“What do we know?” Crank asked. His head was aching, but he could imagine how much worse it would have been had Lana not cut him off last night when she did and given his system a chance to process out the alcohol.
“Shit,” Pecan said. “We know shit.”
“Goddammit. How can this guy just disappear like this? Nobody knows anything?”
Pecan shook his head. “Nothing.”
“How many more brothers are we going to lose before we get a handle on this motherfucker?” Crank snarled. He knew what the club was up against and how effective and difficult a trained sniper would be to defend against. He’d witnessed it firsthand for six months.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to change our patterns. We’re going to start avoiding the places we normal go as much as possible, and that includes the clubhouse. If he knows where we’re going to be, we’re a target. These guys are trained to be patient. He’ll be willing to wait hours to make his kill.”
“How are we going to do that? I have kids in school. I can’t just pack up and leave,” Goose protested.
“He may not target your kids, but do you want to take that chance?” Crank replied, meeting and holding Goose’s gaze. “Look, I know what I’m talking about. None of us are safe.”
Shiv nodded. “I think I’m going to send Shelly to her mom and dad’s for a while.”
Crank agreed. “I recommend that everyone do something similar. Do it in the middle of the night. Park your car on the next block and go out the back.”
“Is it that serious?” Hilt asked. “You make this guy sound like he’s super-human.”
Crank’s eyes hardened. “Not super-human, but… Do you know what they call a sniper in combat? A force multiplier. One sniper on overwatch can make your ground troops two or three times as effective. Ten guys are suddenly as effective as thirty. I can’t stress this enough. If he can see you, he can kill you. You’ve seen what guys like him can do. Do not underestimate this guy or you will die.”
There was a long pause as what Crank said sank in. “Is that what you did in Iraq? You were a sniper?” Wheels asked.
“No. I wasn’t a sniper, but I was part of a sniper team for a while. I know what I’m talking about. Pass the word and gather your shit. We’re not coming back here until this is settled.”
The eight men broke up and spent twenty minutes putting the clubhouse into a semi-mothballed state.
Inside the clubhouse, they were safe. The Fallen Legion clubhouse was an old grocery store the club had purchased years ago, and then, over the years, they’d renovated and upgraded the property to suit their needs. One of the changes was bricking up the glass front to the height of about eight feet. The high windows still let in plenty of light to the large common room, but the brickwork kept prying eyes from seeing inside, including those of the man hunting them. It was outside the clubhouse that was the killing field. They’d dug up part of the parking lot and replaced it with grass and landscaping, but there was still plenty of open tarmac where they parked their bikes that was a perfect kill zone.
After the brothers had finished putting the clubhouse into hibernation by turning off the water, throwing out perishable food, and turning back the temperature on the water heater and heating system, they locked the building up for the duration of the crises and turned to their bikes.
***
The shooter smiled as the crosshairs settled on the chest of the fireplug of a man. He had been waiting all night for this opportunity. He knew with the killing of Morgan, Corporal Lee and his friends would probably rally to their clubhouse to discuss how to find him.
The Legion clubhouse was in an older part of town—an area that was sliding into neglect as the affluent moved to newer neighborhoods. What was left behind were small homes full of families that couldn’t afford to move, failing businesses, empty storefronts, and empty, weed-choked lots.
He’d sat up in one of the empty lots last night, lying under his ghillie net among the weeds four blocks from the Legion’s clubhouse. It was another long shot, much longer than the shot he’d made last night, and difficult with a narrow field of fire. He’d sat up in the extreme corner of the lot, the only place he could see the clubhouse, but even with the difficulty of his sub-optimal location, it was still a shot he could make. He breathed out slowly and held his breath as he squeezed the trigger.
The Browning 30.06 bucked, its report loud as it echoed off the buildings. He knew the sound of his shot would be impossible to determine, so he quickly worked the bolt, ejecting the spent cartridge and feeding a new round into position. He shifted his focus to his next target as the men scrambled for safety, but it was too late. Far, far too late. He smoothly squeezed the trigger again, and another life was snuffed out.
