Horns of the Devil - Jeff Trask [02] by Marc Rainer Read Free Book Online Page B

sharp lands and grooves, but most of the street guns we see don’t. The marks on this round are more consistent with a very high-quality weapon. Like a sniper rifle. A good one.”
    “That’s certainly consistent with what I’m seeing here.” Kathy was looking at the wounds on the other two bodies. “Somebody hit what he was aiming for. Two heart shots and a head shot. Three shots, three kills. Not the usual spray of automatic drive-by fire.”
    “Excuse my ignorance,” Trask said. “Are there high-quality sniper rifles that fire AK ammo?” It’s good to have some real experts around to rely upon. I should actually know this already, need to read more ballistics lab bulletins.
    “I wouldn’t call this AK or SKS ammo, either,” Wilkes answered. “The usual stuff we see in the SKS 7.62 x 39 ammunition is the steel core bullet. This looks more like a NATO round, 7.62 x 51 maybe.”
    “What’s the 39 and 51 difference?” Trask asked.
    “The 7.62 is the metric diameter of the cartridge. The 39 and 51 measurements are for the length of the cartridge,” Carter said. “Bigger cartridge, better range. More powder behind the round, right, Frank?”
    “Yes. I don’t have the cartridge here, of course, just the spent round. I’m just guessing that if we’re dealing with a NATO country sniper rifle—something indicated by the type of bullet and the ballistics markings—we’d see a longer range, sniper type of ammunition. Probably the 7.62 x 51.”
    “Gangbanger snipers?” Sivella asked.
    “As I said earlier today in Baltimore, I don’t think so,” Carter said.
    “What are you thinking, Dix?” Doroz asked.
    “We know somebody’s at war with this gang. If the MS-13 thinks it’s Barrio 18, then regardless of who starts the war, then they will be at war with the 18th Street crew. That’s a fact. I’m just not convinced that a gang shooter is good for these hits.”
    “Food for thought, then,” Sivella said. “Both for all my new homicide cases, and for the federal gang task force that’s supposed to be taking these things off my hands. If it’s not a gang sniper, I might have to pull you back to Homicide, Dix.”
    Carter nodded, then turned and walked out of the morgue. He didn’t return.
    “I guess I need a ride back to the office,” Wisniewski said.
    “I’ll take you, Tim,” Doroz chuckled.
    “Cold shoulder?” Sivella asked.
    “Not exactly,” Wisniewski answered. “I’m not sure exactly what to call it. He’s sharp as hell on the case, as you can see, but it’s like he doesn’t really exist away from it. Jeff and I rode for two hours with him today—Baltimore and back—without hearing a word from him. It was like he didn’t know we were even there.”
    That’s why I was floating, Trask thought . No conversation. Just the road noise and the wind.
    “Keep an eye on him,” Sivella said. “And keep me posted.

    Trask’s hearing that afternoon was a nightmare. Any time a prosecutor drew Senior Judge Richard Scott for a guilty plea at 4:00 p.m., the attorney knew to call home and tell his wife not to hold dinner. Most federal district judges could handle a routine plea in well under an hour, some in half that time. Judge Scott, on the other hand, was very proud that in more than twenty years on the bench, he had never had a guilty plea that had subsequently been set aside by the Court of Appeals because of an inadequate plea inquiry. Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 11 required the judge to make sure that the defendant indicated on the record that he knew what he was doing, knew the rights he was waiving, and had, in fact, committed the crime to which he was pleading guilty. Judge Scott’s Rule 11 inquisitions went far beyond the requirements of the rule; in fact, most Assistant United States Attorneys (AUSAs for short) worried as much about Scott talking the defendant out of the plea as the length of the process.
    The defendant du jour was an ugly little troll who had been