Deep Six by D. P. Lyle

Author:D. P. Lyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Published: 2016-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MORGAN SPUN INTO Bud’s Burgers. Three patrol cars huddled at the rear of the parking area near a pair of dark-green trash dumpsters and an ivy-covered fence that separated the property from an adjacent strip mall. Nearby, Starks stood with a half dozen uniformed officers. Starks looked up as Morgan pulled into an empty space and climbed out. He recognized one of the uniforms. Young guy named Jimmy Green. Been on the force a couple of years. Morgan had worked with him before. Good kid. The others, he didn’t know though a couple of faces looked familiar.

“I drove by Raul’s place on the way over,” Starks said. “Looked quiet.”

Morgan nodded. “Okay, here’s the play. Jimmy, you and your partner climb in with Starks and me. You other guys, I want a car at each end of the block. Out of sight. Around the corner. I don’t want this guy to see a unit anywhere around there. Got it?”

The officers nodded as if they were synchronized robots.

“I want this to go smoothly,” Morgan said.

“No problem, sir,” one of the officers replied.

“We’ll assume he’s armed. And maybe not alone. Let’s make this cool and casual. He doesn’t know we have his prints so there’s no reason for him to be all amped up, and I don’t want him getting amped up. He might turn this into the O.K. Corral and there are too many citizens around for that. Got it?”

“We understand, sir.”

The officer who “understood” didn’t look like he understood at all. Buzzed reddish-brown hair with skinned sidewalls, freckles over his nose, and a painfully innocent face, he looked young and eager. Dangerous combination. All action, no experience, no common sense, no caution. And caution was a valuable commodity in situations like this. Morgan wondered if he had ever looked so naive. Probably. All rookies did. Took a few years for the scars of the job to make you wary—and a cynic.

“Okay.” Morgan gave a quick nod. “Let’s roll.”

Morgan drove, Starks shotgun, Green and his partner in back. After the two units were in place, he drove by the house.

“Still looks quiet,” Starks said.

Morgan pulled to the curb, three doors down and across the street. Then to Green, he said, “You two work your way through the neighbor’s yard and get eyes on the back door. Do not approach. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Starks and I’ll handle the front.”

They climbed from the car. Green and his partner darted across the street and looped behind the house next to Raul’s.

“How you want to handle it?” Starks asked.

“Let’s try the friendly knock-and-chat approach.”

Starks raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, no way he knows who we are or that we’re here to take him down. He’ll probably think we’re trying to sell magazines or something.”

“Or Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Starks said with a half smile.

“That, too.”

Starks flipped open his Smith & Wesson .357 revolver and checked the chambers. He snapped the cylinder closed and settled the weapon into its holster in the small of his back. “Let’s get it done.”

Morgan pressed the doorbell.

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