Page 189 of The Fourth Option
Stanton found himself wishing they had called in SWAT, or at least worn their body armor. He contemplated backing out, but the cabin door opened and Bates walked down the steps. He waved, a smile on his face.
“Stay sharp,” Stanton said as he put the car in park and turned off the engine.
He opened the door, ensuring his suit jacket was unbuttoned and that he had unencumbered access to his pistol.
“Special Agent Stanton,” Bates said from the base of the stairs. “J.J.”
“What are you doing here, Bates?” Stanton said as he walked toward the lieutenant.
“I could ask you the same thing. So much for sharing information.”
“Just checking out a lead,” Stanton said. “I see you are doing the same.”
“Not quite,” Bates said.
Four men appeared out of the darkness. They were of various heights and builds, of Latin origin and covered in tattoos. They had one other thing in common—they each held an AKM rifle and leveled it at the federal agents.
“Bates, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Jarrett. You had your suspicions. Raise your hands. If you go for your pistols, you are both dead.”
J.J. looked to her boss.
Stanton shook his head in response, slowly raising his hands.
“Don’t be stupid, Bates. We have FBI SWAT inbound. It’s over.”
“You forget who you are dealing with, Jarrett. I know you and J.J. are investigating this off the books because you don’t know who you can trust. That was the right move. The wrong move was pushing it when you suspected what you were up against.”
“Give it up, Bates. We can work a deal.”
“A deal?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“It’s not. We can work this out.”
“Search them and bring them inside,” Bates said to the largest of the four bangers.
One kept his weapon on Stanton while another approached and disarmed him of his pistol, frisking his ankles up to his groan and waistline and the inside of his jacket.
“Clean.”
The other two moved toward J.J. While one kept his AK on her, the other took her Glock and frisked her in much the same way as the other had searched Stanton, except his hands lingered on her breasts.
“Hey!” J.J. yelled, whipping around and bringing a hammer fist down that connected with her accoster’s temple. Her other hand followed.
Stanton stepped toward her but was thrown to the ground by the man who had just frisked him. He looked up in time to see J.J. catch a blow from the butt of an AK to her head. Stunned, she stumbled back.Her tormentor hit her twice more in the face with the AK and she fell to the dirt.
“No!” Stanton yelled.
The man standing over her looked back at the downed FBI man and smiled. He then delivered two more strikes to the woman’s head, the last of which split the night with a sickening crack.
“You motherfuckers!” Stanton shouted.
“Alto!” Bates’s voice boomed from the base of the steps.
J.J.’s attacker looked at Bates and then kicked her once more.
“Puta!” he said, spitting on her face from above.
