"Like?" Patrick asked, biting his lower lip. He and I had talked, and I knew that while he'd kicked Melinda Pressman, he'd never actually intentionally killed someone before. He was nervous.
"A frontal or side head shot can kill, an unprotected hit over the heart too. That's the other problem. Even a heavy jacket can diffuse the energy enough to make the rounds useless. I remember shooting some of the test guys for it, and a guy wearing a leather jacket on top of a sweatshirt walked right through the rounds like I was shooting him with a Super Soaker. It wasn't until I put a round in his right thigh that he dropped," Mark said, touching his body to emphasize his words. "And the rounds were in nine millimeter Parabellum. We had to get a whole case of it to avoid the ATF tracking the job down. I should still have about a thousand rounds of that stuff over near Sophie's old apartment. I had a place near there."
"Then let's go in with a mix," Patrick said. "The Glocks carrying those, and a backup with real rounds. Sophie's going to have our butts covered up high with the heavy caliber."
I looked at them, and nodded. "Thanks."
Sophie shook her head. "No need to thank us, Tabby. Mark wants to do it because Bennie Fernandez is a good ally to have. Don't want to lose him just to kill a few street level soldiers. Our goal is to bust up the gang, and if we can do that without killing some of them, the better."
Chapter Eleven
Patrick
The Docks were windy, which you'd expect from being next to the ocean. It was late afternoon, and the three of us were driving an old, grumpy sounding panel truck through the Dock warehouse area. We looked like any of a dozen different delivery companies in the city, which is exactly what we wanted. All of our gear was in the back, except for a single Glock that Mark kept under his jacket just in case someone stopped us and asked questions we couldn't answer, loaded with the special ammunition of course. We were even dressed like delivery workers, and Sophie looked actually somewhat normal and slightly frumpy in an old denim jacket. Considering Sophie's physique, that was quite an accomplishment.
We weren't noticed as we made all the way down towards Dock 32. I was at first suspicious of parking so close to our ambush point, but Mark's plan had multiple escape options. In fact, if our plan went the way we wanted, we'd not be using the truck at all, which is why we were all wearing gloves. There was little chance it would be dusted for prints, but we wanted to be sure.
The warehouse we selected was empty, and had been a very long time since it had been used last. Formerly owned by Sal Giordano, upon his death it had gone into legal limbo. The probate court was unwilling to release it to the heirs, since there was plenty of suspicion that it was used in criminal activity. However, there was little direct evidence against Sal's warehouse, since it had been little used in favor of air and train delivery instead of sea. Bennie Fernandez and the rest of the Federal prosecutors weren't worrying about digging up evidence of a dead man's crimes, except in terms of how they applied to direct prosecution of current, living criminals. Since most of the men swept up in the Confederation were guilty of much larger and easier to prove crimes than anything tied into the warehouse, the warehouse sat in a legal limbo. Sal's heirs weren't concerned either, as they were living well enough on the money Fernandez and the Feds hadn't touched. Half of a crapload of money was still a lot.
Best of all, Mark had access to the warehouse, having been taught the security system codes by Sal Giodano himself back when he was just a delivery boy for the Confederation godfather. Using the chain operated backup system, he raised the door enough for the truck to be parked inside, then shut it behind us. Unfortunately, while the building security systems may have been active, the power to the lights and other utilities had been cut off, with the fuse boxes literally pulled out.
"Guess it's a good thing I packed a canteen," I quipped as I jumped out of the passenger seat. "Although I wished there was a potty still. So where are we deploying?"
"You and I will be in the alleyway, direct action," Mark said simply, ignoring my joke. "Sophie will be up top. Remember, we're leaving Berkowitz for Bennie Fernandez, so we hit before she gets here. The Latin Kings will follow their standard operating procedures, and show up an hour or more before the meeting time. We let them come in, we close the gap behind them, and we move in.”