Vigilance Read online

  Blaine had his phone on mute, but it vibrated on the desk next to him and he checked the screen.

  Perry Leighton.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to take this.” He held up a finger and walked over to the wall of windows on the far side of the room. “Mr. Leighton?”

  “You were right about Thompson, Blaine, and that is one twisted customer. I’m thinking of availing myself of your services again. Could Major Bristol provide security for me starting Monday morning?”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll arrange it and have him call you over the weekend to see how you want to set it up.”

  Leighton blew out a breath. “I feel better already, and I know my wife will be pleased. She worries.”

  Blaine ended the call and jogged across the room to his desk. “Sorry about that, Mr. Acosta.” He glanced at Jesse who’d been unusually silent, and Jesse moved over and perched on the edge of Blaine’s desk.

  “I don’t think we can afford to pass on Mr. Acosta. We were only looking for one man right now, but we’ve had injuries from time to time that left us short and it won’t hurt to have a strong team member like this fellow to fall back on.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” said Blaine. He reached across the desk and shook Pablo’s hand. “Let’s get you started with Lil and then you can meet the rest of the team.”

  Pablo smiled. “Didn’t know what my chances were with me being Latino and all.”

  “Hey,” said Blaine, “three of us now.” He pointed, “You, me and Carm.” Blaine escorted Pablo down the narrow hallway to Lil’s office and opened the door.

  She looked up and smiled. “Almost finished with Lane. Got another customer for me?”

  “I do,” said Blaine. “A Seal and a Ranger. I think we lucked out.”

  “We’re the lucky ones,” said Lane. “Coming on board with y’all.”

  Pablo nodded and obediently sat in the chair Lil was pointing her Sharpie at.

  Blaine’s cell jangled. “Chief, what’s up?” Both new guys turned their heads.

  “Write down this address,” said Chief Calhoun.

  “Lil, write this down,” said Blaine, then repeated the address the Chief gave him. “Say the apartment number again?”

  “Twenty-four twelve. Sienna and Bartley Churchill.”

  Blaine repeated it and Lil nodded as she got it down.

  “Which one’s dead?” asked Blaine.

  “Her,” said the Chief.

  “Leaving now, is Mort on the way?”

  “Already gone with Sue and her team.” Blaine waved his arm at the two new recruits. “Finish that later. We’re up.”

  “Do you want Travis and Fletch to meet you there?” asked Lil.

  “Where are they?”

  “At the range.”

  “No, Fletch needs time there. He’s skittish since he got shot. Jesse can come with and we’ll get a read on the scene first, then see who we need.”

  “Where’s Jesse going?” he asked as he stepped out of the office.

  “High profile shooting downtown.”

  “Happened in the middle of the day?” asked Jesse.

  Blaine shrugged and waved to Farrell in the kitchen. “Chief said it wasn’t an hour old.”

  Farrell trudged out of the kitchen, cowboy hat on and reflector shades. “Am I going to this party?”

  “We all are.”

  CONGRESS CONDOS overlooked the grounds of the Capitol. Not close, but you could see a few of the statues and the tops of the trees if you peered out the windows at the right angle.

  Sienna Churchill might have been trying for a look at Stephen Austin’s statue when the sniper’s bullet caught her right between the eyes. She’d fallen close to the window wall wearing a pink satin dressing gown and still gripping the sheer curtain in her hand. The weight of her falling had bent the rod and pulled the curtain halfway down. A pool of blood had seeped into the carpet around her head.

  Doctor Mort Simon knelt beside the body doing his thing, his assistant, Tim, beside him.

  Bartley Churchill had been in the shower when his wife was shot and hadn’t heard a damn thing because of the pulsing rainforest showerhead, or so he claimed. He sat on the other side of the spacious living area on a white leather sofa, slumped forward in grief, his head in his hands.

  Blaine introduced himself, Jesse, and his team. “Blaine Blackmore, Mr. Churchill. I realize it’s not a good time for questions, but we have to get your statement out of the way. Could you tell me in your own words what you remember?”

