Three Libras - BLACKBIRD book 4

1. hell on wheels

"I'm still wearing this miserable skin
And it's starting to tear from within
But it's obvious that doesn't bother you."
Aaron Lewis, Please

"Morning, sir. Delivery for Mr. Bolton."

"That's me. What is it?"

The agent posing as mailman glanced down at his clipboard. Away from the man in his sixties. In a wheelchair.

"Don't know, mister... Trevor Bolton, right?"

"Senior. Bet you're looking for my son. He's working, but you can leave it to me."

"Sure," replied the agent, and fished in his bag to buy a little time.

"Working?" repeated Cassidy at the vacant house across the street.

"His old man is in a wheelchair and the asshole steals three hundred credit cards to buy explosives?" Aldana growled.

"Something's wrong with the chair," said Ron.

Gillian and the others hurried to him, to see the thermal scanner screen. Ron pointed at the blue object with a yellow dot under the seat.

"Make him turn around," Brock said over the radio.

The agent straightened up with a small package. "Here. Now I only need an ID and your signature, sir."

"Oh, my ID, wait." The man rolled his chair around. "Tony!"

"Fred?" asked Gillian.

At the second floor, Fred zoomed in one of his scopes, plugged to Gillian's computer. All of them cursed at seeing the steel bottle taped with a cellphone between the wheels.

"Son of a bitch!" Cassidy growled.

"Frigging Breaking Bad, man!" said Hank. "He's ready to Salamanca his father!"

A ten-year-old boy showed up. "What's up, Dad?"

"Please, son, bring me my wallet. It's by my bed."

"Son of a thousand bitches!" Gillian snarled. "We gotta get'em outta there!"

"Buy us five minutes," Brock said to the agent.

The team was already moving, as Gillian shot her orders. "Hank, stay here and be our eyes. Call on the cavalry. Fred! Fix that scope and bring your baby. Kurt! You sure he's in there?"

"T's worms tracked him to that location."

"Patch me through to her!"

Ron reoriented the scanner dish. "He's upstairs," he said, putting on a thick protective jacket. "There's somebody in the backside bedroom, sitting at a computer."

Hank took a look at the screen and whistled. "Jeez, he's radiating enough heat to cook a barbeque on him."

Fred's footsteps rattled down the stairs. He paused to check the screen and ran out the backdoor, the rifle case hanging from his shoulder.

"Any other windows?" asked Gillian.

"The master bedroom," Hank replied. "It opens to the left side."

"That's me, then."

Aldana rushed back from the garage, bringing a small safe container and a toolbox.

Gillian saw Cassidy and Brock fastening their Kevlars. Damn. They meant to go with her. She swallowed a sigh.

"The boy's coming back," said Hank.

"Ron, Al, take'em out. I'm getting Casper. Kurt! Tell T to get ready to kick'im out of the mirror."

"Got it, Mom. When?"

Hearing Connor's calm, even casual voice at such a situation felt like the weirdest thing for Gillian. But there was no time for that. "I need at least five minutes."

"Don't worry. Just give us the go."

"Keep'im busy, son." Gillian nodded at Ron and Aldana, then headed to the backdoor as she glanced at Brock and Cassidy. "Shall we, gents?"

While Gillian and her escort-in-suit circled the house, Ron and Aldana went out the front door and ran across the street in plain view, with their special jackets and tools. The little boy brought his father's ID when they reached the Bolton's lawn.

"Here." Bolton handed his ID to the agent, but his eyes were caught by the two strangers running to them.

The agent didn't take the ID. Instead he flashed his badge, all his casual pose vanished, his voice grave and firm. "We're with the FBI, sir. We need you to stay calm and come with us now."

Aldana and Ron dropped their stuff on the grass and sprinted to the open door. She grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him out. Then she lifted him in her arms and hurried away with him. Ron and the agent ignored Bolton's questions and exclamations. They lifted him from the chair and carried him after Aldana.