Read Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel Online
Authors: Randall H Miller
Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel (28 page)
“What the hell are you doing here, Luci?”
Sergeant Cromwell grabbed her by the elbow.
“You’re on mandatory leave, but we could use the help if you’re up for it. Can you handle this? If not, I need you to go home right now. Do you understand me?”
Cromwell tightened his grip and shook her arm firmly.
“Hey, are you listening to me?”
Luci shook off the initial shock of seeing such unfettered bloodshed and pulled her arm away.
“Yes, I’m fine, Sarge. Where do you need me?”
“There are a shitload of wounded on the other end of the field who need help. Work with the medics. Stop any bleeding you can. Comfort survivors. These people need us, Luci. Put aside the emotions and get the job done. We can grieve later. Do you understand me?”
“Got it.”
Luci scanned from left to right as she jogged toward the far end of the field.
Keep it together. Breathe deeply. Focus.
Off to her right, firemen spread blankets over a row of bodies. To the left, paramedics worked furiously on a father and his ten-year-old son, both with gunshot wounds to the chest. As she neared the blast area, the grass turned slippery. The smells intensified. She glanced down at her bloodstained boots and tried not to vomit.
“You shouldn’t be here, Luci!” screamed Charlie Worth as he grabbed her from behind.
“Not now, Charlie. And get your hands off me!”
Worth grabbed both of her biceps and pulled her in tight.
“You shouldn’t be here. You’re on leave and way too close to this!”
Luci pulled her arms back, then pushed Worth in the chest with both hands.
“Back off, Charlie!”
He stumbled backwards, stunned. Quickly recovering himself, he sprang forward, grabbing Luci by the front of her white uniform with his gloved bloody hands.
“Your boyfriend was part of this! He killed an unarmed man in the middle of the field and went after another before I stopped him.”
“What? Are you crazy, Charlie? Mark’s not a terrorist
—
he hunts them! Now get your fucking hands off me!”
Luci struggled to free herself from Worth’s grip, but he pulled her in closer and squeezed.
“Charlie, let go of me right now.”
“No. We don’t need you, Luci. Nobody wants you here.”
She kicked him in his shin as hard as she could with the sole of her right tactical boot. When he let go she reached far back with her right arm and struck him in the temple with the palm of her hand. Worth’s knees buckled and he staggered backwards.
“Stay the fuck out of my way, Charlie! I don’t have time for your bullshit!”
As Charlie shook off the blow, his eyes widened. His face turned purple and the engorged veins in his neck and forehead pulsated with each beat of his racing heart. He snarled like a rabid dog and lunged forward with outstretched hands.
Sergeant Cromwell’s muscular arms enveloped Officer Worth around the waist from behind and dragged him backwards.
“At ease, Charlie! What the hell is wrong with you? Get a hold of yourself,” he said as he dragged his officer from the scene.
“She shouldn’t be here, Sarge!”
Cromwell released his bear hug, spun Charlie around, and pulled him close.
“I don’t want to hear any more from you, Charlie. We’ve got the worst disaster in town history on our hands and I need every one of you to do your fucking job.”
Worth began to protest, but Cromwell tightened his grip and cut him off.
“No! No, Charlie! Don’t say a word. Not a fucking word. Listen to me. There was an explosion at the hospital. Did you hear me? Someone may have bombed the hospital, Charlie. I need you to get your cruiser and escort Engine Two to the hospital right now. Go!”
Cromwell pointed Worth in the direction of his cruiser and pushed him on the back. “Go! Now!” When he turned back to face Luci, she was already comforting two blood-spattered cheerleaders.
“How fast can you get us there?” Doc asked.
“About twenty minutes,” replied the Family pilot.
“I’ll get you a week of vacation for every minute you shave off.”
The former U.S. Army Task Force 160th aviator nodded his head calmly and turned around to verify that the other passengers were strapping in. Once the DOJ attorney and three plainclothes operators had fastened their harnesses and given him a thumbs-up, he spoke into the intercom.
“Hold on tight, Gentlemen.”
The modified Bell 407 helicopter sprung into the city skyline, banked hard left over Boston Harbor, and headed north at full speed.
