by Simon King
The jet left the runway within minutes and before long, reached its cruising altitude for the quick 3-hour flight. Sam could feel the nerves in her stomach slowly awakening as she considered what would happen the moment they landed. This whole situation with this killer had been unique, completely unlike anything she had encountered during the past 4 investigations she had been involved in, not counting the whole Xavier Ward debacle.
Tim, himself a veteran of over a hundred investigations, also felt the rising tide of anxiety as the plane propelled them towards whatever events were now waiting for them in New Mexico. While some of his previous jobs bore slight resemblances, he also found the whole cat-and-mouse charade of this psycho to be unsettling.
He kept his laptop open, the map occasionally updating as Mumma continued tracking their suspect vehicle. He was still around 150 miles from Roswell and given their own travel time, put the chances of them meeting somewhere on the road as significantly high. Their own expected arrival time at the airport in Roswell was only around 10 minutes past the van’s ETA.
“Why do these things always have to be cut so damn close,” he muttered to no one in particular.
“Look at it this way. If they weren’t, where would the excitement be?” Sam offered, grinning a nervous smile at him. He smiled back, but Sam could see the concern keeping it brief. He was worried, of that she had no doubt. The number of deaths, although halved by the fact his victims included already deceased people, were gradually increasing and Sam had no doubt that he would continue until he was stopped. The killer appeared to be having a grand old time, playing his game until then, completely unimpeded.
On the screen, the laptop continued to renew each time Mumma entered new bits of updated information. The van was continuing its journey as expected, still aiming for Roswell. As Tim calculated the van’s distance from their landing site, he felt the sudden sense of falling as the jet slowly began its descent.
Sam clutched her seat’s armrests, the landing part of a flight always her most difficult to endure. She looked nervously at him and he grinned, amused by her fear.
“We’re not going to fall out of the sky, kiddo,” he said. “Not today at least.” She tried to return his smile, but judging by his expression, doubted it was effective.
Tim looked back at the laptop, saw a fresh piece of blue pop into existence and nodded his head. They would land in Roswell ahead of the van, probably with enough time to go and meet it out on the interstate. That would make things even simpler, giving the agents the opportunity to follow the van and watch as he visited his latest drop-off zone.
Just as he was about to close the lid on his laptop and prepare to land, Mumma’s voice came through their earpieces simultaneously.
“Pete and Chuck just found Lee Ling. They were only a hundred miles from the cemetery and Jim sent them down for a look. She was buried in a coffin belonging to a man called Henry Simpson. I’m sending you a photo of the man. His corpse is the one being transported.”
“Thanks, Mumma,” Tim said, looking at Sam. She simply nodded, the case finally starting to close in on itself.
The jet touched down almost ten minutes later and both agents raced from the aircraft and into their waiting vehicle. Sam slid into the driver’s seat, the Avalon already running and ready to go. Tim jumped in beside her, ripping his laptop from his bag and tossing the bag into the back seat. It took a moment for it to fire up, but once it was, he stared at the screen.
“Mumma?” he said, sounding confused. “The map isn’t updating.” He stared at the blue line that had gradually closed the gap towards Roswell. But since he closed the lid and waited to disembark the plane, it hadn’t updated.
“He’s disappeared.” The woman sounded as distant as the actual miles between them. “He was following Route 70, passed through ACME, then disappeared. He must have stopped somewhere.”
Before he had a chance to start banging away at his door again, Sam intervened.
“Awesome. Gives us a chance to find him. Can you give me the distance between last known location and next camera location?”
“Last known was half a mile from Acme, your side. There’s a stretch of almost 13 miles until the next camera location. Somewhere in that zone is your target.” Tim’s groan of frustration echoed beside her.
“At least we have a starting point,” Sam said, gesturing for Tim to calm down. “My guess is he’s lying low until nighttime, then use the cover of darkness to dump the body.”
“You’re probably right.”
Sam drove out from the airport and headed north towards Roswell. Tim kept tapping away at his laptop as she maneuvered them through the traffic, checking the time on the dash more often than she wanted to. It was already a little after four and with the sun already well on its way towards the western horizon, knew time was again a luxury they couldn’t afford.
“Why don’t we have satellite views? Doesn’t the military, or other private firms, have the technology for live video feeds?” Sam’s mind wandered as she drove and the thought just hit her out of the blue.
“I suggested it to John and Xavier years ago. I think the main reason it has never been followed up is because they; well John now; wants to keep Pogrom as low key as possible. Whilst you can buy satellite time from certain companies with the capability, you’re only ever renting the time. They record the feed on your behalf and pass it on. If we started using their services, I doubt it would take long for questions to start coming up.”
“Makes sense,” Sam said as she passed a semi.
“The other reason is, the cost is ridiculous. Better to spend the money on tools that will benefit us more in the long term.”
“How expensive?” she asked and Tim considered.
“Well, to put it simply, if I remember correct, an hour of satellite time costs as much as an agent does for an entire year.”
“What? That much?” Tim nodded.
