Right To Kill - Right to Kill Part 27
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Right to Kill Part 27

"Repeat after me: 'I give you my word I'll listen.'"

They all said it.

"Thank you. You're getting a second chance tonight, something you may not have received from anyone else. It's just you, me, and the alley. You understand I could kill you right now and get away with it?"

They nodded tightly.

"All the police activity you're hearing? It's because of me. If you know a crew that drives a white lowrider with blacked-out windows, you won't be seeing them ever again."

"What happened to your face?" the youngest one asked.

"I'll leave that to your imagination. Now, listen up. This path you're on has two outcomes. Your death or your imprisonment. Sooner or later, one of those two things is gonna happen. It doesn't matter what led to your involvement with a gang in the first place. Maybe you're bored or want easy money. Maybe your parents are dirtbags or absent, or maybe you're just pissed off at the world in general. All of that's just an excuse for bad behavior. What matters are the choices you make. And you do have choices. Are you guys in high school?"

"We don't go."

"The way you save your lives is to go back to class and get part-time jobs after school. If you do that, the leaders of your gang will let you out. It's not something they tell you, but I happen to know for a fact it's true. They may try to convince you not to do it, but they won't force you to stay in the gang. Especially at your age. You've taken bullets. They're your badges of honor. Use them to turn your lives around."

"Like you care," the youngest one said.

"You're alive, aren't you? Now, as far as I'm concerned, our deal is confirmed. You listened. I didn't kill you. One more thing. I want you to think about attending church this coming Sunday. Don't worry: it doesn't cost anything. Giving is optional. I'll bet there's one within easy walking distance. Think you can do that?"

More tight nods, but he gave that suggestion low odds. He knew they wanted to bug out.

"All gunshot wounds are reported to the police. What are you going to tell them?"

"We got nailed in a drive-by. We didn't see nothing."

"Don't try to tough it out. Tiny pieces of clothing in your wounds can fester and cause life-threatening infections. Get patched up at a hospital and take the antibiotics the doctor prescribes for you." He waved his pistol. "Now get out of my alley before I change my mind."

Looking like a band of refugees, they shuffled away.

Nathan went the opposite direction and watched them from the shadow of a rusting van. The youngest one looked over his shoulder. If he were a betting man, he'd put money on that kid.

CHAPTER 23.

Cantrell shook her head in amazement. Although Nathan's radio couldn't pick up Delta Lead's transmissions, the reverse wasn't true. Delta had a powerful receiving antenna that picked up every word he'd said. She'd listened to the exchange via an encrypted cell-phone link.

She'd always believed McBride had a good heart, despite the living hell he'd gone through at the hands of a sadistic madman. How many people would have any shred of humanity left after that?

Part of her wished he'd killed the young thugs. They had it coming and countless taxpayer dollars would've been saved. She didn't think of herself as indifferent, but she hated gangbangers with a passion. She'd been fifteen or sixteen when she'd taken a beating from three girls who'd been associated with a street gang. Apparently, she'd looked at Vanessa's "boyfriend" wrong so they'd ambushed her on her way home from school. The beating hadn't been nearly as vicious as the obscene and hate-filled racial slurs they'd spewed. Something had snapped in her that day, and she'd known she would devote the rest of her life to fighting back against bullies and thugs.

The story didn't end there. A week later, she'd sneaked out of her bedroom window and ridden her bike over to Vanessa's house. Staying in the shadows, she'd dragged a garden hose out to the curb and inserted the nozzle into Vanessa's pimped-out Camry. It took a few attempts to get it positioned on top of the dashboard because the side window wasn't cracked more than an inch.

Satisfied with the location of the nozzle, she'd returned to the faucet and slowly cranked the valve about a quarter of the way so the nozzle wouldn't jet off the dashboard. A return trip to the Camry confirmed everything was good. Riding home, she'd felt justice had been served. Witnessing the meltdown at school the following day had been nothing short of glorious.

Now that she had a complete update from Delta, she called the encrypted phone.

"Are LG and Harv okay?" he asked immediately.

"They're fine but the twins weren't in the building."

"I thought I'd chased Tomas Bustamonte out of there, but he turned out to be-"

"Tomas's brother. I heard."

Nathan paused, and Cantrell knew he was absorbing the fact that she'd also listened in on his interchange with the gang kids.

"Square one?" he asked.

"Not exactly. We're working the problem."

"What's my best ETA on a pickup?"

"Five minutes, give or take. Harvey and Genneken should be back at their vehicle inside two minutes. The FBI's going to take the lead on the ensuing investigation at Santa Monica Exotics and DNI Benson will be personally involved. He's already called Director Lansing."

"What about Ashton Bustamonte?"

"I'm hoping Delta can recover the body before the police find it."

"I doubt anyone saw the action." Nathan described the exact location of Ashton's body. "I'm sending you the photo of him now."

"I'll look for it," she said. "Hang on, Nathan. I've got to take Delta's call. I'll be right back. Stay on the line."

Cantrell's call went silent and Nathan found himself thinking about the street kids. He'd spared them a meaningless death. Perhaps it was his faith, or something else, but there'd been intelligence in the youngest kid's eyes-a willingness to listen. Despite how society defined them-and how he'd initially seen them-they weren't just stupid punks. Misguided, yes. But not stupid. Nathan never judged people by the color of their skin, only by their actions. Perhaps they'd be able to do the same thing.

He found another place to hide in the loading dock of a medium-sized building and sat atop the stairs. Something LG had said kept floating around in his head. No, it was something her husband had said, about their German shepherds. He remembered now. Glen had been concerned about the dogs. He'd asked her to get them out of the house. Nathan hadn't thought it all that unusual-many people thought of their pets as children. He would've had the same concern, given similar circumstances. Leaving Grant and Sherman at the mercy of armed intruders wouldn't sit well with him. Although tactically trained, they'd have no chance against bullets.

