The Third Rescue

by Jay Mackey

  “Yeah,” the man said, his smile fading slightly. “You know I’m not asking.”

  CJ stood and turned toward the door, thinking of making a run for it, but another man stood in his way. This one was also wearing a blue polo with black cargo pants and heavy, black, rubber-soled shoes. He was younger, bigger, and meaner-looking than the first man, and he frowned down at CJ. His hair was dark, and a little longer than the first man’s, and he wasn’t smiling. He stood with his feet apart and his hands together, and watched CJ carefully.

  “Stand down, Chief,” said the first man. “He’s not going anywhere, are you, son?”

  CJ turned back to the first man. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “We’re a concerned party,” the man responded, taking Jack by the arm and helping him up from the table. He pointed toward the door, while keeping a firm hold on Jack’s upper arm.

  “Let’s go, Doctor,” he said to Jack.

  Jack, looking dazed, started toward the door, so CJ did too, following the second man. He saw Penny standing off to the side, holding a coffee cup to her lips, looking confused. He looked at her, and shook his head, slowly, hoping no one else would notice.

  Fortunately, Penny got his signal, and took a step backward, watching the group file out of the coffee shop. Once out of the shop, Jack seemed to rally. He stood straighter, stopped, pulled his arm away from the man holding him, and demanded, “What is your name? This is ridiculous.”

  The man didn’t answer, but tried to grab Jack’s arm again.

  Jack backed away. “I demand that you stop, now,” he said. “You have no right.”

  CJ stopped, but the second man turned and grabbed his arm. CJ tried to pull away, but the man had a firm grip, and CJ couldn’t break it. He was feeling panic now, recognizing these men really were going to try to force him and Jack to go with them. He struggled to get free, but to no avail.

  As he struggled, he saw Penny emerge from the door to the coffee shop and edge away from them, down the sidewalk, watching carefully. She had her cell phone in her hand, having ditched her coffee somewhere along the way.

  A big black van came to a screeching halt in the road in front of them, facing the wrong way, and a third man in a blue polo jumped out of the driver’s seat and opened the sliding side door.

  Jack was now using his briefcase to hit the man holding him, yelling, “Let him go. He’s not involved in this. He’s a kid. Leave him alone.”

  CJ realized Jack was talking about him, and that made him panic even more. It sounded like Jack knew what this was about, and it wasn’t good. He pulled again, got free for a second, but the big man grabbed him with both hands this time.

  Penny now started screaming, “Help! Police! Help us!” She waved her arms wildly while she screamed. Unfortunately, the only people nearby were in the coffee shop, and CJ couldn’t see if any of them heard the commotion.

  Jack continued to struggle, and now both of the blue-shirted men worked to force him into the vehicle.

  The big man, now snarling at him, pulled CJ toward the open door, intending to shove him in after Jack.

  Then CJ heard squealing brakes and a car skidding. He looked to his left toward the sounds, just in time to see a flash of blue—a blue Honda—as it slammed into the front of the van.

  The force of the collision moved the van toward the men, and two of the blue polo men were knocked to the pavement. The man holding CJ released him at the moment of impact, an involuntary reaction to the crash. CJ quickly backed away. The man looked at him, cocked his head, said something CJ couldn’t hear, and turned to help his buddies.

  CJ ran toward Penny, who was still on the sidewalk a dozen yards away, waving her arms. Looking back, he saw the big man helping his two buddies up. The driver looked like he’d been hurt, and the big man helped him into the van, through the still open side door, and then the big man jumped in too. The other man, the one who’d talked to them in the coffee shop, looked around, assessing the situation, and jumped into the driver’s seat. The front end of the van had been bashed in pretty good where the Honda hit it, but it was still drivable. It backed up, pulled around the Honda, and then sped off, spinning its wheels as it left.

  CJ now noticed that a crowd had gathered, and Penny was still screaming. She was trying to get into the Honda, her Honda, but she couldn’t get the front driver’s door open. CJ ran around the car to help her. He pulled and pulled again on the door, which had been damaged in the crash. On the third pull, the door opened and he saw Oval. He was slumped in the seat, the air bag having deployed in his face. He wasn’t moving.

