by Simon King
Sam turned down onto her own road and made the mental calculation of the distance she’d followed the Honda for. Once she was sure she was at the correct spot, she also pulled over and killed her engine.
“I’m here,” she whispered, Tim acknowledging her with his own declaration.
As she stepped out of her car, Sam felt the air bite into her, the temperature significantly lower than it had been higher up on the hill. The lack of moonlight didn’t help her cause, but she slowly began to walk down the driveway anyway.
She scanned the buildings ahead, trying to work out where to start. It looked like there were 3 buildings in total; the home, a barn and a separate double garage. Sam considered each as she neared the end of the drive, one other vehicle briefly stealing her attention. But as she approached it, she could see that it was nothing more than a wreck, spending its final years resting on cinderblocks.
It was the barn she went to first, its double doors standing open and ready, as if inviting her inside with welcoming arms. After stepping into the doorway, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the further reduction of ambient light, but the shadows were enough to tell her that there was no van hiding inside it. Apart from some sort of tractor, there was little else in the building.
“How’s it going?” Tim whispered as Sam stepped back out into the night.
“One building is clear. I’ve got two to go,” she whispered back.
“Perfect. I’m just coming up to my house. Two buildings here; one garage and one home.”
Sam acknowledged, then continued towards the garage. While one of its doors was closed, the other had been retracted completely, the open stall bathed in complete darkness. She wondered whether that was where the Honda had driven from when a dog began to bark furiously at her from the home.
At first she thought the animal had been behind the fence that surrounded the main building, maybe even chained up. But then she heard its growling grow ever closer and knew there would be no outrunning it. The wreck she had briefly inspected just moments before, now appeared to be her only refuge from the dangerously sounding set of teeth fast closing in on her.
Sam leapt onto its hood, then listened as the snapping jaws tried to follow her. In a final attempt to save herself, she clambered onto the roof as the dog tried to jump up, its claws scratching the fender.
“Tim. Tim,” she snapped into her earpiece, but before he could answer, Sam suddenly found herself lit up as the dog ran back towards its master.
“What the hell you doin on my property?” a man’s gruff voice called to her. Thinking fast, Sam sat down on the roof and slid back down onto the hood.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been driving most of the day and I’m lost. I need to find 425 Mosman Lane.” She sobbed a little, then shrieked when the dog began to bark again.
“QUIT IT, BOOMER,” the man yelled at the dog.
“Paul? What is it?” a woman suddenly asked from the darkness.
“Go back to bed, hun. Just someone lost their way, that’s all.” But the woman remained.
“Oh Lord, are you OK, dear? Paul, chain that animal up and let the poor girl down from there.”
“I’m so sorry. I saw a yellow hatchback and my brother said his neighbour had one and so I thought,” Sam began, doing her best to sound frightened.
“Yellow hatchback? That’s my son’s. He works at a bakery in town.”
“Oh,” Sam said, her feet finally back on the ground.
“Where did you say you were looking for?”
“Mosman Lane.”
“Oh, you’re on the wrong side of town for that. Other side of Roswell, heading west, about 2 or 3 miles along Route 380.” The woman sounded sincere, holding one of Sam’s hands.
“Oh, the other side of town,“ Sam said sheepishly just as Tim whispered into her ear.
“Get here fast.”
After thanking her late-night acquaintance profusely, Sam returned to her car and once inside, asked for an update as she swung a u-turn.
“I found the van. The owner of the house is missing. It was the Jeep, Sam.” She floored it, listening as Mumma and Tim coordinated their efforts to relocate the red SUV. Tim had already jumped into his rental and was heading back towards the interstate as Mumma was arranging a crew to process the van before local law enforcement became aware of the situation.
After driving the short distance back to town, Tim parked his car in the allocated return spot and dropped the keys through the slot in the door. Once back in the Avalon, Sam pulled back out onto the road and headed south towards the small town of Artesia.
“This one’s only a drop-off,” Sam suddenly said. Tim looked at her, at first confused before understanding.
“He’s going to dump and run. Unless of course…” Headlights came the other way and both held their breath to see what sort of vehicle it was. The white sedan whizzed past as Tim continued. “Any of the cars passing us could be him.”
“Did you find out anything about the missing owner?” Sam asked as she sped up a little more. Tim reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
“Yuri Lebedev,” he read from the driver’s license he held up. “Couldn’t see any signs of a struggle, so he’s either lying in the back of the Jeep, or he wasn’t home. Either way there’s another victim he’ll need.”
The rest of the drive to Artesia was in almost complete silence as both pondered the next stop in their hunt. More than anything, they were anxiously waiting for Mumma to pick up the trail of the Jeep once it showed up on one of the cameras within the township. But that call never came.
Apart from a roadwork construction zone that had been abandoned for the night, there were no other significant places of interest by the time the agents reached the outskirts of Artesia.
“Mumma?” Tim called through, but he already knew the answer to his question. “Any sign of him?”
