by Alex Howell
Jamal was referring to Raina Martin whom he had caught spying on his Georgetown base of operations. Jamal had gotten the drop on her, tied her up, and shoved her in the back of Tessa’s van. But now that Tessa was in control, she wasn’t quite so quick to dispense with the bargaining chip she had been given.
As she told Jamal, “Come on Jamal—I’ve already told you. She’s more valuable to us alive than she would be dead.”
Raina moribund in the back seat had to silently agree—but she also had to fear what her captors might have in store for her next. Killing the headlights and cutting off the engine, Tessa ordered Jamal, “Alright let’s get her out of the van—help me carry her into the warehouse.”
Tessa walked around to the side of the van and opened the back of it to find Raina squirming in her restraints, with masking tape around her mouth to keep her quiet. Tessa told her, “Alright, you be good and do what we say and you won’t get hurt alright?”
Jamal rounded the corner and smiled at Raina as he informed her, “That’s right baby—you have to listen to us now.”
Raina thought Tessa was absolutely evil, but it was Jamal that really gave her the creeps. She just didn’t like the way that he looked at her. She could tell that he was absolutely reveling in their domination of her and feared what he might try to do next. As brutal as Tessa Rogers was, she was actually relived that Tessa was there calling the shots.
She knew that Tessa was most likely just trying to use her as a bartering chip whereas she could tell by how Jamal had been leering at her, that he most likely had much more nefarious intentions in mind. She also knew that for a supposedly religious group, “The Blood” had more than its fair share of scoundrels ready and willing to commit all manner of outrages and atrocities.
Knowing as much, she somehow did not want to be alone with this depraved man. Nevertheless, Raina did not have much choice in the matter at the moment. She passively stood by as Tessa ordered Jamal, “Alright Jamal… Cut her leg restraints so she can walk.” Jamal did as he was instructed.
Tessa then told him, “Alright help her out.” Jamal leaned into the back of the van and helped Raina out of the vehicle.” To Raina’s relief Tessa then ordered the man, “Alright that’s enough. I can take care of things from here Jamal. Go back and join the others.”
Jamal seemed surprised, “What really? You don’t need my help with—”
Showing the authority, she exerted, Tessa shouted at the man, “You heard what I said Jamal! Now get the hell out of here and let me handle it!”
Jamal paused for a moment, as if contemplating defiance, but sure enough he decided to comply, as he told her, “Alright boss. Just let me know if you need anything.”
The man named Jamal then disappeared around the corner to join the rest of his compatriots who were waiting on the other side of the building. Once he was out of sight Tessa pulled out her handgun and pointed it at Raina’s head as she ordered, “Alright girlie—now it’s just you and me. We’re going to have some fun. Now go ahead and march your pretty little behind into that warehouse for me.”
Raina stood too stunned to respond however, prompting Tessa to roughly shove the barrel of her gun into Raina’s back as she barked out her orders like a drill sergeant, shouting, “I mean it bitch! This isn’t a time to play around! Move! Move! Move!”
MEANWHILE, BACK IN MASON’S BALTIMORE BASEMENT
Mason couldn’t believe what had just transpired. He stared at the disconnected phone in his hand in absolute shock and horror. His worst nightmare had become a reality, and insidiously so. Ever since he started to open his heart up to Raina, he feared that one of his enemies would take advantage of his new found love interest, and use his affection for her against him. And to have the person behind it be a former comrade—a NAVY SEAL no less—was the ultimate betrayal.
In the SEALS they had always been taught to not let their emotions get the better of them, to be clear headed and remain focused on the objectives at hand, but for the moment Mason was completely paralyzed in fear.
He knew that something was seriously wrong with Tessa Rogers, she was unhinged—all of her recent behavior seemed to clearly indicate her derangement. And now this unstable character was holding his girlfriend Raina Martin’s life in her hands. He also realized that Tessa’s reach was much more extensive than previously thought.
