Page 32 of Fire and Ice

"For God's sakes, no! But it will make my situation very difficult as my organization and I are trying to get rid of the Russian big fish involved in all this. My cover is very important and we don't want to spook him before we are ready to take him down," Maia said.

"We got your back," Kyle said and Betty simply nodded. The poor woman was shaking.

"Great. Here's the description of our rescuer: he has short brown hair, around 5'10, black leather jacket, jeans, boots, beard. That's all you can remember. Everything happened in seconds. They'll be suspicious but they'll hardly suspect a seventeen year-old boy and two women getting the jump on Russian mob flunkies," Maia said as she started wiping her fingerprints off the pistol and the barrel of the AK-47. She left the pistol beside the body of Benny.

***

The helicopter had landed thirty minutes before at a private hangar near Dare County Regional airport. After filing the necessary paperwork to log his flight's arrival, Jack headed straight to his black SUV parked nearby and navigated out of the airfield. He was driving along route 158 when a police cruiser with all sirens blaring, sped past him and took the exit that led into Westcove. Curiosity piqued, Jack turned on his police scanner to access the local police band, wondering what mischief the Halloween revelers had caused in the normally quiet community.

"Suspected 187 at the Westcove Specialty Grocer. Suspect is Caucasian male, 5'10, brown hair, black leather jacket, jeans," an officer's voice crackled through the radio.

Jack frowned. That was Betty Banning's shop.

"We have a 245 with an AK-47 and semi-automatic pistols. All victims with fatal GSW to the head."

Jesus Christ!

"Witnesses: store owner, son and one other customer - shaken but unharmed. They're claiming perp is a good Samaritan who rescued them from the victims. No trace of suspect. Vehicles accounted for in parking lot. Ford pick-up belongs to the shop, blue vintage z28 Chevy Camaro to the customer, and a white Jeep Wrangler to the victims."

Jack felt his stomach plummet as the second vehicle's description hit him. He punched the speed-dial for the stonehouse telephone but got voicemail. He repeated the speed-dial—still nothing.

"Fuck!" Jack cursed as he took the exit that would take him into town.

There were three police cruisers, an ambulance and an unmarked police vehicle parked haphazardly in front of the Westcove Specialty Grocer. A crowd began to gather and two cops were keeping the spectators under control when Jack arrived.

He immediately recognized his Camaro, his concern for Maia escalating. He had barely gotten out of his car when an officer got into his face.

"Jack, you can't park there. This is a crime scene." Brian Reese was a buddy of his. They caught a couple of beers sometimes.

"That's my car over there." Jack pointed to the Camaro. "I've got a person inside."

"I thought that was yours," Brian replied, then indicated for him not to move, he barked into his shoulder radio, "Hey Tanner, I've got Jack McCord here for the redhead."

"Shit, okay. Send him back," Rick replied over the radio.

Brian walked Jack to the double doors and warned, "Haven't ever seen anything as brutal around here but I know you're not new to this. Hell, preliminary assessment shows these guys got whacked with their own weapons and it happened in seconds."

Jack's gaze flickered over the three bodies that were grotesquely sprawled in succession amid pools of blood. Head shots, Jack thought grimly. The middle one even looked like he had been taken down execution style. He didn't flinch as Brian walked him through the crime tableau.

"They're in the office by the counter." Brian pointed over. "Gotta go back out and wait for the CSI guys."

Jack entered the office and his eyes immediately sought Maia. He saw her sitting on a desk, hunched over. Kyle Banning was standing beside her and Betty was sitting in the office chair. All of them were looking grim. Maia was attempting to make herself appear as if she were suffering post-traumatic stress disorder. A paramedic was checking her reflexes; Rick Tanner and another cop Jack didn't know were talking to them.

When Maia spotted him, Jack thought he caught a warning gleam in her eyes before she masked it. All of a sudden, Jack didn't know whether he wanted to hug her or strangle her.

"Babe, are you okay?" Jack reached out and hugged her. Clamping a hand around her nape, he drew her head towards him and kissed her temple.

"Oh, Jack it was horrible ... horrible," Maia sobbed into his neck, hugging him tight.

"Any lead on what went on down here? Surveillance tapes?" Jack asked Rick.

"Those DBs came in here and demanded we stop the surveillance, so we have no record of what transpired after they arrived."

"Do we know who they are?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Rick replied shortly, not hot about the idea of sharing information. "What I don't need is a vigilante taking out our chances of taking care of a bigger problem."

Maia pulled back from Jack and looked at the detective. "That vigilante, as you call him, saved us. He was about to shoot Kyle."

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