30
›› Hawthorne Machine Shop
›› Hawthorne Lane
›› Charlotte, North Carolina
›› 0801 Hours
“Why are you here?” Victor Gant demanded.
Will hauled the man to his feet and pushed him face-first into the nearest wall. The man reeked of sour sweat, alcohol, and reefer smoke.
“Because you made it personal,” Will answered.
Victor cursed. “Your people did that when they killed my boy.”
“Bobby Lee brought what happened to him on himself.”
“Yeah, well so did your gunnery sergeant.”
Will grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and yanked his head around so he could face him. “Now I’m making it personal. I’m going to put you away, and when you get out, I’m going to put you away again. You’re not going to be able to breathe without me standing in your shadow as long as I feel like you’re a threat to one of my people.”
Victor glared at him. “You don’t have that kind of time, cap’n.”
“You’d be surprised at the kind of time I have,” Will stated.
A lazy smile pulled at Victor’s cruel mouth. “Don’t know what you think you got on me, but you ain’t gonna make it stick.”
“We’re going to start with breaking and entering at the ME’s office,” Tarlton said as he cuffed a man next to Victor. “That’s just to get you in a cage. Then Commander Coburn is going to bring up charges of tampering with evidence in a homicide investigation.”
“What evidence!” Victor tried to push off the wall.
Will dropped a knee into the back of Victor’s knee and caused it to go out from under him. He put an elbow into Victor’s back and bounced him off the wall.
“Stay,” Will growled.
“Your son was killed,” Tarlton said. “Until Gunnery Sergeant McHenry is cleared of any wrongful charges-and he will be-Bobby Lee’s body is evidence in the investigation. We have a witness who says you broke in and touched the body.”
“I was saying good-bye to my son!” Victor roared.
Will heard the pain in the man’s voice and couldn’t help feeling it as a father himself. He couldn’t imagine how he would act or how he would go on if something ever happened to Steven.
Put that away, he told himself. You’ve got a job to do here. You’re not Victor Gant, and Steven is never going to be Bobby Lee.
Will prayed for that to be true with all his heart.
“Chief Tarlton,” someone called over the radio.
“Yeah,” Tarlton responded.
“I got an FBI agent here, name of Urlacher. He says he wants to talk to you about Victor Gant.”
“Tell him I’m busy.” Tarlton pulled the biker he’d cuffed from the wall and started walking him down the hallway.
“Yes, sir. I did. But he’s waving some kind of legal paper at me that he seems right proud of.”
“It’s a court injunction,” Urlacher bellowed loud enough to be picked up by the radio. “You’re interfering in a federal case.”
Tarlton glanced at Will. “Sounds like Urlacher went directly to the nuclear weapons. You got enough muscle to handle this?”
“I don’t know,” Will answered.
“Man,” Victor said, grinning now, “you guys ought to know you can’t screw with the FBI.”
›› Parking Lot
›› Hawthorne Machine Shop
›› 0824 Hours
“Let me translate the big words for you, Commander Coburn, Chief Tarlton,” Special Agent-in-Charge Urlacher growled. “You can not usurp control of my informant. He’s under my protection. More than that, he’s under the protection of Judge Terri Watson. You have no right to arrest him.”
Tarlton leaned against the police car and eyed the FBI agent with grave distaste. “Actually, I have every right to arrest your informant. He’s been interfering with an ongoing homicide investigation.”
“He went to say good-bye to his son.” Urlacher looked apoplectic.
“Then,” Tarlton said evenly, “we agree that he broke and entered.”
“Even if he did,” Urlacher said, “here’s his get-out-of-jail-free card.” The FBI agent waved the injunction that prevented the detainment of Victor Gant.
Will wasn’t happy. He stood at the rear of the police vehicle where the motorcycle leader had been stashed. On the other side of the parking lot, Remy worked with EMTs to stabilize the woman the sheriff’s deputy had shot.
“Give Gant to me,” Urlacher stated in a harsh voice, “or you’re going to be in contempt of Judge Watson’s court.”
Since Judge Watson presided over a federal court in Washington, D.C., Will knew that Tarlton-and he-could be buried in a mountain of red tape and possibly face criminal charges.
Still, Tarlton didn’t seem to be impressed. He leaned a hip against the car and smiled. “You know, Will, I’ve had a lot of people threaten me during the time I’ve been chief here. You probably have too.”
“I have,” Will agreed. He didn’t always play nice with people outside the military’s rank and file either. The military was a different matter, though. Everything had a chain of command, and that was obeyed first.
“You ever been threatened by the FBI?” Tarlton looked as though he was really interested in the answer to his question.
“Not threatened, exactly.”
“They threw the big intimidation cloud, didn’t they?”
“Pretty much.”
“Offered interdepartmental assistance, then hosed you the first chance they got and got all offensive when you called them on it.”
Urlacher turned redder.
Despite the situation, Will found he was taking a perverse satisfaction at digging his heels in. He wasn’t going to let Tarlton swing by himself if things went south.
“That sums it up,” Will agreed.
“We found a lot of weapons in that warehouse, didn’t we?”
The Purple Royals, as it turned out, had had quite a cache of weapons on hand. Tarlton and Will were guessing that they’d been planning on a big trade-off somewhere. Weapons were better than cash in a lot of third world countries.
“We did,” Will agreed.
“Do you think we could make a case for Homeland Security?” Tarlton asked.
“It’s possible.”
Urlacher had reached his limit. He took a step forward and jabbed Tarlton in the chest with his forefinger. “You listen. If you don’t let that man go this instant, I’m going to-”
“What?” Tarlton interrupted. “Run and tell? And if you poke me with the finger again, I’m going to snap it off and shove it up your nose.”
Urlacher withdrew his hand. “Give me Victor Gant.” He pulled his phone off his belt. “Now.”
In the end, Will knew they had no real choice.
Tarlton nodded at the police officer manning the vehicle’s rear door.
The policeman opened the door and hauled Gant out.
The biker grinned. “Special Agent Urlacher,” he acknowledged. “Good to see you again.”
