Читать книгу The Fall and Rise of Cain - Greg T. Nelson - Страница 6

The room was dark and there was a ten-foot projection screen against the far wall. It was an action film but there were no star players. On the day Judith had gotten killed there was a news crew covering a strike at the Ship Channel and a very unlucky cameraman had dutifully covered the whole mess as it unfolded. I had been told about the tape but I was never tempted to watch it. I had seen the whole thing a thousand times in nightmares awake and asleep. I watched now, shocked to see Judith alive and standing beside me, her only friend, the guy who was supposed to take care of her.

The video had started with a pretty reporter, Loren something, speaking to the camera about security problems and striking workers but the Cameraman had whispered something to her and his pointing finger came into view. The picture swiveled to center on Judith and me, as we stood low behind my Crown Victoria, guns were drawn. Beyond us, about two hundred feet away four men with machine guns were standing over three armored truck guards that were laying prone on the ground.

My breath caught in my throat and I could feel my heart pounding. In the blink of an eye, Philly Granger’s office was gone, I was back on the ship channel pier living it all over again. There was the smell of rank seawater and gull crap and metallic taste of adrenaline. I heard the tugboat horns felt Judith’s shoulder against mine as we watched hell unfold.

I was the Sergeant of the Violent Offenders Task Force. That meant I could make my own cases and draw resources as needed from the SWAT or patrol divisions. But when Judith recognized a pattern to a series of armored car heist there was too much going on to get any help. The Major League Baseball All-Star Game was in Houston that week and the mayor had cops doing important stuff like crowd control and arresting ticket scalpers near the new stadium. Judith had worked out that five robberies, all in the ship channel area, all on paydays and all at about 2 p.m. were the same bad guys. We were supposed to just cruise around and look for anything odd and scream for help if anything started to happen. If no help came, fine. We’d just watch the robbery like tourists and maybe try to follow the bad guys home. It didn’t work out that way. I parked the city’s car behind a row of double stacked barrels when we had spotted one of the Pro Security Armored trucks parked near a container ship. They did that a lot. Pick up high dollar items from Europe and Asia stored in vaults aboard cargo ships. Stuff too heavy or too delicate to fly. I got on the radio as soon as we saw the black van approach from the other end of the pier and stopped about 100 yards away from the truck. It was all too far away from us to stop without getting the guards in the middle of the fight.

“Victor 12, Central”

“Central, go ahead Victor 12”

“Two man car at Atwater and Jamison Pier 10, Agg robbery in progress, need assistance.”

It seemed like forever but I knew the task force dispatcher was using other radio channels to find us some help and after a few seconds,

“Victor 12, DPS and SO units enroute will contact you this channel.”

I waited and after another few seconds...

“Tom 16, Victor 12, we’re on the way ETA 10 minutes.”

“That’s Clear Tom 16, ten minutes.”

There was nothing else to say. 10 minutes meant 10 minutes and nothing I could do would make them get here any quicker. So Judith and I just leaned against the car and watched the show. Sweat was running down my neck and there was no hint of a breeze.

As two armed guards made their way down the gangway from the ship, one pulling a two wheel dolly and the other carrying a shotgun and looking bored, the black van eased slowly toward them. When the two guards made it to the truck the back door opened and a third guard got out to help. It was then that the van sped up and screeched to a halt in front of the armored truck, blocking its escape. The driver of the black van stayed at the wheel and four men wearing simple gray coveralls filed out the side door. They each wore a blue backpack and each carried a UZI assault pistol. Moving with practiced speed, they were on top of the guards before any reaction was possible. All the guards wore holstered pistols but only one had a shotgun in hand. He never got a chance to use it. The leader of the van’s assault team hit him square across the forehead with a machine pistol and snatched the shotgun as he fell.

We were too far away to hear any voices but the two remaining guards raised their hands and after being relieved of their pistols, they lay down next to the injured man. One of the jumpsuits stood guard as another quickly handcuffed each of their hands behind their backs. The other two made several trips, moving canvas bags and aluminum cases from the dolly and the armored truck to the back of the van. The whole thing took maybe two minutes.

