LATER THAT DAY
I shrugged. “This area was pretty much abandoned for a long time,” I said. “What they’re putting up is not to my taste, but, then, nobody bothered to ask me.”
“Not a dream come true for me, either,” Bobby said.
“What does suit you?” I asked.
“A nice house in the woods, maybe by a lake,” Bobby said. “A couple of dogs, a fireplace, tons of books, a case of Pappy Van Winkle. I get that and I will die a happy old federal agent.”
“I didn’t hear mention of a wife,” I said.
“All those other things I can go get on my own,” Bobby said. “All you need is money. Finding someone to fall in love with, that needs some luck and timing. I haven’t been good with either one.”
I glanced over at him. “Ever come close?” I asked.
Bobby looked at me and smiled. “Just once,” he said. “But I let her get away.”
I nodded and turned back to glance at the heavy street traffic. “Tell me about this guy we’re meeting,” I said. “Is he solid?”
“He’s been my inside guy at the firm,” Bobby said. “Started feeding me info a few weeks after I started looking into their operation. He’s given me enough to work off of. Trouble is, he’s not high up enough to get me to the partners. He’s junior level. Your brother was about three rungs above him.”
“So, he gives you what he might overhear along with office rumors and gossip,” I said.
“Along those lines,” Bobby said. “Everything he’s come back to me with has proven out.”
“Is this how you usually meet with him?”
Bobby shook his head. “He calls me using a burner,” he said. “About once, sometimes twice a week. We never do face-to-face meetings. He called me the other day, said he had something hot to pass on. But he needed to do it in person.”
“Any idea what he’s coming to you with?” I asked.
“Not sure,” Bobby said. “But he sounded nervous on the phone. His voice cracked a few times. He must think it’s important or he wouldn’t expose himself like this. Out in the open. He’s taking a big chance.”
“You think the firm got wise to what he was doing?” I asked.
“I hope to hell the answer to that is no,” Bobby said. “He’s a good guy, just took a job with the wrong firm.”
A dark-blue sedan pulled up to the corner, doing a hard skid between a hot-dog vendor and a cement truck. Bobby and I tossed our coffee containers and pulled our weapons from their holsters. He yanked his federal shield and chain from under his shirt and let it dangle across his chest.
Two well-dressed young men stepped out of the car and walked toward us, stopping several feet away. “I guess we’re not who you were expecting,” the one on my left said. He had long brown hair and a dark goatee, his eyes hidden by wraparound shades.
“No, you’re not,” Bobby said. “But I’m always open to making new friends.”
“Your boy is no longer with the firm,” the man in the shades said. “He wasn’t a good fit.”
“Took two of you to come tell us that,” I said. “A text would have worked just as well.”
“He no longer had access to a phone,” the man said. “Of any kind. And the firm didn’t just send two of us. They sent three. We drove. Mark, the guy behind you, he’s a mass transit kind of guy.”
I kept my eyes on the two in front of me. Bobby was to my right and standing sideways. “Can you make out the third guy?” I asked him.
“Hard to miss him,” Bobby said. “He’s got a gun braced against his right knee and his back to the wall.”
“He’s yours,” I said. “I’ll deal with these two.”
I walked away from Bobby and started toward the two men. Each put a hand inside his jacket pocket, fingers gripped around a weapon. A group of four construction workers crossed between us and I made my move. I slid past one of the workers and rushed the man with the shades. I caught him at chest level and sent him sprawling to the ground. I was bent over and aimed my gun at the man left standing. “Before that piece leaves the holster,” I said to him, “you’ll be bleeding from two bullet wounds.”
I glanced down at the man with the shades. He had both hands on the cracked pavement. “I figure you’re in charge,” I said to him. “So I’ll make it your call.”
The man took a deep breath. “We got a job to do,” he said. “And being arrested by a fed and a broken-down ex-cop wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Guys like you never take the easy out,” I said. “You’d rather die for some guy who doesn’t give a shit whether you live or not.”
I couldn’t see his eyes, because of the shades, so I focused my attention on his right hand, slowly inching its way from the pavement toward his holster. The guy standing to my right held his position, waiting to make his move. “Take him, Dale,” the guy with the shades said to his partner.
Dale reached for his weapon, and as he pulled it, I shot two bullets in his direction. One hit him in the shoulder, the other shattered his gun hand. The pain sent him to his knees. The man with the shades pulled his weapon, lifted himself up, and fired one round. I felt the heat as it whizzed past, praying it didn’t hit a bystander. I moved to my left, took aim at the man in the shades, and fired one clean shot into his stomach. His gun fell from his hands and he clutched at his gut.
I moved quickly and kicked both guns away from the wounded men. I glanced around and was surrounded by construction workers and a handful of pedestrians. “Stay back,” I said. “It’s a police situation.”
I pulled my cell phone and speed-dialed the chief’s line. A woman answered on the second ring. “This is Tank Rizzo,” I said. “Tell the chief we’ve got a ten-thirteen on Thirty-fourth and Tenth Avenue. Send backup and a truck. There’s two down, both wounded. A federal agent is on the scene with a third gunman.”
I slid the phone off, holstered my gun, reached down and picked up the gunmen’s two weapons, and went to check on Bobby.