  He shook his head. “I already told the Chief on the phone. I phoned him directly, right after I called Catherine.”

  “You called Governor Campbell first?” asked Blaine.

  He held up his hands. “I don’t know why. It was the first thought that came into my head. My God, Sienna is dead. I have to tell Catherine. Maybe I was in shock.”

  “Possibly.” Blaine made a motion with his arm and Farrell led the boys to have a look around the condo. “Tell me anything you can recall, sir. Start with when you got up.”

  “There was nothing different about today if that’s what you’re fishing for.” Bartley Churchill was not pleasant looking. Overweight with jowly chops and thinning hair, he was dressed in a gray track suit and fiddled with the strings at his middle. “I was up first and made coffee. I took a cup into my office and checked my emails. Then Sienna got out of bed and I heard her walk across the living room into the kitchen and open the fridge. That’s the first thing she always did—pour herself a glass of orange juice.”

  Blaine nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “I can’t see where this is getting us anywhere, Ranger Blackmore. “What’s the point?”

  “Keep going, sir. Sometimes important things will crop up just in the retelling.”

  “Don’t think so, but okay.” He took a couple of deep breaths and continued. “I answered a couple of emails, then went into the ensuite and took a shower. When I came out, I intended going to the kitchen to see if my wife had started breakfast, but I only got as far as the living room.” He dropped his head into his hands again and emitted a couple of hoarse sobs.

  “Did your wife have any enemies?”

  “None.”

  “What about you, sir. Have you had trouble with anyone or received any threats?”

  “No, of course not.” Churchill snapped out his answer and regarded Blaine as if he’d lost his last lick of sense.

  Blaine placed a card on the glass table. “Thank you, sir.” He turned off the recorder and slipped it into his pocket.

  The door of the condo opened and the Ranger securing the hallway allowed Special Agent Gene Wyman in, the Governor’s chief of security, and behind him, Governor Campbell herself. “Oh, my God, Blaine, how could this happen?” Cat ran across the room and hugged Blaine.

  He held her in his arms as she sobbed. “My best friend is dead.”

  Jesse unhooked her from Blaine, took her arm and led her over to the sofa where Churchill was sitting. “Come sit down, Catherine.” To: Churchill. “Sir, would you get the Governor a shot of bourbon, please?”

  Cat looked adoringly at Jesse through watery eyes. “Thank you, Jesse.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Catherine,” said Churchill, getting to his feet, “I should have offered.”

  Leaving Cat in conversation with Bartley Churchill, Jesse and Blaine shook hands with Gene Wyman, then returned to the windows and looked where Farrell was pointing.

  “Downward trajectory. He was holed up in that building over there.”

  THE COLONEL TRAVIS BUILDING was twenty-nine storeys high. In the elevator Jesse asked, “Do you think he was a floor higher than the Churchill’s condo, or on the roof?”

  “I’m guessing roof,” said Blaine.

  The chief of security riding up with them said, “I can find out if there are any vacant offices. What floor would it be if he wasn’t on the roof?”

  “Twenty five and up,” said Jesse. “He was higher than twenty-f
our.”

  The door to the roof was locked and when the team searched they found nothing. No footprints, no brass. Nothing.

  “Okay,” said Farrell. “Let’s check the vacant offices on the east side and work our way down from the top floor.”

  The building security chief, Wally Wakeford, a sharply groomed man in his fifties, checked his floor map and said, possible on twenty-seven. Empty and on the side you want.”

  “Let’s see it,” said Blaine. The two new guys had been following along watching, observing and not saying a word.

  Wakeford unlocked the door and let the team in. Blaine held up a hand at the door. “Gloves and booties. There’s a nice neat circle of glass removed from the window.”

  “Look at that,” said Wakeford, his eyes wide.

  Blaine blocked him. “I’ll have to ask you to remain outside the office, sir. A crime scene unit will be along shortly and perhaps you could show them the way.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He backed off looking none too pleased.

