Don Pendleton - Blind Justice

“Kick them in my direction,” Bolan said. He watched them comply.

“You know who we are?” Fitch said. “Cops.”

“Correction,” Bolan said. “Dirty cops. On Senator Kendal’s payroll.”

“Who the fuck says so?” Dunn said.

“Ray Logan.”

“That snitch,” Dunn said. “What does he know?”

“Enough to put you three behind bars for a long time.”

“If he stays alive long enough.”

Fitch punched Dunn on the arm. “Shut the fuck up, Steve.” He turned back to Bolan. “You really believe you can buck Kendal? Do you have any idea what he has behind him?”

Bolan allowed himself a thin smile. “Hired muscle. Backup from Maxim Koretski. Less you three.”

“You got nothing on us,” Brenner said.

“I have Logan’s evidence—photographs, tapes, documented data. That’s why you’ve been desperate to find him. So you can destroy what he’s gathered. And let’s not forget the bank accounts you jokers have been using to stash the money Kendal’s been paying you.”

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Dunn screamed, losing control and rushing Bolan.

The Executioner waited for the right moment as the cop came toward him. He might have had a non-termination policy as far as police officers were concerned, but it didn’t stretch as far as lesser punishment when he was faced with dirty cops. Bolan let Dunn get to within a few feet, then swung the heavy Desert Eagle around in a wide arc that terminated against Dunn’s left cheek and upper jaw. The steel bulk of the pistol landed with a meaty crunch and Dunn went down on the floor, bouncing against the filthy concrete. He twisted over on his side, blood pouring from the raw gash in his flesh.

The Desert Eagle was back on Fitch and Brenner before either of them could react. “Have I made my point?” Bolan said.

Fitch was having difficulty holding himself back. The unwavering muzzle of the Desert Eagle persuaded him it might be advisable. “Okay, okay,” he said. “So what happens now?”

Bolan pointed at an upended steel cabinet. “Everything in your pockets on there. And I mean everything. Including any backup weapons. And one of you do it for him,” he added, nodding in Dunn’s direction.

Bolan stepped well back and watched as the two cops turned out their pockets and placed the items on the cabinet.

“You going to steal our money, too?” Brenner said.

“Why would I need to do that when I can clear your bank accounts? Believe me, I have friends who can do that without even breaking into a sweat.”

“He’s just trying to rile you,” Fitch said.

Bolan instructed Brenner to collect the keys for the cars outside and also those for the sets of handcuffs, then he dropped them into one of his pockets.

“Get your pal on his feet,” Bolan said. “Move to that steel pillar and cuff yourselves together. Wrists to wrists. You know the drill.”

“This won’t be forgotten, son of a bitch,” Fitch said. “I’ll have the whole of Seattle PD on your fuckin’ tail.”

Bolan waited until the three were secured, then unloaded the weapons laid out on the cabinet. He stripped the pistols into their component parts, scattering them across the building.

“Nice backup guns,” he commented. “All unregistered? Of course they are. I’ll take the cell phones. Might be able to pull something interesting off the call registers. Unless you guys cleared everything?”

The looks on their faces told him they most likely hadn’t.

“I’m sure most of the cops in your precinct will be interested to find out what you fine officers have been up to. If there are any more on Kendal’s payroll I think we’ll be finding out soon enough.”

“Let us out of here,” Fitch yelled. His anger spilled over into almost incoherent rage as he began to scream and rant at Bolan. “You can’t do this. We’re cops, damn it. Cops.”

“I already corrected you on that,” Bolan said. “Dirty cops. The worst kind. If you were anything else you’d be dead by now. I’ve never fired on a cop, ever, clean or dirty. I won’t start now. But you’re not getting away from this. A call from a high up Fed to IA will start the ball rolling. After that…”

Bolan walked out of the building, collar up against the downpour and returned to where he had concealed his SUV. Once inside, door closed against the weather, he checked out the three cell phones he had acquired. He ran through the call lists on each one, checking them against each other until he isolated a single number they all had in common.

Bolan stared out through the windshield as he called the number on one of the phones. It rang out for a long time before someone picked up.

“Yeah?”

“Fitch, Dunn and Brenner—they’ve been talking to me. A lot. All about Kendal. Spilling their guts about how you people want to shut Ray Logan up. I was surprised how much they were willing to give away just to save themselves.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Let’s say I have a vested interest in you people. All the way up to Senator Kendal’s greasy neck. Word you can pass along to him is his day is coming. Soon. You’re all on my wish list. And if you want to discuss matters with Fitch and Dunn and Brenner, you’ll find them waiting for you.”

Bolan gave details of the location where he had left the trio of cops, then hung up. He fired up the SUV, turned it around and drove away from the derelict site. He had completed what he needed to do here. Whatever happened to the three cops was out of his hands. The severity of any punishment would depend on who came looking for them. As he hadn’t spoken to anyone from Seattle PD, and had only informed Kendal’s people, the options were thin on the ground.

It was time to move on to the next phase of his operation.

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