Raina had been tailing a suspect at a flea market in Georgetown and in just a matter of minutes, Tessa was somehow able to make the cat become the mouse, cornering and apprehending Raina—despite all the precautions that they had put in place. It boggled his mind to think that his world could be so easily turned upside down.
And his brain reeled from the thought of what Raina might be going through at this very moment. The only thing that snapped him out of his miserable malaise was when he heard a tremendous crash somewhere upstairs in his home.
Mason brought back to reality by the clear sign of someone infiltrating his residence, grabbed his gun and quickly raced up the steps of his basement, and out into his living room. Initially he doesn’t see anyone, so he headed down the hall to make sure no one was in his bedroom.
It was right when he was rounding the corner that he nearly had his head taken off by a baseball bat. It was only Mason’s keen senses, and lightning fast reflexes that saved him from what would have been a tremendous blow. Spinning around he saw his attacker, and without hesitation delivered a quick kick to the man’s chest.
Mason nearly lost his balance in the process of doing so, prompting him to mentally curse himself, ‘Damn it… I’m out of shape’.
Crouching low to the ground Mason was encouraged by the fact that the man seemed to be only armed with the baseball bat with no other weapons on his person. Mason expected the man to strike out at him again, but to his surprise he turned around and ran in the other direction.
Mason not about to let this infiltrator get away, chased right after him. The man led Mason right out the front door of his home. Mason thought that he would have to chase this guy for several city blocks but right when they were on the street across from his house the man suddenly stopped and turned right toward Mason.
Mason was getting ready to charge and tackle the guy when he suddenly lifted up what looked like some kind of remote with a big, red button on the front of it. As the grinning man put his thumb on the button, Mason thinking he was about to detonate a remote bomb in his home panicked and pulled the trigger of his gun.
Mason was actually aiming for the man’s arm but at the last minute he moved, causing the bullet to shoot him right in the heart. Without pressing the button, the man dropped the remote and collapsed on the ground. Mason rushed over and checked the man’s pulse only to found what he had already mentally predicted—the man was dead.
He then went over to the remote and carefully picked it up. Mason was not an explosives expert like his fellow Onyx team member Chris Bradley, but almost immediately he knew that the remote was a fake. Picking it up in his hand he saw that it was a just a plastic shell glued together with a red knob inserted in the center, as if it were a button.
Whoever it was he shot, had apparently died for absolutely no reason. Throwing the fake remote to the ground, Mason stared at the dead man in front of him and wondered just what kind of nightmare he was stuck in.
11
Making the Evening News
Even though Mason knew full well that the man sprawled out in front of his house was already dead, he attempted to resuscitate him. With his palms flat on the man’s bloody chest, he attempted to jump start his bullet pierced heart with CPR, but it was a decidedly lost cause.
Mason knew that he was committing several possible felonies by doing so, but instead of calling the police, he grabbed the dead man’s feet and began pulling him into his house. Just as he was pulling the man across his lawn, he heard the sound of a little neighborhood boy ask him, “Hey Mister—what’s wrong with your friend?”
Mason dropping the cadaver’s feet, w
hirled around to see the boy—who couldn’t have been more than 4 years old—staring at him from his Big Wheel, preschool aged tricycle. The boy sat transfixed on his plastic Big Wheel, looking up at him, and then over to the dead and profusely bleeding body that had left a thick trail of blood on Mason’s freshly cut grass.
Mason feeling profoundly guilty for the years of therapy bills that such a sight would probably cause for the kid in later life, tried his best to shield him from the truth. He pointed at the corpse and nervously tried to explain, “Oh uh—this guy? He’s alright. He’s just really tired. It’s way past his bed time. He just needs to sleep, that’s all. He’ll be alright.”