  “Jesse take Lane and go left, Farrell take Pablo and go right. Interview every office and get names and phone numbers of who you talked to as well as a list of employees with their information.”

  “What are you doing, boss?” Farrell’s usual taunt.

  “I’m securing the scene and calling Sue and telling her where we are. I’ll wait here until the techs come to take over. I might tell her where you are too if you’re not careful.”

  “Fuck,” said Farrell, “she’s hot for me.”

  Pablo smiled.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Saturday, March 7th.

  Huntsville Prison.

  “MONDAY AT TEN,” Ewing barked at his brother. After standing for half an hour in the phone line, his mood had not improved. The guy behind him took a step back.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

  “I want to make a stop on the way to Austin.”

  “Where?”

  “Won’t take long.”

  “No problem.”

  Two days to go.

  BLAINE called a Saturday morning meeting. Breakfast was over, and the table cleared when the two new guys arrived along with Travis and Fletcher. Farrell lived with Blaine, so he was already there.

  Lexi and Hoodoo bounced around, happy to see the new arrivals. “This is Lexi,” said Blaine, “she’s big but gentle, and this guy is Hoodoo, my girlfriend’s Bernese. He’s staying with us while Misty is away. Over there in the prep area we have Carmelita Flores. She will feed you and give you a calling down in Spanish if you deserve it.”

  Pablo smiled.

  “You’ve met Lil.” She sat at the end of the table with her pad and pen ready to go. “Lil holds us all together. You can phone into the office and she will know where I am, and where the others are and what’s going on. Always.”

  Farrell strode over to the coffee maker for a refill.

  “There is always coffee if you’re here at the Agency. I’m a bit of an addict and Carm keeps a fresh pot on for me. So get a mug and fix it the way you like it, then we’re gonna talk about the coming week.”

  “Did we get anything on the murder yet?” asked Fletcher.

  “I’ve got a lot of research to do on the husband. Chances are they were aiming for him and he’s not saying why, or he hired a shooter to cap his wife. It’ll take some digging to find out if it was all about him. Cat might be able to help me with that too. I’ll go over there tomorrow and pick her brain.”

  “Are we like… friends with Governor Campbell?” asked Pablo.

  “You saw her hugging me yesterday?” asked Blaine. “Uh huh, she’s an ally. She supports everything we do, both personally and in the media. She helps in a lot of ways I don’t have time to explain, but yes, she’s a friend to the Agency.”

  Pablo nodded. “Friends in high places are good.”

  Blaine sizzled his retort. “It ain’t like that.”

  “Okay, sorry, boss.” Pablo slumped down in his chair.

  “No problem. Let’s concentrate.”

  “You said you wanted to talk to me, boss?” asked Travis.

  “I do. This concerns Monday. Farrell found out through our network that Ewing Thompson is being released from Huntsville on Monday.”

  “Nope, that ain’t right, boss,” said Travis. “Three strikes on that asshole. He’s never coming out.”

  “But it is true. One of the convictions—I believe it was the rape—has been overturned and they’re letting go of him on Monday at ten a.m.”

  “Fuck that,” said Travis.

  Blaine nodded. “The thing is, rumor says Ewing doesn’t like Austin any more. Don’t know what that means but we better be ready to deal with it when we damn well find out.”

  “What do you want me to do, boss?” asked Travis.

  “You’re on the DA. Mr. Leighton has requested you personally for his bodyguard.”

  “Okay. Easy enough.”

  “You call him tomorrow and make your own arrangements as long as you are with him when he leaves the house Monday morning.”

  “Got it.”

  “So that will leave Fletch temporarily without a partner. Lane will partner with Fletch. More on that when we get to the range.”

  “Pablo will work with my brother, Farrell, and I’ll partner with Jesse, but ultimately we’ll all work as a unit if something is going down.”

  “Any idea what kind of mayhem this Thompson fella is all about?” asked Lane.

