Chance Encounters
Chapter 27
oOoOo
Ranger looked at Bobby. He followed his moves as he walked out to where he and Steph had been standing. With dawning reality, Bobby dashed downstairs and grabbed some sterile tweezers and an evidence bag. Tracking the trajectory of that bullet after confirming where they were standing, he realised that Ram, Woody and Hal could also have been hit, since they were practically in the line of fire. He searched the wall behind and within a minute found the bullet embedded in the mortar between the brick layers. It was relatively easy to extract. Rifle. Police issue. He raised his eyebrow at Bobby.
They heard a shot come from the woodland area. Instant return fire. Nothing more. That was quick.
oOo
With Zero on the quad bike and Junior on the motorbike, they had reached that building under construction with the second storey scaffolding very quickly, with Lester, Hector and Ram arriving promptly on foot.
Over the comms came the report from Tank, "Large blue-black SUV departing scene rapidly. Other vehicle abandoned at construction site. Leaving the estate but went the wrong way. PA plates. Three vehicles in pursuit."
Lester, Hector and Ram had the rear of the construction site completely sealed off. Zero on the quad bike patrolled the woodland area beyond this construction site and gave the all clear. Junior hung back, on stand by for an unexpected offensive. He had already confirmed there were no waiting vehicles on the outskirts of the woodland.
The idiot came rushing out making a hell of a racket as he stumbled over planks and builder's equipment, causing a ladder to tumble down. He looked scared shitless but took a shot aimlessly when he was suddenly confronted with these men blocking any means of escape. Ram calmly shot at his hand causing him to drop the rifle amid a lot of swearing. He fell and froze. When he looked up and realised how many weapons were aimed at him, his shoulders sank. It was a terrifying sight to behold.
Fierce. That was the first word which came to mind.
Angry. Very angry.
Armed. Heavily armed.
Outnumbered. Definitely.
Like a pack of hungry wolves. Hungry for blood. His blood.
Intimidating even in their casual gear, boardshorts, open summer shirts and caps on back to front, mirrored sunglasses hiding their angry eyes.
"On the ground, fucker! Hands behind your back!"
After he was roughly frisked he was pulled up and led back through the construction site, complaining all the way. He tripped and stumbled quite a few times, until finally he shut his mouth with the whining.
"Picky is coming in under escort."
"Stupid fucker." Bobby muttered.
"Damnit!" Ranger was furious.
"Fuck!"
"Runaway SUV heading towards Trenton." Vince was updating between incoming reports.
"Odds are that Ramirez is in the runaway SUV."
"No confirmation yet."
Lester signalled to Junior and he grinned.
"Junior is on with the motorbike, if you need him." Ranger nodded approval.
"Roger that. Junior is a go."
"A Rangeman vehicle is coming from HQ to take Gaspick in."
Ranger made a call, "Put the fucker in one of the cells. Get the FTA paperwork. Read him his rights. Call TPD. And while you're at it, get the Ramirez FTA paperwork, too."
"Carl and Eddie have been assigned to give assistance, Boss." Vince replied, the smile evident in his voice.
"Great. Fill them in, Woody. Vince, give us a big picture view."
Watching the screen, they could see their SUVs heading rapidly towards Trenton. Junior's motorbike joined them and passed the pursuing convoy.
Lester and Ram went back inside and climbed up to the scaffolding and quickly found the spent shell from where he'd taken the shot on Stephanie. That left Gaspick with Hector. He did not know Hector and because he was slighter in build, he tried to run. Rookie mistake. For one, he didn't notice Junior still sitting on the quad bike, grinning. He had severely underestimated the situation, not being aware of his surroundings at all. Desperation does that. With a degree of satisfaction for shooting at his Vixen, Hector flung his blades, the shuriken blades, at Gaspick's ankles then leapt on him as he screamed in pain from his Achilles tendon being slashed. With his knife at his throat, Hector muttered in coarse Spanish and then he snarled right in his face, "You are not going anywhere asshole. You shot my Vixen."
Gaspick's eyes went wide, bulging at the ferocity of his assailant. He gulped audibly.
"The Vixen? I've heard about her. Shit. Fuck."
Hector tightened the knife hold, putting more pressure near his throat, reminding him what could happen.
Gaspick began muttering, audibly for his two guards. "Shit. I'm a dead man walking now. Fuck. How did this get so fucked up? Shouldn't have listened to Morelli. Shouldn't have got involved with Ramirez. Jimmie Alpha had us all. Fucker. But he's dead. Oh shit. Stephanie Plum shot him. She's like an urban legend. Shit."
