Untraceable (41 page)

Whatever was needed, Crank could find
it, from Glock 33’s with specialized clips to black-market vials of
Versed, from canisters of potent Albanian sleeping gas to Micah’s
latest fancy, the Mossberg X12 shotgun/taser designed to fire
specialized high voltage cartridges. The only problem was that the
voltage wasn’t high enough to satisfy Micah. He wanted the voltage
of a stun gun, but the range of the Mossburg. Crank told him he
would see what he could either find on the black market or, if need
be, what he himself could rig. Crank was no slouch when it came to
converting weapons into more ‘useful’ pieces of
machinery.

Crank had emailed him a few hours
earlier to say he’d come up with a workable solution and, for the
reasonable price of only thirty-five times over normal Mossburg X12
market, Micah could now put someone down in one-third of a second,
as opposed to waiting five or six seconds to drop a target. He also
told Micah he found something that Micah had been asking about, but
wasn’t sure if he wanted to chance using it. He said to be sure to
bring at least fifty-thousand with him. Crank’s business was
strictly cash and carry; no receipts, no refunds, and no trails
leading back to him.

It was a little after four when Micah
drove into the full parking lot of the Antebellum Antiques and
Munitions store. The actual storefront was relatively small but
impressive; twelve-hundred square feet of some of the finest civil
war era guns, swords, jewelry, and memorabilia in Louisiana.
Crank’s wife, Bonnie ran the business that was open to the public;
Crank ran the private business that occupied the four-thousand
square feet adjoined to the rear. Micah drove through the parking
lot, past the sea of tourists’ out-of-state license plates to the
rear entrance marked as ‘Deliveries Only’ and ‘Tow-Away
Zone.’

He pressed the buzzer at the backdoor
and waited for Crank to let him in. As soon as the door opened and
Micah saw the toothy-grin on Crank’s face, he knew he had something
good to show him; getting a smile out of Crank only happened when
he found something either unique or extremely cool.

“
So let’s see what you’ve
done to the Mossburg,” Micah stated as he stepped
inside.

“
I have something better!”
came the exuberant response.

“
I wanted you to work on
the X12,” Micah growled. He wasn’t in the mood to walk out of here
without the weapons he needed.

The smile dropped to Crank’s normal
grouchy expression, “I have something better!” he stated, but using
a completely different tone. He turned and headed for the very back
of the shop. Micah followed.

Micah was pleased to see two X12’s
sitting on the table in front of the small, indoor firing
range.

Without saying a word, Crank picked up
a shotgun and fired it at a dummy ten yards down range. Micah saw
the projectile stick with wires dangling from a small
capacitor.

“
I need more distance,”
Micah began.

Crank turned and gave him a silent,
dry expression.

“
And, did you up the
voltage?”

“
Do not insult me,” Crank
snapped. He handed one of the cartridges to Micah. “The standard
round is fifty-thousand volts with a twenty-second duration. Not
bad if you want to wait five to ten seconds to drop your victim.
Motor skills return in another ten seconds or so. Your range is up
to thirty yards.”

“
I don’t have that much
time.”

“
So you told me,” he said
handing Micah a different cartridge, but it was much heavier. “This
is my modification; six million volts with a five second
duration—unconsciousness occurs in less than a second.
Consciousness can take up to two minutes to reoccur, but motor
skills are not fully achieved for another minute or so.
Then—”

“
But the added weight is
going to cause my distance and accuracy to be off.”

“
Do not interrupt me. I
said I had something better to show you. You are correct. The
lighter round with the smaller capacitor is more accurate and goes
farther, but it is less powerful. You need a more powerful gun for
the heavier projectile.”

“
If I get a much bigger
powder charge, my projectile will likely kill my
target.”

“
Are you going to continue
to talk or are you going to listen?” Crank didn’t take shit from
anyone, not even someone as feared as Micah Gavarreen—especially
not when he knew Micah needed what he was about to show
him.

He opened the cabinet below the table
and pulled out one of the wickedest looking pieces of die-hard
gun-enthusiast, sci-fi fantasy fan items Micah had ever seen—but he
knew what it was.

“
I can’t use a coil gun or
I’ll kill them with the magnet!”

Crank took in a deeply annoyed breath,
“You said you wanted to disable not destroy your target. I am not
stupid; I remember the conversation. I modified the coil gun so
that the magnet does not leave the barrel, only the projectile
leaves the barrel. Of course, velocity is a bit of an issue—you
could possibly kill someone if the probe hits directly over the
heart or if you hit them in the temple or eye. I take it that you
are still an accurate shot?” he said sarcastically. “I prefer
aiming for thighs with this gun. If you are facing other
‘professionals,’ they may have on a vest anyway. Legs are
unprotected.

Micah ignored the remark and asked for
Crank to give him a demonstration.

Crank smiled, “Here is the beauty and
the benefit of my modified coil. Pay attention.” He turned and
fired at a dummy ten yards beyond the first, but the shot was
utterly silent with the exception of a small sound that was hard to
describe, difficult like describing air stopping.

Micah felt the smile turning the
corners of his lips, “You smart Russian son-of-a-bitch; how did you
do it?”

Suddenly, Crank looked like a little
kid as he began to explain that he put a reversed polarity coil in
the end of the barrel, effectively stopping the magnet from ever
leaving the gun—only the projectile in front of the magnet would
continue the flight. “Once you release the trigger, the magnet
returns to the firing chamber instantly—triggering the loading of
the next taser round, rounds that fire in near total silence, so as
not to alert your enemies that they are under attack. This gun is
fully automatic. It is heavy at fifteen pounds, but that was
necessary to store enough current to launch up to eight cartridges.
But,” he continued, “if you simply press this button by your
barrel-supporting hand, the reversed polarity is turned off and you
will kill someone,” Crank said, his grin growing to greater
extremes. “The magnet will exit the barrel at an extreme velocity,
most likely passing through and killing whomever you hit, vest or
no vest.”

