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aleo_70Author: ALEO
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aleo_70Genre: Gen
Characters: Don, David, Colby, Charlie, Alan, AD Wright
Rating: PG 13+
Warning: some violence
Spoilers: Black Swan 4.13, Backscatter 2.22, One Hour 3.17. Also mention of a character from my fic Wildfire, although it is not necessary to read that first.
Summary: He was bound, he was hooded and he was captive. Cold and sharp, a knife blade was laid against his throat.
Status: Chapter 9 of 15
Wordcount (this chapter): 3017
Total wordcount: ~37,400
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.
CHAPTER NINE
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“Your man is being held in a warehouse at 1084 West Rialto Avenue.” Father Mike said tersely as his call was connected.
“Sir, who is this?” The FBI operator demanded.
“That’s not important. I am breaking a confidence to give you this information.” Michael was not comfortable with what he was doing but he was less comfortable with the alternative. He would make his amends to God later, He would understand why His servant had to do what he was doing.
Father Mike glanced down at the boy, Jorge who was in the phone booth with him. Jorge had come running into the church a short time before with some distressing news. Hector had turned up at the warehouse carrying a gun. That was over an hour ago, Jorge spending the time before going to the church agonising over what to do with the information. Even more worrying was the information that Jorge was sure that Hector was planning to resolve the whole mess rather more directly than young Mark, hence the weapon. Micheal’s first thought had been to go to the warehouse and speak with the boy who insisted on calling himself ‘Chief’ but with a gun on the scene he worried that he would set something off by confronting the issue there. That left him with no other avenues. Just as he had made a promise to Mark he had also made a promise to the FBI agent. He could try to keep at least one promise tonight, failing in both he couldn’t accept.
“Sir, let me put you through to the agent in charge.”
He turned his attention back to the phone. “No. You have what you need, don’t take too long. I think they may be about to shoot him.” Michael hung up and stepped out of the booth. He stood for a moment staring in the direction of the unseen warehouse, hoping that the federal agents wouldn’t be too late to save their man. He’d done all he could.
“Father Mike?” The young voice interrupted.
“It will be alright, Jorge.” Michael reassured. He looked down at the twelve-year-old boy. He’d long since gotten over being shocked at just how young some of these children were who involved themselves in adult affairs. “You had best head home now. You did the right thing.”
The child didn’t wait, running off into the night. Michael watched him go before walking slowly back to the church a few blocks away. It would have been quicker to use the phone there but he wanted to remain anonymous and provide some level of protection to the children that way. It was a weak attempt at mitigating his breach of the Confessional but it was the best he could do.
Michael reflected on all he’d done that evening. After tending to the agent’s needs he’d had a long discussion with Mark as he was taken back to the church. By the time the boy had driven away to return to the warehouse Michael thought he’d given him a path to follow, a way to have the agent released unharmed with the best possible outcome for all the children involved. He’d been as sure as he could be that Mark would free the agent once he’d convinced his friends. But he also remembered that Mark had sounded doubtful that Hector would go along with it. He’d expected another visit from Mark during the night or even a visit from Hector but not this.
Finally sitting back at his desk he started composing an e-mail to his Bishop requesting a transfer. As he’d told the agent he’d spent a lot of time building up trust in the neighbourhood, trust that he’d now betrayed. The betrayal he didn’t regret so much, a life was at stake after all. But he did regret the loss of years of work. The only solution was to move on and allow another priest to start afresh. With a sigh he started typing.
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“Colby!” The older agent shouted as he pressed the button to hang up the phone. Handset still pressed to his ear David immediately dialled an extension.
“Wright.”
“Sir, we’ve had an anonymous informant give us a location where we will find Agent Eppes. A warehouse in Rialto. They said he’s about to be shot.” David reported.
“I’ll be right down. Alert the teams but hold for my order.”
“Yes Sir.” David put the phone down and saw that Colby had entered the conference room and had heard the end of his conversation.
“We’ve found Don?”
“Maybe. A male just called in and gave us this address.” He said as he copied the address onto the whiteboard.
“I’ll get my kit.”
“No. We’re too far away.” David said. He wanted to go just as badly but even at this early hour it would take far too long for them to reach the area. He worked at his computer as he spoke. “We have to call in our agents and have them ready to move on Wright’s order.”
Colby started dialling Control to pass on the order as Wright walked in the door.
“Where’s the warehouse?” Wright asked.
David crossed the room and pointed at the map he’d projected onto the large screen. “1084 West Rialto Avenue is right here.” He went back to the computer and zoomed out a little.
Wright tapped the screen at a spot quite a few blocks away. “SWAT are holding here. How many agents do you have nearby?”