"Yeah," Hector nodded, sniggering wickedly.
"Alpha had stabbed her and also shot her in the ass and still she shot him, five times straight through the heart, from inside her handbag! Stephanie Plum is the Vixen, fuckwit."
Wide-eyed, Gaspick gasped. A whispered "Oh" was all he could come out with. His eyes ricocheted between the scary imposing men who surrounded him. "I'm fucked."
Hector removed his shuriken blades, wiping them with a sterilising cloth, shoving Gaspick to sit in the sand at the side of the building. Despite crying out in pain, there was no sympathy forthcoming as his heel bled into his socks and onto the sand. There was no one to hear his cries of pain as it was the weekend. He started to snivel. It was pathetic. Because of where he had parked his own vehicle, none of this scenario was visible from the street or by any passing traffic.
Lester and Ram jumped down from the scaffolding making Gaspick just about piss himself. Holding an evidence bag with the spent shell, Lester waved it in front of his face.
"Fingerprints, asshole. Shoulda worn gloves."
By now Gaspick was sweating, his breathing ragged.
Ram leaned over with his greater height, imposing and sinister.
"We heard what you did with Morelli. Stephanie Plum did not deserve any of that shit from him and you enabled him to repeatedly put her in danger. Just like your friend Ramirez."
"H … He … He's not my friend."
"Pffft. Whatever. We have a credible witness who overheard you two plotting to kill Stephanie and arguing about it. You have no idea how angry we are."
He gasped. He knew he was more than in the shit. He was terrified.
"What shall we do with this dirtbag?" Lester asked in a sarcastic, repugnant manner, getting right in his face to intimidate him even more.
"I have my rights."
"You think? You just blew them away with this shell, asshole."
"What are you going to do? You can't arrest me. You don't have the authority."
He was panicking and clutching at straws. Fear was taking over, a dreadful gut-wrenching fear with these imposing, menacing men towering over him, showing no emotion, but undeniably voicing their barely controlled rage. He gulped, his body starting to convulse in uncontrolled shivers, and he began to sob.
"Authority? Stupid motherfucker. While you were sleeping off your weed hangover, you missed your court date, asshole. You failed to appear. You know? F.T.A.? And, you just added attempted murder to your list of charges."
Hector piped up, thinking out loud pseudo thoughtfully. "We have a dilemma here, hermanos. We could finish him off here and dispose of any evidence. My knives are very efficient. I know we can all think of many ways to dispose of a dead body."
They all chuckled and nodded in agreement.
Gaspick gasped and his breathing became more ragged. They casually continued on with their conversation as if he wasn't even there.
"Or, we can take him to the TPD. They will be so pleased to see him and put him in a cell. Jail time is not fun for cops, even ex cops, everybody knows that. And, the Vixen has friends on the inside." Ram added gravely. "And, with the attempted murder charge … hm … things ain't looking too good whichever way you look at it. Sucks to be you, Picky."
"We could crate him to a 'Stan with just a toothpick, and a water bottle, if we were feeling merciful. I hear there are apex predators in those mountains … brown bears, black bears, snow leopards, grey wolves and even hyenas, striped hyenas. Slim pickings with you, Gaspick. The birds of prey would devour what's left and nobody would know." Lester remarked pensively. "I have seen them." Gaspick lost it and barfed on the sand.
Just then, Binkie arrived with Gene and made short work of grabbing Gaspick and shackling him in the back without uttering a word. Menacing looks had him clammed up tight. Fear was written all over his face after that little disturbing discussion. He was in a hell of a lot of trouble. He just didn't know how bad. The sheer terror was so overriding the pain in his hand from where Ram shot the rifle out of his grip, and his slashed Achilles and other bumps and bruises from stumbling around the building site.
"You barf in my vehicle … you will regret it." Binkie declared pointedly, not getting too close to the sickly stench that was Gaspick.
oOo
"Ramirez is the suspected driver in the getaway blue/black SUV."
"Ramirez confirmed." Junior reported. "He's heading to Trenton. I've just put a tracker on him. Backing off for now."
"Excellent work, Junior."
Vince successfully tagged the tracker, and now they had Ramirez on screen. That was risky, but they all knew Junior's motocross experience made him the best candidate to tag that runaway vehicle. He didn't need to be told. He knew the drill.
"He's heading down Broad Street. Bet he's heading for Stark. Separate and converge as you follow the tracker."
"Carl, Eddie. We need a spike strip. We can marshal him to Comstock and Stark."
"Roger that. We're in that neighbourhood already. Give us five."
