A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story. Highlands Girl, thank you for being the most amazing beta. I'm really lucky to have you working with me on this story.
Mea culpa for posting this chapter a few days late, I hate when real life gets in the way of my fanfiction addiction, but sadly, sometimes it's unavoidable. Thank you for hanging in there and for your wonderful reviews and pm's. I really appreciate the time you take to share your comments with me.
Chapter 8. The dangers of our second guessing
"Switch activated." Cal's low voice broke the silence in every earpiece of the takedown team. Then, after a faint noise of a scuffle and a thump of a locking truck door, Junior came on the air, "We got him."
"Standby for TPD," Ranger said into his headset, glancing down at his watch. It was three fourteen in the morning. The op was progressing according to Lester's timeline. Cal and Junior apprehended the man, who tripped the railroad switch to reroute the train to the tracks leading to the Marine Terminal. The remaining RangeMan takedown teams were in position, waiting for Decker and his men to show.
There was only one variable in Lester's plan that kept bothering Ranger: the cargo could be unloaded off the train either into a warehouse next to the tracks or moved through the terminal building to the river. Unwilling to give Decker a chance to slip through their fingers again, Ranger had doubled the number of men involved in the op. Between Lorenzo's injury at the first takedown and Stephanie's capture at the second, Ranger had allowed the goal to nab Decker become personal. And that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, if it wasn't that distracting… From the moment he had stepped inside the terminal building, he had trouble maintaining his focus, unable to put his finger on what felt off about the job.
Shrugging off the grim feeling, he took a deep breath to clear his head and peered into the darkness outside. His eyes were roaming the warehouse across the access road, when Binkie's voice interrupted his mental assessment of the situation.
"Confirming visual. All four subjects accounted for. Target's in a black Chevy Blazer. The second vehicle's a dark green Dodge Ram. Both pulled off the ramp and are heading your way. ETA three minutes out."
"Copy that," Hal responded from the warehouse. "Team two in position."
Ranger's gaze locked on the farthest point of the access road, visible from his position, until the vehicles came into his view. Rolling along the road, the two trucks stopped at the warehouse, keeping the headlights off and the engines idling, while the men inside waited for the train.
At three twenty, the distinctive sound of clanking metal in the distance had Decker's men bolting from their trucks, setting up for the ambush of the fast approaching train.
The couplings banging against each other between the freight cars rattled loudly as the train screeched to a halt at the warehouse. The armored car with the coveted cargo stopped next to the terminal building, as the head of the train cut off Ranger and his team from the action.
All Decker's men were at the side of the train in the matter of seconds. The driver of the Dodge sealed the explosives around the armored door and then rushed back to his vehicle.
"Team two, you're a 'go'," Ranger ordered into his headset.
"Affirmative," came Hal's curt response.
The sound of the blast wasn't too loud, but the door flew off the side of the train and the distinctive smell of burned explosive filled the air. After the dust settled, Decker's men started lining up equipment to unload the cargo, and the man himself strode from the truck to the gaping hole in the side of the train car. The light flashed from the top of the warehouse, flooding the area and blinding the thugs.
"Move! Move! Move!" Ranger shouted, watching Hal, Manny, Vince, and Zero scatter from the warehouse to apprehend the targets. And as the team was cuffing the men on the ground, Ranger saw that Decker was no longer among them.
Scanning the area around the train, he spotted Decker slithering between the cars to make a break for the terminal building, just as they had predicted during the briefing. With Ram covering them with a sniper rifle from the second floor and Lester at the back door, Ranger and Bobby were waiting for the scumbag at the entrance. They were hidden from his view by the large stack of crates and ready to box him in. Ranger raised his hand to catch Bobby's attention, before pointing to the front of the warehouse. Bobby nodded, clicking the safety off his gun.
Decker slipped inside and plastered his back against the wall by the door, giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Satisfied with his survey of the space, he pushed away from the wall and, glancing over his shoulder, started creeping toward the reinforced glass on the other side and the door that lead into the back hallway. As they expected, the bastard had done his homework, having learned the building blueprint.
Decker was steps away from the glass, when Bobby sidestepped the crates and shouted, "Freeze!"
With his gun trained on Decker's back, Bobby felt the rush of adrenalin – the asshole finally had nowhere to run – they would settle the score for Lorenzo's injury one way or another. His guard was down for just a split second, but it was enough for Decker to turn around, kneeling, and fire off a shot. Bobby's gun fell from his grasp, hitting the concrete only a moment before Bobby himself collapsed onto the floor.
With a sinking feeling in a pit of his stomach, Ranger darted around the crates in time to see Bobby take the fall. Midstride, Ranger caught a deranged grimace of satisfaction that flashed on Decker's face and released the trigger. The bullet from his gun ripped through Decker's chest and the glass wall behind him. The force of the impact sent Decker careening backward. He was still alive, when he fell on top of the broken glass, his eyes widening as the sharp edge separated from the top frame.
The large shard came crashing down, finishing the job the bullet had started. With a final twitch, the severed head rolled away from the body and down the hallway, coming to a stop at Ram's feet, its hollow eyes staring up, unseeing the slab of the raw ceiling.
The sound of sirens outside announced the arrival of TPD. With Carl and Big Dog hot on his heels, Joe Morelli burst through the doors of the building, finding Lester Santos on his knees next to Bobby Brown's prone form, attempting resuscitation. Squatting down by Lester's side, Joe holstered his weapon and reached out to feel for Bobby's pulse. Rising up, he shook his head at Carl, who had been calling the bus, and then gave Lester's shoulder a firm squeeze.
