Street Justice (35 page)

              “Who you texting?” Johnny asked.

              Russ said smoothly, “I got this little blonde hottie from U-dub that doesn’t mind coming over and getting a bit freaky if there is blow around, if you know what I mean.”

              Kip nodded his head and said, “Oh yeah. Is she bringing a friend or three?”

              I can always ask. Russ pulled out his phone and typed in gibberish to Mario to mimic him asking the fictional girl to bring a friend, “Let’s wait and see.”

              Rick piloted the FedEx truck up Meridian Ave and onto 5
th
street. The sidewalk whizzed outside the open door of the big boxy vehicle. He sung out loud to himself, “…I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, call me maybe…” He thought about his day, it was getting close to being over, maybe he would take his girlfriend to dinner tonight, they had not been out in a while. He turned right onto 2
nd
Ave and pulled to a stop. He grabbed the box for Russ Evenhuis and headed to the door. He knocked and before his knuckle could rap the door a second time the door opened.

              A huge man stood in the doorway smiling. Russ took the box from Rick more than Rick handed it to him. “Hey, thank you,” Russ said smiling. Rick smiled back then turned and headed back to his truck. As he was half way across the lawn, Adrian and his team screeched to a halt outside, blocking in the FedEx truck. Adrian, now parked behind the FedEx truck, leapt out of his car, carrying a bullhorn, and drew his weapon. He rolled down the window of his open driver’s side door and leaned the bullhorn on the window sill.

The cube van had pulled in front of the FedEx truck and was now disgorging a crew of six from the rear doors. The captain and his driver exited from the front and the team reassembled in front of the box van. Each member from the rear had a plexiglass shield, two members had two. The two team members with two, each handed a shield to the captain and driver. They formed a menacing sight crouched low, dressed in black tactical gear and braced behind riot shields.

              “Johnny Stubblefield, this is the FBI, come out with your hands up,” Adrian demanded. Rick pinned himself to the front lawn, spread eagle. He looked around the scene, the man with the bullhorn shielded behind his car door, the FBI team focused as one on the house he had just left and no movement at all from the house. Rick did notice that the curtains of other houses were peeling back as the occupants stared at the scene outside from the relative safety of their own abodes.

Rick finally processed what the man with the bullhorn said and realized he had demanded Johnny Stubblefield come out. Rick had been on this route for a while and had delivered many packages to this house, all had been addressed to Russ Evenhuis. Before he could realize what he was doing, Rick heard himself say, “Sir, Russ Evenhuis lives here not a Johnny Stubblefield.”

Adrian’s head turned in a slow deliberate manner from staring at the door to looking at Rick. Rick tried to push himself farther into the grass. “Sir, come here, quickly,” Adrian said.

“What?” Rick asked.

“Sir, you are in harm’s way, please come over here quickly,” Adrian repeated. Rick’s head flip flopped, the blades of grass running over his face, as he looked at Adrian, then at the house then back to Adrian. Suddenly, panic set in and Rick scrambled up, flailing arms and legs, up then he stumbled and tripped his way over to Adrian. Rick fell right onto Adrian, and Adrian dropped the bullhorn, to catch the scared man. The two collided in a piled wedged against the rear door of the Crown Vic. Rick extricated himself from Adrian, apologizing as he did so. Adrian assured him it was going to be okay as he straightened out his suit and collected the bullhorn. Still no movement from the house.

The walkie-talkie on Adrian’s hip crackled, “Sir, what is the plan?”

“Send two of your team around to the back to cover the rear of the house, two more can cover the front, I will lead the entry team,” Adrian said.

There was a pause then the walkie-talkie squawked back, “Sir, I should lead the entry team, you are not trained in extraction. You can stay outside while we go in.”

“Captain, I appreciate your concern, but I am trained in extraction, and I will lead the team,” Adrian replied coolly.

