It was quiet again but, Detective Dennis Fuller knew that
wouldn’t last long. Like the proverbial calm before the storm, he suspected his
assailants were repositioning in order to surround and trap him before the
bullets started flying.
Ducked behind a concrete wall, he watched as the blood finally
stopped leaching from his CI’s head. Sprawled in the middle of the street like
roadkill, his body was riddled with bullet holes from the ambush and it was
only a matter of time before the same thing happened to him.
Shit! He needed to
get off the street. Detective Fuller took a look around the area, counted down
from five and made a mad dash toward the loading docks. Jumping the fence, he
entered through a backdoor and quickly located a place to hide.
Darkness pressed in, consuming everything in shadows. It
acted like a cloak, shrouding and protecting him for the time being. As his
eyes adjusted, he could make out shapes. Fuller spotted an exit a few yards in
the distance and moved forward. Desperately, he worked to open it. His hands
pushed against the rough surface but, it was all in vain. The door remained
stubbornly shut and there was no other exit he could see.
Light filtered inside through the backdoor as it reopened
and he ducked behind a stack of pallets. Fuller held his breath, listening to
the footfall of his pursuers. He judged about ten men with AK-47s, while he had
only his department-issued Glock with just one bullet left in the chamber.
“Detective Fuller,” a man’s voice shouted in a Mexican
accent, “there is no point in hiding. You’ll never make it out of here alive.” His
voice echoed throughout the hollow chamber of aluminum roofing and corrugated
steel walls.
The stifling heat was so viciously brutal. Fuller tugged at
the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt as it clung to his chest. The voice
taunting Fuller belonged to Julian Cruz, known as El Espada throughout the
world of Mexican cartels. The Blade. He was a notorious assassin with a
legendary reputation for torturing anyone who crossed him.
“Detective Fuller,” Cruz said, his voice much closer now. “I’ll
make you a deal. Come out right now and I’ll let you speak to your family. You
can say a proper goodbye, eh?” Fuller dropped his head to the wooden stack
behind him, his mind numb. Cruz was right. He knew he would not survive. He had
been tricked to come to Mexico while investigating a cold case. His partner was on
vacation. He left no word at the precinct and no one knew what he was working
on. There would be no rescue.
Out of U.S. jurisdiction and against his commanding officer’s
orders, Fuller knew then what he needed to do with the remaining seconds of his
life. Fumbling into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his
partner’s number.
“What’s it gonna be?” Cruz shouted. Tears blurred Fuller’s
vision as he waited for him to answer, but there was nothing.
“I’m sorry, I’m not
here to take your call right now,” the voicemail began. Fuller laughed as
he listened to the automation on the other end. The line beeped and he began
leaving his partner a brief message about his investigation.
“And, C-Curt,” Fuller stammered. “Can you…” Fuller’s hands
shook, tears edged down his face. “Please tell Audrey and Jacob…” he hiccupped
and whimpered, “tell my family I love them.”
“Time’s up,” Cruz roared. A barrage of bullets exploded all
around the detective and he recoiled deeper into the crates. Shots pierced his
arms and legs as the wood he used for protection shattered into splinters. The
shooting stopped. The lower half of his body looked like Swiss cheese. Blood
oozed from everywhere. Fuller’s stomach spiked up into his throat.
“Curt,” he uttered. “Promise me you’ll finish what I
started. Promise you’ll kill him.” Footsteps came shuffling up behind him and Fuller
dropped the phone between his legs. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his
wife’s face as he steadied the tip of his weapon under his chin, the one
thought which remained, the one glimmer of solace which encompassed him, was
the belief that his partner would avenge him. Dennis Fuller smiled and felt a
rush of elation. Then he pulled the trigger.
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