The Last Storm

  The Last Storm

  Jack Hunt

  Direct Response Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Jack Hunt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The Last Storm is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Jack Hunt

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  The Agora Virus series

  Phobia

  Anxiety

  Strain

  The War Buds series

  War Buds 1

  War Buds 2

  War Buds 3

  Camp Zero series

  State of Panic

  State of Shock

  State of Decay

  Renegades series

  The Renegades

  The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath

  The Renegades Book 3: Fortress

  The Renegades Book 4: Colony

  The Renegades Book 5: United

  The Wild Ones Duology

  The Wild Ones Book 1

  The Wild Ones Book 2

  The EMP Survival series

  Days of Panic

  Days of Chaos

  Days of Danger

  Days of Terror

  Mavericks series

  Mavericks: Hunters Moon

  Time Agents series

  Killing Time

  Single Novels

  Blackout

  Defiant

  Darkest Hour

  Final Impact

  The Last Storm

  For my Family

  Chapter 1

  October 9

  Whittier, Alaska

  Officer Danny Lee banged furiously on the door of apartment 1002. He heard the sound of a shuffle then footsteps approaching. There was a pause as the occupant took a second to peer through the peephole.

  “Greg! Open up. Let’s go,” Danny said before glancing nervously down the pale yellow hallway. Several locks were cleared and the green door cracked opened. Greg Mitchell was in his late twenties. He looked like a rat with a slanted forehead, gaunt cheeks, a goatee, and a long, dark ponytail exposed beneath an orange beanie cap. He always wore the same clothes: raggedy old jeans, scuffed military ankle boots and a black winter jacket with numerous patches sewn into it. A half-smoked cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth, blue smoke spiraling up into his eye causing him to squint. He flashed stained teeth and was about to say something when Danny barged in, shoving him out of the way.

  “Where is it?” Danny demanded to know.

  His eyes surveyed the cockroach-infested apartment before he darted into the bathroom. The sink had hard-water stains, and there was a shit in the bottom of the toilet. The floor wasn’t much better — a mat looked as if he’d spilled some black hair dye on it then tried to scrub it out. Danny winced as he backed out.

  “It’s safe, hidden away in apartment 1003, just like you asked.”

  Danny scowled. “Not the heroin, you idiot. The—”

  Before he finished Danny got his answer. He entered the spare bedroom and took in the sight of a full-scale grow op with high-powered lights, a ventilation system and hydroponic equipment designed to handle about twenty marijuana plants in full bloom. Of course he knew Greg had a couple but not this many. He staggered back a few steps, gripping his head.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Greg shrugged. “What? It’s all legal and aboveboard.”

  He stared on, dumbfounded by his stupidity. “Legal?” Danny spat back. He whirled around and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “It might be legal, idiot, but there are restrictions, such as cultivating only six plants with no more than three in the mature stage. You are looking at more than one ounce here, Greg.”

  “And?”

  “That’s a C felony in Alaska. Or for someone dumb like you, it means spending up to five years behind bars and a fine up to fifty thousand dollars.”

  Greg’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Danny thrust him away and turned back to the room. His thoughts were racing. “You need to get this shit out of here now.”

  “What? We’re trafficking heroin and you’re worried about a few marijuana plants?” Greg asked. He snorted and walked over to a sofa, slumped down and leaned forward to scoop up a marijuana pipe. The table was littered with papers, and bags of weed. “These towers smell like marijuana, day and night. No one is going to say shit. If they were, they would have said something by now.” He was starting to light up when Danny lunged forward and slapped it away from his mouth.

  “They already have,” he said jabbing his finger towards the floor. “Your neighbor called city management to complain about blocked plumbing and large amounts of dog food found in her toilet. Turns out that dog food was pellets of grow medium, you dumb ass!”

  Greg’s brow furrowed. “Oh shit, I thought that would flush away.”

  “Well it didn’t. Now you need to get this out of here before…”

  “Hold on. Hold on.” Greg put up a hand and waved him off. “This is why you are here. You tell them it was a mistake. Nothing more than a mix-up. They’ll believe you.”

  “Yeah, maybe they would if that was all.” Danny rested his hand on his holster and shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “Did you sell any pot to anyone underage?”

  “No.”

  “Oh so Mary-Anne’s boy Tommy didn’t get it from you?”

  Greg moved around looking uncomfortable.

  “Look, Danny, it was just a few bags.”

  “A few bags? His mother found fifty-eight grams of this shit under his bed.”

  Greg shrugged. “So? I gifted it to him.”

  “Gifted?” Danny spluttered.

  “Yeah, the law says I can gift marijuana.”

  Danny squeezed his eyes shut trying to get a grip on his emotions before he went berserk and beat the living shit out of him. “That’s to anyone over twenty-one. You idiot!”

  “Shit.” Greg ran a hand over his face and around the back of his neck.

