Death and the Devil's Revenge: Dan Williams and Syd Novels, #5

By Michael L. Patton

On his way to work on a Monday morning, Wally Williams witnesses armed men attempting to break into his nephew, Dan's, machine shop, and his day goes downhill from there. Dan and his faithful dog, Syd, plan to spend the day riding the fence line on the ranch unaware that ten heavily armed men bent on revenge will invade the property gunning for him. Who are these men, and why are they after Dan? Unarmed and outgunned Dan must use the only advantages he has, his wits and his knowledge of the land to neutralize and escape his enemies. A tactical error causes him to be separated from Syd, and wonder if she will survive the assault.

 

Meanwhile, Angie Bartlett, an old flame of Dan's, has recently joined the FBI and transferred to San Francisco. On her first assignment of her new job, the name Dan Williams comes up. Could it be her Dan? How would he make the FBI's radar?

 

Get ready to jump on this fast-moving train to learn if Wally can warn Dan in time, if Dan and Syd can survive, and if Angie and Dan's worlds will collide again!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael L. Patton
• Release date: May 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227044303

Michael L. Patton

Michael has been writing poetry and short stories since he was in the third grade. He has had several articles published about his motorcycle adventures and been included in a regional anthology of poetry and stories. Michael enjoys exploring the complex relationships between family, friends and their pets. He has four novels published in the DanWilliams and Syd Series, and a book of poetry available. He lives in northern California with his wife and his best friend Cyrus, their cat.

Book preview

Chapter One

What the hell is going on here? Wally mumbled to himself.

As Wally Williams was approaching his nephew Dan’s machine shop, on a typical Monday morning, he noticed a black Cadillac Escalade and a white Lincoln Navigator pull up to the front door and park in a V-shape. Three men jumped out of one SUV, and one from the second, they spread out in front of the building. Each took one side of the building, to cover any exits and to check for activity inside.

Wally thought about challenging them, but then thought better of it. He pulled his beat-up green Tacoma 4x4 off the street into the parking lot of a coffee shop across the street and watched the spectacle unfold. Wally didn’t think they looked like cops. Maybe detectives since they were wearing sport coats. But there’s no way they’d send out four detectives without more backup.

The two men at the front entrance tried to pull the locked door open, then peered through door’s window. One turned and walked back to the Navigator.

Where was Dan? Wally wondered. Why would customers be acting so weird? He pulled out his cellphone and called his nephew. The phone rang several times before someone answered.

Dan? Is that you? There was a bunch of static on the line, then Wally heard a voice.

-lo?… Hel- The call cut off.

Damn it, Wally cursed as he hit the redial. The reception was not any better. You pay all that damned money every month for cell service, and all it ever does is drop the danged call when you really need to reach someone.

Uncle…out, was all Wally could make out this time before the line dropped again.

Wally punched the redial button a third time, and it immediately went to voicemail.

Dan, where are you? Do you know why a couple of SUVs would pull up to the shop and some goons jump out to surround the place?

At this point, Wally noticed Dan’s truck was not in its usual spot beside the building. Why wasn’t he there? It’s Monday, a workday. Dan doesn’t usually take a day off without coordinating with me. Wally tried to think back to Friday but couldn’t remember Dan mentioning anything.

Dan and Wally had formed a strong bond over the years based on common interests, when most of Wally’s kids had moved out of the area. They had built hot rods together, and whenever anyone in the family needed help, Dan and Wally were the first to show. Dan lived up in the Diablo Range hills east of San Jose on a ten-thousand-acre ranch owned by an uncle on his mother’s side of the family. He had opened the machine shop after teaching himself how to repair or make replacement parts for a lot of ancient equipment on the ranch. Other ranchers started coming around to have work done, leading to Dan doing it almost full-time.

Dan, Wally and Dan’s dog, Syd, developed a tendency to end up in situations that required them to solve problems often either helping or butting heads with the local sheriff’s office in Santa Clara County. Wally, being a lovable old curmudgeon, tended to raise people’s hackles as well as his own, but always seemed to come through in the end. He helped Dan at his shop most days since he found retirement a bit boring. Like most Monday mornings, that’s where he was headed now.

