Hell's Corner (Camel Club 5)

CHAPTER 35

WHILE THEY WERE WAITING for John Kravitz to arrive, Stone and Chapman explored the grounds. A few Latino workers watched them warily from a distance, probably fearing they were from ICE. Stone didn’t pay much attention to them. But something did capture his interest. Over a building behind the office, there were some holes in the wood and the outline of what once had been bolted there. Stone pointed to it, but Chapman only looked quizzical.

“Basketball hoop,” said Stone. “Or where one used to be.”

“So someone took it down?”

“But didn’t fill in the holes or paint over it.”

When they went back inside and asked Wilder about it, he professed to know nothing about the missing hoop.

“I know it was up yesterday. Some of the guys were playing.”

Thirty minutes passed, and while a half dozen other people arrived for work, Kravitz was not among them.

“We’ll need his address now,” said Gross.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Wilder.

Stone pulled Gross to the side. “Chapman and I will pay him a visit while you stay here with Wilder.”

“You think he’s in on it?”

“I’m not sure what to think right now, so we have to assume he is.”

Wilder said, “I can call him at home, see if he’s okay. Tell him to come on in.”

“No,” said Stone. “No calls. Just sit tight with Agent Gross.”

Stone nodded at Gross and the FBI agent’s hand dipped to the butt of the gun in his belt holster, while Wilder, seeing this, started hyperventilating anew.

Gross said, “You want me to get some LEOs as backup for you?”

“Some local cops wouldn’t hurt,” said Stone. “Just tell them no sirens and to stay back until we signal them.”

Gross nodded. “Good luck.”

A minute later Stone and Chapman were in the Crown Vic on the way to the trailer park. Stone was driving. The sedan streaked down the highway. They passed a police cruiser going the same way. The cop driving was about to hit his lights at the speeding car when Stone slowed, dropped back and held his badge out the window. The cop in the passenger side slid down his window.

“You the LEOs they called in for us as backup?” Stone asked.

The cop nodded. “Possible suspect in the Lafayette Park bombing?”

Stone nodded. “Just follow our lead. Okay?”

“Yes sir,” said the obviously excited young deputy.

Stone rolled his window back up and hit the gas.

Chapman glanced over and saw the gun in a shoulder holster Stone was wearing.

“What are you carrying?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t recognize it.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, it’s older than you are.”

“I know most of the major makes. American and European, Chinese, Russian.”

“It’s not a major one.”

“I know some of the lesser-known models.”

“It wasn’t mass-produced.”

“Limited run?”

“You could say that.”

“How many were made?”

“One.”

When they got to the trailer park, Stone left the car by the side of the road and they made their way to Kravitz’s trailer on foot. The park had about twenty-five trailers mounted on permanent foundations and was bracketed by thick woods. The cops were ten paces back and on either side of the narrow gravel road that constituted the only ingress and egress.

“If he is the bomber he might have his trailer wired with a booby trap,” noted Chapman.

“That thought had occurred to me.”

“So are we going to just knock on his door, then?”

“We’ll play it by ear.”

Chapman looked put off. “Okay, pleased to see you have the plan all formulated.”

“In a situation like this plans usually are for shit. You react professionally to what comes at you. That’s the best plan of all.”

The trailer was set off by itself, a small patch of gravel in front. An ancient and battered Chevy pickup was parked in front, its metal corroding, its paint disintegrating. They checked to make sure the truck was empty and then took cover behind it.

Stone eyed the two cops and motioned with his hand where he wanted them to take up position. When they were in place he called out, “John Kravitz?”

There was no answer.

“John Kravitz? Federal agents. We need you to come out, hands in clear view. Right now.”

Nothing.

Chapman looked at Stone. The two cops stared at him too.

“What now?” she asked.

“We do it the hard way,” said Stone.

“Which is?”

Stone eyed the white tank attached to the front of the trailer. He took out his gun. “Kravitz, you have five seconds to come out or I’m going to put a round into your propane tank and blow you right to hell.”

“Are you mental?” hissed Chapman.

The two cops looked at Stone like they were debating whether to arrest him.

“Two seconds, Kravitz,” called out Stone.

He assumed his firing stance and lined the tank up in his sight.

“Stone!” said Chapman. “You could blow us all up.”

“One second, Kravitz.”

The door to the trailer opened and Kravitz came out, his hands in the air. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. “Don’t shoot,” he said in a pleading voice. “Don’t shoot, I don’t have a gun. Hell, what do you want with me? I just overslept. Do they send the Feds out for that now?”

Stone saw the flash of light in the reflection of the trailer window. Immediately realizing what it was, he screamed, “Everyone down! Now!” He grabbed Chapman’s arm and pulled her to the ground. From the corner of his eye he saw the two cops hit the dirt. Kravitz still stood upright looking stunned. Stone let go of Chapman and whirled around, pointed his gun at the woods and fired. At the instant he did so a bullet was fired from somewhere deep in the woods. The two shots together sounded like a mini-explosion. Following his lead, Chapman had her gun out in a second and fired off six rounds from her Walther in the same direction.

The round fired from the woods hit Kravitz squarely in the chest, exiting out the back and smacking into the side of the trailer. Kravitz stood stock-still for about a second, his eyes wide, as though he didn’t even realize he’d been shot. And killed. Then he toppled to the ground. Stone knew he was dead before he hit the gravel. Long-range rifle ordnance was almost always fatal with a center chest shot.

Before anyone else could move, Stone was up and sprinting toward the woods. He scanned the tree line and called over his shoulder, “See if he’s still breathing. If he is, do what you can and call an ambulance. Then secure the crime scene and call in backup. Chapman, with me, keep low.”

She raced after him as he entered the woods.

“That was a long-range rifle round,” he called out. “Look for any movement, five hundred yards and out.”

“How’d you even know anyone was out here?”

“Saw the optics signature in the reflection on the trailer window. I had no chance of hitting the sniper with a pistol round. I was just hoping to screw up his shot.”

After several minutes of searching and coming up empty they ran back toward the trailer. On the way there Chapman said, “You probably saved my life.”

“You weren’t the target.”

“But still.”

“You’re welcome.”

When they got back to the trailer Stone said to the cops, “Anything?”

One cop shook his head. “Dead. We called in backup.”