“None. He’s either taken a detour, or whatever he’d been planning for, occurred somewhere during your drive. Apart from the four vehicles that have driven back the other way, there’s been no other signs of life.”
‘Wait,” Sam said suddenly. “We’ve only passed three cars.” Tim paused, as if calculating.
“She’s right,” he said. “Mumma, keep track of them. We need to regroup here.”
“Will do,” was the reply as Sam slowed and pulled to the shoulder.
“I’m willing to bet he stashed the Jeep,” Tim said, opening his laptop. Once it was fired up, he opened a map and zoomed in on their location.
“But that could be anywhere.”
“Yes, but…” He paused, as if trying to work something out. “It’s just that, I…” Another pause. “Something’s telling me that one of those cars was him.”
“Gut instinct?” a new voice said through the earpiece. Tim looked out through the windshield, surprised.
“John?”
“Yeah, Sport.”
“John, we are so close,” Tim said, almost apologetically.
“And now you do what I pay you so handsomely for. You use your above-average instincts and follow that. If you think he’s in one of those cars, then follow it.”
“You sure?” Tim questioned.
“Sport, if you’re wrong, you’re wrong. Then we pick him up again when he digs up the next corpse. It’s all we can do. Try and eliminate those four cars as quick as…one sec.” The voice paused as both Sam and Tim listened intently. “Make that three cars. The other one turned out to be another baker. Eliminate the three cars as quickly as possible. If you can, rework what you’re able to. Maybe get a helicopter in the air to see if they can locate our red Jeep once daylight hits. Until then, get cracking on the three.”
Tim smiled and nearly saluted, already feeling a whole lot better about things. Sam gave him a thumbs up as Tim closed the laptop.
“Alright, John. Will do. Thank you.” He gestured for Sam to swing around and head back the other way. She did as asked, running events through her mind.
>
“Mumma? Which way?’
While one of the vehicles had driven through Roswell and continued on towards Albuquerque, the second turned west towards San Antonia. The third vehicle turned east, headed back towards Acme and the great beyond. Tim considered the options and again followed his instincts.
“North,” he said, pointing the way for Sam. “Seems logical that he’ll head somewhere new. My guess he’ll get to Albuquerque and continue on. You right to drive?” he asked, looking at Sam.
“Eyes are starting to get heavy, but I think I’m good.”
“OK. I think I’m good, but if I nod off, wake me after an hour and we can swap.” Sam nodded, agreeing to the plan.
They were at least a half hour behind their target, Mumma continuing to give updates every so often. Sam acknowledged each with a simple thank you, before the silence once again swallowed her. At one point, Mumma pointed out that the car heading towards Acme never made it, undoubtedly turning off before it reached the town. After a brief consideration, Sam decided to stick with the plan. Beside her, Tim began to quietly snore as he rocked gently to and fro from the car bouncing along the tarmac.
“Tim,” Sam said, shaking her passenger gently by the arm. He groaned a little, shook his head and tried to sink back into sleep. “Tim, wake up.” He slowly opened his eyes, temporarily confused by his surroundings. It was still night outside and from the look of the dashboard clock, had only been asleep for twenty or so minutes.
“I’m awake,” he whispered, sitting upright. A new voice spoke in his ear.
“It’s not the car you’re following. You’ve made good ground, but it just pulled into an Albuquerque Hospital. Plus we have another problem.”
“A problem?” he asked, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wipe the fog away.
“We’ve lost contact with the crew at the van.” Tim froze, stared at Sam, then slammed his elbow into the door again. His driver wondered how much bruising that elbow endured on a weekly basis.
Sam slowed enough to swing the car around and floored the gas pedal. Cops or no cops, she couldn’t afford to drag their asses anymore. She hadn’t noticed any patrol cars along the road, nor any hiding by the roadside. As far as she knew, they had a clear run all the way back to Roswell.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Mumma had confirmed that apart from several vehicles passing camera points on either side of where the house with the van was located, it wasn’t one of them. Nor had she been able to contact either of the three men who’d gone to the home.
The sky was starting to lighten again and with daylight only minutes away, Tim and Sam knew they were at the pointy end of time once more. The buildings looked devoid of life as they drove entirely up the driveway. The house sat quietly on one side, while the open garage faced it, the van still parked inside. They both saw its nose staring back at them from the shadows.
But it wasn’t the nose of the van that drew their attention, the two bodies lying on the drive taking that honor. Both appeared shot, the bullet holes visible from the sides they dropped on. Tim and Sam jumped out of the car and ran to where they lay, each checking one for any signs of life. But the execution-style bullet to the forehead ensured neither officer would ever wake again, the spray of blood and brain painting the colored cement beneath them in ghastly patterns.
“Where’s the third?” Sam said, rising back up. She looked around, but saw no one else. Tim walked to the garage to check the van, but it too was deserted.
Tim looked at the space where the Jeep had presumably been parked and saw something he hadn’t noticed the first time he was here. There was enough space for a second vehicle behind it and now had a discarded canvas car cover lying there. He ran to where it sat and stared at the ground around it, seeing faint tire marks.