  31

  Las Vegas, May 1982

  “The guy’s smart,” said Little Bull, still peering out the doorway. “He’s getting out while the getting’s good.”

  Gus looked out through the front window. He saw a car across the street pull away from the curb and drive away fast.

  “Shit, Little Bull,” said Gus. “This is my house! You fucking shot two guys in my house! With my wife and daughter here!”

  “What did you want me to do? Wait for them to shoot you? Maybe shoot Violet and Ann too? You should be thanking me.”

  Gus covered his eyes with his hands and threw his head back. “It all happened so fast.”

  Little Bull rolled Faccio over with his foot. “Did I hear you call this guy ‘Faccio’? He’s fucking dead.”

  “He is now.”

  Little Bull leaned down to peer at the dead man’s face. “Shit, this is Faccio, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s Faccio. I don’t know how, or where he’s been all these years, but it’s him all right.”

  “He looks pretty good, for a guy missing the half his scalp.”

  Gus shook his head and went back to the bedroom to check on Violet and Ann. He found them where Little Bull said they’d be, under the mattress against the wall. He told them it was all over, and helped them get out from under the mattress, kissing Violet and picking up Ann to comfort her. She was scared, shivering and whimpering. Violet was almost as bad, tearfully asking what happened.

  “I’ll fill you in a minute,” he said, handing Ann to Violet. “Wait here. Don’t come out to the living room yet.”

  Gus went back to talk to Little Bull, peering out the door to make sure nobody else was coming. “What now?” he asked.

  “The cops will be here soon,” Little Bull answered. He turned to Gus. “Look, the house is still in my name. You take Violet and Ann and clear out. I’ll tell the cops these guys came in here, tried to rob me, but I got the drop on them.”

  Gus thought about it. What Faccio had said scared him. “They,” whoever that was, were still looking for anyone who had been in the desert that night, the night he’d found Venus/Violet.

  Quickly, Gus made his decision. He couldn’t put Violet in danger. He couldn’t risk having someone, someone in power, discover their secret. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll clear out. I don’t know how much you overheard of what Faccio was saying, but do not talk to anybody about—”

  “I know, little brother,” said Little Bull. “No sweat. Get out of here.”

  Later, much later, in the wee hours of the morning, Gus jumped to his feet; he’d dozed off waiting for his brother, who walked in the back door, smiling. Violet and Ann were sleeping soundly in the guest bedroom at Little Bull’s house. Donna hadn’t even questioned them when they all showed up, so Gus assumed Little Bull must have called her.

  “How’d it go?” asked Gus.

  “Like I said it would,” answered Little Bull, going directly to the refrigerator and grabbing a beer. “Want one?” He held up the can of Miller.

  “Sure,” said Gus.

  Little Bull threw him the can and reached back into the refrigerator for another for himself. He walked over into the adjoining family room and flopped on the couch. Taking a long suck on the beer, and said, “Long night.”

  Gus took a drink of his beer, too. “So?” he asked. “Give me the blow-by-blow.”

 
“Hey, the cops were all right. They didn’t like that I’d nailed those two with two shots, but I told them, I’m really lucky.” He smiled a tired smile and drank more of his beer.

  He continued, “Also, somebody figured out I didn’t live there, so I told them that Donna and I had a fight, so I was sleeping over there.” He rubbed his eyes. “They asked what we were fighting about. Can you believe that?” He finished his beer in one more long pull, got up and fetched another, and came and sat down again.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “it was all right. I told them Faccio was an old-time hood I used to know who’d been out of town for a long time, as far as I knew. The other guy I’d never seen before. Told them Faccio wanted money, which was true. When I went to take a piss, I came back with my gun, and the other guy started shooting, so it was all self-defense. Turns out Faccio was packing too—he had a .45 in his belt at the back—so that was good.” He looked at his beer for a minute before taking another drink. Not a long one this time, just a break so he could think.