Cantrell came back on. "About that pickup: Work your way over to the Twentieth Street on-ramp to the westbound I-10. Find a place to hide and wait for Harvey and Genneken. I'm sending them to the same spot. If a helicopter shows up, use the overpass for cover. Where are the keys to your car?"

"On top of the right front tire."

"A member of Delta will drive it to your location, followed by a second vehicle. He'll flash the high beams three times, pull to the curb, and get out. Put everything you collected on the shoulder of the road. Do not approach your car until he's collected everything and returned to the other vehicle. Once Delta leaves, get in your car and wait for Harvey and Genneken to arrive."

"What happened to surveillance only?" he asked.

"It's been temporarily suspended, unless you'd prefer to walk out of the area."

He smiled. "Negative on that. While I have you, I'm going to try Bustamonte's phone."

"If it's passcode-locked, don't attempt to unlock it."

"I won't . . . It's not locked."

"Is it an iPhone?"

"Six plus. Exactly like mine, but everything's in Spanish."

"Good thing you're fluent."

"Good thing."

"Check the passcode settings."

He was already doing it, knowing the iOS program could be set for a delayed lock. If it was, they'd be out of business if he didn't keep the phone constantly active. He opened the settings and navigated to the screen.

"It's asking for a passcode to continue, which probably means it's using a passcode."

"The iOS program has multiple delay options."

"Yeah, it does. Hang on, I'm checking mine . . . One minute, five minutes, fifteen minutes, one hour, and four hours."

"You'll have to keep after it so it doesn't lock. I think we can safely assume it's not set for immediately or one minute. It's probably set for five or fifteen minutes."

Nathan realized there was another way, but it held some risk. "At a full sprint, I'm only about two minutes from Bustamonte's body."

"His fingerprint," she said.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. Hang on, let me check something first." On his own phone, he navigated to the Touch ID and Passcode screen. The phone asked for his six-digit passcode to continue. He tried using his fingerprint to get past this screen, but it didn't work. The phone wouldn't respond. "It won't accept a fingerprint to get past the passcode screen. I just tried it on my own phone."

"Me too."

"We've got three attempts to unlock it. It wouldn't hurt to try the code from the door at Santa Monica Exotics."

"Okay, give it a try," she said.

Nathan had a good memory when it came to numbers and sequences. He didn't have a mathematical mind, but he remembered patterns. And the punch-key code they'd used to gain access into the showroom had a pattern. One-three-six-four-seven-nine. He tried it and the phone told him: 1 Failed Passcode Attempt.

"It didn't work. We've got one more free try. Any ideas?"

"Not really. It could be anything."

"I'm going to try the numerical pattern in reverse."

"If that doesn't work, don't try a third time. Just keep the phone active so it doesn't lock."

Nathan ran the pattern the other direction. Three-one-four-six-nine-seven. "We're in! We didn't need this break, but it sure makes our job easier."

"Good work. See if he's been in touch with his siblings, and take a few minutes to review the way he texts. Punctuation, lack of caps, emojicons, favorite words, et cetera . . . If Tomas or Ursula send a text, we want the response to look as normal as possible."

"I'll do that."

"Keep Bustamonte's phone, but turn everything else over to Delta Lead. Call me right away if the phone receives a text. Obviously, you can't answer any calls."

"No problem. Do you want the street kids' phones as well?"

"Yes. They might contain something we can use, especially if they're connected to the gangbangers who attacked you."

Each of the kids' phones had a different protective case so he told her which passcode went with each phone.

"Got it," she said.

"I haven't thanked you for helping us, Rebecca. We're grateful for the support."

"Even though we don't have the twins in custody, we've got some valuable intel. Ashton's phone may lead us to them."

Nathan wouldn't mention the body count getting to this point. She knew how he felt about it.

"By the way," she continued, "about those kids in the alley?"

Nathan didn't know what her reaction would be. Would she reprimand him, or compliment him?

"Admirable, Mr. McBride. Quite admirable. Who knows? Maybe one of those kids will go on to become president. I might also win the lottery, but you can't win if you don't play."

"I'm glad you approve. Seriously, though, thanks again for the support. It certainly made the operation a whole lot easier."

"From what Delta reported, your operation was anything but easy. Keep your head down. We'll talk again soon."

Harvey and LG were still on foot, but he knew returning to Matthew's Heating and Air Conditioning kept growing less and less likely. From the sound of things, every cop in LA was converging. He also heard the blat-like horn of a fire engine. Firefighters were often the first to arrive at emergencies.

Delta Lead's voice broke in. "Kilo Two, turn on your cell, initiate contact with Kilo One. Rendezvous with him at the westbound I-10 on-ramp at Twentieth Street. Power off your radios. We'll bring your vehicle to you. We know where the keys are."

"Copy, Delta Lead. Thanks for your help tonight."

His radio clicked in response. He wished he could thank them in person, but knew it would never happen. He and LG turned off their radios.

"You did well back there," Harvey said.

"Hey, the plumbing may be old, but it still flows."

He half-laughed. They needed the stress relief.

The 20th Street on-ramp seemed a smart place to meet. There'd presumably be an overpass nearby to help elude overhead surveillance. He kept looking behind for a tail, but no one followed them.

"At least McBride's okay," LG said. "I had a bad visual when I heard the gunfire."

"You and me both."

"Does he ever talk about Nicaragua?"

"Not really. He's put it behind him. Why do you ask?"

"I saw him come out of a nightmare. How can he put what happened behind him with dreams like that?"