  “Yep, you’re screwed. Now, maybe if you get rid of this now, you’ll only end up doing five years.”

  His eyes widened. “Five years?”

  “You gave him more than an ounce, Greg.”

  Greg wiped his lips with the back of his hand and walked over to the window. He glanced out across Prince William Sound, shaking his head. “But… but…”

  “No buts. And while you’re at it, call Cayden and tell him this agreement we have in place is over. It’s done. If he wants the drugs, he’s to come and get them himself.”

  Danny turned to walk out of the room.

  Greg whirled around. “Hold on a minute, Danny. No, that can’t happen.”

  “It will and it has. It’s over. And we have you to thank for that. Chief Solomon already knows about Mary-Anne’s boy. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out the rest.”

  Greg stumbled over his furniture with a look of desperation in his eyes. “Cayden will kill us, and you know that.”

  “You mean you?” Danny said cutting him a glance.

  “Screw you! You are in this as deep as I am,” Greg said.

  “Was. I’m out. You can tell him how you fucked up, or better still maybe I will.”

  Danny turned to walk away.

  “Perhaps I’ll tell him you did,” Greg said. �
��Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that.”

  Danny stopped walking and cast a glance over his shoulder. He was about to go back and slap him a few times around the head when he noticed Greg was holding a revolver. He was holding it low but making the message real clear. Danny’s own hand slid towards his service weapon but Greg shook his head. “I wouldn’t if I was you.”

  He put out a hand. “Now hold on, Greg, you don’t want to do this.”

  “No I don’t,” he replied. “But you’re not exactly giving me much choice. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this,” Greg said tapping the revolver against his thigh.

  “That was then. Before you attracted unwanted attention. Things have changed.”

  “Nothing’s changed,” Greg said jabbing his revolver forward at the floor. “So a neighbor complained, big deal! It was a mistake.”

  “And Tommy?” Danny asked.

  “Make it go away.” He frowned. “Like you always do.”

  Danny stared back at him. “No. You got sloppy this time, Greg. I’m not losing my career over this. Now get that shit out of here and I’ll try to get the chief to go easy on you.” He turned and started heading back towards the door when he heard a gun cock.

  “Nah, this is how it’s going to go,” Greg said. “I’ll get rid of the plants but you’re going to deal with Solomon.”

  “Too late for that,” Danny replied.

  “So deal with him.”

  Danny’s brow pinched together. “You better not be asking what I think you are.”

  “I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Deal with him or I will.”

  There were few relationships that mattered to Danny in Whittier, but his friendship with the police chief was one. He’d known Ed Solomon since he was ten years old, back when he wasted his days tearing around Begich Towers. Solomon had always treated him with respect. He hadn’t just set the bar for what a police officer should be, he’d demonstrated genuine kindness. Danny looked up to him like a father figure. It was part of the reason why he didn’t plan on staying in the game long. If Solomon ever learned of his involvement, it would destroy him. Hell, some days he wished he’d said no from the start. He’d been leery about getting involved since the beginning but he couldn’t resist the extra money. Unlike many of the other police departments in Alaska, his salary was next to nothing. It certainly didn’t afford him the lifestyle he wanted, the kinds of toys that rich folks had, or cover his drinking or gambling habit. That’s why when Greg approached him, an old friend from back in his school days, he couldn’t pass it up. Sure it went against everything he stood for as a cop but Greg was confident and reassured him it was just a short-time gig. Initially he turned him down but the seed of temptation had already been planted. Danny figured he could squirrel away enough from trafficking heroin that in a year he could retire. Well, it never happened. One year turned into another and before he knew it, here he was three years later, still a slave to the green.

  Maybe if it hadn’t been so damn easy he might have bailed, but the risk was low and no one questioned him. Greg had the whole operation running like a well-oiled machine. Heroin was brought in every two months like clockwork by a tourist on one of the cruise ships, he’d hand it off to Greg who would hold on to it until he could arrange a delivery date. From there Danny would place it in his cruiser and take it out of Whittier on his way home because unlike Solomon, he and the other six officers lived outside of the town and commuted in every day. It was simply a matter of exchanging money for the drugs and that was it. No one stopped or questioned them. It was why he’d stayed in so long. But that was before Greg screwed up.

  “All right. Leave it with me,” Danny said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You deaf?”

  Greg didn’t look convinced but after a few seconds he uncocked the gun and lowered it. A momentary lapse in judgment on his part. In one smooth move, Danny pulled his Glock 22. In the seconds that followed, he unloaded a round just as Greg reacted. Greg took the hit and tumbled back over a chair. Danny was about to press forward and finish him off but Greg was quick to return fire, wheeling the revolver around the chair and firing haphazardly. Danny darted into the bathroom to take cover and immediately got on the radio.

  “Dispatch, shots fired. Shots fired. Requesting backup.”

  More rounds lanced the doorway and tore into the concrete wall.