  “Man, there were at least four squad cars that I saw, plus detectives, and I saw reporters too. A real show, I’ll tell you. All for a dirtball like Faccio.”

  He paused again, and looked at Gus, before continuing. “Here’s the strange thing. I’m standing there in the living room, looking at the bodies and the blood, and this guy comes up to me. He’s wearing a uniform. Not a cop, a soldier of some kind. Introduces himself. Captain O’Fallon. Jake O’Fallon, I think it was. Anyway, he says he’s my new best friend. Can you believe that?

  “We talk a bit. Then he says something about another guy who was out in the desert. Oaf, but he called him by his name, James Sorrento. This O’Fallon knows they—the military—talked to me before about Oaf.”

  Gus was alarmed. “Shit. You mean way back right after it happened? When we had government types poking all around?”

  “That’s how I took it. So I tell him that I haven’t seen Oaf in years. Have no idea what happened to him. Or Faccio either.”

  “Good,” said Gus. He got up to get another beer. He was afraid he’d need it before he heard anymore.

  Little Bull kept talking. “O’Fallon says they were watching Faccio, they knew about him, and wasn’t it interesting that he came to see me.”

  “Interesting? Why was it interesting?”

  “That’s what I said. Told him that he was after money and must have figured I had some. Not so interesting to me.”

  “So what was this best friend thing?” asked Gus. “Doesn’t sound like he’s much of a friend.”

  “No, but then he says this other guy, the guy with Faccio, Vic something or other, he’s one of theirs.”

  “Yeah. I made him for military.”

  “Right. So O’Fallon says they don’t really want the cops digging into all this shit. He can make it all go away.”

  “Really?” That was the first good news that Gus had heard in a while.

  “I ask him what he wants from me. He says he wants to know how Faccio and Oaf got out to the desert that night back in 1964.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I ask him how the hell am I supposed to know. He just looks at me. Cold. The fucker’s got some balls, I’ll say that for him. He says this is how it’s going to go. The cops will back off tomorrow. I’m not to talk to anybody about any of this. Not Faccio, or Oaf, or what happened tonight. None of it.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “Sure. But he says he’s going to need more from me. And then, right when he’s leaving, he says, ‘Hey, you got a brother, don’t you?’”

  “Double fuck.”

  “I told him you got nothing to do with all this, but he just looked at me again.”

  “God damn, Little Bull. I’m not going to talk to him. I can’t.”

  “I know.”

  The truth was, Little Bull didn’t know the details that Gus was afraid to let out. He knew that Venus had escaped from the turned-over truck that night. But he didn’t know what she had been running from, or where the others had escaped to. Gus had told him enough so that he knew there was a secret worth keeping, but in their family secrets were okay. They lived in a world of secrets. They kept their secrets.

  Gus nodded at him, nervously, not knowing what his next step should be.

  Little Bull said, “I’ll go with you tomorrow. We’ll talk to Dad. Maybe he can set you up somewhere, out of town. A long way from Vegas.”

  That sounded good to Gus. He said. “I need to become someone else. With Violet and Ann. We need to disappear.”

  “Okay, You know how this goes. I’ll get what you need. Who do you want to be?”

  32

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  At the hospital, Oval was still groggy, either from the painkillers to stave off the ache from his broken ankle, or from the mild concussion he’d incurred when the air bag went off. A lot had happened since the crash—Penny’s mom and dad had both come to the hospital, frantic, worried about all three kids. After long explanations, plus some hugs and tears, they had left again without ever complaining about the wrecked car. Oval had talked to his parents, too, but had been a little loopy, so CJ had to step in and reconfirm that Oval was fine. They seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing.

  That wasn’t the case with Nini and Noga when CJ called them. Nini sounded like she was on the verge of tears when she said, “Get home as soon as you can. I’m worried about you.”