The child thankfully seemed to accept this boldfaced lie, as unlikely as it might seem, and pedaled on down the sidewalk. Lest the boy’s parents come out to see the grisly sight, Mason then quickly flung his front door open and dragged the man inside of his house. Seeing the pool of blood immediately form on his living room floor, it was only Mason’s training as a SEAL that kept him from becoming completely unhinged over what was transpiring around him.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for his phone and called the one man he thought might be of assistance—Mason’s former sergeant and the current Onyx team leader; Luke Simon. Mason pulled out his phone and dialed Luke’s number, crossing his fingers in the hope that he might answer. It turned out he was in luck. And after a few rings he heard Luke’s gravelly yet surprisingly cheerful voice, pick up the phone, “This is Luke Simon speaking.”
Mason knew that it was often Luke’s habit not to even look at the caller ID on his phone, so the flat reception didn’t surprise him. Luke probably didn’t even know who had called him just now. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in debriefing Luke on his current situation. He shouted into the phone, “Luke! This is Mason! I’ve got a bit of a problem on my hands… I just had an intruder in my house, I chased him out into the street and shot him!”
Luke with some obvious surprise in his voice, responded, “Mason Walker? What happened? You shot who?”
Mason repeated, “Yes, there was an intruder in my house Luke, and I shot him.”
Luke ventured, “Okay, was it in self-defense?”
To which Mason remarked, “Well… there is a problem with that as well.”
Luke replied, “Problem?”
Mason nodded, “Yeah…. He lifted up this device of some sort… I thought it was the detonator for a bomb.”
Luke encouraged him to continue, “Okay…”
Mason further elaborated, “Well… uh… he lifted this remote-looking thing up and acted like he was going to press a button on it. I didn’t know what else to do in that moment, so I shot at his arm to stop him.”
Prompting Luke to ask, “Okay… good call. So, is he stabilized now? Are the paramedics on the way?”
Mason paused for a moment, before breathing heavily into the phone as he explained, “No—there aren’t going to be any Paramedics Luke.”
Luke struggled to comprehend what was happening, but sensing the gravity in his voice all the same asked, “What—what are you talking about?”
Mason staring at the corpse sprawled out on his living room floor, then dropped the bombshell, “He’s dead Luke. He’s dead.”
Not much phased Luke but he was surprised by this one all the same as he exclaimed, “Oh my God Mason…. How did this happen?”
Mason shook his head, and felt the anxiety build as he tried to explain, “I don’t know, I thought he was about to press the button—I panicked and thought I shot at his arm, but he must have turned or moved at the last minute, and the bullet went through his chest instead.”
Luke gasped, “Shit…”
He then quickly regained his composure however, as he tried to rationalize, “Uh yeah…that’s certainly some tough shit Mason… But hey… He did try to break into your house, right? So, there should be some sort of stand your ground law that would apply here….”
Luke was of course referring to the law that had been on the books in most states for decades basically stating that if you were under attack in your own home, you could stand your ground and defend yourself—even with lethal force if necessary. Luke was forgetting one important aspect of Mason’s account however—he didn’t shoot the intruder in his home, he shot him outside of his home.
In fact, he shot the guy across the street on a public road, in this situation, there was no way that the standard “stand your ground rule” would even be applicable. And Mason told him as much, “The thing is Luke… I didn’t shoot this guy in my house, I shot him in the middle of the street…”
Luke paused, as he quietly answered, “I see….”
After nearly a minute of excruciating silence, Mason inquired with his friend almost to see if he was still there, as he asked, “Luke?”
Luke, obviously deeply concerned about the situation, sighed heavily, “Yes, if the intruder was shot in your house, you wouldn’t have any legal trouble at all… but shot out on a public road in front of your home—now that’s a different matter altogether.”
With a bit of alarm in his voice, Luke then thought to ask, “Hey! And where’s the dead body now? Still in the street?”
Mason knowing that he shouldn’t have tampered with a corpse and a potential crime scene swallowed hard as he had to admit, “No… no its not. I dragged it into my house.”
