Part 3...

1910 EDT
McMurphy's Tavern...



Clayton Webb glanced at his watch again. Ten minutes late, looked like Galindez was trying to make a point about how little he wanted to meet with him tonight. Chegwidden had warned him that Victor Galindez was as stubborn as the day was long, but the Admiral had also informed him he couldn't spare Rabb or Mackenzie at that moment so it was either Galindez or nothing. Right now it was feeling like nothing would have been a better option.

He lifted his glass and took another sip of water while he looked around the bar. Not that he felt there was any threat, Clayton Webb just loved to watch people. He'd made a game for himself out of it, watching people and making up stories about them in his head. It passed the time and kept him attuned to his surroundings.

"Christ you've made your point Galindez...get here would you?! You aren't the only one with plans this evening," Webb groused ten minutes later when he again looked at his watch. He pulled his cell phone from his suit pocket and punched in Galindez's home number again.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the table, Webb waited for the phone to be answered, not surprised in the least to hear the decidedly feminine voice on the other end.

"Hello, Galindez residence. May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so. May I speak to Victor please?" Webb asked cordially. He'd save his yelling for the Gunnery Sergeant.

"He's not here right now, I'm sorry."

"Hmmm...Miss Bradford, this is Clayton Webb. Gunnery Sergeant Galindez was coming to meet me. Does he have his cell phone with him, do you know?" Webb wasn't exactly nervous yet, but he was feeling on alert as his senses and reflexes honed in years on the job kicked into gear.

"He must...it's not on his desk. Do you know the number?"

"I don't," Webb admitted.

"It's 555-3099."

"All right then, sorry to bother you, I'm sure it's nothing. I don't think he was very happy with the idea of coming to meet me this evening and I bet he's letting me know that."

"When you talk to Victor tell him to call me please."

"I will do that. Have a good evening Miss Bradford."

"Thank you Mr. Webb."

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Same time
On the Beltway...


"So what the hell are we gonna do now?" A short, muscular white man wearing a leather bomber jacket asked as he nudged the body at his feet with a toe.

"What do you think Einstein? This is that Gunnery Sergeant who was doing some gay bashing in Baltimore. We're going to do some Marine bashing," His accomplice answered with a feral smile as he knelt down to study Victor's face.

"That's against the law isn't it?"

"Christ...you're the biggest pansy I've ever met. OF COURSE it's against the law: just like him beating up gays is. Since the courts didn't make him pay we're going to. Help me heft his ass into the trunk."

"I don't know Todd...what if the exhaust fumes get to him?"

"Glenn you putz, who the hell cares?? We dump his dead ass in the river or in some alley in Georgetown. Now let's go."

Victor groaned softly as he was lifted trying to remember what had happened. He had seen a car pulled over in the breakdown lane hazard lights flashing and he'd pulled over to see if he could offer some help. The guy who owned the car had been looking under the hood with a puzzled expression on his face and had gladly accepted Victor's offer.

Not long after that stars had exploded in front of him as a sharp pain engulfed the back of his neck at the base of his skull. Only then had he recalled the news reports he'd heard on the radio about a new scam on the Beltway. A guy posing as a motorist with a disabled car while his accomplice waited for some unsuspecting good samaritan to stop and offer to help.

"Shut up jarhead...just shut the hell up," Todd spat dumping the nearly unconscious Marine into the trunk.

The jolt of landing in the trunk cleared some of the fuzz from his head and Victor tried to sit up, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He had succeeded in pulling to a seated position when a fist lashed out, connecting with his solar plexus, making him drop back down to the floor gasping as the air bled out of his lungs.

"Should we tie him up?"

Todd looked back at his partner with a frown. "We don't have time for bondage games now so stop sounding so damned eager. I don't think there's even anything to tie him up with. He'll be fine in the trunk for now. Let's move...this turkey must have some money."

"All we wanted was his cash, ATM and credit cards...remember. We weren't going to do any kidnapping," Glenn whined nervously as he watched his friend slam the trunk shut on the Marine.

"Plans changed. This guy needs to learn a lesson about picking on gays. Don't worry, we'll still get his money."

"Yeah...get greedy and we're gonna get caught! Remember those two kids who killed those Dartmouth professors? They got greedy and look where they wound up."

"Shut up-get in your car- and follow me. That is all you have to do," Todd hissed feeling about ready to brain his partner.

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1945 EDT
McMurphy's...



Webb listened as ring piled on ring while he waited for Gunny to answer his cell phone. "I knew I should have insisted on Harm or Mac for this." He sighed an hung up putting the cell phone down in front of him.

This just wasn't like Galindez. Angry or not, the man was dsiciplined and he wouldn't just not show up. Something about this just wasn't quite right. Webb picked up the cell phone again and dialed the number Austin had given him again.

It was answered this time...or at least turned on. Clayton couldn't hear much of anything but static. "Galindez? Is that you? Where the hell are you?? You were supposed to meet me at McMurphy's about an hour ago!"

There was no response to his angry tone except that Webb thought he heard someone breathing. A frown built on Webb's face, something was definitely wrong here. Hanging up quickly he dialed another familiar number.

"Briggs here."

"Hey Mel, it's Webb. I need you to try and trace a cell phone for me. The number is 555-3099."

"Try?! Are you saying my skills aren't up to this??"

Webb groaned to himself slapping a hand on his forehead. Why was it that whenever he was in a hurry everyone wanted to play word games with him? "No, Melissa...of course not. I just don't know if it can be traced is all."

"I can track down a bill for it for sure and probably the last ten calls made and received. If it's on I might even be able to get a location lock on it."

"Super...let me call that number back then so you can try to get a lock on it."


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