“See what I mean?”
Sam stopped at a red light, her mind still racing with the current situation. She looked to her left and had an idea.
“What if we split up?” She pointed past Tim and he turned to follow. It was a car rental place, a row of Toyotas and Nissans lined up like a parade. “Cover more ground.”
Sam dropped Tim at the rental dealer and proceeded ahead, the race with the sun now all too real. She calculated that they had a maximum of two hours of daylight left in which to cover dozens of side roads and tracks leading from the interstate within the thirteen mile stretch. She agreed to speed ahead to the town of Acme, turn around and start with all of the northern side roads, while Tim, once mobile, would start with the southern ones.
As Sam drove, she kept the radio off to keep her sense of concentration at hand, watching each vehicle that passed her. Traffic wasn’t too bad, but each time a white object appeared in the distance, her heart jumped in anticipation of it being their target. Her eyes would remain transfixed as the object formed a shape she would identify, only breathing once the make and model of the vehicle was positively confirmed.
She nearly screamed at one point as a white Savana came into view, positive it was the one. But just as her foot left the gas pedal and shuffled across to the brake, she noticed the plumber’s rig attached to the roof racks.
The road seemed to stretch further ahead of her as Sam tried to chew through the miles. While the Avalon could have covered the distance in half the time, she knew that if a cop pulled her over for speeding, the precious daylight that still remained, would be trimmed even more and that was something none of them could afford. Lives were at stake.
After setting the cruise control to seventy-seven, Sam focused on the side roads she passed whenever traffic coming the other way ceased. The countryside was mostly flat and that made things a bit easier, but there were several old buildings as well, places anyone could easily hide in.
It was just shy of 4:30 when Sam finally saw the Acme turnoff sign, the camera Mumma had used to spot the van sittin
g high on the very same post. After doing a u-turn across the break in the road, she planted her foot, kicking up dirt as the car swung onto the opposite side of the interstate. Her hunt had begun.
Despite the attendant not understanding the words “I’m in an urgent hurry”, Tim was finally handed the keys to a Corolla just as Sam turned her car back towards Roswell. He almost snatched the keys up, ignoring the pleasantries entirely. Rudeness wasn’t something he had time to consider, almost sprinting to his waiting vehicle which the attendant had parked in the drive.
He jumped in, started it and slammed his seatbelt into place in one move, tiny tufts of smoke kicking up before the traction control engaged.
“Sam?” he anxiously asked.
“Got one?” came her questioning reply.
“Yes. Just leaving now. Make sure you keep in touch. And whatever you do, don’t approach it if you find it.”
“Not a chance. And same goes for you.” He agreed, working his way through the traffic towards the interstate. He wondered whether it was smart to search this side of the road considering it was heading in the opposite direction, but then thought about his target. The man was clever, of that he had no doubt. Killing time on this side of the road was a smart move, especially if anyone had caught on to his trail. It was what he’d do, if caught in similar circumstances.
The first several roads he passed were still in relative suburbia. The buildings, although more separated than in town, still provided numerous options for Mumma to access and Tim knew if the van was in that lot, she would have already found it. He drove a couple of miles further out before choosing his first turnoff, effectively starting his own hunt.
8
Sam and Tim worked their way from opposite ends of the interstate, each carefully combing every road, track, path and wagon-wheel rut they could find. The problem they were having was that almost every road they turned down had buildings. Barns and sheds of various condition dotted the landscape as they would slow enough for each and try and ascertain whether someone was hiding inside.
But for the most of them, seeing anything was near impossible and rather than wait for the other to come and offer back-up, it was agreed that they would carefully sneak close enough to the structures to see inside. But with most of the buildings in relatively usable condition, both Sam and Tim had to peer in through a hole in the wall, or steal a quick glimpse through a dirty window in order to clear it.
It slowed the process down considerably and by 5:30, they had finished barely half the possibilities.
“We’re running out of daylight,” Sam said as she returned to her car. Looking out over the rest of the road she was currently on, there were another four buildings, each as much a possibility as the rest. They sat behind simple gates, close to the road and were in good enough condition to hide a vehicle.
Tim, slowly idling his way past a group of three buildings that looked to have been in their prime sometime during the Second World War, stopped the car.
“I’m guessing another thirty minutes and we’ll be in darkness. And once that happens, he’s going to see us for miles.” He grabbed a cigarette, lit it and stared at the buildings.
“What do you think we should do?” Sam asked, starting her car again.
“I got an idea,” Tim suddenly said, butting his smoke out after just a single puff. “See that hill up there on your right? I’m guessing he’s gonna be holed up somewhere on your side. If he had chosen this side, he would have been at the end I’ve been hunting. My guess is he wasn’t as smart as we figured. We take a high vantage point and wait. I’m thinking he’ll wait until after midnight, then take old Henry to wherever he’s got planned. We’ll simply keep an eye out for any headlights driving along the road and then pounce.”
“But what if we miss him? What if he is on that side and we don’t see him?” Sam slowed to peer in through an open barn door.”
