Unwitting Alliances - Hunter Blake Series

Hunter Blake

  Unwitting Alliances

  Peggy Lea Baker

  Published by Peggy Lea Baker

  Copyright 2014 Peggy Lea Baker

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, used with permission, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is unintentional or coincidental. Actual locations have either been used with permission, or due to rights within public domain rules, regulations or law.

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for respecting the invested time and conscientious work of this author.

  www.plbaker.wordpress.com

  Chapter One

  “I’m not so sure about this,” a nervous man whispered to another as they conversed quietly in the shadows of a dimly lit alley.

  “Just stick to the plan,” a voice responded with a cough. “You have your orders. Do the job then leave town. I need to get back inside.”

  “But I’ll need some cash if I’m gonna bug out. I need to get to Mexico.”

  “How much?”

  “Two or three bills, I guess.”

  “Here,” the man said. “You know what to do. We don’t need any surprises.”

  “I know but do you know if Ham is even here?” the nervous man asked. “I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days and I’m worried. What if he doesn’t show? Or what if he suspects something and he’s on to us?”

  “We dropped enough hints. He’ll show. Now get out of here and don’t contact me again.”

  “But if he suspects something...”

  “You worry too much,” the man said. “Just do your job and leave everything else to us. Now get going.”

  Woods hesitated then changed the subject. “So... you think he’s gonna win again?”

  “Who? Blake? Of course. He’s a shoe-in, not that it will make much difference after tonight. Now get out of here.” A momentary glow of subdued light scattered onto damp pavement revealing the silhouette of a stout man of medium height dressed in a tuxedo. Muffled applause and laughter cut the stillness until a door closed with a soft click. Woods quickly counted the money then shoved it into a pocket, mumbling something under his breath. Glancing around, he zipped up his jacket to ward off the damp chill and moved away from the door.

  Low clouds still blanketed the dark and cold midwinter sky following rain showers earlier in the evening. Woods headed toward an adjoining street at the end of the alley then eventually turned the corner and disappeared.

  Quietly, another figure emerged from the shadows. Dressed in dark clothing, he stealthily crept close to the building, hesitating momentarily at the door to look around. A shiny wrapper tossed about at his feet in a sporadic breeze. He picked it up with a leather-gloved hand, shoving it into a pocket before following after Woods. At the end of the alley, he stayed in the shadows and scanned the area until he saw his quarry ambling diagonally across the street with his familiar limp.

  Still watching, the man dialed a number. “It’s Hamilton,” he said as soon as someone answered. “Yeah, it was Woods and Allensby... a bit of a surprise seeing the two of them together. Allensby went back inside but I’m tailing Woods.” He listened a moment then responded, “I’ll keep an eye on him... Yeah. Well, based on their conversation, it would seem they’re planning a grab tonight and I think Woods is expected to be some kind of a lookout, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything else.” He hung up.

  Hamilton watched Woods find a shadowy place to hide then stealthily moved in the same direction. “Randy, Randy,” he said to himself. “What have you gotten yourself into this time? And with Gerry, of all people.”

  A year earlier, Hamilton ran into Randy Woods in a bar late one night. Woods was trying to hustle up some work and the two of them struck up a conversation. Hamilton talked him into partnering up and becoming a confidential informant. It worked for a while, as long as Woods was satisfied with the money. Then one day, out of the blue, he suddenly wasn’t interested any longer and took off without much of an explanation.

  After that, Hamilton did his best to stay aware of Woods’ doings as much as possible, suspicious that he’d betrayed their previous working arrangement and possibly put his own activity in jeopardy. Tonight, it was clear that Woods had become involved with the Allensby’s and their apparent connection to an illegal organization that was under heavy scrutiny by federal authorities, and one that he was also keeping tabs on.

  Gerald Allensby, however, was a well-known and prestigious movie producer and would ordinarily seem an unlikely participant in what appeared to be a drug and human trafficking ring. Over time, however, Hamilton discovered there was more to Gerry’s activities than first thought. It was then he began to suspect Woods was now tied in with those same activities but he never expected his old partner would have had any direct contact with Gerry.

  The organization in question operated out of a number of locations, but one in particular was a small village in Mexico, just across the border from Arizona. Several anonymous tips brought Hamilton to the alley this night, but didn’t know for sure if they were legitimate or not. Based on what he’d just overheard, however, it was now clear Allensby may likely have a larger role in what was going on. He was definitely complicit in an apparent plan to grab someone from the event currently underway at the CAMEO Center.