  But it was Noga who seemed most upset. After Nini had finished talking, he got on the phone a second time, and walked somewhere so Nini couldn’t hear him, saying, “This happened right after that damn phone call, didn’t it? What did I tell you about that man? I knew something bad was going to happen. I haven’t told your grandmother about it yet, because she would . . . would . . . I don’t know what she would do. You get your ass home.”

  CJ told him that he couldn’t leave with Oval in the hospital, and that he didn’t know how long it would be before Oval got out—a small lie since the doctors had said they just wanted to keep him overnight for observation. He promised to come home as soon as he could.

  The story the three told their parents had been constructed on the spot by CJ and embellished by Penny. Oval, who had been knocked out only briefly, heard enough to concur, although he told the cops things were a bit blurry in his compromised memory.

  CJ had quickly sized up the situation and decided that the truth would put Oval in serious trouble, because he’d clearly crashed the Honda into the van intentionally. Further, revealing the kidnapping attempt would involve all of them in a complicated story that none of them could explain—they had no idea who would be trying to kidnap him, or why, or if it was really a kidnapping at all. And to top it off, Jack had escaped. CJ feared that he’d been in the van when it sped off, but Penny was sure she saw him jump out just before it left. She had been so concerned with Oval that she hadn’t seen where he’d gone, but wherever he was, he wasn’t returning CJ’s calls.

  When the cops had arrived on the scene—within seconds after the crash, it seemed to CJ—he’d been the first to speak. Before the cop asked him anything, he’d said, “Oh my God, we were waiting for our friend to pick us up from the coffee shop, when this big van came swerving over into his lane. Oval, that’s his name, couldn’t stop, even though you could tell he slammed on his brakes by the sounds of him skidding and everything. He hit the front end of the van really hard, but it was so big, it seemed like it was barely damaged.”

  Penny added, “Three guys jumped out and looked at the damage, then jumped back in and sped off. I didn’t get any license numbers; it all happened so fast.” That was helpful, because a couple patrons of the coffee shop said they saw men running around outside the van before it left, so the whole thing seemed to fit together. Nobody said anything about an old man wearing a funny hat getting into or out of the van.

  The kids didn’t get away free, however.

  Penny had started freaking out during the event. She was on th
e sidewalk, screaming, as Jack and CJ were being pushed toward the van. When Oval crashed to stop the abduction, she nearly went into hysterics.

  CJ had reacted very differently. For him, things slowed down, and he viewed them as through a fog. After the crash, he got away from the man holding him, saw Penny jumping and screaming, and moved toward her. When she dashed to the car to see if Oval was all right, he shifted his attention that way, and found himself pulling at the car door.

  Oval at first seemed to be in some distress, but then he opened his eyes, turned and grinned. Penny, seeing Oval’s grin, seemed overcome with relief, and buried her face in CJ’s chest. CJ gave her a squeeze, trying to provide comfort. He even whispered to her, “He’s okay. We’re all okay. It’s all over, baby, it’s all over.”

  CJ remained holding Penny when the first cop arrived. Still in a fog, CJ committed to his “accident” story. Despite throwing CJ several questioning looks, Penny supported his explanation of events. He remained calm and in control, not only of himself, but of the situation. Even after Penny’s parents arrived, CJ carefully explained the accident, soothing their overwrought reactions on seeing their wrecked car and emotional daughter.

  It wasn’t until after all the nurses and doctors had left Oval’s hospital room that it hit CJ. Finally alone with just his friends, he suddenly leaned forward in his chair and covered his eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions.

  “Oh my God,” he said. “Oh my God. Oh my God. What have I done?” If he’d been completely alone, the tears would have flowed, but he felt he had to hold it together for his friends. He’d been the one who got them involved with Jack, which resulted in the attempted abduction; he’d lied to the cops by telling them it was an accident, involving his friends in something that could have severe consequences, especially if it turned out that Jack had been hurt in any way; and he’d assumed the leadership role—appropriate, given the situation, but not a natural role for him. He’d always been the kid that everybody liked. Having people rely on him was different, and not comfortable.