James Woodbridge was overwhelmed when he entered the police station. A lifelong resident and former deputy mayor, he had happily accepted the title of acting chief of police. The sixty-five-year-old retired accountant had been assured that the search committee would quickly vet suitable candidates and recommend three finalists for consideration, and that a permanent chief would be in place in fewer than thirty days. The lieutenants and sergeants would run the day-to-day operations. He would simply be a figurehead with little to worry about.
All of that changed the moment terrorists attacked the town.
“Slow down and explain it to me again, Lieutenant? What’s NEMLEC?”
The department’s ranking lieutenant put his arm on Woodbridge’s shoulder, ushered him into the chief’s barren office, and motioned for him to sit behind the empty desk.
“It’s the Northeastern Massachusetts Law Enforcement Council. They have SWAT assets on site, along with a whole host of other organizations. From this point forward, things will likely become even more confusing than they already are.”
The lieutenant opened the small refrigerator on the floor next to the desk, opened a bottle of cold water, and put it on the desk in front of Woodbridge.
“All these organizations know what they’re doing, but they are going to need time to sort things out. The Governor’s Office has already called and offered to help in any way they can. All we have to do is ask. Up at Founders Field, people are being questioned and scrutinized. One man is currently in custody, but it’s still unclear whether he was one of the shooters or a civilian who got involved. He is being questioned right now. I have already recommended that from this point forward any detainees be handed over to the county. They have more appropriate facilities and more manpower than us.”
“What about casualties? What do we know?” asked Woodbridge.
“It’s bad. We’re still not entirely clear, but we’re looking at a minimum of thirty dead and over a hundred injured. That doesn’t include the attack at the emergency room, which was apparently a less powerful charge. There we have another three or four dead and several more wounded. Surrounding area hospitals are picking up the slack and have raised their security postures. The most critical patients are being airlifted to Boston Medical Center and Mass General Hospital. They’ll get the best trauma care in the world if we can just get them there quickly enough. The biggest challenge with that is …”
Another officer abruptly entered the office and interrupted.
“Sir, the Governor is on line three for you.”
“Can you give us a minute, Smitty? I’m almost done here and I’ve already spoken to the Governor’s Office, okay?” answered the lieutenant.
“It’s not the Governor’s Office. It’s the Governor himself. Said he needed to speak to Mr. Woodbridge ASAP. Told me to interrupt him no matter what. Sorry, Lieutenant.”
The lieutenant nodded his head and pointed at the phone on the desk. All the lines were lit.
“Press the third button from the left and pick up the receiver. I’ll stay right here in case you need me.”
Woodbridge depressed the button for line three, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and lifted the receiver to the ear.
“Yes? This is James Woodbridge.”
The lieutenant checked the time on his tactical watch and scrolled through the messages on his department smartphone.
“Yes, that’s correct. One man. I don’t know the name offhand, but I can find out … uh huh … yes … okay then, Governor … I’ll take care of it. Yes, thank you for your support. I’ll speak to you later, sir.”
“That was quick. What did he say?” asked the lieutenant without averting his eyes from the list of urgent messages on his phone.
“He offered his support. And he expressed how important it was for us to cooperate with the men who are about to land on our department’s helicopter pad.”
The lieutenant put the phone back into his pocket and focused his attention on his trembling boss. “Mr. Woodbridge, we don’t have a helicopter pad.”
“I already told you, the four guys in the public works truck just didn’t look right. By the time I got back to Founders Field, the attack had already begun. I arrived right after the blast. I’m ninety percent sure the shooter I engaged was one of the men in the truck,” said Mark.
“Yeah, we got that part, but why did you kill him?” replied the detective.
“He was standing in the middle of the field shooting into the crowd. What was I supposed to do? I had to stop him. Regardless, he’s not a problem anymore, and I already told you there was another shooter on top of the building and he’s getting away as we speak.”
“Can you give me a description of the other shooter?”
“Not really. He was young. Maybe in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses so I didn’t get a good look at his face. But he definitely had blond hair.”
“How tall?” the detective pressed.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I was lying on my back with a Taser up my ass thanks to one of your colleagues. I couldn’t tell how tall he was. But he had an athletic build and moved like he knew how to handle himself.”