“We still have Mumma watching the live feeds. We’ll ask Jim to join in as well. If he rolls, we’ll see him.” Sam looked at the ever-darkening sky and knew the consequences of not acting. Given their limited options, Tim’s plan sounded like the best choice. Sam swung her car around and slowly drove back the way she had come. Soon, she was winding her way up to where Tim would shortly meet her, and hopefully, they would finally find their mark.
The shadows of night arrived quickly once the sun dropped beneath the horizon. Traffic on the interstate was still quite regular, headlights quickly replacing the cars as the light continued to fade from the sky. Tim and Sam sat on their respective hoods, the latter cross-legged with her chin resting in her palms.
As well as his laptop, Tim also kept a set of binoculars in his backpack, which he was now using to scan across the landscape beneath them. From where they were sitting, there were around 6 to 8 homes in the low-lying areas and Tim spent almost a minute on each, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.
An hour after they parked their cars, darkness had consumed the valley entirely, with only the stars offering a hint of help to the pair. With no moon to speak of, it made searching the areas a little harder, but where the lack of light hid most of the countryside, it also meant any headlights that fired up away from the road would be spotted from miles away.
As Tim continued scanning with the binoculars, Sam sat and watched the traffic pass by on the interstate, scanning the land occasionally for signs of life. But apart from the stationary lights of the homes, no other possibilities appeared. It was a waiting game, pure and simple.
Sam yawned loudly, looked at her watch and saw the hands rapidly closing in on midnight. She had already peed twice behind a nearby bush and wondered how she was possibly needing a third, considering her lack of water intake during the past 5 hours.
“Headlights,” Tim suddenly said, standing on the hood of the car as he gazed through the binoculars. Sam, unable to see them from her level, also stood and saw them on the other side of the road.
“Isn’t that a home?” she said, watching as the vehicle slowly turned around whatever driveway existed down there. Tim paused, watching intently as the car slowly rolled towards the small road that would then lead it back to the interstate.
“Can’t make out the vehicle. It’s too dark,” he whispered as Sam stood patiently by.
“Wait until it turns onto the main road,” she offered, watching as the vehicle turned onto the small dirt road. She saw another light source come to life a couple of miles back the other way. “There’s a second one I think.” Tim turned to look as the first closed the distance to the interstate. After confirming it was in fact a vehicle, he turned back to the first.
“Keep an eye on the second one. That first one is almost there,” he said, watching as the first now slowed to turn onto the interstate where only a few cars dotted the landscape.
“That’s not a van,” Sam said as the SUV came into view.
“Jeep,” Tim said, following it for another quarter mile or so. He turned back to the second set of headlights, it about to turn onto the interstate as well.
They watched as the vehicle first slowed, paused for another to pass it, then turned onto the hardtop, slowly building up to its cruising speed. It looked to be a small hatchback, taking its time as the driver worked his way through the gears.
“Mumma?” Tim suddenly said. It took her a moment to answer, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Yah, I’m here.”
“We have two vehicles that need tracking, if you can. A red SUV, came onto the interstate around 5 miles from Acme. The other is a yellow hatchback, possibly a Honda Civic.” It took her a few minutes to reply.
“I got ‘em,” she finally said.
Tim sat back down on the hood, resting the binoculars in his lap. As they continued watching the area for more signs of life, neither knew that the subsequent victim had already been taken, their SK on his way to the next drop-off.
“The hatchback stopped out the front of a bakery in Roswell. Looks like the driver works there.�
� Mumma’s voice, now back to her usual level of alertness, sounded matter-of -factly.” It had been almost 20 minutes since the two vehicles interrupted an otherwise uneventful night and as Mumma’s voice broke the silence, Sam felt a sense of uneasiness build inside her.
“And the Jeep?” she asked.
“Looks like it’s heading out of town towards,” she paused, as if waiting for something. “One sec. It’s just approaching a turnoff.” Another pause, both agents hanging on every word. “Yup, heading towards Artesia.” Tim slid off the hood, his feet thumping into the ground.
“Can you track it?” he asked.
“There’s no cameras between that turnoff and the town itself. Nothing along the way I can patch into either. And Tim?”
“Yah?”
“Artesia is exactly 982 miles.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” he answered, slapping his leg. “Damn.” He suddenly turned to Sam. “I didn’t want to do it this way, but I don’t think we have a choice. You take the home where the Honda came from. I’ll take the Jeep’s home.” Sam nodded, slid from her own hood and rushed to the driver’s door. As a final reminder of their situation, Tim called a final instruction out to her. “And stay in touch.”
Tim followed Sam to the interstate, then turned one way while Sam went the other. He could see her taillights for a few hundred yards, then lost them as he turned down the small road where the Jeep had been 20 minutes before.
It was a narrow road, fences running alongside its entirety. Once he reached the driveway of the home he’d seen through his binoculars, Tim slowed, pulled over onto the nonexistent shoulder and killed the engine. This part he would need to do on foot.