John Locke: Lethal People

I cranked the Hummer to about forty and barreled down the road and came to a stop a quarter mile from the entrance. I climbed back onto the roof and gave my clowns time to get their equipment together.

Quinn told me he was in position. We figured Hugo would take longer. His legs were much shorter, and the gun was pretty heavy for him. Still, he was feisty as a rooster, and I knew he’d do well.

I heard some shots, which meant DeMeo’s security team had oriented themselves enough to make me their target. The dogs, being smaller, would take longer to get to their feet. The shots continued. There was a protective shield of bulletproof plastic surrounding the front of the PEPS weapon, so I wasn’t overly concerned about being hit. Quinn must have squeezed off a couple of silent shots because his voice came over my cell speaker, saying, “Two more down—security guards.”

The clowns were taking more time than I anticipated. I wondered if any had been hit. I aimed my weapon to the right of the circus wagon and fired off another burst. I yelled at the circus people to hurry, though it would have been impossible for them to hear me.

The circus clowns had brought several small trampolines and a giant net used to catch falling trapeze artists. Hugo checked in just as the clowns dragged the net across the road, covering the hole I’d made with the initial blast. They tied the ends to the posts and pulled the center of the net away from the hole to make a large chute. Then they ran back to the Winnebago and grabbed their trampolines and knives, for these were knife-throwing midgets.

I climbed into the Hummer and drove another hundred yards. Then I climbed back onto the roof and waited for the remaining security guards to make their stand and for the dogs to make their charge.

Nothing happened.

“I got one,” said Hugo.

“Two more on my side,” said Quinn.

The dogs charged through the fence and got tangled up in the circus net. I fired a burst near them, which heated the air and knocked them all down again. I didn’t think there would be much fight left in the dogs at this point, but I couldn’t take a chance on being wrong and having them kill some of the clowns. I could have shot them, but why kill the dogs if I didn’t have to? The guards were different. They were here by choice, so they were fair game.

The clowns untied the net, closed it off , and dragged the dogs behind the Winnebago, out of the line of fire.

“There’s one guard missing,” I said into my cell phone. “Anyone got a bead on him?”

They did not.

I climbed into the Hummer and used the walkie-talkie. “Joe, I’m coming to get you and your men. Seven security guards are dead. One remains alive. I’m directing this to the guard: Come out unarmed with your hands up and we’ll not harm you. This is not your fight, and you’re in way over your head. You’ve got thirty seconds to let us know where you are. Then we’re going to kill you.”

The clowns got the main gate open and carried their trampolines in, flanked on both sides of the chain link fence by Quinn and Hugo.

The last guard came out with his hands up. Hugo put a plastic twist-tie on his wrists and looped several more around his hands and a support pole to secure him to the chain link fence.

Then Hugo and two of the clowns went back to the Winnebago, fetched the ADS weapons, and carried them into the area we had captured. They stopped while we regrouped. Our next barrier was the concrete wall. The problem for Joe and his men was that we had effectively made them prisoners within the wall. Our problem was the entrance gate gave Joe and his men opportunities to pot shot us. My biggest concern before getting the drone photos was if Joe had thought to put ledges on the inside of the walls. Had he done so, his men could have manned the walls and shot us as we approached, but the drone confirmed there were no ledges.

I drove the Hummer very slowly through the main entrance and aimed the pulse ray at the entrance gate. Quinn and Hugo flanked me from thirty feet on either side and trained their rifles on the same target. They squeezed off a few rounds to discourage Joe’s men from trying to take advantage of the clowns’ momentary vulnerability. If they tried to drive through the gate, I’d blast them with the PEPS weapon. Otherwise, I meant to keep them bottled up. I wasn’t worried about them using their cell phones because who were they going to call? Not reinforcements. Joe already had all the shooters he could trust. Not the police. If they showed up they’d be able to search his house and no telling what they might find in there.

But on the chance Joe might call the police anyway, Darwin and Lou had notified local dispatchers and 911 operators that Homeland Security was on the premises and any calls requesting aid to Joe’s address should be diverted to Lou Kelly.

I had Hugo turn around and keep an eye out behind us, just in case.

The clowns carried three trampolines and three ADS weapons, keeping the Hummer between them and the entrance gate. On each trampoline were throwing knives and electric drills with extended circular concrete drill bits measuring an inch in diameter.

Here’s what we had: three clowns at each of three stations on the right side of the residential entrance gate. Each station had a drill and a trampoline, a cache of knives, and an ADS weapon. Quinn was guarding the front, Hugo the back. I had the PEPS weapon trained on the front entrance gate.

The clowns started drilling holes in the wall.

My cell phone rang.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Joe DeMeo asked.

“The deadline for my money came and went,” I said.

“All this because of the little kid who lived?”

“That and the hotel,” I said.

“You might want to rethink it,” he said. “I’ve got your wife and kid.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’ve got their house surrounded. One word from me and they’re dead.”

“What’s the address?”

He told me.

“That’s not my family’s address,” I said.

“They’re at a friend’s house. I’ve got it wired to blow.”

CHAPTER 49

“ You probably don’t believe me,” Joe said, “so hang on and I’ll conference you with the guy who’s going to kill Janet and Kimberly tonight.”

I listened to the high-pitched whine of the drill bits while waiting for the connection to go through. I didn’t think Janet and Kimberly were in trouble because Callie was with them and she hadn’t called. Sal’s men were guarding Janet’s house, where Joe’s men would have gone first.

On the other hand, it always gives you a sick feeling when someone threatens your child’s life.

Joe came back on the line. “Sal, are you there?”

“I’m here,” said Sal Bonadello.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then Sal said, “Creed, it’s over. I got your blond trapped inside with your bitchy ex and your bratty kid and the family that owns the house. I got gasoline all over the outside walls and Molotov cocktails ready to throw.”

I didn’t say anything.

Sal said, “You think we got a deal, like I’m—whatcha call—monitoring Janet’s house, but your blond followed your kid to a friend’s house. Then your wife showed up, and now they’re all inside and the blond is so busy trying to keep everyone calm, she don’t even know we’re here. So this is payback time, my friend. For livin’ in my attic and jumpin’ through the fucking ceiling and shooting up my bedroom and scaring the shit outta my wife, you lousy prick.”

“I saved your life.”

“The life you put in danger in the first place.”

I didn’t say anything. Joe DeMeo said, “Creed, you’ve taken a shine to that girl in the burn center. So I’ve decided to burn your kid, too. And if she tries to run out the door or jump out a window, we’re going to shoot her.”