"I'm sorry, man." A muscle in Joe's jaw twitched, before he could force out the rest of his words. "There's nothing you can do for Brown anymore. You need to step away. I've gotta secure the scene. C.S.I.'s five minutes out."
Lester looked up, shaking Joe's hand off his shoulder as his eyes flashed with anger, before he felt Ranger join them.
Having finished making arrangements with the Feds to pick up Decker's body, Ranger acknowledged Joe with a curt nod and pulled Lester aside to break up a likely confrontation. After a quiet but terse exchange between the two men, Lester squared his shoulders and headed for the door, leaving Ranger standing next to Brown's body.
"Santos! Where the hell do you think you're going?" Joe yelled at Lester's retreating back, but the man disappeared outside without a backward glance.
Annoyed by the lack of response, Joe turned his angry glare on Ranger. "What the fuck?"
Appearing unfazed by the blatant display of Joe's attitude, Ranger's blank face betrayed no emotion, but his voice was rough as he ground the words through his clenched teeth. "Santos didn't fire his gun tonight. He was at the back door and saw nothing. You'll get his statement later."
"Damn it, Mañoso. You know that's against protocol."
"Fuck protocol, Morelli. His partner's dead. He gets a break. The rest of my men are available for questioning."
"Make sure he shows at the department today. My ass doesn't look good in a sling." Joe's words were harsh, but the tone carried no heat, resigned not to fight Ranger on this. Losing a partner in the line of duty wasn't an experience Joe ever wanted to go through himself, but he'd seen it one time too many not to empathize with Santos. He ran his hand through his hair and stomped off, muttering, "What a fucking mess…"
Meanwhile, the crime scene investigators finished processing the scene, allowing two transport guys from the Mercer County medical examiner's office to load up the body bag onto a stretcher. As soon as they were inside their vehicle, Ranger made a call. Taking care not to be overheard, he spoke softly.
"Twenty nine minutes." He fell silent, listening for a few beats, and hung up without uttering another word, before stepping out of the terminal building to deal with the TPD.
Bobby opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut to block out the blinding industrial light. His ass felt colder than ice and something was pinching his big toe. He opened his eyes again and sat up with a muttered curse, just in time to catch a thin white sheet that had started sliding off his stark naked body. Ripping a tag off his foot, he stared at his name and then hopped off the table to wrap the sheet around his waist.
The time to contemplate what had happened during the takedown to land him in a morgue of the Mercer County medical examiner's office was a luxury he didn't have. There were matters that were more pressing to attend to, such as finding some clothes and getting the hell out of dodge, preferably before making an acquaintance with the M.E., pulling the graveyard shift.
Slipping from the morgue, Bobby found his way into a locker-room where he borrowed a pair of dark blue scrubs, a do-rag, and a pair of black clogs. The pants were too short, the shirt was too tight, the clogs were too narrow, and the do-rag took the cake with its cute Scottie print, but he was too focused on getting out of the building to pay attention to the minor discomforts caused by his attire.
Cracking open the door to the stairs leading to the emergency exit, he surveyed the likely positions for security cameras and, much to his relief, found none. As if they have to worry about cadavers making a break for it, he thought, sneaking into the a step down at a time to avoid making a sound, he kept his head down and his hands to himself, careful not to leave prints or any other evidence of his escape for the cops to find. Reaching the first floor, he pushed the exit bar on the door with his hip and slipped away from the building.
A black Explorer in the parking lot flashed its headlights, and Bobby broke into a jog. Jerking open the front door, he hopped into the front seat.
"Niiice!" Lester said, checking out his partner's getup.
"Shut up, Santos!" Bobby barked, ripping the do-rag off this head. "And drive."
Casting a final look at the building, he couldn't hold back an expletive. "Fucking A!" A security camera was right over the door he had exited seconds earlier.
"You wound me, bro," Lester said with a smirk, pulling out of the lot. "That piece of shit was child's play."
"Yeah, well, your sorry ass didn't just wake up on a slab, did it? The damn thing was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey!" Bobby glared at Lester, lacking the mood to entertain his partner's ubiquitously flippant attitude.
It wasn't that he blamed Lester for the debacle that landed him on the autopsy table, but he didn't like that his life had spun out of control. Even though he had considered leaving Trenton for a while, having his hand forced was less than ideal, as taking off on his terms was no longer a viable option. Seeing Lester's sobered expression, Bobby shook his head, stopping his partner from uttering an apology that was unwarranted. "Forget it, bro. Tell me what happened."
"Morelli," Lester said, his tone remorseful. "The TPD swarmed the scene moments after you went down. I thought that if I attempted CPR, I could buy enough time to get you out. But Morelli ID'ed you on the spot and called it." He shook his head in disgust, never taking his eyes off the road. "Last I checked that jackass didn't have an M.D. Where does he get off…"
Bobby stopped Lester's diatribe, "Morelli's a good cop. He was just doing his job." To make the best of his situation, Bobby needed Lester to stop steaming over Morelli's sticking to procedure and focus on more practical matters, such as his imminent departure from Trenton. "My go-bag?"
Lester stopped at a red light at the Upper Ferry Road, and jerked his chin back. "On the floorboards, behind the seat. ETA three minutes."
"A'aight." Bobby unbuckled his seatbelt, before climbing into the back to change.
In the predawn hours, the parking lot at the Trenton-Mercer Airport was empty, but for a few cars of the night crew. Cutting across the service road, Lester pulled into a private hangar and killed the engine. A mechanic was running though a routine pre-flight check on a small corporate jet, getting it ready for takeoff. Leaving the truck parked in the hangar, Bobby and Lester made their way into the cockpit and were taxiing down the runway fifteen minutes after their arrival at the airport.