Stone Barrington 06-11

Rodriguez for a description. Call me back when you’ve got it nailed.” He closed the cell phone. “We don’t want to just go strolling in there, do we?”
    “I guess not,” Holly said.

36
    A S THE WAITER was taking away their dishes, Lance’s cell phone went off. “Yes?” He listened for a minute or so. “Right. Soon.” He hung up. “Your boy came home five minutes ago. So kind of him not to disturb our dinner.”
    Stone waved to a waiter for a check and signed it.
    “Is everybody armed?” Lance asked. “Or do I have to think of everything?”
    Stone and Holly nodded.
    “Do you have cuffs, Holly?”
    “Yep, two pair.”
    “Then shall we?” Lance pushed back from the table and led them outside to his car. “Take a left,” he said to the driver, “then a block and a half straight ahead. One of our cars is there.”
    The driver did as he was told, and they came to a stop beside another black car. Lance rolled down a window and waved at the darkened windows. A man got out and got into the front seat of Lance’s car.

    “Tell me,” Lance said.
    “Your man came home ten minutes ago. He matched the file photo, ponytail and all. He lives on the top floor front; you can see his lights.”
    Lance looked out the window. “Mmmm, yes. The fire escape is on the front of the building. I’ll want your partner at the bottom. Then there’s the roof to deal with.”
    “I’ve had a word with the super and a look inside. There’s a door and a stairway leading to the roof from the top floor.”
    “All right, you go up to the roof and wait for somebody to come running through that door, and for Christ’s sake don’t shoot one of us. My friends would prefer to take the man alive, but don’t put yourself in peril to make that happen. We’ll give you a three-minute head start, then we go in.” The man got out of the car and went into the building.
    “Here’s what I’d like to do,” Lance said. “The three of us go into the building and ascend the stairs to the top floor, front apartment. Holly, you knock on the door, then stand with your back to it, so he can see only the back of a woman’s head through the peephole. As soon as he cracks the door, Stone and I rush in, with you right behind. We’ll concentrate on Trini. It will be your job to keep anyone else who happens to be in the room from shooting Stone and me. That okay?”
    “It’s good for me,” Holly said.
    Stone nodded.

    The three of them got out of the car, approached the building, and let themselves through the front door, which had had the bolt taped open. Lance put a finger to his lips, then led the way quietly to the fourth floor. He ducked under the peephole and took up a position on the left side of the door, while Stone took the right side. Lance nodded at Holly.
    Holly rapped lightly on the door. No response. She rapped harder, then turned around.
    “Who’s there?” a muffled voice said from inside.
    “Escort service,” Holly replied, her back still to the door.
    They could hear the rattle of the chain being undone, and the door opened an inch. “We didn’t call for anybody,” he said.
    Simultaneously, Lance and Stone rushed the door, knocking the man off his feet. They ran into the room, guns at arm’s length, with Holly behind them.
    The man on the floor wasn’t Trini, and there were three other men in the room, two of them pointing guns at Lance, Stone, and Holly. Trini was there, but he had no gun.
    “Freeze, FBI!” one of the armed men shouted.
    “Police!” Holly yelled, showing her badge. “I have a warrant for Rodriguez! Let’s see some ID.”
    An agent reached for his ID without disturbing his aim. “Who are these two guys?”
    Stone showed them his Orchid Beach badge.
    “Fellow traveler,” Lance said. “Can we all stop pointing guns at each other?”

    The agents didn’t move, and now the one they had knocked down was on his feet with a gun, too.
    Holly got the warrant out of her purse and held it up for them to see. “This is a fugitive warrant from the State of Florida for Trini Rodriguez. I’m taking him back for trial on multiple murder charges.”
    “Okay, everybody relax,” the agent said. “Holster your weapons.”
    The FBI men did so, and Holly, Stone, and Lance complied.
    “All right, lady,” the agent said, “just hang on a minute. Can I see your ID again?”
    Holly handed him the wallet with her badge and ID.
    “Okay, Chief, I’ve got to make a phone call.” He picked up a