Isakson beamed at them. ‘Fifty Ks. That’s the biggest haul of ice in recent NYPD history.’ He looked at Rolando. ‘Your guys did a fantastic job, Rolando. You should be proud.’
Rolando acknowledged with a brief nod. ‘It was a joint task force operation. The FBI deserves credit too.’
‘So where are we heading?’ Bwana interrupted the love-fest.
Isakson mentioned the name of a downtown hotel. ‘I want to hear your theories — I know you have some — and see how today’s bust affects them.’
He broke off as the van turned in the driveway of the hotel.
The takedown was so smooth, so slick and deceptive, they couldn’t have planned it better.
Isakson, Rolando, and Broker were bunched together as they walked to the lobby of the hotel.
A doorman came from behind his stand, reached under his uniform, and shots rang out
Chapter 40
The shooter pumped two into Isakson, shifted slightly, and put another three into Rolando.
As Broker and the others dived, reaching for their guns, they were hit from behind by bellboys coming out of hiding, Tasering them to the role of helpless spectators. Bwana and Bear resisted longer, their big bodies absorbing the shock and weathering it, and just as their hands neared their guns, they were felled, the stock of a M16 crashing in their heads.
Bwana’s vision dimmed, and just before he faded into darkness, he saw the doorman, a narrow- faced man, teeth bared viciously, slashing down on Chloe.
He came to when his head banged against the side of the truck they were dumped in, jouncing on country roads. He lay still, and ran a mental check — his wrists and feet were cuffed, wrists behind his back, his head hurt, but nothing was broken. He raised his head and met Roger’s look.
‘How long have I been out?’ He tested his wrists and ankles and found no give.
Roger shrugged. ‘Woke up myself just seconds ago.’ The others stirred at the voices and raised themselves awkwardly, supporting themselves against the sides.
‘We’re in deep shit,’ Broker croaked, cleared his throat, and continued. ‘How did that happen?’
He answered his own question before the others could. ‘They must have followed Isakson or Rolando, and must have had some kind of bug on him or his vehicle.’ He thought for a while. ‘That was some organization at the hotel. They must have had gunmen inside keeping everyone at bay, and a rapid switch of personnel to give us the warm welcome.’
‘What about Isakson and Rolando?’ Chloe asked.
Bear’s voice was low and savage. ‘It’s likely they’re both dead. The shooter was just a few feet away from them.’
Roger smiled grimly. ‘Let’s focus on the here and now, else we won’t be around to figure out how they did it.’ He nodded at the truck they were in. ‘Middle-of-the-road Ford series, not new, suspension could do with a replacement, but sturdy. We won’t have much luck breaking through the floorboards. Any of you have any blades on you? Anything to cut through the plastic?’
They all shook their heads; the hoods had cleaned them when they were out.
The truck was bare, a thick rubber sheet between them and the floorboards, the side walls bereft of any upholstery, just metal covered by black rubber sheets running from floor to roof.
‘It’s to carry bodies.’ Broker divined Bear’s thoughts as he looked around inside. ‘The rubber sheets are easy to wash, also absorb any sound.’ He had to shout over the truck’s rumbling over the country roads.
Bear grunted, rolled around to have his feet against the wall, and kicked with both feet. He slid a foot back, colliding into Roger, the rubber beneath them slick with sweat, his feet losing purchase on the walls.
Roger rolled to lay beside him, joined by Bwana, Chloe and Broker lying at their heads, perpendicular to act as a stopper, and on the count of three, they all kicked.
After half an hour of vigorous kicking, the rubber and the side wall continued to mock them, the jostling of the truck robbing the power of their blows. In frustration, Bwana sat up and half crouched, looking for any sharp edges on the roof.
The truck swerved suddenly, throwing him on top of the others, and by the time he had rolled off them, the rear doors were jerked open.
They peered out and, against the dark sky, saw the barrels of automatic rifles appear first; then two dark shapes appeared, roughly hauled them out, and dumped them on the ground. They rolled over to absorb the impact and struggled to their feet.
They were in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods, with the tiniest patch of sky looking down on them, the cold light of the stars offering little comfort to them. Harriman Park. If we have to die here, it’ll be with the sky above my head, Bwana thought.
The two figures were joined by three others, all heavily armed, standing in front of them in a loose curve.
‘Why have you—’ Broker began and fell back as one of the men swung his rifle, hitting him on the side of the head. Broker, sensing the blow, turned along with it, softening the blow, but it was still hard enough to split his temple and bring him down.
He coughed, shook his head, a thin stream of blood flowing darkly down his face, slowly got to his feet, swayed and steadied.
‘Not in the face,’ came a calm, pleasant voice. Hamm stepped forward from the group and looked at them pityingly.
‘A good run while it lasted… and you caused us heavy losses.’
Broker’s heavy breathing broke the silence.
‘We found Cruz and Diego, severely tortured, dead, of course. By the time we found their bodies, the Russians had attacked and taken over a lot of our stashes. I guess you guys are responsible for that too.
‘No brave words from you guys? No pleading? Nothing? I guess when you’re facing death, you’re no different to anyone else.’
He came closer, a victor inspecting his spoils.
‘Now this one, maybe we won’t kill. We need some entertainment.’ He pointed his gun at Chloe.
Bear and Bwana launched themselves horizontally, their shoulders aiming for him, and fell heavily as Hamm took a long step back and two men clubbed them down hard. They crawled to their feet and fell again as the two again clubbed them between the shoulders.
They lay there for a while and then struggled to their feet, this time untouched, and then heard a heavy blow, and Roger fell gasping.
Roger had been moving to the right, inching away from them, but the hitters had seen his move and clubbed him.
‘The Warriors,’ Hamm mocked them, ‘reduced to this. You must be wondering why I want your faces intact.’
‘Not hard to figure out, asshole. You want us to be recognized,’ Bear snarled.
Hamm held a hand up to halt the advancing hitter, and nodded.
‘Why here? Why not in the city?’ Broker asked him in genuine curiosity.
‘This is my killing ground. I like my kills in the open.’ Hamm shrugged. ‘Enough talking. I have a chapter to run.’
He stepped back and raised his gun, pointing first at Bwana.
Bwana stared back at him, relaxing his body. This was always going to come one day. We weren’t meant to die in our beds.
Hamm sighted at him, his finger tightening on the trigger.
His body flopped to the ground as a bullet took his head out like a watermelon.
Before realization had set in, another hitter fell forward, then a third and a fourth. The last turned around, spraying blindly in the dark. His body jerked twice, and he fell and twitched a last time.
Silence fell in the woods, a deep silence that swallowed thought and logic, broken by Bwana’s deep sigh.