“And when are we going to have Cordero in custody?”
“In about forty-five minutes. That’s where I’m going right now.”
Chapter 25
The receptionist at the Social Services office told us that Cordero was out on an inspection visit. Novak turned on the charm and got a copy of the social worker’s schedule and the addresses of the homes she planned to visit.
I leaned against our car in the parking lot as I scanned the printout we received.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“There’s something off about this schedule. See here,” I pointed to two adjacent appointments, “these are only a few blocks apart, but there are two hours between the appointments. All the other visits are set for half an hour.”
We stopped by a drive-through coffee shop, then drove to the address of the one o’clock appointment. The neighborhood was old twentieth-century rowhouses, a few boarded up and the rest in poor repair. There were more rats out on the streets than people. We identified Cordero’s car parked on the street, so we drove down the block and waited.
At one-thirty, a short dark-haired woman with light skin came out of the rowhouse we were watching with a dark-skinned girl. The woman put the girl in the back seat of Cordero’s car, then drove away.
“The family at that address is a Lucille Brown and her three children,” Novak read aloud. “The oldest girl, Natalie, is fourteen.”
“I wonder if the mother just sold that girl, or she’s merely renting her out,” I said.
“Pretty disgusting either way.”
“Yeah.”
We followed Cordero to Dorothy’s Dungeon. She parked behind the building, urged the girl out of the car, and knocked on the back door.
“Call for backup,” I said as I jumped out of the car and drew my pistol. “Watch the front door and detain anyone who comes out.”
“Where the hell are you going?”
“I’ll watch the back door. Now, move!”
As soon as Novak disappeared around the corner with his phone held to his ear, I raced toward the back door and cast a spell that disrupted the closed-circuit camera above it. As with most business locks, the door had a numeric keypad. I sent a spell at it, and the lock clicked.
Squatting down, I carefully eased the door open. The gunshots almost deafened me as three bullets hit the door above my head. Almost immediately, I heard shots from the front of the building. I let the door slam shut and dove for the ground. More shots coming from across the alley behind me hit the building right above my head.
I twisted around and fired three shots randomly, hoping my attackers would duck and give me time to understand what was going on. It didn’t take more than a split second to figure out that we had walked into an ambush, but knowing that didn’t help my situation.
The nice thing about the explosive-incendiary bullets I fired was that they didn’t necessarily need to hit someone directly to have an effect. The shooting stopped, at least momentarily. I took advantage of the lull by springing to my feet and racing around the corner, where Novak had gone. A lone bullet clipped the building behind me, then a mule kicked me in the side, knocking me off my feet and carrying me past the corner.
If I wasn’t wearing my Kevlar corset, I’d probably have been dead. From past experience of being shot, I could envision an enormous bruise covering my entire left ribcage, and a chewing out by Kirsten when she doctored me after I got home.
No sign of Novak or any attackers on that side. I took a deep breath and pulled three mini-grenades out, primed them, and tossed them back around the corner as fast as I could. Then I lay down and crawled to the corner.
The first grenade exploded, and I peeked around the edge of the building, my pistol ready. One man lay bleeding in the alley. The other two grenades went off, and I saw something move in a doorway. I fired into the doorway and heard a muffled curse.
At the same time, I could hear more shots coming from the front of the building. Some sounded like Novak’s Raider, but most were from smaller caliber pistols. Then a submachinegun fired a short burst. I hoped my partner was using his air shield for protection and wished I had the same ability.
Someone stuck his head over the edge of the roof across the alley, then pulled it back. I shifted my aim and waited. When he looked again, I fired two rounds. One sent shards of masonry flying, but the other took the top of his head off. I redirected my attention to the doorway I had fired into before.
I thumbed another mini-grenade and tossed it at the doorway. My arm wasn’t as good as Novak’s, and the grenade bounced a foot short of the opening. No matter, the explosion was accompanied by a cry of pain. I fired two more rounds into the doorway and was rewarded with a grunt, and a short time later, with a whimper of pain.
The alley was quiet, but the shooting continued from the other side of the building. I jacked another magazine into my pistol and pocketed the old magazine with two rounds remaining. Then I primed two more grenades. One I threw into the middle of the alley, and the other I tossed at Dorothy’s back door.
I waited for the second explosion, then whipped around the corner, grabbed the door handle, pulled it wide open as I went past, and hid behind it with my back to the building. Several shots came from inside, but I was out of the line of fire, and the door protected me from anyone in the alley. I could see the doorway through the crack between the hinges, so if anyone came to look outside,
