Metro Girl (Alex Barnaby 1)

I knew that Hooker’d had a plan. It was pretty straightforward. Go into the garage like gang-busters and overwhelm whoever was in there. He couldn’t get help from law enforcement or military. Too much process involved. Too much chain of command to wade through. Hooker’s plan was to use a few friends. That was before I was captured. That was before Slick and Gimpy sold me out. I figured it had to be them. Senator Gil gave them the address. And they gave it to Salzar. There was no other way Salzar would know to follow Hooker and me from Judey’s condo. No one knew about Judey.

Salzar and Torres left the limo and crossed the garage. They stopped to talk to Pukey and then they moved to me.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” Salzar asked.

I didn’t say anything.

“You’re not going to get rescued,” he said. “We know all about the plan, and we’ll be long gone before anyone reaches this garage on your behalf. All they’ll find is an empty garage.”

“Let me guess. Scala and Martin?”

“Very good. I’m impressed. They were unhappy with the way their lives were shaping up and decided they could use one of my gold bars. Of course, down the line they’ll get one of my bullets.”

“No honor among thieves, hunh?”

Salzar motioned Pukey over with a crook of his finger. “We need to persuade Miss Barnaby to talk to us,” Salzar said.

Pukey looked down at me. “My pleasure.”

I was thinking now would be a good time for Hooker to show up. Although, I wasn’t sure how that would play out, considering the number of armed men in the garage.

I heard a roll of thunder in the distance, and I knew it was starting.

Salzar heard the thunder, too. “A storm,” he said to Pukey. “Make sure the helicopters are secure.”

That’s not a storm, I thought. That’s NASCAR.

Two men ran to the door to secure the helicopters. They opened the door and stood momentarily dumbfounded. They slammed the door shut and yelled something to Salzar in Spanish.

I looked to Maria.

“They say we’re under attack,” Maria whispere

d.

And then there was chaos. Footsteps and shouting overhead on the corrugated roof. Salzar’s men firing off rounds at the ceiling only to have them ricochet off the metal and embed themselves in the concrete floor. There were a couple heavy thuds on the roof and then the unmistakable sound of acetylene torches at work. Dave had told us the doors were impenetrable. Hooker knew the roof was vulnerable. Especially since he had access to a mobile metal shop. NASCAR did on-site body work. I couldn’t tell how many people were on the roof, but it sounded like a lot. When Hooker put the call in for help, after we’d come up with the plan, he didn’t know exactly what he could muster. We knew we could bring in the people at Homestead on short notice, but it sounded to me like all of NASCAR was overhead.

Salzar was shouting instructions in both English and Spanish, attempting to organize his men. He and Torres were at the side door that opened to the dirt helipad. Puke Face was in front of me, working at my cuffs. “You’re going with them,” he yelled over the noise and confusion. He released me from the shackles and jerked me to my feet. I dug in and refused to move. He gave me another jerk and I went limp, down to the ground. I wasn’t going to make this easy. Hooker was on the roof, trying to get in. I just needed to last long enough. I could see the outline where the torch had carved into the metal. They were almost through. A second crew was working at the other end of the building.

Puke Face picked me up like I was a sack of flour and ran to the door with me. There was the sound of ripping sheet metal and a crash. Puke Face turned to look, and I saw that a big piece of roof had crashed to the floor. The torches were still whining overhead. The second piece was about to go. Ropes dropped through the hole in the roof and guys with guns were sliding down the ropes. I had a moment of disorientation when I thought the men were in SWAT dress. Where had Hooker gotten a SWAT team? And then I realized they were in leathers. Hooker had recruited a biker club. The second piece of roof went down, and Hooker came down with it.

Puke Face turned away from the chaos in the building and ran through gunfire to the big military helicopter. A handful of Salzar’s men were defending the helipad area. The helicopter blades were in motion, picking up speed, kicking up dust in the predawn darkness. Salzar was already on board. Torres was at the helicopter bay door with an aide. They were waiting for me. I was their hostage. I was their last chance to get the canister.

Pukey had me at the door, trying to hand me off to Torres and the aide, but I had my feet braced on the lip of the open door. I heard Pukey do something like a grunt and a sigh in my ear, and then he released me and went over on his back with a crash. I curled my fingers into Torres’s expensive suit jacket, gave a hard shove with my legs, and pulled Torres out of the helicopter. We both went flying and hit the ground hard, Torres on top of me. I was stunned and simultaneously utterly revolted. Having Torres sprawled over me was right up with spiders and leeches in my hair. I did a full body grimace, rolled Torres off and scrambled to my feet.

Salzar yelled for the chopper to go and the bird lifted.

There was a volley of gunfire from the ground, aimed at the departing helicopter. I shielded my eyes from the swirling dust, but even through the dust, I could see the flames shoot out from the chopper’s undercarriage. The chopper hovered in place for a couple beats and then spiraled off, like a crazy airborne top. It went up and then it went down, crashing in the swamp. There were two explosions and fire jumped high in the sky and then settled into the water grasses.

Hooker came up behind me. He grabbed me and hugged me to him. “Are you okay?” Hooker yelled.

“Just got the wind knocked out.”

“I was worried you were dead. It would have been terrible. I would have cried in front of all these guys.”

“There’s no crying in NASCAR?”

“Hell no. We’re manly men.”