As he watched, one of the men at the front door returned to the Lincoln, spoke to someone in the back seat, then went to the liftgate and took something out. When he returned to the door, Wally saw he held a crowbar as he tried to force the front door open.

Wally dialed 911. A bored-sounding voice asked how they could help him.

I want to report a break-in happening right now! Wally answered.

What is the location?

Wally answered, giving the address, and adding, You need to get someone over here, NOW, lady!

I’m working on it, Sir. Can you give me your name?

I’m not breaking into the damn place. Just send me the damned cops.

Sir, I need you to calm down. I need your information in case we get disconnected. You’re calling from 209⁠—

"These bastards have the door halfway open, damn it. I need the cops here, now!"

They are on their way, Sir. Are you in danger right now? Are you in a safe location?

Wally watched as the second man at the door pulled out a pistol with an unusually long barrel as if it had a silencer. Shit, Lady, these guys have guns out now. We need the fucking cavalry, pronto.

Sir, are you inside the building?

No. I’m across the street and down a few doors. Wally pulled the phone away from his ear, straining to listen for a siren.

Do you know if anyone else is inside?

I don’t think so because the door was locked.

Which door, Sir?

Which one do you think, Dumbass? The front door they are trying to break in.

Is this a business or residence, Sir? The female dispatcher was sounding strained now.

Damn it. I already told you it was a business. It’s my nephew’s machine shop. There’s expensive equipment in there.

In the background, he heard her calmly telling someone the suspects were possibly armed. Possibly?!

Lady, there ain’t no ‘possibly’ to it. I can see the god-damned gun from here. I think it has a silencer. Are you even listening to me?

Sir, I need you to calm down.

Wally hit the button to end the call. Calm down, my ass, Wally muttered to himself, trying to properly aim the camera on his phone to make a video of the scene across the street. I got better things to do. Don’t waste my time. He finally got the camera set to video, pointing it at the shop, not noticing he failed to hit the record button.

Wally nearly dropped the phone when it rang and buzzed in his hand. It was the 911 operator calling him back. The caller ID displayed Stanislaus County Emergency Services.

I don’t have time for your stupid questions, lady. I’m a busy, busy man, Wally said as he swiped the notification away.

Chapter Two

Dan Williams rose earlier than normal that day and loaded fencing supplies in the back of his pickup. He and Syd, his mixed Australian Shepard/heeler dog, planned to ride the fence line. He lived on a ten-thousand-acre ranch in the Diablo Range near Mount Hamilton, just east of San Jose, California. Dan helped his Uncle Ed, the Rocking A’s owner, when not working at his new machine shop in Patterson. Dan loved the ranch and the area but had fallen into opening the machine shop to fix things for his uncle. It was sometimes hard to balance the work between the two things he loved, but he refused to relinquish either one.

Mount up, Syd. The dog was in the truck before he even had the door completely open. She was sitting on the seat, looking out the windshield. She glanced at him as if to ask what was taking him so long. Dan stood beside the truck, glancing back at the bed to determine if he had forgotten anything before climbing in.

Just taking inventory, he told Syd as he gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He started the truck and took the backcountry trails on the ranch, eyeing the fences as he drove. His Uncle Ed had mentioned being unable to account for a few head of cattle in the past week. Ed asked him if he would mind making sure the fences were intact on his portion of the ranch. It was a separate parcel which they called Hawks Nest because of the spectacular views of the Central Valley to the Sierras.

Dan enjoyed being out in the backcountry and gladly agreed to the chore. Being alone was like going back in time before the Bay Area became overdeveloped and congested. You could go all day without seeing anyone other than a few cows, scrub oak, manzanita, and wildlife, including elk the Fish and Game Department reintroduced to the area in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Dan was raised in the town of Modesto, and preferred a truck or motorcycle to a horse for most things, but did ride when the need for it arose. His aunt, a lifetime rancher, grudgingly admitted that he sat a horse well for a city slicker.

