Street Justice (36 page)

Alex approached Russ’ house as quickly as he dared without risking a ticket, the last thing he needed was to be pulled over by some traffic cop with a person in his trunk. He guessed his passenger was awake by now but had not heard anything from him. As he cruised down Fifth Street, he heard the unmistakable crack of a bullet being fired. Alex jammed the gas to the floor. He did not know the situation but knew that any bullets fired was not a good thing.

Alex power slid the car around the left onto Russ’ street. He saw a black Crown Vic and a large black cube van that said FBI on the side, blocking in a FedEx van. Alex kept his foot down until he was in the middle of the street behind the FedEx truck, then whipped the wheel to the right and jerked up on the parking brake. The little rental car whipped around, putting Alex on the same side as the agents, tucked behind their shields. He jammed the brakes and before the car could come to a stop he had pulled a Browning 1911 from under his driver’s seat and fired out of the window at pool of agents surrounding Adrian’s car.

Huddled behind their shields to protect themselves from possible fire from the house, the agents had just started to turn to see what the commotion was about. The KTW Teflon coated armor piercing bullets ripped through the body armor, arm, leg and torsos as Alex unloaded his magazine. With practiced ease, he thumbed the release, let the spent magazine drop and slapped in a new one from under the seat. He gathered two more magazines and darted from the car.

“There’s our cavalry,” Johnny smiled.

Kip tried to smile but was too weak to do more than twitch the edges of his lips, “Yeah…” His voice came as a whisper. The barrel of his gun flopped back and forth, his wrist pivoting like a screen door hinge in the wind. He had slumped down on the wall until his shoulders barely touched the wall and his chin was pushed against his chest.

Johnny ignored his fragile state, “Okay, let’s go while they are all distracted.” He wrestled Kip up into a fireman’s, ignoring Kip’s complaints and moans. With Kip firmly on his shoulders and everyone’s attention on Alex, he moved toward the bedroom again.

Adrian threw open the back door of the Crown Vic, hoping the extra metal might slow the bullet down enough to let the vest stop them. The four agents who had been with him were all writhing on the ground. Three seemed to have injuries to their extremities while the fourth had a chest wound that was pumping blood. They all lay together in a pile writhing in pain. Adrian ducked back into his car and pulled the medical kit from his glove box.

Adrian opened the medical kit on the driver’s seat and untangled the bodies before him. He laid the agent with the chest wound on his back and ripped open his shirt, then flipped the body armor up, exposing the wound. He grabbed wound dressing and applied liberally then tapped the bandage on three sides. He folded the armor back in place then dug out some pain medication. He was not sure how much a few ibuprofen’s would help but he figured something was better than nothing.

Alex skirted the perimeter looking for other targets. He knew there would have been an agent acting as over watch for the front while the main pack marched on the house. He figured he had several minutes before the assault force figured out who was hurt and who was injured. The hurt would take care of the injured, then come looking for him. But Alex did not plan on being here that long. He needed to get into the house to get Johnny and Kip out or at least eliminate the FBI coverage so Johnny and Kip could exit themselves.

Constantly moving, he used the FedEx truck and the FBI van for cover while he searched for the agent he knew would be in cover. As he drifted between the nose of the FedEx truck and the rear of the FBI van, he saw, poised behind the fence of the neighboring house, the FBI agent scouting the area for him. He wanted to eliminate this guy quickly and permanently. He crouched down and duck walked to the very edge of the FBI van. He took several deep breaths and aimed his gun. Blam!

The captain scooted himself up and braced himself against the driver’s door. “Thanks Adrian,” he said, holding his own arm, “I think I can handle it from here, I have a clean through and through. Tore up some muscle and hurts, but no major arteries or anything.”

“You sure?” Adrian asked.

“I am, now go find this guy, don’t let him shoot any others.”

Adrian nodded at the captain then stood to a half crouch. He looked over the edge of the Crown Vic’s door, over to the FedEx truck, then across the lawn. Movement caught his eye. Through the front window of the house he saw Johnny carrying Kip toward the kitchen. He knew the new shooter was out here somewhere but also knew he could not let Johnny out of the house. Johnny and his team were trained in urban combat and that included being elusive if need be.