“He’s taken whatever was parked here,” Tim finally said.
“Mumma, can you get a handle of all the cars that have left here since,” he began but stopped. ’Since when?’ he thought to himself. “We don’t even know what he was driving since the last drop-off.”
“Pretty sure I can,” Mumma said, reminding him of the only vehicle to pass him coming from Artesia that turned back onto the interstate.
Sam returned from the house a few moments later, holding her hands up. Tim just stared at the canvas cover as she walked beside him.
“House is empty. The other one wasn’t in there. He’s gone.”
“Guys,” John suddenly said, cutting in unannounced. “Drop whatever you’re doing and return to HQ.” Tim looked at Sam in surprise.
“You want us to come home?” he asked.
“Yes. Right now. A second team should be almost there. They’ll have a ride for you. Straight back, guys. No questions.”
Sam raised her hands questioningly, as much in the dark as her off-sider. Tim shook his head a little, went to ask something else, then simply snapped his mouth shut. The whirring sound of an approaching engine broke the morning silence and they walked to the open door to investigate.
One of the usual clean-up trucks pulled into the drive, alongside an SUV. Men started piling out of both, with half of them heading straight to the bodies.
“Hey,” one of the men from the SUV called. “I’m to give you guys a ride back to the airport?”
For the Pogrom agents, the drive back to the airport was a blur of confusion and failure. Each carried demons within them, questions which haunted them and the decisions they’d made during the previous days.
The jet was sitting on the runway and as the driver pulled up beside it and wished them well, neither responded with much more than a wave. Sam slowly climbed the stairs aboard, with thoughts of one of their own now becoming part of the case. Once they were both seated, the attendant closed the door, signalled the cockpit an all clear, then buckled themselves into their own seat.
It wasn’t until they had reached their cruising altitude that either of them spoke, with Sam finally breaking the silence.
“Do you think they pulled us because we failed?” she asked. Tim looked up from his lap, his face a blank canvas that mirrored her own.
“I don’t know what to think. It’s my first time called back from an active case.”
“But surely they must realize we did our best. Didn’t we?” She sounded defeated and Tim only stared back, having no worthy answer to give her.
Sam sank back into her seat and stared out of her window, the sky clear all the way to the horizon. Beneath her, people were preparing for their work day ahead, getting children ready for school, while others sat down for breakfast.
And as they crossed the airspace from New Mexico into Texas above the city of Farwell, a white van crossed the border at the very same time. The driver briefly peered up at that moment, adjusted the earpiece he was wearing and smiled. One of the two men lying in the back began to kick out again and he briefly turned to watch, his grin never wavering as he continued to close the distance to his next destination.
9
The jet landed shortly after lunch and the team stepped off to find a car already waiting for them on the tarmac, the driver standing by for them. It didn’t surprise either of them, both still unsure of the reason for the diversion. As silently as they had sat on the plane, each of them slid into the backseat, keen to have their questions answered.
Apart from a slight delay from some minor roadworks, the short drive to the compound was done with in less than 20 minutes. Neither wasted time in jumping out and heading to the elevator. Tim punched the button and both watched as the doors slid closed, the familiar falling this time feeling more like a revelation to a long-running mystery. The answer would be found behind door number 1.
As the doors slid open to reveal the boardroom, neither were surprised to find the wall down to the replica room and John Milton sitting on one of the couches. Sam stared a little, still finding the exact replica of the downtown office boardroom here in the compound remarkable. John’s expression however, brought her back to earth.
“Guys,” John said as soon as he saw them. He set his glass down, stood and walked to greet them. He shook hands with each, then gestured for them to sit. Sam looked at the spot where Xavier Ward had died and briefly felt a shiver transverse her spine. Tim wasted no time with pleasantries.
“What are we doing here, John?” he asked. A thought suddenly dropped into Sam’s mind as she heard his tone. Given the age at which John had first found Tim, the pair had more of a father-son relationship that an employer-employee one. “We were right in the middle of it, practically on his tail.”
“Actually,” John began, “you were being played. We all were.” Tim glared at John, a look of confusion briefly stepping in for the anger that loomed behind his eyes.
“Played?” Sam asked.
“Mumma?” John suddenly said, turned to look at the door and watched as her familiar face came into the room. Despite the mood of the room, Sam hopped up and rushed to her favorite person, throwing her arms around the surprised woman’s neck.
Both John and Tim stood as Mumma neared, then sat again as they all resumed their places. John spoke first, his look one Sam hadn’t seen on him before. In the moment before he spoke, she finally sensed the emotion that was within him. It was fear.
“It’s probably best if Mumma explains, but before she does, I need you guys to know that you haven’t been pulled from anything. As far as I’m concerned, this is your case and you’ll both see it through to the end.” He paused, looked at Mumma and waited for her to prepare herself.
“It wasn’t until the fourth body had been located that I noticed something peculiar, but now with the two men taken hostage, or whatever they are, I finally understand.” She looked at Tim almost apologetically. “I don’t know what it means yet, but…” She paused.