The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (free ebook reader for ipad .TXT) 📗

entrance to the driveway. No lights or siren. Smart officer. They rolled to a gentle stop on the shoulder.

Evarts jumped out with the M-15 at the ready. He heard nothing. They scrambled up to the drive and then Evarts used a hand signal to tell the officer to stay put while he hunched over and ran to the other side of the blocking squad car. Now they were in position. Both quietly walked up the drive on either side of the police vehicle and then the gunshot riddled rental car.

When they got to the front of the cars, Evarts stage whispered to stop and get down. The officer on the scene was at the door of the house talking with the residents. If the perps were inside with hostages, Evarts didn’t want to alert them that backup had arrived.

In a few minutes, the officer turned from the house and walked back toward the cars. As she approached, she touched her hat with two fingers to signal that he had spotted the two police officers crouched by the front fender. Evarts whispered a command and they backed up.

When all three had pulled back to the trunk of the patrol car, Evarts said, “Report.”

“Homeowner claims they’re safe, no problems but wouldn’t allow me to enter. Knew about the car in drive but didn’t request that it be towed. Nervous. I suspect the perps are in the house, so I didn’t push it.”

Evarts bent down below the trunk and called dispatch. “Chief Evarts at abandoned car with two officers. Suspected hostage situation. No sirens, no lights. Verify area secure for half mile in all directions.”

“Copy that.”

He waited for her to issue the orders, then added, “Have S.W.A.T. suit up and dispatched to this location. Also send Commander Standish here to negotiate.”

After she confirmed she had heard the command, he hung up.

“All right, we wait. Officer Watmore, drive your car out of the drive and down the street, then return on foot.”

She nodded and was gone.

Evarts and the remaining officer huddled in foliage that extended along the drive. He surveyed the surroundings. Had they been spotted? The fifty-yard driveway curved slightly, so no direct line of sight from the house to the street. He doubted the people inside the house spotted them but couldn’t be sure. These were professional killers. What would they do? Professional meant careful. This was a job, and they weren’t being paid to harm civilians. They had nothing to gain. They would want to avoid a shootout and knew their chances of beating the lumbering legal system were good.

Evarts told the officer to crawl to his cruiser to retrieve a bullhorn.

When the officer returned, they moved closer to the house and spread out.

Evarts triggered the bullhorn. “Inside the house. We know you’re in there. There’s no escape. The grounds are surrounded. Streets blocked. So far, your compatriots only committed breaking and entering. You were drivers. Leave your weapons behind and step out. It’s your best chance. Come on. I shot the hell out of your car. You’ll probably sue the city for excessive use of force.”

It was a gamble, but experience had taught him that hostage situations were resolved quickly or required lengthy negotiations that sometimes ended with violence. He wanted number one.

They didn’t wait long.

In less than two minutes, the perps stepped out of the house with hands raised.

Evarts and the two other officers broke cover and walked carefully toward the killers keeping a good distance between them. Evarts kept his attention on the men while his officers shouted commands for them to keep their hands raised and for them to kneel. They complied.

When they got close enough to speak in a normal voice, they received a recitation of their rights. Evarts eyed them carefully. They looked fit, possibly ex-military. These were more than drivers; they were backup. Capable of killing.

He stepped into the house to find the occupants frightened but unharmed. He reassured them it was over and stepped back outside to find Commander Standish, arms akimbo with an angry expression.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” Evarts said.

“With all due respect, sir, that was a cowboy stunt. It could have gone south.”

“No due respect required, Commander. It was indeed a cowboy stunt.”

“You should have waited for my arrival,” Standish said.

He smiled at her. “Probably.”

“Did you really suggest they sue the city?”

“I never took your fancy classes, but child molesters use candy to lure kids into their vehicle, so I offered money to lure them outside.”

“Smart. Never heard that one. May I use that ploy in the future.”

“Sure … with attribution, of course.”

She laughed. They had worked together for over a decade and had complete confidence in each other. Evarts had promoted Standish right behind him as he had moved up the ladder and her performance had never disappointed him. For a time, she took a position as chief of a small department up north but returned to the Santa Barbara force when a commander position opened up.

He looked down the driveway to see the perps being led to a police car for transport to the station.

“I want extra security on those two. They’re not run-of-the-mill crooks and they have serious friends.”

They walked down the drive toward the knot of officers putting the men in the backseat of a cruiser.

As they approached, Standish asked, “Lock up or interview rooms?”

“Interview rooms. I’ll interview them myself.” He stood a second by the open car door. “And Commander … turn off the recording devices.”

Evarts knew the prisoners had overheard the comment.

Chapter 24

Evarts marched into the interview room with purpose, slapping a file folder onto the table as he sat. He stared at the man across the metal table. The getaway driver appeared relaxed and returned the gaze without hostility. His studied appearance suggested that this was just another inconvenience he needed to get through. His thick neck conveyed the form of a gym rat. The scarred hands the rough life of a street fighter. His cuffed hands laid flat on the table.