Blood Play (Don Pendleton's Mack Bolan) by Pendleton Don

Author:Pendleton, Don [Pendleton, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2010-06-21T22:00:00+00:00

“SHE LIKES TO TALK to herself a lot, I’ll say that much,” Combs told RTPF Captain Tina Brown as he continued to follow Helms’s bugged Jetta along the road leading into Santa Fe. The chief investigatory officer was using a speakerphone attachment clipped to his windshield visor, leaving both hands free on the steering wheel on the chance he would have to make a sudden turn to stay on Helms’s tail. Brown was still back at Franklin Colt’s property and while she hadn’t come out and said it, Combs suspected the captain was having problems with the BIA agent assigned to investigate the shootout.

“She hasn’t called anyone?” Brown asked.

“Negative.”

“Do you think she’s made you?”

“I doubt it,” Combs lied. He suspected Helms had wised up to him back on the relief road, but he didn’t see any need to get on the wrong side of Brown’s foul mood. “I already ran her plate through DMV and have her address, so if you want I can pull back and set up a stakeout. Her place is here in Santa Fe.”

“You can do that later,” Brown told him. “Stay on her for now. If she’s meeting someone and gets out of the car, I want you to be able to at least see who’s in on this with her.”

“Will do,” Combs responded.

“And remember you’re off the home field,” the captain said. “Use lethal force only as an absolute last resort. I don’t need another fire to have to put out.”

“I hear you, Captain.”

“Get back to me as soon as you have something.”

“Of course.”

Once Brown clicked off, Combs glowered out at the world around him, in far less than a pleasant mood himself. He’d known Cecil Farris as well as the other three tribal officers killed during the previous night’s shootout and it weighed on him that they’d wound up as collateral damage in what had become an increasingly desperate effort to conceal the extent to which members of the RTPF, including himself and the captain, had fallen into collusion with the man he knew as Freddy McHale. It infuriated Combs to realize how readily he’d allowed himself be led astray, not only by McHale but also countless others who over the years had tempted him to step outside the law. Succumbing to corruption, after all, had been the last thing on his mind when he’d first joined the department. And yet now here he was, years after accepting what he’d told himself would be a one-time-only bribe, compromised into becoming little more than part of a badged goon squad at the beck and call of Global Holdings Corporation. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Combs followed Helms past the vast sprawl of Frank S. Ortiz Park to where Buckman Road merged with Camino de las Crucitas. The speed limit dropped to 30 mph, and the officer began to feel as if he were part of a slow parade as he tried to keep three cars back from the Jetta. After passing through a

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