The Suppressor Erik Carter (books suggested by bill gates TXT) š
- Author: Erik Carter
Book online Ā«The Suppressor Erik Carter (books suggested by bill gates TXT) šĀ». Author Erik Carter
Jake looked through the window again, across the courtyard. He found C.C.ās eyes waiting for him.
And they still bore that look of concern.
Chapter Six
Marvin Tanner slapped a hand against the wall of communications equipment in the back of the van, rocking the entire vehicle.
āHell yeah!ā he said. āWe got āem now! The Farones and the Rojas. Two for one.ā
Harrison, from his position seated behind a bank of small monitors and gauges and multiplex LCD number displays, scowled up at Tannerās hand, where it was planted next to a series of switches.
Harrison was a young guy, black like Tanner, though much lighter skinned, with wild, overgrown hair. He wore an enormous pair of glasses and a blue T-shirt with a logo that Tanner didnāt recognizeāsome rock band, no doubt.
Tanner didnāt care for Harrison, and, really, he didnāt care for any of the tech guys. But they held a significant bargaining chipātheir esoteric knowledge of specialized and entirely necessary equipmentāand they werenāt afraid of flexing that bit of power, as evidenced by the disdainful look Harrison was giving to Tannerās hand.
The insolent little shit.
Tanner removed the hand, but, not to be outdone, he moved it, along with his other hand, to the back of Harrisonās seat.
Harrison inched away as Tanner leaned forward, getting closer to the round metal speaker cover that sat next to a row of dials.
āCan we clear up that interference?ā
Harrison shook his head. āItās, umā¦ā He paused, making a few tweaks to the dials. āItās rubbing against his shirt, I think. Heās on the move.ā
Tanner looked at the black-and-white video monitor, the one directly linked to the tiny camera on the outside of the van.
The Farone mansion was an old-fashioned, stone-sided behemoth with lush green lawns. People leaving, going to the brick-paved driveway, walking toward the dozen or so cars parked around the fountaināold, worn-in vehicles that looked terribly out of place.
Tanner leaned back and turned to Agent Pace, the other man in the back of the van with him and Harrison.
Pace was a big guy, late thirties, with a square head and dark, parted hair. Tanner knew he was of Hispanic heritage, but if he hadnāt known, he would have pegged Pace as a Native American.
āThe Rojas are the principle rivals?ā Pace said.
Tanner nodded. āFor the last six years or so, yeah. Another lower-level gang like the Farones. Joey Farone was kicked out of New York decades ago when he couldnāt cut it with the big boys. He just didnāt have it in him to sever thumbs and break skulls. But since he fell into rapidly progressive dementia the last couple years, the son runs the show, and heās just the opposite of his old man. Sylvester loves the bloody stuff, got a real penchant for torture.
āThe Rojas just arrived a few years agoāa splinter of a bigger outfit in of Colombia. They get the heroin shipments from down south, cut it, package it, and ship it. And itās been putting a cramp in the Faronesā style since they got here. Theyāve collided more than once. The powder keg will be tonight.ā
Pace pointed to the monitor. āWith your undercover man right in the middle of the explosion. Real nice, Tanner.ā
Tanner clenched his jaw. Damn fed. Paceās personality had begun to grate Tannerās nerves within five minutes of meeting him, which made Tanner regret his decision to contact the FBI for a consultant.
āIām pulling Rowe out. Tonight. Before the shit hits the fan,ā he said through his teeth.
Pace shrugged off his brown sport coat, folded it over his arm. āIf we can get him out. Heās too stuck on that girl.ā
āāThat girlā is bringing down the Farone family.ā
āMaybe so, Lieutenant,ā Pace said. āOr maybe our guyās in too deep. Maybe Cecilia Farone is playing him. Donāt see him leaving yet, do you?ā He pointed at the monitor again.
Tanner looked.
The guy was right. Jake was not among those people leaving the mansion.
Pace shoved his hands in his pockets, jingled his keys. āAnd Rowe kills the feed every time he talks to her. Do you really trust him?ā
The agent was awfully insistent, awfully pushy for someone who was little more than a glorified temporary assistant.
More insolence from a younger person.
Was there any respect left in the world?
Tanner stared him down. āYouāre a consultant on this case, Agent Pace. Youāve been here two weeks. You donāt know Jake Rowe like I do.ā He narrowed his gaze. āYouāre damn right I trust him.ā
āIsnāt the guy, like, a spaz or something?ā
Now Tanner was really pissed. Few things bothered him more that gossipāparticularly misguided, dangerous gossip about the people he cared about.
Tanner hadnāt taken Jake under his wing simply because of his brilliantāif not tumultuousāmind, one that had detective written all over it. Jake was a good damn dude, too.
Jake, with his genuine smile. The gym-sculpted physique. His penchant for sharp duds. Unexpected tenacity and grit.
Tanner wasnāt about to let some dirty fed just breeze in here and disparage the guy.
āHe has some focus issues, but he passed his psych exam with flying colors, for your information. We all have our quirks, shithead.ā
Pace chuckled, not looking away. Nothing bothered the guy.
A staticky noise from the speaker. Then silence.
Pace snickered, shook his head. A told-ya-so grin came to his lips.
Harrison looked up at Tanner. āThe feed died.ā
Chapter Seven
Jake looked down at the small plastic slide switch on top of the device, his finger still resting on it. It sat to the left, the OFF position.
He sighed and put the device back in its spot at the front of his pants, beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs. He was in a small bathroom off the great hall, and he checked his reflection in the mirror as he straightened his shirt around the device.
This was going to piss Tanner off, his killing the audio feed. It always did. Jakeās go-to retort was that he was the one putting his life on the line, that if
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