Immortal Cascade 02 Crossed Out Read online

  He followed them to a house in the suburbs, about an hour from the station, and parked down the block. Tuning in with his hearing, he was stunned by what he overheard. Collier and Manning were planning a raid on Cristo's warehouse.

  Collier's voice carried clearly over the sound of automatic weapons being readied. "Just so we're in agreement on this, we hit them as soon as the truck pulls into the warehouse, and hit them hard. No survivors."

  "No survivors," Manning agreed. "I'm gonna take great pleasure in putting a bullet in that son of a bitch myself. If it hadn't been for his involvement, we wouldn't have had to do that stupid song and dance with the PD."

  "No way, Sandburg's mine."

  "I'll toss you for the honor."

  There was the sound of change jangling. Ellison clenched his hands around the steering wheel, trying to control his anger.

  "Call it."

  "Heads."

  "Ha! It's tails, you lose. What time is it?"

  After a brief pause, Collier said, "Relax, we have a little under three hours. Plenty of time to get to the warehouse."

  At the agent's words, Jim was on the cell phone to Simon, letting him know the deal was going down tonight. At his superior's bellow, he held the phone away from his ear.

  "What! You mean all of this was a setup?"

  A black SUV backed out of the driveway of the agents' house. Jim turned the ignition and put the truck into drive. "From what I overheard, yes. They used us, they used Sandburg to find out when the drop was gonna be. It's tonight, about three hours from now, at the warehouse." He crossed his fingers hoping it was the Cristo Imports building. "How soon can you get a team there, Simon?"

  "We're on our way. I'll send the team ahead, then meet them there with the warrant. It's going to be cutting it close. Jim? What are you doing?"

  "Right now I'm following Collier and Manning. I'm gonna try and take them out of the picture before they get a chance to implement their plan."

  He could hear the tension in his captain's voice. "And if you can't?"

  "Then I have to try and warn Sandburg."

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  Simon Banks hustled down the hallway of the courthouse moving with a surprising grace for a man of his size. He clutched an envelope in one hand and a cell phone was pressed to his ear with the other. "So you're on your way, Joel? You're in charge of the team until I get there." He glanced at his watch. "Let's hope these guys are running late. Yes, I have the warrant. Fortunately Judge Ratliff was still at the courthouse. I had to drag her away from her dinner, but it's signed. Keep everyone back and out of sight. You don't want to be spotted when the shipment shows up. You are not to approach the building until I get there, unless you have probable cause to believe our people are in danger. We don't want to blow this and have Cristo walk away."

  He jabbed at the down button for the elevator. "Keep an eye out for Manning and Collier, too. If you see them, detain them. I don't care what kind of a story you have to make up. Two of my people are in there and I don't need them trying to carry out their sick little plan and getting them killed."

  He stepped onto the elevator as the doors slid open. "Jim's on his way to the warehouse now. He's going to try and stop the DEA before they reach there." The elevator opened on the garage level. "I'm headed for my car. ETA forty-five minutes. Keep me informed." He snapped his phone closed and got into his car, flipping on the flashing lights as he peeled out of the parking space.

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  Rolling to a stop a few warehouses away from Cristo's, Ellison cut the engine and dimmed the lights. He smacked the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. "Damn it!" He'd been tailing the rogue Feds toward the warehouse when he'd gotten caught on the wrong side of a red light. Once he had the green, there was no trace of them. Their SUV had vanished.

  Instead of wasting time trying to find them, he had gone ahead to the warehouse district. Climbing out of the Ford and closing the door gently, he walked toward the building, keeping to the shadows. Stretching out his hearing, he could pick out the sound of voices, his partner's among them.

  "Is this all of it?" Blair asked.

  A slightly accented male voice, Cristo, Jim assumed, answered him. "That's all of it. Ten million American dollars for my brother." Now the DEA's plan was beginning to make sense. Under the guise of a raid, they would simply kill everyone who could implicate them and make off with the money and the drugs. The voices faded, the speakers moving deeper into the huge structure.

  He had to make a decision. He could wait around out here, and hope to stop Manning and Collier when they arrived, or he could get closer to the building and try to warn Sandburg. It was a big warehouse with more than one entrance, and he was only one man. He opted for plan B. Climbing over the chain link fence that separated the grounds from the harbor, he crept toward a door with a window in it, hoping to see inside, still searching for the sound of his guide's voice. His attention occupied, he never heard the footsteps behind him, or sensed the other presence, until the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed to the back of his neck.

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  Blair sat on top of a table in the warehouse, legs swinging, trying to calm his jittery nerves. Despite the fact he trusted Simon with his life, there were still a million things that could go wrong, and he couldn't stop himself from cataloging every one of them. The sound of footsteps made him raise his head as Rico shoved a tall, familiar figure into the light. Well, *this* one hadn't been on his list.