Abandoning caution, Adrian sprinted across the lawn to the front door and threw it open. Johnny heard the noise and fired a hip shot across the room but with the weight of Kip on his shoulders slowing him down, Adrian was well clear by the time the bullet smashed into the door frame. Adrian tucked and rolled behind the couch. Johnny laughed, “That was pretty brave with my man Alex out there. Commendable. But unfortunately foolish as well. You see, I can’t let you take us in.” Johnny bent and set Kip down as gently as possible then headed for the couch.

Alex slammed against the rear of the FBI van. A blinding pain lit up his chest and shoulder. It took him a moment to realize, before he could pull the trigger, someone had in fact shot him. His eyes raced around the scene. The agent he had drawn a bead on was starting to look his way. His eyes were wide, he was obviously surprised to see Alex. A second bullet tore into his leg and Alex dropped to one knee, his thigh aflame. Ignoring this new pain he continued to search the area. A third shot fired, this one missed him and thunked into the FBI van. Alex realized this bullet was on a different trajectory than the first two.

Finally Alex saw what he was looking for. Down a narrow path on the left side of the house was an agent in black, kneeling and aiming his weapon. Alex spun ninety degrees and saw, now in the open on the lawn, another agent, this one moving methodically toward him. Alex guessed that the movement, plus the adrenaline of the fight had caused his bullet to miss the target. Alex swung back to his original target. The agent was now facing Alex as well, standing, both hands holding his weapon aimed in his direction.

Alex laughed to himself. He had always been a stickler for good intelligence, not getting into a situation where he did not know all of the elements. He had known there would be someone providing cover, but he had not known there would be two out front and at least one more around back. He guessed the gun shots brought the man from the back to the side. Alex had been focused on his shot and not seen him. This is why good intelligence is so important in a fire fight.

Alex’s laugh became audible as he lifted his arm to aim at his original target. Before his slowed movements could get the gun half way, his body was perforated from three angles by three bullets from the guns held by three officers. The world went dark.

Johnny stalked toward the couch, gun in hand. Adrian drew his weapon and got his feet underneath himself. He did his best to gauge Johnny’s position in the room by the sound of his feet scuffing on the floor and his breathing, heavy from carrying Kip. Adrian slid himself down toward the wall. When he heard Johnny near the front of the couch, he sprung over the couch.

Johnny had expected Adrian to be moving toward the open end of the couch because it would allow him to move easily around the end. When he popped up at the other end he was taken by surprise. Adrian flew over the couch, putting a foot on the cushions and vaulting himself at Johnny. The two men went to the floor in a pile. Both lost their weapons, Adrian’s sliding under the couch and Johnny’s clattering into the kitchen.

Adrian rolled on top of Johnny and straddled him. He lifted his hand to punch him but Johnny bucked his hips and threw Adrian off balance, then used the moment to reverse positions with Adrian. Adrian tried to throw Johnny off in the same way but Johnny’s additional bulk combined with Adrian’s core not being as strong, meant the move did not work. Johnny swung his fist and hammered Adrian’s cheek. Stars instantly appeared. Johnny smashed into Adrian’s face with his other fist. “Why…” crush, “…do…” smash, “…you…” bash, “…have…” wham, “…to…” slam, “…be…” whack, “…such…” bam, “…a…” smack, “…boy scout.”

Adrian’s face was bloody and red. Johnny was breathing heavy as he stood and towered over Adrian. While his face looked like a pulpy mess, Adrian knew he was the only person to stop Johnny. The agents were still dealing with Alex and the aftermath of the shoot-out. By the time they realized Johnny was still on the loose, he would be gone. Adrian reached up and grabbed Johnny’s pant leg.

Johnny looked down, “Want more huh? Well, I guess we can’t say you can’t take a punch.” Johnny used his strength along with gravity to drive a fist down into Adrian’s chest. They both heard the snap as at least two ribs broke. The wind rushed from Adrian’s lungs and as he tried to gasp for breath, the stab of pain from the broken ribs wracked his body. “It’s been fun, but I have to go,” Johnny stood to leave again.