  “I do not,” said Blaine. “But as Pablo pointed out we have contact in high places. And there is one member of our team you haven’t met yet. She’s not officially on the team, but she works behind the scenes. Let’s go meet her now.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch, La Grange.

  Blaine parked the big black Ram diesel near the garage and the crew jumped out. Travis was missing. He’d gone straight home to get ready for his assignment at Leighton’s and Jesse had skipped the morning meeting entirely, but he planned to catch up at the shooting range.

  As the crew sauntered towards the front porch, Annie opened the door to greet them. “Morning boys. Welcome to Coulter-Ross. I filled a cooler with Cokes if one of you strong handsome men want to carry it to the range for me.”

  Lane and Pablo stopped and stared, and Blaine made the introductions. “This is my Mom, Annie Powell and Farrell’s Mom too.”

  “Come on in and we’ll get some ammo and get started on your training.”

  “Your mother is going to train us?” Lane’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “That’s right,” said Blaine.

  “I’m already a good shooter,” said Lane.

  “If you’re watching my back, I want to see how good you are. I’m not taking your word for it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Annie welcomed them into her huge farmhouse kitchen. “Have a seat, boys and we’ll talk about what y’all are shooting. I have a good assortment of ordnance and clearly have favorites, but we’ll see what y’all are comfortable with. Blaine said you both have military training, so you might not need my help too much, but anything I can do to make you a little keener in your senses will help you out under pressure. That’s why we’re going the extra mile. Pressure under fire.”

  “I’ve been under fire lots in the war zone,” said Pablo.

  “Me too,” said Lane.

  Annie ignored them. “And you brought your own pieces with you?”

  They both acknowledged that they did.

  Annie smiled, and her gray eyes flashed. “Neither one of you seem happy to have me looking over your shoulder, but I don’t give a flying fuck if y’all are happy or not. What I care about is not having my boys dead.”

  Lane nodded. “I get your meaning, ma’am.”

  “You can call me, Annie.” To Farrell: “Bring a couple rifles and a couple of shotguns outside would you, sugar pop?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “I want to thank you for yesterday, Annie,” said Fletcher. “Raised my c
onfidence level up a notch.”

  Annie smiled at him. “You know what you have to work on, sugar. Strengthening the arm that was wounded is a big part of it. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  At the range, out behind the log guest house, Farrell and Blaine set Fletcher, Lane and Pablo up with targets and noise mufflers.

  Annie went from one to the other, making adjustments on their breathing, their stance, and tweaking muscles they didn’t even know came into play. They ran the gamut of handguns, rifles and shotguns and spent a little time on automatic weaponry.

  When they were exhausted and drenched in sweat, she held up a hand. “It’s time for a beer and some food, then we’ll start over.”

  Lane slumped down onto his chair in the kitchen and took the cold beer from Annie’s hand. “Where in hell did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “My husband was a gunsmith and he taught me.”

  “Good teacher,” said Pablo. “I didn’t think I could learn anything from you, but I was wrong, and I apologize for thinking that.”

  Annie giggled. “No problem.”

  “I want to be as good with my left hand as you are,” said Lane. “Here I was thinking I was at the top of my game, and I fell so far short. Gave me something to work for and I needed a new goal.”

  “We all need goals,” said Annie. “When George first took me to the Regulator’s range to teach me to use a gun, my right arm was broken. I learned with my left and it’s my dominant shooter even though I’m right handed.”

  “The boss said you trained yourself to shoot from horseback,” said Pablo, “like they do in those competitions.”

  Annie nodded. “I have an Annie Oakley complex so that was a natural progression for me. Great training for hitting your target when you’re moving fast—really fast.” Annie giggled. “We’ll saddle up one day and I’ll let y’all try it.”

  AFTER SPENDING hours at the range, Blaine took the boys to Smithville to the steakhouse for a couple of drafts and some dinner on the way back to Austin. Back in the city, he let the boys go home and have the rest of their weekend off.

  “Thanks, boss,” said Pablo with a big grin on his face. “A helluva good day. Don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more.”