to his feet, dropped the first kid with an elbow to the jaw and swept his foot, toppling the second kid. He followed up with a blow to the side of the second kid's head, driving his face into the asphalt. Dazed, the second kid didn't resist as Nathan checked the pocket and removed the gun. He stashed the weapon alongside Ashton's 1911.

Everything had happened inside five seconds.

The youngest kid backed away with his hands up.

He waved his Sig. "Have a seat against the wall and put your hands on top of your head."

The kid obeyed. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Do I have a reason to kill you?"

He shook his head. "I didn't want this fight."

Nathan kept his Sig pointed at the trio and picked up the other handgun.

He addressed the first kid he'd shot. "In a few more seconds, the adrenaline rush will wear off and you'll experience an intense stinging ache. The stinging is from your torn flesh, the ache is from your shattered humerus bone. Don't worry, I purposely missed the brachial artery." He looked at the other kid. "You'll be okay too. I avoided the clavicle and scapula."

The kid who'd drawn on him was holding his upper arm, trying to look tough. But the pain and fear in his eyes alleged otherwise.

"Let me give you three a little advice. Never pick a fight with someone you aren't 100 percent sure you can beat. You assumed I'd cave and not fight back. Bad assumption."

None of them said anything.

"Your phones and wallets, hand them over. Slowly. Any quick movements will result in more flesh wounds."

The two kids with bullet wounds had some trouble, but they managed to comply.

"Are they passcode-locked?"

They looked at each other, then nodded.

"Give me the codes."

They reluctantly did, and Nathan verified each code worked, then wrote their passcodes down in the notes section of his own phone.

Although sirens still wailed in the distance, his suppressed shots hadn't been loud. The police had no reason to converge on this location.

"Now I know who you guys are and where you live. Here's the deal; if you give me your word you'll listen to what I have to say, I won't kill you." He didn't intend to terminate them, but he wanted them to believe otherwise.

Again, they looked at each other with confused expressions.

"Do I have your word? I need to hear everyone say it. Raise a hand, and repeat after me: 'I give you my word I'll listen.'"

When they didn't say anything, Nathan skipped a bullet off the ground next to the biggest kid. Across the alley, the bullet plowed into the concrete block wall and zinged away.