  Ellison's hands were clasped behind his head, and he took another step forward as Rico poked the gun in his back. The sentinel's blue eyes darted around the area, flickering over the four people standing there before landing on Blair.

  The guide eased down from the table, knowing that something was very, very wrong for Jim to have gotten himself captured. His face a blank mask, he shifted his gaze from Ellison to Cristo, waiting for the drug dealer's next move.

  The sharp crack of Jesus' cane on the cement floor shattered the silence. "Who do we have here, Rico?"

  The Ecuadorian tossed Jim's badge to his boss. "Unfinished business, I'd say. I found him outside when I was opening the gate. This is Ellison, the guy Sandburg used to ride with at the PD."

  Cristo inspected the ID, then turned his attention to Blair. "Is this true?"

  Swallowing uneasily, Blair tried to keep his voice even. "Yeah, that's Ellison. I haven't seen him in months. What are you doing here, Jim?"

  Ellison's expression was one of disgust. "I'm investigating Cyndi Blake's murder. I should have known it would lead right to you. I don't know how I put up with you all those years, you worthless hippie trash!"

  Blair felt a frown creasing his forehead. What was Jim up to? He's gotta have a reason, just go with it Sandburg. Crossing the small space between them, he stared up at the taller man, his eyes glittering with anger. "You think I killed Cyndi?"

  "Yeah, it was your knife. I always knew you were one twisted son of a bitch. Just a matter of time before a bastard like you reverted to his roots." Ellison grinned at him smugly.

  In that moment, the younger man realized what Jim wanted. He punched him in the jaw, and Jim staggered, his hands coming down from behind his head to catch himself on the table. He straightened slowly, his hands at his sides, his fingers moving. "Rico," Blair snapped, "you got his cuffs?" He handed them over without a word and Blair placed them on Ellison's wrists, using the movement to hide the words Jim was spelling with his fingers in the basic alphabet of ASL they'd learned for another case. TRAP. DEA BAD. KILL ALL. Oh, shit. Carefully hiding his panicked expression, Blair barely fastened the cuffs, hoping that when the time came, Jim could get out of them.

  Stepping back, he turned toward Cristo. "I don't like this, Jesus. This is just too convenient, Jim showing up here tonight. Do me a fa
vor and contact the truck by radio."

  Picking up a hand-held CB from the table, Cristo tried to get through to the driver, as Manuel went to the office and came back with two AK-47s and some handguns. The thug handed one of the rifles to Rico and a handgun apiece to Blair and Megan.

  Cristo focused his attention back on them. "I can't raise the truck, so let's be prepared." He glanced at Jim. "Lock him in the office." Manuel shoved Ellison in that direction, and returned a few seconds later with the job done.

  Time passed very slowly as everyone checked their weapons. Blair hoped Jim had been able to get free and was working on getting out of the office. Three short honks of a truck horn startled them all. Cristo took charge. "Everyone, hide and get ready! Rico, raise the door!" Everyone ducked behind shelving or boxes as Rico hit the automatic door opener, then slipped into the shadows.

  Once the door was open, the small panel truck carrying the shipment rolled into the warehouse and stopped. There was a moment's hesitation, then the doors opened, and two men dressed in black body armor and wearing ski masks climbed out, bringing their guns to ready positions. Blair didn't know who fired first, but suddenly the vast warehouse was echoing with automatic weapons fire, and the air was filled with the sharp smell of cordite. Without warning, the room was plunged into darkness.

  That had to be Jim's doing. Blair held his fire, not wanting to hit Jim or Megan by mistake. There was a burst of gunfire to the right of him, and the sickly smell of gasoline wafted his way. His feet were moving away from the truck before his mind fully registered the danger. He heard another shot, and the world exploded in a huge fireball before everything went black.

  When he could force his eyes open again, a tall figure was standing over him, backlit by the flames of the burning truck, his features in shadow. "Jim?"

  "Jim?" The voice mocked him. "Jimmy boy can't help you now, you little punk. You may have screwed our plans all to hell, but I'm going to get great satisfaction in putting a bullet through your head if it's the last thing I do. Too bad you don't have your knife handy; I'd love to make the same impression on you I did on Cyndi."

  "You killed Cyndi?"

  Another explosion lit up the room, and Manning's twisted leer was clearly visible. "I enjoyed it, too. Too bad I can't take that kind of quality time with you."

  Blair scrambled back until he was up against a row of shelving, his hands scrabbling for a weapon, any weapon, and closing on air. Right now would be a good time for you to make with the Blessed Protector thing, Jim. He closed his eyes as the DEA agent raised his gun.

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  It had taken Ellison longer than he'd planned to get out of the handcuffs. He'd just kicked open the door to his makeshift prison when he heard the first shots. As he moved rapidly toward the main floor of the warehouse, the circuit box on the wall caught his eye. Finally, something was going his way.