“
Crank, you’re worth your
weight in gold.”

“
That is one pay-off I
would like to receive,” he laughed. “I did get another item you had
questioned me about, but it is extremely dangerous. I cannot
guarantee that you will not kill your victim.”

He had discussed lots of things with
Crank so he wasn’t sure what was about to be produced as Crank
opened a smaller drawer and handed him a vial.

“
Do not drop it,” he said
with a bit of a nervous laugh. “You asked about dart frog
poison.”

Micah’s eyebrows rose unconsciously.
“You said it was always lethal.”

“
I found this on the black
market by a seller who claims that it is of a reduced strength and
blended with a weak puffer fish solution. He said it disables the
victim for up to three hours.”

“
Did you test
it?”

“
Yes.”

“
And?”

“
I owe my neighbor a pig,”
he said with a little embarrassment showing. “The dosage,
apparently, is not as weak as professed, but you could try
less.”

“
No, my friend, I think
I’ll pass on this one, but I do hope you have two coil guns for
me.”

“
What is one gun without
one for sharing?” he winked, “A very lonely gun.” He opened another
cabinet and produced a second modified coil gun. “Worth fifty
thousand dollars, my skillful friend?”

“
Absolutely,” Micah said
as he pulled five crisp bank bundles of hundred-dollar-bills from
his pocket and placed them in Crank’s outstretched hand.

“
I am very glad you did
not retire as everyone had told me.”

“
Oh, I am retired. The
problem is that some people didn’t get the message.”

Crank patted the barrel of one of the
guns with his free hand, “Good name for my new invention: The
Message. I think they will ‘get it’ this time, No?”

They both laughed as Crank helped
Micah box the guns and cartridges for transport.

CHAPTER thirty-two

Micah headed out of New Orleans toward
his home. It felt good to be home; he’d missed this place. He never
had trouble resting when he was here. He hadn’t slept much over the
last several weeks and his body and his mind were both tired. He
needed his mind to be sharp and clear for the next step, and the
only way that was going to happen was to pull into his home, go
upstairs and collapse into the bedroom he’d been accustomed to long
before he ever met his beautiful, Annalisa. He didn’t know how he
would be able to live a life without her when it felt as if as he
couldn’t even breathe properly when she wasn’t near. He would call
David when he woke up and tell him if he still wanted to help, once
he knew the plan, to fly home.

It would be a short rest. Micah’s eyes
had only been closed for about two hours when his phone went off.
He’d never heard his brother sound so panicked in his
life.

“
The son-of-a-bitch has
all three of them!”

“
Who has who?”

“
Freaking Caprizio! That
asshole took Leese there and they’ve convinced her that Caprizio
is—get this—her long lost father! She calls Nadia, and Nadia falls
for it, too—and she and Kimmy are flying to New York!”

Micah was speechless. He could barely
even will his brain to think, much less operate his
lips.

“
We’ve got to do
something, now! Where the hell are you?”

“
I’m home.”

David paused. “Florida home or
home-home?”

“
I’m in Louisiana at my
house. Where are you?”

“
About twenty-five minutes
away at my house. I’m on my way. Call dad and see if he can get a
number for Caprizio or—”

“
I’ve got it,” Micah said
calmly.

Once again, David stopped. “How the
hell did you get his number? Nobody has his number.”

“
The Bosses all have
it.”

“
Yeah?” David still wasn’t
getting it.

“
Botachelli’s phone is in
my pocket.”

“
You know, bro, I’ve never
wanted to admit this, but I always figured you were one of the
smartest bastards I knew, but that had to be the dumbest thing
you’ve ever pulled, right behind Moretti’s murder.”

“
David, when you get here,
I’ll tell you everything, but you’ve got to promise me that we do
this job strictly the way I tell you.”

“
Bullshit! I don’t care if
I have to kill every—”

“
David, you have to calm
down and listen to me.”

“
Then you better have
something pretty fucking good to say when I show up because I’m on
my way!” David hung up.

Micah sighed. He understood David’s
feelings, but if his hot-headed temper hadn’t cooled by the time he
showed up, Micah would get his attention another way.

He pulled Botachelli’s phone from his
pocket and opened it to the contact list. There was an entry by the
initials CDC. “I guarantee this isn’t going to be the Center for
Disease Control,” he said and then pushed the button.

The phone was on the fifth ring when a
man answered. “I’m going to guess you are Micah Gavarreen,” he said
with grisly calm.

“
You guessed correctly.
I’m going to guess you’re holding some people who are very
important to me.”

“
You have to be one of the
stupidest assholes I’ve ever known.”

“
I’m getting really tired
of people telling me that.”

“
Then perhaps you need to
wake the hell up and do the right thing. I’ll offer you one
opportunity to turn yourself over, unarmed, to my representative.
If you’re really lucky, I’ll feel generous and let you be the only
one to die.”

“
How about I offer you a
deal.”

“
You are in no position
to—”

“
I have some things you
want.”

“
You don’t have shit—other
than a beautiful wife; don’t you even care about her?!”

“
If we can’t work this out
you’re going to find out how much I do care, but there is an easier
way. I want to offer you a trade.”

“
What could you possibly
have that I would want?”

What did Sharon Moretti promise
you?”

“
Nothing.”