Mario drove full speed onto Russ’ street. The FBI agents that could still aim a weapon did so, tracking Mario as he drove down the street. He parked his Chrysler 300 nose to nose with Alex’s car. Seeing the carnage and chaos, Mario knew Russ was right to text him, but he had no idea what was going on. Slowly, with his hands in plain view he slowly exited his car and moved toward the front. Loudly he asked, “I am friends with Russ, what is going on?”

Steve’s eyes fluttered open though the blackness was the same, opened or closed. He felt around and quickly discerned he was in a trunk, though he did not know whose trunk or where the car was parked. The scene in the hotel room came flooding back and he guessed he was in the trunk of one of the two men he had encountered there. He stopped moving and listened. He heard a loud conversation taking place outside. “This is the FBI,” came a distinct voice. Well, that meant he was not in a remote area about to get shot, in fact he guessed the FBI meant everything was OK. It was time to get out of the car. Steve started banging on the trunk lid and screaming, “Let me out!”

Mario continued to hold his hands up, looking around seeing shot and bleeding FBI agents, an obviously dead Alex, and enough spent casings to make it look like a scene from Fallujah. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the trunk of the small car next erupt in screams and bangs. The FBI agents looked surprised too. Mario said, “I’m going to move very slowly and release the trunk.”

“Slowly,” the FBI captain said. His left arm hung in a makeshift sling. His right arm extended out, hold a service 9mm that did not waver or quiver in the slightest. The captain tracked Mario as he made his way to the driver’s side door, and bent into the car to pull the trunk release. Steve scrambled from the back of the car, squinting as his eyes adapted to the sun. The captain tensed until he recognized Steve, “Steve? How did you get in there?”

“Long story, where is Adrian?”

The captain looked around as if Adrian should be standing right next to him, “I am not sure, last I know he was headed toward the house.”

Before the captain could finish his statement, Steve was running. He sprinted across the lawn and into the house. He saw Kip, lying in the corner, his glassy eyes staring at nothing, his chest not moving. He pivoted and saw Adrian, with a broken and bloody face, toppled over on the floor. He was breathing though labored. He scanned the rest of the room just fast enough to see Johnny’s leg disappear into the kitchen. Leaping the couch in a single bound Steve slid into the kitchen.

Steve slid and as he did, he slid under the frying pan Johnny swung at head high. Steve popped up and Johnny squared up. The two men glared at each other. “I am guessing you’re the cop Alex and Will caught.”

“Yes and no,” Steve said, drifting to his left, “I guess your boys did catch me, but I’m not a cop.”

Johnny drifted to his left, countering the move by Steve, “Whatever, FBI, Texas Ranger, I don’t care, dead is what you’ll be.” Johnny swung the flying pan back and forth, keeping his arm loose.

“Dead, you mean like that guy back there? And the guy out front?” Steve asked.

“So they got Alex as well, huh? That is unfortunate. I guess there is not much sense in me going quietly then,” Johnny said. Johnny stopped moving, freezing Steve in place. He lunged and swung the pan overhead. Steve hopped back and the pan struck the floor. Steve struck out with a quick kick, but Johnny pulled back in time. “You’re quick.”

“They pay me to be,” Steve said. He stepped in to send a left and a right quick jab. Johnny side stepped the left, then put the pan in front of the right. Steve’s hand whacked the pan. It was not hard enough to hurt, but proved Johnny’s own speed. Putting a pan in front of a quick jab of a moving hand was not a trivial matter. The two men returned to their slow orbit. As Steve drifted in front of the kitchen counter he saw a block of knives but knew, stashed at the back of the counter out of the way, that by the time he got to them, Johnny would have plenty of time to strike.

He was able to grab a bottle opener from the edge of the counter where someone had left it after opening a beer. It was a simple rectangle, about an inch and a half wide and five inches long, with rounded corners and an opening cut in each end. Johnny saw the movement and struck, this time coming across with the pan. Steve thrust into the pan, catching the center of it with the firmly held bottle opener causing a loud clang.