For a moment Cutter thought he hadn’t heard correctly. ‘Tortured and raped?’ he repeated.
‘Their nails were pulled out, there were cuts on their bellies, chests and thighs.’ Cruz looked away from his burning stare. ‘And yes, sexually attacked.’
Cutter looked up when he heard the throbbing of a chopper and then realized the sound was coming from inside him. It was the pounding of his blood, loud in his ears as the banked fury burst and filled him.
‘Are you all right?’ Cruz’s voice came distantly.
‘GROGAN?’ Matteo called out loudly.
‘Yeah,’ he mumbled and forced himself to unclench his fists. He sucked lungfuls of air until the pulsing faded and the night and the light breeze returned.
‘Semen?’ he swallowed. ‘Hair, skin, DNA?’
‘None of the former.’ The lead cop sighed. ‘We’re working on the second.’
‘Both of them?’
‘Yeah, both were assaulted.’
I asked Arnedra to come to LA. I told her she would be safe from that supremacist gang, he thought bitterly.
‘Come down tomorrow, to headquarters.’ Matteo glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll brief you fully.’
‘How did you get here?’ Cruz asked him.
‘Cab,’ Cutter forced himself to reply normally.
‘We’ll give you a ride. Where are you staying?’
‘Vienna’s house. East Hollywood.’
He got into the back of Matteo’s unmarked car, while Cruz got into the front. The lead detective rolled down his window and instructed the patrol cops to secure the house.
Cutter didn’t break the silence until they were nearing their destination.
‘How did you know I was there?’
‘Patrol car in a neighbor’s driveway.’ Cruz met his eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘We’ve been keeping watch to see if any bangers return.’
‘Did they?’
‘You’re the only one who turned up.’
He climbed out when the car rolled to a stop on North Heliotrope. Pocketed Matteo’s card, which the detective handed over, and thanked the cops.
‘Yeah, I’ll be down tomorrow,’ he told them and turned to the gate.
He waited until their tail lights disappeared behind a turn and pulled out his cell.
One am. He’ll be awake.
‘Chad?’ he asked when a voice answered.
‘Yeah, you know what time it—Cutter? That you?’
‘I’m in town. I need some gear.’
‘And you think the middle of the night is the best time for it?’ Chad groused, though there was no rancor in his voice. ‘All right,’ he continued when Cutter didn’t respond. ‘Come on over.’
Chad Liu: armorer to covert operatives, those who had to gear up by themselves when they were deep undercover. Former Delta who ran a gun range in Culver City. Outfitting trusted friends was a side gig that had required him to modify his home and convert the garage into a secure weapons storage. He was well-connected to the cops, many of whom bought their backup weapons from Chad, and that, along with largely selling licensed weapons, had helped him stay clean.
He crushed Cutter in a bear hug and didn’t stop beaming as he escorted his visitor into the house.
‘Sandra?’
‘She’s sleeping. Livia and Jeff, too. An earthquake could hit LA and they wouldn’t wake. Besides,’ he added, pointing to the concrete ceiling in the living room, ‘I’ve soundproofed the house. Nothing can be heard in the bedroom.’
He went to a bar and pulled out two glasses. Splashed alcohol into one and then stopped.
‘You’ve taken up drinking?’
‘Juice.’
‘You’re an insult to Delta,’ he grumbled. Nevertheless, he went to the kitchen and returned with a carton of orange juice, filled Cutter’s glass and handed it over.
‘Remember the time in Afghanistan when Duke thought that goat was Taliban?’ Chad started.
It was three am by the time they finished reminiscing.
‘You didn’t come to LA just to gear up.’ The armorer’s eyes narrowed. ‘What have you gotten yourself into?’
His eyes turned flinty when Cutter broke it down for him. ‘Gangs,’ he spat. ‘They’re everywhere. I heard that on the news … didn’t think it would bring you here.’ He got to his feet and beckoned his guest with a finger. Led him through the kitchen, to a side door and into the armory.
‘I built out the back and created this room.’ He jerked his head to indicate the front wall. ‘Beyond that is my garage. This, here, is secure. Fingerprint scan, iris, all that. Only Sandra and I have access.’
Guns, all of them collectors’ items, lay beneath a glass counter, mounted on silk. Each had a certificate of provenance. More weapons hung on the walls.
‘Spent several years hunting all those, some from Europe and South America,’ he said with a grin and slapped a palm to an open space between a musket and a flintlock pistol. The wall slid aside noiselessly to reveal a concealed space. He pulled out a rack that slid on rails and gestured theatrically at the cache of weapons on the metal shelves.
Cutter picked out several Glocks, HK416s and magazines, and placed them on the counter. He inspected several blades and chose a Benchmade. Stun grenades, tear gas and body armor followed the pile of weapons. He eyed the Barrett M82 and pulled it out, too.
‘I need surveillance cameras, wireless ones, bugs, small—
‘I’ve got just the ones for you.’ Chad went to a stack of drawers and returned with a pouch filled with the gadgets. ‘Batteries, control pads, everything’s there.’
‘I need a drone.’
‘At your service.’ He returned with the equipment, surveyed the pile critically, disappeared behind the counter and returned with a large gym bag.
Cutter loaded the weapons in it, zipped it up and reached for his wallet.
‘No.’ Chad’s face hardened.
‘You have to—’
‘Get going. It’s late.’
‘Chad—’
‘Sandra would kill me if she knew I took payment from you.’
‘She won’t have to know.’
‘She’ll know. No secrets between us. I didn’t tell you Livy’s middle name. Olivia Cutter Liu. You’re her godfather. What you did for Sandra and our kids—’
‘Chad, these weapons, the other gear, they’re expensive—’
‘I can afford to give them away. I’m doing well.’ My business, my rules,’ the armorer cut him off when he further tried to protest.
He led Cutter back through the house and donned a jacket.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Drop you wherever you are staying.’
‘I’ll get a cab!’
Chad waved off his protests and fired up his SUV. He drove to the Wilshire address and stopped in front of the Sycamore Avenue house.
‘Four beds and three baths?’ He eyed it speculatively.
Cutter looked at him in astonishment. ‘How did you know?’
‘I do some house selling as well. I keep busy.’ He laughed. ‘You renting that?’
‘Nope. Friend of mine owns it. He said I could stay in it for as long as I want.’
He didn’t mention that the friend was a multimillionaire whom Cutter had rescued from a kidnap-for-ransom gang.
‘Will you need all of that?’ Chad pointed at the gym bag.
‘Uh-huh.’
I’m going to war.