“Yes, sir,” came the immediate response. The black mass in front of the FBI van broke up, two men scurried toward the left side of the house, kicked open a flimsy wooden fence and disappeared behind the house. Two more men broke off from the group with one flanking out to the left of the house and one to the right, both making sure they had unobstructed firing lines across the entire face of the house. The remaining four men moved as a single group over to where Adrian was forcing Rick toward the back of the car.

The captain moved himself next to Adrian. Without talking the members interlocked their shield in a roman phalanx covering the entire group, including Adrian. One of the men carried a “master key” which was basically a metal cylinder with a large shot gun shell inside, that when slammed against a door, triggered the explosion and blew out the lock. “Are you ready?” the captain asked Adrian.

“I am,” replied Adrian and the group moved forward, including Adrian, in step and as one.

Russ turned from the door to see Johnny pull his Smith and Wesson .45 and aim it at him. “Wow,” Russ exclaimed and put his hands up, one still holding the box, “What is this all about?” Johnny was about to say something when they heard the screeching tires of Adrian and the FBI van. Johnny, Russ and Kip all raced to the window. They looked out front and saw the FBI team hopping out of the van.

“What is this about?” Johnny leveled the gun at Russ again, “That’s what this is about.” Johnny pointed outside with his free hand. “You turned on us.”

“What are you talking about,” Russ feigned ignorance, “I’m as surprised as you are they are here.”

Kip said, “He does look surprised” nodding his head a bit.

“Yeah, well then how come you sent us a plant,” Johnny asked.

A voice from outside boomed, “Johnny Stubblefield, this is the FBI, come out with your hands up.”

“What plant?” Russ said, trying to continue to look surprised. The FBI showing up was a surprise and he was aware that the surprised look was the only thing currently keeping Johnny from shooting him. But now they were on to things that Russ knew about, he was suddenly hyper aware of his face, where his eyebrow was, how his lips were set. He tried to freeze them, then was worried that a face that did not move at all might be a tell as well. He racked his mind about what a surprised face looked like.

As Russ stressed over his facial expression, Kip who was still in front of the window said, “Johnny, they are headed this way.” With a motion trained from doing it thousands of times, Kip pulled his H&K with his right hand then lifted his leg and withdrew the back-up piece. His eye never wavering from the scene outside. He trusted Johnny to handle his flank, in this case Russ. He needed to be focused on what was ahead. He hammered out, “Looks like two flanking to the rear of the house and two providing outside cover. Five more headed to the lawn, four dressed in tactical gear and one in a suit. All armed.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Johnny said, “Alex was tailing you and saw you go into the police station and walk out with Chris, if that is his real name. So either he’s a cop, or you’re now working for the cops, either way, it is bad news for you.”

“Listen Johnny, it’s not what it looks like,” Russ said. He did not know what he was going to say next, he was stalling. What else could it be than what it looked like but hoped he could think of something in the next few seconds.

“OK, then what is the story?” Johnny asked.

“They are advancing, what do you want me to do?” Kip asked.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I don’t intend on going quietly. We’ve been in tougher jams, let’s find a hole and get through it,” Johnny replied.

“I’m going to draw their attention here, then we can try a run out a side exit,” Kip said. Without waiting for a response, Kip unloaded three shots, the bullets aimed squarely at the riot shields. The front glass smashed and the report deafened everyone in the small room. Even in the bright room the strobe effect of the muzzle blast created spots on Russ’ corneas.

A barrage of shots back was the response. Kip had been ready for it and already dropped to the floor. A couple of the bullets tore through the air near Johnny, who was forced to take cover. Over by the door instead of in front of the window, Russ was relatively clear and used the split second of reprieve he had to dart down the hallway. A shot slammed the wall about Russ as he headed down the hallway toward his room. The bullet made a long streak, showering drywall, then plowed in the door jam. Russ dove into the room. Lying on the floor he kicked the door closed.

“So what’s the plan Johnny?” Kip asked, both men huddled under the window.

“That’s easy, one more volley out the window to keep their heads down the we hightail it through the kitchen and out of the side window in the bedroom over there.” Johnny points toward the doorway on the left side of the kitchen.