  Turning out the lights, he used his heightened vision to assess the situation. One of the DEA agents was on the driver's side of the truck, searching frantically for a target in the darkness. Creeping up behind him, Jim wrapped an arm around his neck, applying pressure. Collier panicked, his finger squeezing in reflex on the trigger, sending what was left of his clip into the truck.

  The explosion sent both of them flying, a mushrooming cloud of searing heat and flame rolling over them. Ellison lost his grip on Collier as he was blown backwards. Slamming painfully into the concrete floor, the sentinel fought to hang on to consciousness, his vision and hearing gone, overloaded by the intense combination of light and sound. Losing the battle, he sank into darkness.

  A hand on his shoulder brought him around. Everything hurt, including breathing. Smoke and fumes burned his lungs and he could feel the sting of a thousand little shrapnel cuts. His name was being called from a great distance away. Cautiously he turned up his hearing.

  "Jim, can you hear me? The explosion probably spiked your senses. Turn everything down until you have control again."

  That wasn't his guide's voice. Blinking to clear the grit from his eyes, he looked up into the concerned face of Megan Connor. "You okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah, you?" He got to his feet with her help, staggering a little as he tried to stay upright.

  "I think so. Collier's dead. He took the full brunt of the explosion. Where in the hell's the SWAT team?"

  Jim concentrated. "They're on the way. The fire's keeping them back for the moment. Can you get out and lead them in another entrance?"

  She nodded, then took a look around. "Where's Sandy?"

  "I don't know. Go on, get out of here, I'll take care of Sandburg." Tentatively he extended his hearing again, filtering out the noise of the raging fire, searching for any sign of his partner. He heard his name being called then Manning's voice. He ran toward the sounds, knowing they were on the other side of the burning truck, knowing there was no way he would reach them in time. The bark of a single gunshot split the air.

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  He cautiously opened one eye. He wasn't dead. How could the DEA agent have missed? Manning lay at his feet, blood pooling around his shattered skull. Blair looked up to see Cristo standing over him, a gun held loosely in his left hand as he reached down with his right. He grasped the proffered hand and was hauled to his feet.

  "Follow me, Blair, we'll go out the back." Cristo stuck the automatic in the waistband of his pants.

  "Cascade PD! Freeze!" Ellison yelled from behind the drug dealer.

  Cristo raised his hands over his head slowly. His eyes widened slightly as Blair stepped forward and removed his gun. He moved to the side quickly, expecting the younger man to fire on the detective. When he turned the weapon on him instead, his face fell. "Blair, my brother, what's the meaning of this?"

  Blair was torn. Cristo had trusted him, believed in him when he had every reason not to; they had shared a common bond in Cyndi. Now he was trusting Blair to get him out of this. Blair shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Jesus." He gestured with the gun, and they followed Ellison out of the burning building.

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  Blair leaned against the fender of Simon's car, a blanket around his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. It was over, finished, done with. He could go home. Raising his head, he took in the still-burning warehouse before him, the hodge-podge of squad cars and fire trucks. He heard Simon, Megan and Jim a few feet away discussing what had gone down.

  "I still can't believe Manning and Collier set this whole thing up just to steal from Cristo," Simon said.

  Jim shrugged. "People have done worse things out of greed, sir."

  "And it all went wrong for them. They killed Cyndi Blake and the driver of the drug-delivery truck for nothing. Even if Manning and Collier had lived, they destroyed what they were after in the first place."

  "Do you think the loss of evidence will keep the DA from making a case against Cristo?" Megan asked.

  "I don't know," Simon replied. "We have both your testimony and Blair's. That might be enough to put him behind bars."

  "You need me anymore tonight, Captain?" Jim asked.

  Simon shook his head. "No, you take Sandburg and head on home." He gave the sentinel a small smile. "I'll bet you'll be glad to have him underfoot again."

  "You can say that again, just don't let him hear you. Come on, Connor, we'll give you a lift."

  As the trio headed toward where Jim had parked the truck, Jesus Cristo was being led toward a squad car. He stopped short at their approach. "Blair."

  Sandburg turned toward the other man, unsure of what to say. He was sorry? He wasn't, not really, and yet, there had been a sort of a twisted kinship between them. He finally settled on a tired "What is it, Jesus?"

  The man shook his long hair back out of his face. "I spent a lot of time trying to figure you out, Blair, trying to disco
ver which disciple you most resembled. I couldn't make up my mind, but now I know. Judas." He spat the name out. As the uniformed cop pushed him toward the police car, Cristo called back over his shoulder, "You do remember what happened to Judas, don't you?"

  Blair shivered. Yeah, he remembered. A brief vision of himself hanging from a tree washed over him.

  "Forget about him, Chief. You're finally going home." He felt Jim's arm go around his shoulders, his friend's embrace chasing way the sudden chill, filling him with the warmth of their bond.

  He smiled up at his sentinel. "Yeah, Jim, let's go home."

  Finis