  Checking his watch, Hamilton figured the awards program had another twenty or thirty minutes to go. That meant he didn’t have much time to apprehend his old partner. A few attendees, anxious to beat the traffic, began to exit the underground parking garage. Hamilton took advantage of a couple of vehicles to provide cover sufficient for him to cross the street and confront Woods. Crouching down, Hamilton looked for any unusual dark shapes in among the shrubbery growing here and there. With a smile, he nodded to himself and stood up slowly. Carefully making his way toward a suspicious shadow, he finally stopped, pulled his side arm and quietly called out, “Randy.”

  A rustling in the shrub was the only response.

  “I have you in my sight,” he continued. “You might as well come out of there.”

  More rustling then a response, “Don’t shoot.”

  “Come out slow with your hands where I can see them.”

  The dark mass crept out from the shrubbery and stood with his hands slightly raised. “Hamilton,” he said in mock surprise. “I thought you were...”

  “Don’t you know you’re getting too old for this kind of stuff? You’re in way over your head this time and gonna get killed.

  “So... what are you doing here?” Woods asked his eyes darting back and forth nervously.

  Hamilton could see he was nervously looking around before remarking, “Thought I’d come enjoy the CAMEO’s for an evening just like you, apparently.” A car horn suddenly blasted, distracting Hamilton for a split second, but long enough for Woods to take off running.

  “Damn!” Hamilton muttered. Now in foot pursuit, he dashed down a narrow pedestrian alley between two apartment buildings keeping his old partner in sight. Although Randy ran with a limp, the result of a gunshot injury, he still managed to keep some distance between them both. Hamilton was surprised, given the extent of the damage caused when Woods took a bullet in his right femur a couple of years back. A hasty surgical procedure, in a remote desert clinic, repaired the damage but Woods was left with a shorter right leg and a noticeably distinctive gait.

  Woods reached the next street and paused. Hamilton stopped long enough to take aim but lost his op
portunity when his target took off down the sidewalk. Taking up pursuit again, he could hear dogs suddenly barking excitedly. Reaching the street, he stopped, looking down the sidewalk but saw no one. Parked cars lined both curbs giving anyone plenty of places to hide.

  “What the hell’s going on!” a man called out from an apartment balcony. Will you people stop running through here?”

  “Did you see anyone run through here?” he called up to him.

  “Who are you? A cop?

  “Did you see someone!” Hamilton demanded.

  “No!” he yelled back.

  “Are you sure!”

  “Just some car stopped in the middle of the street.”

  “Which way did it go?” Hamilton asked anxiously.

  “That way!” the man answered angrily, pointing. “Now beat it! You’re driving my dogs crazy!” He stepped back in his apartment and slammed shut the sliding glass door.

  Hamilton holstered his gun and pulled out his phone sending a text, ‘I lost him,’ and adding his location. Minutes later another dark sedan pulled up. Climbing into the back seat he let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe I lost him. I had him.” He leaned back and exhaled again. “None of this makes sense. Why did they bring Woods in? I thought he was already in Yuma getting ready to head into Mexico.”

  A passenger in the front seat turned halfway around, “No one’s seen anything suspicious at any of the other posts either, but they’ll maintain their positions. You sure they were going to grab someone tonight?”

  “It sounded like it, but maybe they didn’t mean it would happen at the event. Something is, or was, supposed to happen tonight, I’m sure of it.” Hamilton gazed out the window into the lighted and bustling streets of Hollywood. “Gerry said something odd, too. He and Randy talked briefly about the awards and Randy asked if Gerry thought Blake would be the winner for Best Actor.”

  “More than likely,” the driver said.

  “I suppose,” Hamilton said, “But, given a remark Gerry made, it seemed to suggest Blake might be the target.”

  “Blake?” the front passenger asked.

  “Yeah. When Randy asked Gerry if he thought Blake would win, Gerry replied, He’s a shoe-in, not that it’s going to make much difference after tonight.”

  “Interesting,” the passenger replied.

  The driver spoke up. “Blake doesn’t fit the profile. He’s too well known, too old, and definitely not female. So why him?”

  Hamilton stared out the side window. “I don’t know,” he replied, unless...”

  “Unless?” the front passenger asked.

  “Just a theory. I need to think about it.” Hamilton leaned back.

  “Now where to?” the driver asked.

  “Airport for me,” Hamilton replied.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “I need to hustle and get back to my other assignment before anyone notices I’m gone.”

  “Just watch your back,” the passenger cautioned.

  “All the time,” he said.