Don Pendleton - Blind Justice

When Bishop was summoned to Kendal’s office, following Stone’s return from Seattle, it was to be told where to send his team.

Kendal told the assembly that Stone had been to talk with Marty Keegan, one of Logan’s cop friends, and he had divulged the whereabouts of Logan’s wife and son. The senator was obviously pleased with the results of Stone’s mission. He sat back as Stone gave the orders on what they would do to retrieve Rachel and Tommy Logan.

“We need them alive,” Stone said. “The woman might know where Logan has hidden the information he collected. Let’s make sure we find her.”

Kendal tapped his desktop with his knuckles, drawing attention to himself. He leaned forward, stroking one lean hand through his thick mane of silver hair.

“Vigo has made up for our lack of intel. Let us not screw this up. Take this to heart, gentlemen—Vigo Stone runs the operation as of now. Listen to him. Follow his orders. It’s time we brought this situation back under our control. We need to find Logan. We need to find his wife and son. And most of all we need to get our hands on that damn file of information, because if we let it get into the wrong hands we are all, and I mean all, heading for the dumper.”

The senator sat back, raising a hand in Stone’s direction so he could carry on with his briefing.

“Rubin, Madden, Burdett. I want you to make the run to the cabin. Take Lohman as your wheelman. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this will be easy. Logan’s wife used to be a Park Ranger. That means she knows the forest. She was trained to handle a gun. Step out of line and she will shoot you. Most likely in the balls. She has her kid with her and she’ll fight to protect him. A mother protecting her young is a hell of an animal. Make sure you wear comsets so you can stay in contact with each other once you’re in the forest. Try and make a silent approach. Surround the cabin and spot your target before you move in. This might sound like overkill to some of you hotshots. Don’t be fooled—it’s not. Once something starts it can go from zero to shit in a heartbeat. If it does, you can lose the advantage so fast it’ll make your head spin. That’s when you get casualties. We do not want the Logan woman harmed. If she ends up badly hurt or dead, then we are back where we started. And then I am not going to be a happy man.”

When are you ever a happy man? Bishop thought, but he kept it to himself because he knew Stone meant every word.

“We will back up the ground team with extra men who will follow from the air. A helicopter is being prepared as we speak. The rest of you cover the city streets—find Logan. Use every source available. Bishop, talk to those Keystone Cops we have on the payroll. Remind them what they’re being paid for. And make it doubly understood they are as deep in this as any of us.”

Bishop spotted Kendal watching him out of the corner of his eye. Wanting to see how his lieutenant was handling his demotion, he supposed. He maintained a neutral expression, nodding in Stone’s direction.

“I’m on it,” he said.

“Don’t be on it,” Stone said. “Be ahead of it.”

Bastard, Bishop thought. The man couldn’t resist getting in the last word.

The meeting broke up, everyone filing from the office.

The last to follow, Bishop closed the door. The group ahead of him were less than enthusiastic about Stone having been placed over Bishop.

“Eddie, it sucks,” Jack O’Leary said. He turned to look at Bishop. “You been running things around here awhile now. Bringing Stone in like that is a kick in the balls.”

“Don’t sweat it, Jack,” Bishop said. “The senator is the man. He pays the bills, so he gets to choose.”

“I know you, Jack. You’re as pissed as we are.”

“But right now I have to suck it up. No choice.” Bishop smiled. “Game isn’t over yet, just don’t you forget that.” He slapped O’Leary on his broad shoulder. “Don’t ever forget it.”

Bishop took out his cell and called Captain Fitch. The cop’s phone went on to the message service. The same thing happened when Bishop tried Brenner and Dunn. Neither of them were on line. He tried a couple of more times then gave up. He’d left messages. He couldn’t do anything more, and had his own business to handle anyhow. Let the cops deal with Stone. Maybe he could get them off their collective ass.

Chapter 8

Henry Fitch, Captain, Seattle PD, was the first to arrive. He parked his unmarked car and sat studying the deserted building. Rain marked the windshield, blurring the image. He was at a loss to understand why Senator Kendal had called this meeting at such a location. He knew that Kendal had a thing about secrecy, not wanting to be seen with too many people outside his close group, but this was extreme. Fitch wasn’t going to make too many waves. He was deep in with Kendal, taking his money and enjoying the privileges the man was able to bestow. So if Kendal called a meeting to discuss something important, Fitch had no real choice. He glanced again at his watch. At least he was on time. That was always important where Kendal was concerned. The senator had a thing about punctuality. It was one of his rules—and it didn’t do to break any of his rules. Fitch consoled himself by thinking about the bank accounts where he had his money squirreled away. Police pensions were one thing—Senator Kendal’s payoffs were another.

A car nosed into view between a couple of the deserted buildings, splashing its way across to pull up alongside Fitch’s. Despite the spattering of rain on the window, Fitch recognized Detective Steve Dunn as the man got out of the car, pulling on a waterproof coat. Dunn raised a quick hand. On the other side of the car Dunn’s partner, Ken Brenner, stepped out the passenger door. Dunn pointed at the building’s side door, then he and Brenner headed for it. Fitch dragged his own waterproof jacket from the rear seat and pulled it on. He shoved open his door and stepped out. Rain hit him with a cold hand and he legged it for the open side door.

Inside the building it was cold and dusty, shadows marking the floor. What light there was came from semi-transparent roof panels.

“How come you didn’t tell us you were coming, too?” Dunn said. He was shaking the collar of his coat, shedding rain.

“Because I didn’t know you were. Kendal’s text just said time and place.”

“That’s what ours said,” Brenner acknowledged.

Dunn said, “Must be important if he set up a meet this way.” He always stated the obvious.

“You don’t say,” Fitch said.

“Maybe something happened about Logan,” Brenner said.

“He wouldn’t want to broadcast that,” Dunn said.

“At least we’re on time,” Fitch said. “Jesus, it’s cold in here.”

“No heating on,” Dunn said.

Fitch stared at him. “He ever come up with anything startling?” he asked Brenner.

“No. Ken likes to keep things on level ground.”

Dunn said, “You talking about me?”

“Yes, I am, partner.”

“Well, don’t…”

Fitch raised a hand. “You hear that?” He reached inside his coat for his handgun.

“Not a wise move, Fitch.”

The voice came from their left, from deep shadow. A tall figure detached from the dark and stepped into light. Dressed in black street clothes, the man stood over six feet, with thick black hair framing a strong-boned face, and blue eyes that were fixed on the three cops.

The man held a big handgun that was easily recognizable as a .357 Magnum Desert Eagle. A serious weapon in any cop’s book—not to be ignored.

“All of you. Take out the guns and drop them on the floor. Use your left hands. I’m only saying it once. Choice is yours.”

Fitch, Dunn and Brenner exchanged glances, hopes swiftly dashed because the big man had them dead to rights. There was no way any of them could draw and fire while he had the .357 on them. The auto pistols were eased from holsters and dropped to the floor.