Luke amazed at his friend’s recklessness nearly shrieked, “You did what?”
Mason staring at the man’s bloody remains sighed, “I did… I… I brought it into my house…”
With unexpected ferocity, Luke hissed, “And just what did you expect to do with it? Hide it? Were you going to take him out back and bury his body? What the hell were you thinking?”
Mason was nearly trembling as he attempted to walk back his Luke Simon’s consternation, “Luke please I…. I.…”
Luke finally feeling bad for his friend, relented, “I don’t mean to be too harsh here Mason… but this is some pretty serious stuff…”
By the tone of his voice, Mason knew that even Luke, with all of his connections and authority was having a hard time seeing any light at the end of the dark tunnel that Mason had stumbled into. The situation appeared absolutely hopeless.
Luke sighed, “Alright…. okay….so you moved the corpse. Just be as honest and forthcoming with law enforcement as you can when they arrive…. I’ll try to see what I can do…”
Mason still in a state of shock and confusion, muttered, “Thanks….”
Hanging up the phone Mason buried his head in his hands for a moment, it was just too much for him to take. First his girlfriend is kidnapped and then he finds himself on the hook for murder. Mason looked down at the gun that he held in his hand and thought for a moment how easy it would be just to end it all right there.
A lesser man, would indeed have been tempted to take the easy way out. But Mason was a fighter. As long as he breathed, he would find a way to ensure the survival of not only himself but his loved ones as well, and a bullet to his brain wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.
But having that said, Mason wasn’t going to stick around for the cops to arrive either. As much as he valued Luke’s advice, he knew what the most likely outcome would be. The police would take one look at the dead man in his living room, read him his rights, and take him downtown.
Even if through some legal wrangling he was eventually able to work his way out of the likely charges that would be leveled against him. And even if he could eventually find a way to wrangle his way out of jail legally, it would no doubt take several days if not weeks or months—precious time in which Raina’s life might be snuffed out.
Despite Luke’s admonition to sit tight and wait for the cops, Mason wasn’t willing to take that chance. So, getting up off of his couch and stepping right over the dead body in his living room, Mason went to his closet and ripping away a false wall he installed to conceal a secret compartment, he pulled out a large backpack and slung it over his shoulders.
>
This was his “bug out bag” which he had placed in the hidden compartment for just such a contingency as this. The bag had cash, a change of clothes, supplies, and just about everything else he would need if he needed to “bug out” and get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible. Mason then opened up the side door in his living room that led out to the garage and walked over to a car that hadn’t left his garage in several years.
It was a car that used to belong to—and in fact was still registered to—his late wife Bree. Mason had meticulously kept the vehicle’s battery charged, kept the tires inflated, and started it up from time to time. But other than that, he had let the vehicle remain in place. This too was done for just such a contingency as he faced now.
No one in his neighborhood even knew this car existed. And if the police happened to do a quick run of his plates, it would come back as belonging to Bree Patterson, not Mason Walker. Throwing his bug out bag into the passenger seat, Mason hopped inside and pressed a button on his phone to open his garage door.
Thinking to himself, ‘Wish me luck Bree…’ Mason put the old key inside and turned the ignition. The car started right up, and as Mason noticed with relief, it had a full tank of gas. Mason put the old manual vehicle in gear and rolled out of his driveway, shutting the garage door behind him.
He turned onto the street and managed to drive just a few blocks before he saw three police cars with lights blaring converging on his position. Mason dutifully pulled over to the shoulder like any compliant citizen would and the squad cars passed him right by. Looking in his rearview mirror he saw all three pull into the driveway he had just left.
The child who had witnessed him dragging the body into his house must have no doubt made his parents very suspicious when he told them that the neighbor was dragging a “sleeping man” across his yard. And if they happened to look outside and see the trail of blood that the so-called sleeping man had left from being dragged, that would have been more than enough to prompt them to call the police.