Kip steals a quick glance, “Sounds good.”

“On three, one-two-three,” Johnny said. Johnny lifted his head and one arm up over the sill and fired a three shot burst. Kip was a fraction of a second behind in doing the same thing. Johnny leapt to his feet and raced toward the back bedroom with Kip following suit. Suddenly Kip spun around and let out a yelp. Johnny turned and saw a ballooning plume of red spreading across Kip’s left chest. Kip tumbled to the ground. Johnny stopped mid-stride and doubled back for his friend.

Johnny dropped next to Kip and slammed his hand over the center, darker area of the wound. Kip’s head lolled back and forth and a gurgle emanated from his throat. His eyes went glassy. Johnny said, “Come on Kip, not like this. Let’s go.” Kip did not respond. The warm blood pulsed through Johnny’s hands, he squeezed his fingers together tighter. He screamed, “Come on soldier, there is fighting to do. Get up.”

Kip’s eyes focused. His head stopped it’s lazy bobbing and he snapped to attention. “Sorry sir, I got a little woozy there.”

“No worries soldier, it happens when you get shot,” Johnny smiled and winked at Kip, “Now can you move?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll cover you while you make your escape,” Kip said and started to struggle and right himself.

“Negative, we’re a team, until the end. Besides we have a card up our sleeve,” Johnny said helping Kip right himself, “Can you reload?”

“Yes sir, and what is our card?” Kip asked.

“Alex is on his way. He texted me a few minutes ago.”

“Alex? He’d better come heavy.”

With a smile as thin as a razor spreading across his face, Johnny replied, “Oh I think we can make enough noise to warn him.” With that he sent a four shot spread across the front of the house. The FBI agents ducked behind their covers and shields.

“Watch out,” Kip said as he sent a grouping toward the back of the house, shattering glass.

Out front, Adrian said to the captain, “Let’s fall back a bit. No need to engage in all-out war.”

“Yes sir,” the captain acknowledged. Then to his team he said, “Okay team, fall back as a unit. Keep ourselves together and protected.” Into his throat mic, while taking steps backward in synch with his team, he said, “Front and back over watch, hold your positions. Don’t let anyone out, but don’t engage unless you have to.”

Reaching the relative safety of Adrian’s car the entry team spread out, using both the car and their shields as cover. Adrian scrambled into his car and grabbed for the radio. “Attention dispatch, this is Agent Massie number 1729. We have a situation over here in Shoreline. We need you to send more units.”

A few moments later, the radio crackled back, “Agent Massie, this is dispatch, can you describe your current situation?”

“We have the suspects pinned down and have back off…” three more shots emanated from the front window, two slamming square into riot shields, one punching a hole in the radiator of Adrian’s car. “…we were under heavy fire, but it has subsided… somewhat.”

“Roger that, any casualties?”

“None of our people, though we may have injured one of the suspects.”

“I’ll contact emergency response,” the radio paused, “…Agent Massie, support units are on their way. ETA ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Adrian said and re-racked the radio. He exited the car, being careful to stay covered and said to the captain, “Ten minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Kip asked.

“Not much, they’ve backed up and are just waiting. We have to hope our backup gets here before theirs does,” Johnny replied. He did a quick inventory of his ammunition, two partial magazines in each of his weapons and two more for the .45 and one for the .32. “How you doin’ on ammo?”

Kip was sitting with his back against the wall, his skin turning pale. He felt around his waist, not moving his body, “I have another magazine for each. I am not sure how many more shots in each weapon, sorry, it must be the blood loss, I’m forgetting things.”

“No worries,” Johnny patted Kip’s shoulder, “Now that they are waiting for backup we don’t need to keep them pinned down, they’ll wait patiently. All I have to do is throw the occasional brass down range to keep them focused our way and let Alex know the situation in case he isn’t checking texts.” With that Johnny took aim at one of the over watch positions in front and fired. The bullet chunked in the dirt in front of the watchers position.