He worked the bolt a second time, but the men were down, using their motorcycles as a screen. He scanned the area through his scope, watching for movement, but saw none.
Stealth and camouflage were his friends now.
There wasn’t enough movement for him to blend in, so he had to wait until there was sufficient confusion to allow him to escape. As soon as the Legion were occupied, he’d slip through a hole he’d cut in the fence and walk to his car parked in the parking lot of a business one block over.
He laid perfectly still, his cock throbbing against the ground. He would remain here for a time, waiting, watching, until it was safe to move. The human eye was attracted to movement, but so long as he remained still, the chance of him being spotted, even by somebody as close as six or eight feet, was almost zero.
Still as death, he watched as the men of the Fallen Legion dragged their dead brothers to safety. Had he been elevated, like on a rooftop, staying low as they were would have been useless, but as he was at the same level they were, the chances of another kill were low, and he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone to his position.
It was almost time to go.
He removed his eye from this scope long enough to locate the two spent shell casings. He gathered them into his hand and slid the expended brass into a pocket on the leg of his pants. Five more minutes and he would be gone, and it would be like he was never there.
***
“Incoming!” Crank screamed as Pecan’s chest bloomed in a spray of blood with a sickening thud. The Legion went to ground, but not before he heard another hissing snap, and Wheels stomach exploded with the impact of a high-powered bullet.
“Where the fuck is it coming from?” Shiv bellowed; the sharp cracks of the rifle sounding like it came from all directions.
“Don’t know! Stay down!” Crank called back. Pecan wasn’t moving, and Wheels’ hand was fluttering as he grasped at nothing. Crank looked around frantically, peeking under the arrayed bikes, and decided that the shots had to be coming from down the street to his left. Moving on his belly, he crabbed on elbows and knees to Pecan. He pressed a finger to the man’s neck but felt nothing. He moved on, stopping beside Wheels.
“Hang in there, buddy,” Crank said as Wheels looked at him with panic in his eyes and clawed at him with a bloody hand. Crank took the hand and held it firm. Wheels was dead already, his body just didn’t know it yet.
“It’s going to be okay,” Crank lied. “Just hang on.”
Lying on his stomach, he watched as the life began to fade from Wheels’ eyes. He didn’t dare try rise up to see where the shooter was located out of fear of ending up like Pecan and Wheels. Since he was still breathing, that mean the gunman couldn’t see them.
“Shiv! Goose! Stay as low as you can, but get Pecan and drag him toward the clubhouse. Everyone, stay flat and keep the bikes between you and the road. Hilt! Help me with Wheels.”
Grunting and straining, the Legion dragged themselves, and their fallen brothers, to the safety of the clubhouse.
***
“What’s bothering you?” Ed asked Lana as they sat in the patrol car. They were parked in a lot near the street on Asher Boulevard, one of the busiest roads in Amberton, slowing down speeders by simply being there and being seen.
“Nothing, why?”
Ed snorted and smiled. “Normally you’re chatty Kathy, but today you seem a little down.”
She looked at him and gave him a half-hearted smile. “This thing with Stilton and Blasick. I can’t believe someone is running around Amberton shooting people like that. That kind of stuff isn’t supposed to happen here.” Lana pursed her lips. This wasn’t her town, the town she grew up in. The entire police force was rocked back on their heels by what had happened. The only saving grace was the media hadn’t picked up on the connection to the Fallen Legion and had reported it as two unrelated murders.
He nodded in sympathy. “The world is changing, Lana.” He thumped his ballistic vest with his hand. “Back when I joined the force, we didn’t have to wear this crap. Now…” he paused as he shook his head. “Now there’s no way I would do this job without it. You never know when some asshole with a gun is going to decide he wants to prove how big his dick is.”
“Yeah, but in Amberton?”
“Why should Amberton be any different? People are people, no matter where they are. The only reason we’re not like Chicago or New York is because there aren’t as many of us. If one in a million were some deranged whacko that goes around shooting people at random, Chicago would have, what, three? New York nine? But I guess our number finally came up.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quieter. “There has to be more to it than that, doesn’t there?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Don’t try to think about it too much. That’s the detective’s job.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No, ‘yeah but,’ Lana,” he interrupted. “We have our job, and the detectives have theirs. If they need our help, they’ll ask for it. If we go around sticking our noses in, we might screw a case they are putting together.” He plucked at his shirt. “Don’t forget, we advertise who we are with what we drive and how we dress. Let the detectives get their hands dirty for once.”