Judith was as frustrated as I was, “We just going to watch this Sarge?” She called me Sarge like she was pissed but I understood and replied calmly, “Well kid, we got maybe 60 rounds between us and they got machine guns with a hundred rounds apiece, so Yeah we’re just going to watch.”

It was a good plan, wait for the troops to get here and take ‘em on the only road off the piers. It was three miles long with no turnoffs, time was on our side. Then time switched sides on us. Instead of turning and going back the way it had come, the van drove right for us. We tried to look small behind my Ford. I had noticed the news crew when they arrived but didn’t think about them now.

It was then the cameraman’s bad luck came into play. The driver of the van pulled right past us like we didn’t exist. We were hidden behind that stack of barrels and I think they just didn’t notice us after realizing a camera had been trained on them during a robbery. They drove within sixty feet of my front bumper and for a minute, I thought we could stick to the plan. Watch them leave and follow while the troops came. Then instead of turning at the cement barricade toward Bayshore road, they stopped sixty feet short of the Cameraman who was still dutifully holding the large camcorder on his shoulder. The driver and the front passenger jumped out and walked briskly toward him. At about halfway they opened up with the Uzis.

An Uzi is an ugly little gun. Made to fire with one hand, it has a 60 round magazine that can be completely emptied in less than two seconds. Mass-produced for killing on a large scale at close quarters, it’s also a quantity over quality device. Not very accurate, the theory being that if you throw enough lead in a general direction you’re bound to hit something even if you’re not a good shot. I was watching the theory prove valid.

The pretty reporter who had been there a moment ago had the good sense to be gone now but that camera guy kept right on taping as 9-millimeter bullets tore him nearly in half. He jerked backward a step but left the Camera in mid-air to crash down on its side. I didn’t notice at the time, I was taking aim down the sight of my Beretta. I heard Judith open fire. She was standing behind me and to my left, firing her glock too quickly. Before the killers could figure out where the fire was coming from, I squeezed off two shots and the first shooter was missing the back of his head. His partner turned and crouched at the same time but I swung and fired three more shots at the same time he did. His shots stitched across the side of my Ford, one of mine hit him low in the throat. Two down. I had a new clip in my hand and went on a knee as I turned and saw three more of the jumpsuits pile out of the van each unloading those ugly little guns at us.

There was a lot of noise as my car took most of the damage but I noticed that Judith had stopped firing, “Good, I thought, keep your head down kid, let ‘em run.” But they didn’t run. I was on the ground now watching three sets of legs move my way, and then they split up. Two sets kept coming at me but the third went right to get Judith. I took aim again and took out the kneecap of the one closest to me. As he sprawled forward I put three more in his chest and he vomited blood and died. I half fell, half dove to my right, to get a shot at the second man. Bad idea. He was ready for me. Gun steady in two hands he fired at me while I was still in motion and my left leg turned into hamburger at the thigh and knee. I emptied my gun into his stomach and he looked puzzled and just sat down like he was deflating.

The world was hazy, swimming in and out. I was aware there was another bad guy going after Judith. But I wasn’t able to decide which way to turn. I could hear sirens from far away and only then did I notice there was no gunfire. I shook my head in hopes of clearing my vision but that just brought the pain to the surface. I pulled my last clip from the scabbard on my left hip and reloaded the Beretta by feel. I turned my head in time to see the last bad guy slowly follow his Uzi back around the front of my car. I was too far-gone to aim, so I just pulled the trigger and kept pulling. And then, I just lay my head down with nothing left. That’s when I saw Judith. Looking under the car she was on the other side face turned toward me with her chest torn open. The wound was still pumping blood out, but her eyes were already a blank stare. Unlike the dreams I would have, she didn’t speak. She didn’t blame me. I could feel myself fall for a long time and the sound of sirens became yelling and distant. Cussing, then more sirens and a helicopter then nothing.