7.
When things began to break, it happened faster than anyone could have imagined. Mark had gone to the Federal Courthouse to meet with the District Attorney to go over his testimony for the upcoming trial. He had taken the opportunity to speak with Collins about Lutrin's visitors. They met in a small break room, away from curious eyes.
"So who is it?" Mark asked softly.
"So far the only visitor has been his attorney. We can't listen in on those." Collins was aggravated at the lack of information.
"Somebody's been following me, so he's definitely made some sort of contact. It has to be through his attorney. Can't you get a warrant to tap his phones?"
"Tricky, we can't accidentally record a client's conversation."
Mark frowned, thinking. "And if he's smart, the hitman is a client. But that's not right." He struggled to remember the law Hardcastle was always spouting at him. "If he, the lawyer, is a go-between, that makes him an accomplice. That negates the relationship, right?"
"I'm a cop, not a lawyer, but I think that's the gist of it. We've got a man following this guy. Hopefully all the contacts won't be on the phone."
"I guess it all depends on just how stupid this guy is."
Collins laughed. "Yeah, that about covers it. So now what?"
"Now I try and play them into making a move."
"How?"
With a cheeky grin, Mark got to his feet and sauntered out the door. "Just watch and learn, Collins, watch and learn. You chose me as your weapon. You should've known that I wasn't the type to let someone else use me."
"That's not an answer. McCormick!"
H&McC
On the ride back to Gull's-Way, Mark carefully worked the gas pedal, making it appear that the car was having engine problems. "Sorry, girl, but this is important." He continued making the vehicle jerk off and on before arriving at the spot he determined to be perfect for an ambush. He pulled the car off the road and slightly behind an abandoned gas station just a mile from the entrance to Gull's-Way. The area was empty of viewers, the only sign of civilization a series of condominiums currently being built down the road. The workers had called it a day and to all intent and purposes, Mark was alone.
He really didn't think anything would happen, not this soon, but it could set the scene for a future situation. He climbed out of the Coyote, moving to the front to lift the hood. He leaned down, his eyes focused on the powerful engine currently crackling with heat.
A farm truck pulled up behind him. The driver leaned out. "You need some help, mister?"
"Uh, no, I'm good." The last thing Mark wanted was to get a Good Samaritan hurt. "You don't have to worry…" his voice trailed off as he saw the overall-covered man climbing out of the battered truck. "I'm okay, really."
"I couldn't feel right just leavin' you here like this. Let me take a look under there. I'm a dab hand with an engine, if I say so myself."
"I think it's just some water in the tank," Mark said quickly.
"Horrible thing to happen with a car as purty as this, Mr. McCormick." The man raised up, a gun suddenly appearing in his hand.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Mark lightly banged his forehead on the Coyote's hood.
"Can't disagree with ya, boy. Now how about you head on back into that brush behind the station. No need for anyone to witness this and force me to kill 'em. After all, I'm only gettin' paid for you."
"Yeah, wouldn't want that, would we?" Mark said, dragging his heels and hoping his police guards weren't too far away. "Wouldn't be good for business, giving it away for free."
"You're right smart-mouthed, ain't ya, boy?" The faux farmer pushed him in the middle of his back.
Mark swung about, grabbing the hitman's gun hand and twisting it up toward the sky. The fight was vicious and quiet except for the grunts of the two men as they struggled for control of the weapon. Mark managed to slip his foot behind his assailant's knee and they tumbled to the ground. The broken concrete began to coat both men in dust, make their grips harder to maintain.
Taking a chance, Mark took a handful of the debris and threw as hard as he could into the other man's face. One tiny pebble hit the hitman's eye and he momentarily faltered, giving Mark a chance to bear in.
He pulled his head down until his chin touched his chest, then flung it back up, managing to hit his opponent square in the nose. Splattered with blood, the man yelled in pain, automatically grabbing his nose with both hands and leaving the gun free for Mark. He quickly pulled away from the angry man, scrambling to his feet and putting the gun to use.
"Don't move!"
Panting heavily, the hitman glared up at Mark. "You gonna shoot me, boy?"
"Only if I have to. On your stomach, put your hands on the back of your head." When the man slowly complied, Mark began to breath easier. He remembered something he had seen done by some of the cops he and the Judge had worked with. "Interlace your fingers and cross your ankles. Don't move, got it?"
"Yeah, I've got it."
Mark didn't have long to wait for an obvious government-issued vehicle to arrive. Agent Collins climbed out of the passenger side, staring wordlessly, intense astonishment touching his pale face.
"Hey, wanna help me out here?" Mark called, feeling exhaustion trembling along his legs.
"Right. David, take over for McCormick. Seems like you've done all the work for us."
"Can't say that was my original plan, Collins, but whatever works."
Collins, his green eyes checking the physical condition of the younger man, nodded. "Call me Bill."
Shock shot through Mark. "Th-thanks, Bill. My name is Mark."
"I think our friend here might have something important to say." Wu had handcuffed the hitman. "We might not have just Lutrin in our net. Seems McCormick called it. Lutrin's attorney was the go-between and Ralph here is willing to spill everything to avoid the death penalty for killing a judge."
Collins and McCormick exchanged weary but satisfied smiles.