Colby, listening with one ear answered this one. “Control are calling for sitreps, so far we have twelve agents within ten blocks.”
Wright considered the map a moment longer before tapping a spot. “Have them meet up here and be ready to roll in five minutes. I’ll hand coordination over to Agent King.” Pulling out a cell phone he moved away a few steps and started issuing orders to the SWAT commander.
“David! What’s going on? Have you found Don?” Charlie demanded.
David spun and saw Charlie and Alan standing at the door to the conference room, Charlie restrained from entering by his father’s ever cautious hand on his arm. They would have heard his shout to Colby.
“We had a phone call from someone saying that Don was in a warehouse on West Rialto.” He answered, the full address was clearly displayed on the whiteboard behind him.
“1084?” Alan read out. “That’s the warehouse that’s being demolished for the community centre. Oh my God, this is about my project!”
David moved forward in concern as the older man staggered forwards a few steps and collapsed into the nearest chair. “Mr Eppes, are you alright?”
“Oh, my God. What have I done?” Alan lamented. “Donny’s in trouble because of me.”
“Mr Eppes, Alan, it’s not your fault.” David soothed in concern. He looked up at Charlie then back at the older man. “We’re about to get him out. I have to go, Charlie can you-?”
“We’re staying.” Charlie was uncharacteristically firm.
With no time to argue David nodded. He turned back to concentrate on the task at hand as Charlie perched on the edge of the table next to his father. They silently watched as the agents worked to obtain as much information about the building they were about to raid as possible with just a few minutes to work with.
Colby set up the radio bank mounted at the front of the room, switching to the frequency chosen for this operation. Control was to be bypassed, all comms for the raid would now go through here. Abruptly they were ready and Wright gave the order to go over the radio. There was nothing more any of them could do but wait and listen to the calls as the teams moved in under King’s coordination.
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At the sound of the shot Don desperately changed course, attempting to zigzag and present a difficult target for the next round he expected to be sent his way. He almost stumbled and fell but kept his footing through sheer willpower. His legs, stiff from being bound together for so long didn’t want to cooperate and move him at full speed or agility despite the adrenalin surging through his system.
He made it to the safety of the shadows at the side of the shed and stopped for a second, controlling his breathing to listen for sounds of pursuit. He heard a raised voice and recognised Guerra.
“Idiot!” There was a meaty thud, someone had been hit. “Get after him.”
Don moved, hearing three sets of running footsteps approaching quickly. Looking wildly around he saw a narrow, long warehouse offering deeper shadows a short distance away. More importantly the other shed was almost up against the wire fence surrounding the warehouse yard. The agent crossed the open space as quickly as he could, with each step hearing the men behind him getting closer.
He was in the dark and moving a little slower along the back of the second shed, unable to stop and scale the fence as he’d intended due to his pursuers closing in on him. He suddenly realised something was wrong, there were only two sets of running feet behind him. Forced nevertheless to keep running he reached the edge of the warehouse and set his sights on another shed a short distance ahead. As he took the first step in the open he was slammed into from his left, the third man had gone around the shed to come at him from the side. All he saw was the man’s outline as he was hit with a solidly set shoulder. The technique was incredibly effective, one that he himself had often used on offenders. Unprepared, Don was knocked off his feet and into the fence, bouncing off before going down hard. He stayed down, winded from the impact.
He may have been down but he was not ready to give up. Don coughed and forced some air into his starved lungs. Another breath and he got his feet and hands under him and started to scramble upwards. He was going to turn his rise into a charge, aiming for the man that had dropped him and who was now standing in his way. But he was too late, the other two gang-bangers had reached him and he made it only halfway to his feet before a kick to his midsection sent him sprawling. Once again he was lying on the ground gasping for air. He took a moment to assess himself and determined that the kick, though painful and effective, hadn’t done any serious damage.
Even more determined he got himself moving again but this time a gun was pressed firmly against the side of his head. The barrel wasn’t cold, it was the weapon that had been fired at him moments before. Depending on the calibre there could be up to sixteen more rounds with his name on them. He froze.
Hands grabbed at his arms and he was hauled to his feet. The gun was pressed back against his head once he was up. He couldn’t help but tense and pull against the hands holding him but they held firm. The figure that had shoulder charged him stepped up and Don recognised Guerra before his attention was drawn to the gun the gang-banger now held aimed at him.
“Not bad for a fed.” Guerra started, rotating his shoulder briefly to loosen it up after the impact. “We’re supposed to bring you back alive but next time you run there might be an accident. Ramone missed, I won’t.”
Don didn’t respond to the warning, continuing to strain against the two holding him despite the gun at his head. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere but wanted the men’s hands off him.
