Deadly justice, p.30
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       Deadly Justice, p.30

           Darrell Case
In his Oval Office, Jerrold Robbins sat watching the CBS morning news. A sinister smile played across his lips as he thought about how well this was all working. For all of Keaton Wallace’s and Steel’s dire warning it was clear now that he controlled the fate of anyone. Gibbons was out of the loop because any time Robbins had tried to get him on board he would paint pictures of the three of them rotting away in the worst federal prison. It was Robbins’ call whether a person lived or died. The CIA had named the assassin the Shadow because he could slip in and out undetected. Robbins knew the real reason for his moniker. He was the shadow of death and the president, he Jerrold Robbins, was god. His word was law. Derrick and Allison tot too to the truth. Now one was dead and the other would be tried for his murder in a court that he, Jerrold Robbins, controlled.

  Steel had balked when Robbins ordered him to kill one of his agents. Robbins had convinced him it was necessary. Keaton only found out about it after the deed was done. Robbins laughed. He thought the attorney general was going to have a heart attack. He had to take three nitro’s to calm down.

  Mad with power, Robbins, was excited to advance the mission. Wallace and steel raised objections.

  “We...we can't do that.” Keaton cried out, his face draining of color.

  “Sure we can.” Robbins’ cockiness made Tony bristle. “Here’s five more name to add to the list,” Robbins said, pushing a sheet of paper across the desk.

  “What Keaton means is Allison Stevens was charged with these crimes and she’s in jail. If people start dying again... Well, you get the idea.” Steel said.

  Robbins grinned. “Gentlemen, we all know Alison Stevens has a raging hatred for criminals and that she couldn't be in two places at one time.”

  Tony had to think for a moment before he grasped Robbins’ meaning. “Mr. President, that’s too extreme. If we start accusing Alison of having an accomplice it could be the thread that unravels the whole network.”

  “Nonsense. She's already in jail. If we can't find her partner in cime, well, he just may take her out to keep her quiet.”

  Keaton reached for another nitro pill. Steel blanched. In the end, they reluctantly went along, knowing they were no match for Robbins maniacal fixation. Alison's fate was sealed.


  Now Robbins sat at his desk contemplating his course of action. Patience was not his forte. These five miscreants must die. He didn't want them breathing God's clean air one more minute.

  Steel's cell phone rang. He looked at the display and sighed.

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “Get her."”

  “Mr. President I...”

  “I want Alison Steven's dead.”


  “Move her to a federal prison for safe keeping. Along the way set up an ambush.”

  There was a pause before Steel answered. “Transportation of prisoners is conducted by the marshal's service. Samuels is the one who took out Jack Van Rudolf. I'm pretty sure he would be willing to do this too, for a price.”

  “Good. Then have him eliminated too.”

  What?! Steel's mind screamed. His breath caught in his throat and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

  “Steel, did you hear me?”

  “But...but...He's on our side. He's one of our own. Wasn’t it enough that Strong was …”


  “He's a loose end!” Robbins yelled over him. “Tie it up, Steel.”

  The phone clicked and there was silence.

  In a haze, Tony stood and stared through the glass wall behind his desk at the Capitol Building and the White House beyond. The heavy sick feeling in the pit of his stomach with which he’d grown so familiar was back.

  Jerold Robbins had to be stopped.

  He stewed for the next half hour, then made the call. He saw no way out. Would the killing stop? Ever?

  In her cell, Allison tried to formulate a strategy. There was only one option. She must escape. If she was free, she could find out who was behind the murders. If she didn't disappear they would kill her.

  They had placed her in isolation. Was that to keep her safe or make her an easier target? The cuff port opened. Her eyes darted in its direction as she got ready to throw herself against the wall. A black hand thrust through the opening.

  “Yous want water or Kool Aid?” a voice asked.

  Lunch, that's all it was. Her belly was in knots. She didn't feel like eating but knew she had to or she’d have no strength.

  “Water,” She said dully.


  Her lunch consisted of a soggy sandwich, peas that looked like they had been stepped on and dry mashed potatoes, and some kind of cake.

  After the sparse meal, she lay on the hard bunk and closed her eyes to mull over her plan. She tried to tune out the din emanating from the blocks outside her cell.

  Her mind whirled. She forced it back into focus. It wouldn’t be pretty. She had no desire to hurt a fellow officer, but with her training, she could render an opponent unconscious quiet easily and quite fast.

  The best time would be late at night when there would be only skeleton staff. She would feign sickness. But if they called for medical she might have to go up against two or three. She could easily overpower the nurse. But while she engaged the others the officer would be calling for help. She would have to disable the officer, then the nurse. Then there were the security cameras. They covered every conceivable space, except for the showers and toilets.

  She forced herself to sleep for two hours. Upon rising, she did setups, pushups and ran in place until her legs started to cramp.

  For the next three days, she ate, napped and exercised. Her mind stayed occupied working on a feasible plan of escape. There was a wa,y she just had to find it. Each time they took to the showers she scrutinized the surroundings. At the academy, they had taught her how to survive a hostage situation. She knew to bide her time and look for any and all possible means of escape.

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