Page 6 - Hunter - The Vigil

Vince shook his head. “This didn’t come from Internal Affairs,” he declared. “None of those guys have this
much imagination. If they wanted to sting us, they’d try to go through someone we trusted.”
“Except that we don’t trust anybody,” Waters pointed out.
Gabreski nodded his craggy head. “Goddamn right. That’s why we’re still in business.”
Waters stared hard at his boss. “Then why the hell are we staking out an abandoned warehouse
on the say-so of some motherfucker you don’t even know?”
Eight hours after he’d gotten the call, Vince found he still didn’t have a good answer for that
one. “Call it a hunch,” he said, shrugging his slablike shoulders. Before Waters could respond,
he reached forward and picked up the small walkie-talkie resting on the dashboard. “Radio check.

The other two members of Vince’s team were out on the street, watching the rear alley leading
Any movement?”
up to the warehouse and the approaching traffi c coming up Lombard.
Jack Dean checked in fi rst. “Couple of homeless guys passing a bottle at the far end of the
alley. Oh, and I’m freezing my nuts off out here. How long are we gonna do this?”
“Quit your cryin’, Jack. You lost the toss fair and square,” Vince growled back. “Besides, we
know your wife keeps your nuts in a jar by the bed. Andrea, what have you got?”
A chirp of static, and Andrea Taggart answered: “No trucks. But there’s a dark blue Scion with
chrome rims turning off Lombard and heading your way.”
“Copy,” Vince answered, straightening slightly in his seat. They’d parked their rust-spotted
van in an abandoned lot a block north of the warehouse, giving them decent sight lines on the
building’s entrance without being too obvious. Gabreski had no sooner replied than he saw the
Scion easing its way slowly down the dimly lit street. Sickly yellow light from the streetlamps
shone dully off the car’s tinted windshield. It pulled roughly even with the stakeout van and

There came a creak of leather and a dull pop as Waters unsnapped the catch on his holster,
came to a stop.
The car’s doors popped open and two men climbed out. Vince recognized the hooded fi gure on the
watching. “What the hell is this?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he snarled. Vince tossed the goggles to Waters. “Wait
passenger’s side at once.
here,” he said, then stepped out into the cold night air.
Raimundo Guttierez came around the front of the car and made his way across the lot towards
Vince, his bodyguard in tow. The gang leader and his Siete Muertos soldier wore winter jackets
over black hoodies and baggy jeans. Vince met them halfway.