Guerra didn’t think his message had made it through. It was time to make things a little clearer for the fed. He stepped closer, pressing his gun against the agent’s chest. He raised his other hand, one finger extended and rested it on his own cheek below his left eye. He saw the fed’s eyes narrow as the man recognised the mark there. “I’m owed some payback.”
The agent recognised the small tattoo of a teardrop beneath Guerra’s eye. Someone close to the man had died violently, the crisp edges showing in the helpful light of a nearby streetlight suggested recently. The tattoo was a sign of a blood debt. It hadn’t been filled in, the hollow tear meaning that the debt had not yet been paid. There was a dangerous glint forming in the gang-banger’s eyes.
“One of yours killed my brother.” Guerra snarled, punctuating his words with a hard shove of his gun. A click and the safety was removed. Arrio had only been buried last month, Guerra’s rage was still fresh and raw. He had intended only to intimidate the fed but now he was in the moment and only too happy to carry through. “So make it happen, Fed.” He challenged. He knew his boss, for a blood debt Che Lobo would understand.
It didn’t take running through his options for Don to come to the obvious conclusion that he didn’t stand a chance. One gun against his head and another pressing into his chest didn’t leave him any choices. Relaxing his arms he looked Guerra in the eye making his surrender into a challenge of his own. “Not today.”
“Perhaps another then.” Guerra taunted, the debt was still owed and the man he was currently holding at gunpoint was a worthy target. Abruptly he controlled himself and stepped back. Disappointed though he was at the fed’s backing down he had still achieved a victory having gained control over him.
“Perhaps.” Don responded determined to show that he was not afraid of the 18th Street Mexicali.
Guerra grinned in response. His earlier doubts that the agent would beg for his life when held at gunpoint were vindicated. That settled it for him, when Che Lobo was finished with the fed he was going to come hunting. He’d heard a lot about this hard-assed fed but this had been the first time he’d met him. He’d originally set his sights on the sandy haired agent at the club earlier, touching that man’s gun to gauge his reflexes. That agent was good but killing this one would boost his cred that much more. He would not remain on loan to Che Lobo forever; soon he would be making his move for the leadership of the Mexicalis. Allowing his murderous thoughts to show in his eyes he gave it another moment so the fed could be sure. When the fed’s eyes again narrowed he slid the safety back into position and tucked his gun back into his jeans. He jerked his head back the way they’d come.
Don for his part knew that he’d been looking into the eyes of a man wanting to kill him but who was for some reason being forced to hold back. When this was over he was going to have to take some steps, Guerra was serious when he suggested they would be continuing this another day. The gang-banger had been only too successful in letting the agent know he’d been chosen to repay the blood debt.
For now though he allowed himself to be manhandled around and walked back to the SUV he’d seen before he’d made his break. Ramone’s gun was still out and now pressed sharply against his side as he walked. From the additional deliberate hard jabs he received as they moved he knew he had a second special friend in Che Lobo’s crew. The split lip Ramone had received for shooting at the agent hadn’t helped any. Don knew Colby and the others in his team were safe, having worked to get the gangster’s son back. He hadn’t been there, his cell switched off at Bradford’s insistence. Che Lobo owed Don Eppes no favours. Why his crew were here the agent hadn’t a clue.
Reaching the vehicle he was shoved none too gently into the back seat, Ramone crowding quickly in behind him to again painfully jab the gun into his ribs. He was going to be covered in bruises by sunup, providing he lived that long. The other two men climbed into the front seats and there was a clunk as the door locks were engaged. There would be no escaping from the moving vehicle. Accepting the inevitable Don reached around slowly and pulled the seatbelt across himself, waiting a moment until Ramone moved slightly and allowed the agent to buckle up.
The SUV started with a rumble and moved out onto the street and turned left heading towards central LA. They had rolled barely a hundred yards before Guerra abruptly swore and the SUV suddenly accelerated, the powerful non-standard engine easily forcing the heavy vehicle along.
Looking up Don saw that the gangster’s attention was directed behind them. Turning his head the agent saw a number of vehicles with flashing red and blue lights converging on the warehouse. Rescue had been that close, another few moments and he would have been safe. As they continued accelerating down the road he watched in disappointment and frustration as the raid went ahead, the agents not realising that their quarry was being taken away right under their noses.
A sudden screech of brakes sounded right beside them. He looked out his window in time to see a black sedan slide away behind them, tyres smoking as it came to a stop in the street. More smoke appeared as the sedan spun its wheels to make a hasty U-turn and start after them, red and blue lights flashing, its siren barely heard through the SUV’s closed windows. The SUV leapt forwards, the engine note turning into a snarl as they took a corner and powered away. The agent looked back and saw the sedan following in a four wheel power slide. The car stuck with them through the next corner.
The FBI was in pursuit.
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