The pursuit became a game of cat and mouse. Ramirez was driving recklessly, bouncing off parked cars, cutting corners. He ended up on two wheels for a moment from the impact with a double-parked van being unloaded. The unloaders dived for cover then ran, leaving the goods behind. Sus, but nobody was going to deal with that. All the while Vince was calling the street names and directions.
The trap was set and everybody closed in, forcing him to make the turn into Stark from Comstock, with the Rangeman SUVs blocking his options. Because he had only one option which caused him to be distracted by the blocked exits, he never saw the spike strip and hit it at speed. All the tires went flat but he continued driving, albeit erratically. Junior was tight on his tail, dodging the bits of rubber peeling off the rims. Sparks were flying increasingly as the rubber left the wheels coasting on its rims. Ramirez turned sharply down an alleyway with unwieldy control, bouncing off the walls until he slammed into a dumpster. He leapt out of his vehicle heading towards the street ahead. Hearing Junior revving his motorbike ever closer as he manoeuvred his motorbike through the narrow space, Ramirez made the mistake to glance back over his shoulder just as he leapt out into the open street. What happened next was unexpected but final.
He went to cross the street at the same time as a fully laden semi raced past said alleyway. Junior slid his motorbike into a classic precision drop slide and leapt off to roll on the footpath to safety as his motorbike was crunched under the eighteen-wheeler.
What happened to Ramirez? It was not pretty, but it was final. Police cars and Rangeman SUVs arrived on the scene. The poor truck driver had no idea but did feel the sudden impact. He pulled over, putting his hazard lights on, and hopped out of the cab to inspect the damage.
"Holy fuck!"
Junior raced to assist the stricken truck driver who was suddenly very pale, rather difficult for a man of colour.
"I … I never saw him. He … he came out of nowhere."
"I know man. Come sit over here. Breathe."
Tank came over and handed him a bottle of water.
"Not your fault, man. You have dash cam?"
The truckie nodded and swished some water in his mouth to spit it out. He was suddenly very sick. Poor guy, they all thought.
Cal hopped in the cab and downloaded the data from the dash cam onto a usb memory stick for review. He handed a second copy to Carl and Eddie.
"You guys did well with that spike strip."
They nodded, pleased to be able to use is so successfully.
"By the way, here is the FTA paperwork for Benito Ramirez. Can I leave that in your capable hands? We'll have someone collect the receipt tomorrow."
"Sure man. No probs. Great work."
They shook hands and parted ways. Two of the Rangeman SUVs made their way back to the Den, leaving Tank and Cal to finish up. Cal took some photos, of Junior's state, Junior's mangled motorbike and the truck.
Junior hopped in the back and drank some water while he waited for Tank and Cal. He reported back to Vince, confirming the permanent elimination of Benito Ramirez, not as planned, but effective all the same. He won't be bothering anyone any more. The streets around Stark are safer without him. He leaned back with another cold water bottle under his neck, closing his eyes. That was too close.
"I just had my rig detailed, new custom chrome parts and lights. I've gotta get this load to Philly or I don't get paid. I'm on tight deadline."
Tank was already on it, ordering a new rig, to take his load to its destination. The driver handed over the paperwork since he was too shaken to drive, and Tank gave him a Rangeman business card and a receipt. His cab was required by the police and forensics. Since he was in severe shock, the paramedics took the driver to hospital, mainly for overnight observation.
The TPD had already cordoned off this part of the street, concealing the gruesome visuals quickly from the public eye and any happy snappers. It didn't take long for the media pariahs to set up posts but they could only speculate as no one was sharing any details and played it down. Need to know basis. They didn't need to know.
Tank surveyed the scene one last time before hopping in the SUV and driving back to the Den.
"Are you alright, Junior?"
"Yeah, man. I'm okay. Just a few bruises and scrapes but I think I dislocated my collarbone. Bobby can fix that."
"Take some pain killers," as Cal handed them over, "and rest. You were brilliant out there, man."
Ella was right. These men had huge appetites. She had baked a couple of fresh trays of brownies and the aroma worked its magic on them. They were pumped and the testosterone was loud and bold. While Bobby tended to Junior's injuries, and reset his collarbone, he put his arm in a sling. Stephanie emerged and checked each of the men out personally, like an inspection, with special attention to Junior. She was relieved no one else was shot. Standing beside Ranger, leaning close to him, she sighed. He smiled warmly.
"Babe. It's over."
oOoOo
TBC
Well. There you have it and no cliffie because I was feeling generous.
What should they do with Gaspick?