A young uniformed officer sitting next to the detective chimed in. “What does that mean? How does somebody move when they know how to handle themselves? How would you know?”
The detective shot his colleague a quick look that said “I got this” and motioned to Mark to continue speaking.
“Call it intuition based on experience. He was fast. Knew to take cover immediately when I got my sights on him. Like he had done it before. And he was patient. He could have fired on me but had the discipline not to draw any more attention to his position. Trust me, I just know. This guy is dangerous.”
“Right. We believe you. But what did you say your name was again?”
“I haven’t given you my name, Detective.”
“Why were you carrying a handgun? Do you have a license to carry that handgun?”
Mark ignored the question and leaned back against the wall on the far side of the sterile cell. He alternated his gaze between his two inquisitors, who were sitting on stools outside the cell bars. Then he shifted his focus to the ceiling.
“Let’s leave him here for a little while. Take a few minutes to see how things are developing up on the field. See if he loosens up. What do you say?” whispered the young uniformed officer.
“Not yet. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes. My guess is he changes his story a few more times before we get to the whole truth. Go grab us a couple of waters and get one for him too.”
The senior detective was scrolling through the urgent messages on his phone when a faint humming noise broke the silence of the holding area. With each second, the noise level increased until it felt like the building was throbbing.
“What the hell is that?” he asked out loud.
Mark Landry dropped his gaze from the ceiling and looked at the senior detective.
“Probably my ride,” he said.
Three sets of civilian hiking boots hit the pavement within seconds after the helicopter touched down on the far edge of the police department’s parking lot. With M4 carbines slung at the low ready position and badges hanging from their necks, the three operators scanned the perimeter.
Once Doc and the DOJ attorney had exited the aircraft, all five walked briskly toward the rear door of the station.
“You stay here with me,” Doc said to the nearest operator. “And you two go retrieve our package. Get him in the helicopter as quickly as possible and wait for me there.”
* * *
The DOJ attorney had already furnished his credentials and was formally presenting John Woodbridge and his lieutenant with a series of orders that he had retrieved from his briefcase. Both men listened silently and nodded whenever the lawyer paused to ask if they understood.
The other two operators followed the detective down the hall, through the large security door, and into the holding area. When they arrived in front of Landry’s cell, he was standing with his handcuffed wrists stretched out in front of him. “Would somebody please get these things off me?”
“Do me a favor, brother. Unlock the cell and give us a minute,” said one of the operators to the detective in a friendly but firm tone.
“No problem. Here are the keys for the cuffs.”
When the detective had left the holding area, the operators entered the cell.
“So there I was,” began the lead man with the handcuff keys, “sitting at home in Oklahoma and enjoying my time off when Doc called and invited me to join him in Boston for a few days. I thought, ‘Why the hell not? I’ve always liked Boston, and maybe there’s a chance I’ll get to have a beer with my soon-to-be-retired partner while I’m there.’ Little did I know I’d end up having to save your sorry ass instead.”
“Billy, if you want to hug it out, you’re going to have to shut your mouth and unlock these cuffs first,” said Mark. The last time he had seen Billy, they had been on a ship somewhere in the Mediterranean after completing a covert mission in Ukraine.
“This here is Max, the newest member of the Family,” Billy said, pointing to the other operator. “I’m not saying he’s a better partner than you, but he has managed to keep himself out of jail so far.”
Both men exchanged nods. Billy dropped Mark’s handcuffs on the floor and gave him a hug before backing off so he could stretch his arms. Then he glanced behind him to make sure they were alone.
“Here’s the deal. Doc’s here along with some DOJ egghead. They’re laying down the law with the local guys down the hall and will grab any shit they took from you when they brought you in. They’ve already shut down the cameras and all that stuff. So our only task right now is to simply walk outside and get on the chopper. We’ll move on your cue, but I suggest we do so as quickly as possible.”
“Let’s go,” replied Mark.
“Okay, then. Max, let’s make a Mark Landry sandwich. You lead the way out and I’ll bring up the rear.”
The three men exited the cell and walked briskly through the open security door and down the hall toward the station’s rear exit.