  Danny reached up and with his elbow smashed the mirror and used a shard of it to get a bead on Greg. Nothing. Either he was still behind the sofa chair or had shifted position. Silence settled over the cramped apartment as he called out to him.

  “Greg! You know this only ends one way.”

  “Screw you. If I go down, so do you,” Greg said.

  “The only way you are going down is with a bullet in the head,” Danny replied.

  He kept a firm hold on the grip of his gun as he twisted the shard of mirror around again to see if he could spot him. The tiny pot lights in the ceiling reflected off it, casting a reflection on the wall. Danny heard feet pounding across the living room area heading for one of the other rooms. Bringing his gun around he fired, once, then twice.

  He missed.

  More shots were returned.

  In a town where you could go from one end to the other in less than five minutes, it didn’t take long for backup to arrive. In the heat of the moment Danny hadn’t heard the blare of sirens. There were only seven officers in the department, eight including the chief, and not all of them patrolled Whittier. A few of them headed out to Girdwood, and the rest assisted near the tunnel that provided access to Whittier through Maynard Mountain.

  When he heard Solomon’s voice his stomach dropped. He’d hoped Greg would be dead by the time they arrived but that slippery asshole had managed to evade.

  “Danny?” Solomon asked.

  Danny swallowed hard, breathed in deeply to calm down.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “You hit?”

  “No.”

  “Open up.”

  The front door was closed. He knew he had to open it to let them in but once they were in, the situation would be out of his hands. Right now what they didn’t see, they couldn’t prove, and he’d already begun to work out what he would say.

  Danny shifted position and tried one last time to see where Greg was. He crawled out into the narrow space between the bathroom and the living room and took a peek around the corner. The door was shut to the spare room. That asshole had barricaded himself in. Raising the Glock he fired four more times through the doorway in the hopes of hitting him but return fire confirmed he hadn’t succeeded.

  Banging began on the heavy fire door and he knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable. Danny shuffled back to the front door and opened it to find Chief Solomon and two officers, Lucas Parker and Scott Black. Panting hard he thumbed over his shoulder as he stepped out into the corridor.

  “Mitchell’s barricaded himself in one of the rooms.”

  Solomon looked past him. “Why are you here?”

  “Following up on the call we got.”

  “What call?”

  “Not exactly a call.” He brought him up to speed on what had led to his arrival, regarding grow medium blocking the pipes. “I came up here to talk to him. He was evasive, confrontational, and he pulled a gun on me…”

  “That’s not the truth!” Greg yelled from far back inside the apartment. Danny tried to close the door but Solomon wouldn’t budge. Hoping to quell accusations before they occurred, he pushed his way back into the apartment and fired off another round.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Solomon asked pulling him back. “He didn’t fire at you.”

  “He tried to kill me.”

  “I meant right then,” Solomon said.

  There was a tense few seconds before Danny continued pointing to his spare room. “He has a grow op in there. At least twenty plants.”

  “Hey Danny, why don’t you tell them about the heroin you�
��ve been trafficking!”

  Solomon frowned and shot him a confused look.

  “He’s talking shit,” Danny said before yelling back. “You better stop lying, you asshole!”

  “Oh I ain’t lying. Tell ’em about all those trips you made to Girdwood, to the drop-off.”

  “What is he on about, Danny?” Solomon asked.

  The other two officers looked equally disturbed by the accusation.

  “He’s lying,” Danny replied. At this rate Greg was going to screw everything up. In anger, he pushed past Solomon, and darted around the corner without a thought for his own safety, or the consequences of his actions. The only thought going through his mind was shutting Greg up. Danny kicked the bedroom door wide open, and even though Greg didn’t have his weapon up, he yelled, “Police, drop it!” before unloading a round that ended his life. Only Danny was in far enough to see the real situation. Greg was clinging to a bloodied wound and sitting on the far side of the room with his revolver on the ground. One of the four shots he’d fired earlier must have struck him again, as he now had two gunshot wounds.

  Danny gave him a third, straight through the heart.

  When silence settled, Danny holstered his weapon, staggered out and slumped into a chair. Officer Black was the first one through the door. He stood there for a second and then said, “Chief, you should see this.”

  Solomon, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Danny, made a gesture to Officer Parker to watch Danny as he entered the bedroom. A minute or two later he returned.

  Danny looked down at his own feet, a million thoughts going through his mind, none of which were any good. Not only had he murdered his oldest friend in cold blood but he would now have to deal with the aftermath of questions.

  “What did he mean, Danny?” Solomon asked directly.

  He just shook his head. “No idea.”

  Solomon nodded, casting his eyes around the room. He told Black and Parker to tape it off, process the scene and not let anyone get inside. From there he took Danny out and they returned to the station. On the drive from the towers to the department Danny was quiet. “AIA will be called in for this, you know that, right?” Solomon said keeping his eyes fixed on the snowy road ahead.