Page 31 of Fighting for Tawny

Two more bottles landed on their table. Stoltz leaned forward. “I received a message from the network today.”

“Oh? What did it say?”

“To eliminate Tawny Westfall.”

“A direct order? Seems redundant.”

“I assured them that was my plan.”

“Were you given a reason why?”

“No. My guess is the network doesn’t like her lawyer’s connection to powerful people.”

“Like Director Dickinson, for example.”

“Fuck him.”

“Have you worked out the details?”

“This isn’t just on me. It’s on you, too. You’ll be one of the guards at the camp when the women are ready to be in the field.”

“What about the fire captain? What’s her name? Moira Finnigan?”

“She won’t be an issue. Fire captains have never spent the night at the camp. And if she poses a problem, we’ll set up an accident for her.”

They plotted and drank more beer.

CHAPTER TEN

From his place at the bar, Finnigan watched Whitcomb and Stoltz at one of the tables in the back. Moira had passed on information suggesting a connection between the two, and Jiena had given the green light to tail them. After Tex reached out, letting him know he’d tracked the warden and the guard to the off-road bar, Finnigan, disguised as a biker in black jeans, silver chains, and dark leather boots, headed to the same location. He planted himself on the barstool closest to Whitcomb and Stoltz’s table. The noise level prevented Finnigan from hearing their conversation, but the way they sat, stiff and rigid, along with the forbidding expressions on their faces, indicated they weren’t merely two colleagues meeting for drinks after hours.

A short time later, Whitcomb and Stoltz got up and weaved through the dense crowd toward the bar’s entrance. Finnigan waited until they climbed into their separate vehicles before he started Justice’s Harley, which he’d borrowed for his surveillance. The thrilling roar as it came to life had Finnigan exclaiming, “Man, I have to get one of these!”

A chuckle rang through his earpiece, followed by Tex’s voice. “I heard that.”

“You’ve been so quiet, I forgot you were with me.” He gave the Harley some gas and eased left out of the packed-dirt parking lot.

“You’re following Whitcomb.”

“Yeah.”

Several cars intervened between Finnigan and his target, but Tex guided him to an old apartment complex in Chino. Its outdated architecture indicated it had been built sometime in the 1970s. Scattered trees and bushes illuminated by floodlights made the rough exterior more attractive.

“Hang back until Whitcomb parks,” Tex advised. “We don’t want to arouse his suspicion.”

“Copy that.” Finnigan allowed the Harley to idle.

A couple of minutes passed. “Okay, he’s parked in front of Building C. It’s the third building on your left. Do you see it?”

Finnigan eased off the brakes and drifted forward several hundred feet. “I see it.”

“There’s an empty spot in a row in front of that group of trees. You’ll be in the shadows there. Back in and cut your lights.”

Finnigan maneuvered the motorcycle into the designated spot and switched off his headlight. He gazed at the building before him, dotted with lights blazing in windows in a zigzag pattern. When another window lit up on the second floor, he said, “Second floor overlooking the parking lot.”

“I’m looking at the schematics now. Apartment C203.”

“What should I—” Finnigan broke off as headlights suddenly approached from his left. He ducked out of sight behind the trees. “Shit. Someone else is here,” he whispered as if the newcomer could hear him.

---