Once through the first locked gate, Syd moved to the open window on the passenger side to take in the area’s smells. Ears up, tongue hanging out, enjoying the ride, occasionally glancing at her owner. Dan noticed her staring up toward the treetops. He figured she saw a squirrel or a bird. She opened her mouth, making a muffled sound in her throat as if talking to something of interest. His cellphone rang just as they dropped below the ridgeline’s edge.

Dang. I thought I turned that off, Dan said as he grabbed it quickly from the dash. He usually turned it off on the ranch. Cell service was almost non-existent and leaving it on only ran down the battery faster as it constantly searched for a cell tower and service. Looking at it, he could see his Uncle Wally was calling.

See, Syd, I told you he would forget we were riding the fence line today. Dan remembered telling Wally several times on Friday he was closing the shop today to repair fences. His Uncle Wally was a cantankerous but lovable old cuss. He pushed the button to answer the call.

City morgue. You stab ’em. We slab ’em. The line was just static. Hello…hello…Uncle, is that you? The line dropped, then a few seconds later rang again.

Uncle Wally? Syd and I are out working fences today. I’m just entering the canyon and will probably lose— The call dropped again. Dan held the phone out to look at the screen.

That’s it. No more signal, Syd. He pressed the button until the phone turned off. I told that crazy, old coot we wouldn’t be there today. Not my fault he can’t remember for five minutes. Dan tossed the phone back on the dashboard and shrugged his shoulders. It’s just you and me now, girl. He followed the fence line deeper into the valley. It was slow progress because the rains earlier in the year had created gullies in the two-track path.

Hang on, girl. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Dan reached over to give her a pat on the shoulder. He smiled to himself, happy to be riding the ranch with his best friend. The sun was shining and the sky a clear blue California morning.

Chapter Three

Tommy Fingers Sarducci left Philadelphia the day before and spent the night at a cheap hotel. His mood was dark, and his patience was worn thin. Angry about the failure of a team he specifically sent last year to this area to take care of this same problem. A little over a year ago, he received word that a woman, named Tina, who ratted on him and his big brother, Carmine, was out here. When he knew her, she had been an accountant at a car dealership in northern Delaware and stumbled on the second set of books they used to cover money laundering from their illicit businesses. The bitch then ratted to the FBI and Carmine got twenty years. Sarducci kept his network searching for her for years, only to find out she was near San Jose, up in the hills, running some red neck bar. She changed her name from Tina to Samantha, and just when his guys cornered her and were ready to bring her back to Philadelphia, some cowboy and his uncle managed to step in to save her.

Sarducci let things cool off, but now he’d come out personally to find this cowboy and beat out of him any information he knew regarding where the Feds sent the bitch into hiding. It seems the cowboy and Tina were lovers when she was here, so this local guy was Sarducci’s best chance at getting her current location. While Sarducci enjoyed the dirty work, he was now busy running the organization with his brother in jail. Plus, he lost his best enforcer, Tony Solari, in the screw up last year when they arrested Tony too. Yeah, Sarducci was gonna enjoy beating the information out of this hick bastard, but he had better things to do than fly all day, and drive around the fricking California countryside.

On his way to Patterson, he sat in the back seat of the rented white Navigator. He watched the scenery go by and touched the pistol borrowed from the local team in his side holster, a sign of his growing impatience. Sarducci brought a total of eight guys with him on this job. He liked to overwhelm his adversaries. It tended to reduce any resistance. In the car with Sarducci were his personal bodyguard, Big Mike Marino, his driver, Lou Vitale, and some idiot from the San Jose crowd named Manny Ferrara. The kid was a local mob guy’s nephew and was obviously trying to impress his uncle. In the other SUV were three guys Manny recruited and brought as local muscle, Sam, Arturo and Diego. Sarducci also brought two IT geeks to run drone surveillance on the cowboy’s place, if needed. The nerds were up at the ranch now in case the target was up there. Normally Sarducci wouldn’t put up with any amateurs, but he figured this was a simple snatch and grab operation that should be a breeze. Yes, he was confident he’d thought of everything. Just to keep things straight Sarducci took out his cell phone and started a list. That should be enough guys. With the list complete, he went back to looking at the endless landscape going by, and his impatience returned.

