Lassiter exclaimed, “Oh my God. Each bar?”
“Yeah,” said Decker as he ran his gaze over the crypt wall. “I’d say you’re looking at maybe nine hundred bricks or so. Maybe more.”
“So that means... ” said Ross, obviously trying to do the math in his head.
But John Baron answered. “That comes to over half a billion dollars in gold.”
“And despite the old saying, Baron the First apparently wanted to take it all with him when he died,” quipped Decker. “That’s why I knew the gold wouldn’t be in the potting shed.”
Lassiter said, “God, I knew old man Baron was rich, but damn.”
Decker said, “Well, gold was a lot cheaper back then. Turned out to be a good investment.”
Ross lifted his gaze from the gold bar to Decker. “So, do we have a deal?”
“Actually, I don’t really see how that could happen,” said Decker. “You’ve killed at least ten people that I know of, including my partner’s brother-in-law, not to mention thousands more who’ve overdosed on the crap you’ve been selling. So I’m actually here to arrest you.”
Ross looked at Decker like he was insane. “Okay. But you’re outgunned and in no position to negotiate. And I’ve got hostages you want back. All you’ve got is my old man, who I could give a damn about.”
“No, you’ve got it all wrong, because you made a big mistake.”
“What’s that?” said Ross warily.
In answer, Decker used his free hand to take out his phone. It was on, and in speaker mode. “Assuming I’d be stupid enough to come here without any backup.”
Chapter 73
The lights hit them from all directions.
Long guns slid over the brick walls of the burial ground as the men there stood on breach ladders.
A voice on a PA called out, “Federal agents! Guns down! On the ground, hands behind your heads! Now!”
A chopper emblazoned with DEA on the side suddenly roared over the tree line and cast its spotlight down on them. Assault rifles were trained from the bird on Ross and his group down below.
In the cemetery, some of Ross’s men fired up at the chopper and at the armed men who had suddenly appeared at the top of the brick wall.
Shots rang out all over. The burial ground was quickly shrouded in smoke from all the discharging weapons.
Flash-bangs went off and people screamed. The smoke grew denser. The screams grew louder.
Decker quickly pushed Fred Ross’s wheelchair over next to one of the SUVs.
“Keep your head down,” he told the old man before rejoining the others.
Jamison shouted to Decker, “I’ll get Amber and Zoe.”
She sprinted forward, with John Baron joining her.
Ross and one of his men had also raced toward the hostages.
The two groups clashed right in front of Amber and Zoe.
Ross started to point his weapon at Jamison.
“You piece of shit!” screamed Jamison.
She kicked the gun out of his hand and drove her fist into his nose, and when he staggered back in pain, she nailed him with her knee directly in his crotch. He went down and stayed there. Just to be sure, she jerked his hands behind his back and cuffed him.
Meanwhile, Baron gripped the gun hand of the other man, stripped him of the weapon, bent his arm behind his back, and launched him headfirst into a granite tombstone. The man slumped to the ground and didn’t move.
Jamison lifted Zoe up into her arms and Baron helped Amber to her feet. They took cover behind a crypt as the firefight continued.
Jamison slipped off Zoe’s gag and the little girl looked up in amazement at her aunt.
“Aunt Alex, what you did, that... that was so cool.”
At the gate of the cemetery, something came out of the smoky darkness and struck Decker. He stumbled to the side, slammed into the wrought iron gate, lost his balance, and fell down.
Cindi Riley helped him up as shots continued to ring out and people screamed inside the grounds.
Decker could hear feet running away into the darkness. It had to be the person who had struck him.
He looked into the graveyard and as the smoke cleared he saw several of Ross’s men down on the ground. Others were on their knees, their hands over their heads.
Body-armored DEA agents with assault weapons were swiftly moving in and taking control of the situation. The short battle was over.
The chopper had landed next to the cemetery and Agent Kemper jumped out and hurried over to them.
She said, “I have to tell you, that text you sent telling me to come here blew me away. But I trusted you and it damn sure paid off.”
Decker nodded and looked over at where Baron and Jamison were escorting Amber and Zoe to a group of DEA agents.
“Did you use rubber bullets?” asked Decker.
She nodded. “Like you suggested. We figure we can get these guys to turn on whoever they’re working for higher up the food chain.”
As the smoke cleared further, Riley said, “Decker, I see Ted Ross, but not Lassiter.”
They all looked over to see Ross, his face bloodied from Jamison’s blow, being hauled to his feet by two agents.
Decker said. “Someone ran off back toward the house. It was probably Lassiter.”
“We’ll get her,” said Kemper confidently. “This place is surrounded. I have agents barricading the road up. There’s no way out.”
Decker glanced over at the SUVs. Ross and his wheelchair were gone.
He rushed over there only to find pieces of duct tape on the ground. The old man must have managed to free himself somehow.
Kemper joined him a moment later.
“What is it?” she said.
“Fred Ross is out there in his wheelchair somewhere,” added Decker.
Kemper smiled. “Again, not a problem. Thanks for the assist, Decker.”
She left to confer with some of her men and to confront Ted Ross.
Decker watched her go for a few moments and then looked at Riley.
“Go help the others. I’ll be back.”
Before Riley could say anything, he had already hustled off.
A few minutes later he emerged from the road to the cemetery and looked up toward the house. He stopped and gazed around, listening for someone running. He heard nothing and started moving again. He was listening for the sound of Ross’s wheelchair, but again he heard nothing.
Where could the old man have gone?
He picked up his pace. And where was Lassiter? She couldn’t leave on foot. She would easily be caught. But with a vehicle she might have a shot at running Kemper’s barricade. Decker had the keys to the truck they’d driven up in. But he knew there was another vehicle available.
He hustled toward the garage.
Right as he got there, the truck started up. He heard gears gnashing and the old Suburban hurtled backward out of the garage bay.
He had to throw himself sideways to avoid being run over.
He rolled and sat up as Lassiter spun the wheel and the Suburban cut a one-eighty, its hood pointed toward the road.
From a kneeling position, Decker settled the shotgun’s stock against his shoulder and took aim.
“Get out of the truck, Lassiter! Or I open fire.”
Her answer was five pistol shots fired at him through the open driver’s side window.
Fortunately, she couldn’t really aim and drive at the same time, so her rounds sailed wide.
Decker fired several shotgun blasts at the side of the truck.
The pellets slammed into the old Suburban, blowing out both tires, shattering a window, and pockmarking the doors.
Lassiter screamed and a few moments later the passenger door flew open. He heard feet hit the dirt and then she was running away.