He heard running footsteps, and five men ran out of the security hallway past the dead guard. He saw other men emerge from dark places all over the property in twos and threes and head for the street.
The two men with the body set it on the lawn only a few feet from Stahl. He knew they were going to get others to help pick it up and take it with them to one of the SUVs.
He crawled out a few feet on his belly, took his cell phone out of his pocket, and reached under the body armor of the dead man. He slid the phone under the man’s belt and into the front of his underwear. Then he withdrew, creeping backward into the dark entrance to the building, and became still.
Four men ran back from the edge of the street and lifted their fallen comrade. When they reached the three SUVs that had pulled up at the curb, they loaded him into the rear cargo space of the last one.
The three SUVs began to move. As soon as they were down the block, Stahl got up and ran to the driveway and into the garage, where Hines was sitting in the driver’s seat of her car.
She said, “What did you see?”
He said, “They’re leaving in three black SUVs. If we don’t find out where they go, we’ll never find them.”
“Get in,” she said. “We’ll go after them.”
“Hold on,” he said. “Give me your phone.”
She took her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “What happened to yours?”
He said, “When I bought our new phones, I programmed them to locate each other.”
“I know.”
He pulled her door open. “Get out. I need your car.”
She got out.
“I put my phone on that dead guy’s body, and I’m going to use yours to track it. Tell the cops to get Almanzo and have him track me on your phone.” He got into her car, started it, and drove out to the driveway. While he waited for the gate to open he turned on Diane’s phone and engaged the GPS locating application.
A map of the nearby area appeared on the screen followed by a red dot with a circle around it. The dot was heading for San Vicente Boulevard. He began to drive up the street toward San Vicente, but not fast enough to intercept the three vehicles, or to pull within sight of them.
Stahl looked at the dashboard of Diane’s car. Diane had filled the gas tank recently. He was not surprised. She was a woman who had lived alone for years and learned early in life to keep a car’s tank full, change the oil, and keep the tires properly inflated. It wasn’t a stupid car. It wasn’t sporty and eye-catching. It wasn’t cute and underpowered. It was a simple black Toyota Camry with a decent-size engine.
He put Diane’s phone in the holder she’d installed on the dashboard for it, so she could talk or use the GPS for directions with her hands free. When he had to stop for the next red light, he reached for the M4 he’d left leaning against the passenger seat. He removed the magazine and looked at the slot along the front to count the copper-jacketed noses of the rounds inside. He’d fired twelve rounds, which left him eighteen.
His Glock 30 pistol held only ten .45 rounds and one in the chamber. He had another ten in his spare magazine.
Stahl had no intention of engaging in a gun battle with these men. He might as well shoot himself here and save the drive. But it felt better to have something to fire if he made a mistake. He might be able to delay his death for a while.
The tracking signal on Diane’s phone was strong. He followed a course parallel to the one the dozen men were on. Before long he could see that they were heading northeast consistently, not speeding or taking reckless chances. The symbol of Stahl’s phone stopped at some intersections and went steadily through others, which meant they were obeying traffic signals. They were being careful not to appear to be fleeing.
They crossed Wilshire Boulevard, Sunset Boulevard, and Hollywood Boulevard. They climbed into the hills at Crescent Heights, and stayed on the road as it became Laurel Canyon. He checked the screen of Diane’s phone often as he drove, careful on the winding road to stay back where the vehicles he was following couldn’t see him.
He couldn’t be sure the vehicles were together anymore. He had slid his phone into the dead man’s clothes. All he had was a fairly reliable indication that he was following a corpse.
44
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“This is Sergeant Diane Hines, badge two eight nine six three. I’m at the home of police captain Richard Stahl, Seven Twenty-Three Anthony Drive. We’ve been attacked by several men armed with fully automatic AK-47 rifles. They killed two security guards here in order to gain entry. They’ve driven off in three black SUVs, and Captain Stahl is following them using a cell phone GPS program. It’s essential that you transmit this call to Captain Bart Almanzo, the commander of Homicide Special.”
“Are you in a safe place right now?”
“Safe enough. I’m inside the condominium.”
“Then stay where you are until the officers get there.”
“I don’t plan to go anywhere.” She was sitting in the corner of the kitchen using the house phone. Dick was using her cell phone to track his phone, so there had been no better way to call the police to reach Almanzo.
Diane wasn’t sure why the police weren’t here already. She’d assumed the guards had called 911 right away, but now she thought probably they hadn’t. There must not have been time before they were killed. She had called during the thirty seconds or so while she waited in her car for Dick, but nobody seemed to know that either. Had her first call broken up because she was underground in the garage?
Using the house phone was the best way. The computer program that ran the emergency communication system had a reverse phone book, so it identified where a call had originated. The cops would be here soon.
She waited, holding the phone and listening to dead air. Now and then the emergency operator said, “Are you still there, Sergeant?”
She would answer, “Still here.”
The operator would say, “Keep standing by. I’ll be here with you.”
“I’m here,” Diane said. “If I have to hang up I’ll warn you.”
She switched the phone to speaker and set it on the kitchen table where she could hear it without pressing it to her ear. She wanted to keep both ears uncovered so if anything happened in the condominium building she would hear. She kept the M4 she had used to shoot the terrorist on the table with her hand near the trigger guard.
When had she decided to call him a terrorist? she wondered. She deduced that it was when she’d identified the AK-47.
The time seemed too long. She said, “Did I neglect to tell you that this is a life-and-death emergency? Where are they?”
“I’m showing them as all around you, pretty much,” the operator said. “They’re closing in.”
“Tell them I’m coming out.” She hung up.
She removed the magazines from the rifle and her Glock, left the guns and ammunition on the table, stood, and walked to the front door. She switched on the porch light over the front steps and opened the door wide without standing in it. She waited until a number of bright spotlights from the cars and police officers all converged on the spot, and then she stepped out with her hands high in the air.
When she got a few steps from the door and onto the lawn she knelt there to wait, her hands still high. She judged it was safe to look around, so she tried, but the bright lights made it impossible. She knew there was a SWAT team out there in the dark behind the lights.
Seconds later she heard the sound of men running in combat boots. The first shout was: “Lie down where you are with your arms spread.”
She eased herself forward onto her stomach and let the first SWAT team members approach.