“Don’t you want to be a detective?”
“No. I like the fact that I can come in, do my job, then leave and go home to my wife and kids. I like the fact that a family isn’t depending on me to find their daughter’s killer or rapist. Having that kind of pressure on me would drive me crazy—knowing, that if I fail, somebody didn’t get the justice they deserved and somebody that should be in prison is out running around free.”
She nodded. She could understand that, and it made a certain amount of sense, but she didn’t want to be a patrol officer her entire life. Maybe Ed could leave the job at the station, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know Motor that well, but having him killed in cold blood like that still bothered her. She wanted to have a hand in finding the killer and bringing him to justice. It wasn’t right that anyone, no matter who they are, should have to suffer so much loss so close together. Not like that. It pissed her off, and she wanted to make it right.
She tried to tell herself she would feel like that about anyone that had been murdered. Maybe she would, but Stilton and Blasick still cut her deeper than she wanted to admit, and it was because of Crank. In the past two days, she’d learned a great deal about the man under that leather jacket, and she liked what she’d found out.
All units. All units, the radio squawked. Shooting in progress… 1022 Tottington Drive. Wounded on the scene. EMS dispatched. All available units respond to shooting in progress at 1022 Tottington Drive.
As Ed started the cruiser, Lana reached for the microphone. “Unit 3601 responding!” she said as Ed floored the throttle, the cruiser roaring away, with its lights and siren clearing a path in the traffic ahead.
***
Ed and Lana were the fifth car to arrive, and her heart sank when she realized where they were. The address hadn’t meant anything to her when it had come over the radio, but when she saw the motorcycles arrayed outside the converted storefront, she realized where she was.
She wanted to run to Crank and find out if he was one of the wounded, but she was a cop first and foremost. She couldn’t let her emotions take over right now. She had a job to do.
She, Ed, and the other four officers on the scene worked the crowd and established a parameter to protect any evidence. She saw Crank, apparently unhurt, talking to one of the officers and pointing up the street. She sighed in relief.
She was maintaining the police line when he walked up to her.
“What happened?” she asked. She could see sadness in his expression, but more than that, there was rage there too.
“Someone is targeting us. I lost my sergeant at arms and another brother today. I’m sure they’re going to ask me a dozen times more what happened, but they’re not listening to what I’m telling them,” he said, his voice diamond-hard. “This is the work of a trained sniper, Lana. This isn’t someone walking by on the street taking potshots at us. Just like when I told the cops Stilts was shot from a long way away, this is the same thing. I would bet my ass the shots came from the empty lot at the end of the road up there.” He jerked his chin in that direction. “But the guy blew me off.”
Lana’s eyes went to where he’d indicated. “Way down there? Is it possible to make a shot from that far?”
“Easy. That’s only eight or nine hundred yards. Remember me telling you about Finger? He could easily make that shot.”
She stared at him for a moment. “You think it’s him?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m sure he hates me, but I don’t know what happened to him after he was discharged. I don’t know if he even knows where I am. Even if it is him, why hasn’t he shot me? He could have, at least twice. And why target Motor?”
She pulled out her notebook and pen. “Give me his name, and I’ll check him out.”
“I can’t. I don’t remember it. I’ll have to do some checking and get back to you.”
“Did you tell the detective?”
“I told him where I thought the shot came from, but not about Finger.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t remember his name, and he doesn’t believe me anyway. Just like you, he doesn’t think anyone can make the shot from that far away.”
“I believe you,” she protested, but then looked at the empty lot again. “It’s hard to believe someone can hit a target from that far, though.”
Crank nodded. “The guys I was deployed with can. A lot farther even.”
She looked back at him. “How do you protect yourself against someone who can do that?”
He looked around, and then returned his gaze to her. “You can’t.”