Why the fuck didn’t we fly into someplace closer, fer Christ’s sake. We been driving fer hours. Sarducci said as he looked at Manny Ferrara, who was in the back with him. Jeez, this friggin’ kid is still wet behind the ears. Is this the best we got out here? They’d left San Jose over two hours ago.

Well, Mr. Fingers…uh…Sarducci…uh…Mr. Sarducci, we thought you’d want to come to our home turf first, uh, that way, we could supply you the weapons and extra muscle. It’s not that far as the bird flies, but we got to go around these hills. He gestured toward the Diablo Range. If it was a straight shot, it would only be about twenty, maybe thirty miles.

Yeah, well, I ain’t no bird. And I got better things to do than ride around all day. My guys call me Boss. Sarducci gestured toward the fertile Central Valley fields to the left. I mean, where the hell are you taking me? Out in friggin’ farm country? Where I’m from, this is where we bury people.

We’re almost there, Tommy, the driver called over his shoulder. He turned off the freeway at an exit for Patterson, past the enormous warehouses that sprang like mushrooms from the once fertile fields. Soon, the edge of a small town appeared before they turned south toward a group of older commercial-looking buildings.

It’s right up here on the left, Manny said, pointing though the driver couldn’t see him.

Pull into this coffee shop, Lou. I gotta take a leak, Sarducci instructed. They parked in the lot, followed by the Black Escalade containing the others.

After they took care of business and waited for their coffees, they all stood around the parking lot while Sarducci pulled Manny aside.

Look, are your guys solid? I need to know I can count on them if things heat up? Sarducci nodded toward the others.

Yes, Sir, uh Boss. I wouldn’t have anybody here I didn’t trust with my life. I’ve known Sam and Arturo since second grade.

But that one guy. What is he? Puerto Rican? I ain’t never trusted nobody who ain’t a goomba.

Diego? He’s American. I mean his ancestors were from Mexico. He used to be in the Special Forces. A real badass. The other three are all Italian Americans.

Yeah, well, keep them in front of me so’s they can’t shoot me in the back. And so, I can shoot them if they turn tail.

Won’t happen with Diego. He’s as solid as they come. Manny tried to exude confidence, but it came across as a weak smile.

They rejoined the group, and as Sarducci spoke quietly, they all closed in to hear.

Listen. My brother and one of my best men are in prison right now because of a rat bitch and this cowboy we’re gonna visit down the street. He glanced over at Dan’s shop before continuing. I want this hick alive. The bitch who sent my brother up is in the wind again, and I think he knows where she is. Got it? He looked around as each man nodded acknowledgment. "I don’t care if you shoot him or stomp the shit out of him, but he better be alive. I’ll do the rest. Capisce?" They all nodded again. He’s also responsible for my guy, Tony Soltari, and three of your guys, including your Uncle Sal, being in prison. He looked at Manny, So, let’s get this bastard.

They all piled into the vehicles and drove down the street to Dan’s shop. Sarducci stayed in the Navigator while the three men from the other car fanned out around the place. One in front and one each around the building’s sides. Manny and Diego approached the front door.

Soon, Manny returned to the Navigator’s window, announcing, There ain’t no one inside.

Maybe he’s upstairs. It looks like an apartment. Break in and check upstairs. I came three thousand miles to get to this sucker. I ain’t leaving because he didn’t answer the damned door. Sarducci’s window rolled back up.

Tommy watched as Manny knocked on the front passenger window, and when Lou rolled it down, Manny said, Let me in the back to get a crowbar. Lou popped the liftgate, and Manny grabbed a tool from the back. He returned to the building’s front door and handed the device to Diego.

Sarducci was expecting them to smash the glass in the front door to send a message, but instead, the big man inserted a crowbar into the doorframe and started prying. He saw the whole top of the aluminum-framed door begin to bend.

Jeez, remind me not to mess with that gorilla, huh, Lou? Sarducci said. The driver just laughed. Tell him to take it easy. If the guy ain’t here, I don’t want to warn him off.

Just as Big