Stephen Cannell - The Pallbearers

Sabas said, "We gotta take some action. We can't just sit here and do nothing."

"Regardless of what we just saw, I think we still need to treat Diamond as a hostage," Alexa said. "We can't put her life at risk without having the answers to Shane's questions. T hat means we've got to come up with a way to rescue her before we attempt to arrest O'Shea."

"In Ranger school, they taught us whenever you have a split objective, the most efficient solution is to split your force and stagger the timetable," Seriana said. "Tactically, it weakens us, but on the plus side we have a relatively small AO and we should be able to divide up, put two people on that bungalow while the main group deploys in the event center. We stay in touch by phone. The bungalow team waits 'til all the MMA fighters leave that house for the event tonight. Then, if Diamond stays behind, we secure the house first and take her into custody. Debrief. Then the splinter group moves up in support."

"What the hell is an AO?" Vicki asked.

"Sorry, it's just the battlefield. Stands for Area of Operation."

"Then say it, okay? We can't afford a buncha misunderstandings."

Seriana nodded.

"I think Seriana's got a good idea," Alexa said. Then she looked at me. "What about Faskin and Westfall? Isn't it about time to pull them in?"

"Who are Faskin and Westfall?" Sabas demanded.

I told them about the two FBI agents and how I'd used Jack as bait to lure them out here.

"Jack s risking his life too," Vicki said. "You really gonna turn him over to the FBI?"

"He's guilty of sticking up two banks in Central California," I argued. "I'm still a cop. I'm supposed to turn my back on that?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Well, I'm not going to," I replied. But I certainly didn't feel very good about it.

Then I told them about my visit to see Tom Ironwood at the tribal police and that my boss, Jeb Calloway, said we could trust him.

What I didn't tell them was it concerned me that, despite his nine-foot wall and all that electronic security, Ironwood still didn't know Diamond and O'Shea were on his reservation. That meant he either had a large hole in his security or was careless or maybe even lying. But I didn't see any choice. I had to take a chance on him.

We went over our plan point by point. After we were finished, I wrote out some instructions for the concierge. Then I left the suite and went to the lobby, where I handed my sealed letter to the man behind the desk along with a fifty-dollar bill and some instructions on what I wanted him to do.

I showed him my LAPD credentials.

"Is this a police matter?" he asked.

"Yes, but I've already spoken to Captain Ironwood. We need you to follow the instructions inside exactly."

We ordered burgers for lunch from room service. After we ate, we put the final touches on our rescue-and-arrest plan.

When we were finished Seriana said, "We have eight hours. We should get some rest. Somebody needs to take the first watch."

"I'll do it," Vicki said. "I'm not tired."

We went to bed. Sabas pulled the drapes and stretched out on the couch in the living room.

As I lay on the bed I kept thinking how Chooch said that rarely are you able to pay your debts in full.

Tonight I was going to get a chance to try.

I came awake when I heard Vicki outside yelling.

All hell was breaking loose in the living room.

I exploded out of bed, still half asleep, but somebody lunged into the bedroom, and I walked right into a sharp left hook, my third trip to the canvas in five days. When I struggled to push myself up, I got kicked in the head.

I could barely see my assailant because it was dark in the room, but from his gargantuan shape it looked like Chris Calabro.

As I went down again I saw Alexa being pulled out of the room by Kimbo Sledge. She was struggling to get free so he hit her. I lunged up to attack him, but with my collection of injuries and broken arm, it was a slow, lumbering charge, and Calabro ended it with a karate kick to my stomach.

I was quickly secured with plastic snap cuffs then dragged into the main room of the suite, where all six of the fighters from Team Ultima were standing over four of the five of us. Seriana was the only one missing. I had no idea where she was, but was praying she'd use her combat skill, and whatever she'd brought in that canvas duffel, to change this outcome.

I took a quick survey of the others' injuries. We all had our hands cuffed. Sabas had lost a tooth. Vicki had an ugly bruise forming on her jaw. Alexa looked dazed as she was pushed clown on the sofa beside them.

Calabro threw me to the floor at Rick O'Shea's feet.

"Chris, get them out of here," O'Shea ordered. "I'll go through this place and find out what they've been up to."

I looked at the table clock. It was 6:00 P. M. We'd only been asleep for a couple of hours, but everyone had been so tired, we hadn't heard them come through the patio doors.

We were pulled outside. An electric golf-course maintenance vehicle with an enclosed metal flatbed was parked right by the edge of the patio. The roll-up back door was open, and we were pushed roughly inside and forced to sit on the floor. There was barely enough room for the four of us as we were jammed inside. The door was slammed closed and latched. Ten seconds later we were on the move.

"I'm sorry. My fault," Vicki said. "I was 011 watch. I didn't see them until it was too late."

"It's nobody's fault," I said. "Does anybody know where Seriana is?"

They all shook their heads.

"She said she was going to outpost, whatever that means," Vicki said.

We sat huddled in the small enclosed vehicle with our shoulders and knees touching as the little electric maintenance truck whizzed across the grass. Finally, we bounced up over a curb and were back on pavement.

We rode for about five more minutes before the truck pulled onto the grass again, slowed, and came to a stop. A minute later, the rear door was unlatched and pulled up. A flashlight was trained on us.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Jack Straw. He was standing just outside the truck, smiling at me.

Gary White, Chris Calabro, and Kimbo Sledge were all with jack at the rear of the truck.

"Get em inside," Calabro said to Jack. "Mesas upstairs getting ready. Ill go tell him."

Jack pulled us roughly out of the truck, and Gary shoved us through a side gate in an eight-foot wall that guarded a mansion. A stocky young Indian kid in a green khaki uniform, packing a side-arm in a crisp new holster, stood by the gate.

This house was a huge, modern, two-story hacienda-style structure with a red tile roof. It was at least twenty thousand square feet, with its own private security force and perimeter wall.

We followed Gary single file along a walkway next to an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Jack walked beside me with Kimbo Sledge following. Nobody spoke.

Three young uniformed Indian security guards wearing sidearms in new leather holsters escorted us.

Alexa and the others were pushed off and herded toward the main house, but Jack grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the pool house. One guard followed us, never more than a few feet away.

I was pushed by Jack through the open sliding-glass door into a large entertainment room outfitted with a mahogany pool table, video-game consoles, big screen TVs, and a wet bar. The Indian guard followed. I looked around the spacious pool house. There were eight or ten changing cubicles along the perimeter of the room.

Jack shoved me up against the wet bar and turned to the young guard. "I got this," he said. "You can go."

"But Mr. Calabro said we should…"

"I got it!" Jack shouted. "Get the fuck outta here."