Ghosts - Matt Rogers (warren buffett book recommendations .TXT) 📗

week. She was stronger than the rest.

Wouldn’t matter.

Icke tapped the watch face and smiled, looking at her for the first time.

She cowered away.

‘Ten minutes, Elsa,’ he said, head in the clouds. ‘Then I’m picking that delicate brain of yours.’

68

Slater said, ‘I don’t like the cautious approach.’

King checked his phone, noted a text message from Violetta.

Kerr called again. She lured four of Icke’s best men out to North Racetrack Road under the guise of a security cordon. She didn’t need to do that. She’s turned on him.

Doesn’t change what she’s done, King thought. Doesn’t change who she is.

But it was progress, and sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

King relayed the text, then said, ‘The battering ram approach is the same situation as Ray’s warehouse. It could get the hostages killed.’

‘Icke’s not as impulsive as Ray.’

‘Didn’t know you knew either of them.’

‘They’re all degenerates,’ Slater said. ‘I’ve been on both sides of that particular border. I know what it does to you. Ray was always a small time player in the big league. Icke runs the league. He can’t afford to be as rash.’

‘You managed to balance it well enough,’ King said. ‘You spent most of your early career under the influence. You didn’t let it compromise you.’

Slater said, ‘I went dead sober on the ops, and then made the rest of my life a blur so I didn’t have to think too hard about what I was doing to my body and my health. I’m sure Icke can do the same when it comes down to crunch time. He’ll be level-headed tonight.’

‘Or not,’ King said. ‘Don’t compare your abilities to those of a bent judge running a trafficking network.’

Slater stewed.

King said, ‘You went sober for ops that mattered. You did everything for the right reasons.’

‘Did I?’

Silence.

Slater followed the GPS along West Warm Springs Road, passing out of Paradise. Henderson loomed, and traffic was sparse in the middle of the night.

Until it wasn’t.

They spotted the lights first. Flashing blue and red, warm and faint in the distance. The colours would be rather muted if they weren’t accompanied by the pang in King’s gut as he identified the roadblock.

Slater had to slow to bundle into a line of cars heading east, trickling toward the cop cars across the road. He gripped the wheel tight.

He said, ‘How much time?’

King checked his phone. ‘Nine minutes.’

‘Might have to do something drastic here.’

‘Cool it. We’ve got time.’

‘No we don’t.’

‘Slater.’

Slater gripped the wheel tighter.

King said, ‘Cool it.’

The line inched forwards.

Slater wiped sweat from his brow. ‘I don’t like this.’

‘You want to start a chase and bring half the LVMPD down on the complex?’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Lights. Sirens. Gunfighting straight off the bat. The hostages will die long before we can get to them.’

Slater clenched his teeth and tapped a finger relentlessly against the wheel.

The Rezvani Tank was practically a homing beacon amidst the civilian vehicle line-up. It screamed “suspicious.” Slater buzzed the bulletproof driver’s window all the way down and put his elbow on the sill.

Three cars to go.

One went through.

Then the next.

There was a hold up with the third.

Seconds ticked.

Slater said, ‘How long?’

King looked at his watch.

Seven minutes.

He didn’t say anything. He could feel Slater’s foot hovering above the accelerator, ready to tap into all one thousand horsepower at any moment…

King said, ‘I swear to God, don’t do it.’

‘We don’t have time.’

‘One car, Slater. One fucking car.’

The car in question was a beat-up old sedan. It looked set to fall apart. The officer conducting the roadblock had his head through the window frame. He was nearly half-inside the car.

A shout rose up.

The sedan’s tyres screeched and it shot forward and swerved around the blockade, thumping and jolting against the potholed shoulder. The cop barely managed to extract himself before the side of the window clipped him in the head. He staggered away from the car, signalled to one of the vehicles comprising the blockade, and the squad car flipped its lights and sirens on and peeled off in pursuit, two officers on board.

King sat still.

Slater sat still.

The first officer shook it off and ushered the next vehicle forward. Consummate professionalism.

Slater crept up to the front of the line. Jacked up on modified suspension, the cop had to look up through the open window at them. He could have mounted the step to get closer, but he didn’t. Probably rattled from getting too close to the first car.

From the passenger side King called, ‘What was all that about?’

The cop was maybe forty, with a kind face and too many wrinkles for his age. The job stress, King figured. He knew a thing or two about that.

The guy shook his head, still flabbergasted. ‘Just some junkie. I could see he was high from a mile away. I got too close and he got spooked.’

‘Rough night for you boys?’ Slater said.

Under the sill, he gripped his SIG.

King saw it.

Tried not to think about it.

The cop said, ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

‘We’re ex-military,’ King said. ‘We understand.’

The cop was about to ask, Which branch? but in the interest of time he refrained, which was helpful considering King didn’t feel like lying to the guy, and he would have had to.

Instead he said, ‘What are you doing driving around in this damn thing?’

Slater said, ‘It’s a commercial vehicle. Perfectly legal. We’re enthusiasts.’

The cop shrugged. ‘To each their own. You boys are lucky you got me, though. There was a shoot-up off Blue Diamond Road earlier today, and there’s been reports of another incident in Arden. We think it’s gangs. Anyway, take a hot tip from me — maybe drive something less conspicuous for a few days. You don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention.’

Slater said, ‘You got it. Thanks for the heads up.’

Every sentence was another few seconds ticking away.

King could sense the stress dripping from Slater’s pores.

The cop said, ‘Where are you headed?’

King jerked a thumb at Slater. ‘He’s got family in Henderson.’

‘Bit late for that.’

Slater said, ‘Dad usually works night shifts. His sleep pattern’s