Shot Down

by Steven Sheiner

  The first was ability. Did the attacker have the ability to cause death or grievous bodily harm? This usually means, did the attacker have a lethal weapon, such as a gun or knife.

  An obvious yes.

  The second was opportunity. Was the attacker close enough to carry out the attack, right then and there?

  Another resounding yes.

  The third was jeopardy. Did the attacker intend to cause you harm? Was your life in jeopardy?

  This is where it got a little dicey. There’s really no way to know what Carlos’s intent was. Would he have killed me, or anyone else in the bank? Or would he have taken the money and run?

  William attempted to shed some light on the subject.

  “What it boils down to is this: Did you genuinely believe you were in mortal danger and that using your weapon was the only means of ending the threat? If you honestly believed you were in grave danger, use of deadly force is justified.”

  “Everything happened so fast,” I said. “Bullets were flying, the ceiling was coming down on us, he was yelling, people were screaming. He looked crazy. I didn’t know what he was going to do next. But yes, I believed I was in danger. Like everyone else in the bank. If I could have gotten out of there, I would have. But he was between me and the exit. I did the only thing I could to put a stop to it.”

  William smiled, folded his arms and turned to the two lawmen. “Satisfied?”

  “I am,” Detective Lawton said. “If it were up to me, Dr. Spero would have been cleared at the scene and no investigation would have ever been opened.”

  All eyes were now on Agent Stamper, who didn’t look as satisfied. He looked at his notes, rubbed his chin, and said, “So you admit you don’t know if he was going to shoot someone?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Stamper!” William shouted in disbelief. He turned to me and quickly threw a finger in my direction. “Don’t answer that!”

  The two squabbled back and forth briefly before Agent Stamper grudgingly conceded that it seemed I was within my rights to stand my ground and defend myself. He was too by-the-book for his own good. Much later, he painfully admitted to me, in confidence, that he would have done the exact same thing if he was in my place.

  “So I’m free and clear?” I asked, the hope bubbling up for the first time in a week.

  “Free as a bird,” William confirmed.

  I breathed a monumental sigh of relief. The book had been closed on the shooting. I could stop worrying about any legal ramifications of my actions.

  Now all I had to worry about was Christina shooting me in the head.

  As they packed up to leave, Detective Lawton handed me a small blue plastic bag wrapped in clear tape. I could see what it was, and I didn’t want it. My pistol. Lawton gave me a look when I didn’t reach out to take it. It had been confiscated at the scene and held in safekeeping until the investigation concluded. The pistol was empty, the slide was back, two magazines were with it, both empty as well. Any ammo that I had was gone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want it back. Any of it. I tried to refuse, but Lawton insisted. It was my property and he was required to return it to me.

  I planned to get rid of it at the first opportunity.

  After Agent Stamper and Detective Lawton left, Sara insisted we celebrate. She fetched the boys from next door and told them the good news. It was time for yet another round of room service.

  Since the FBI was footing the bill for this little staycation, we had been conservative with our ordering up until now. Not an easy task with two teenage boys to feed. This time, we went a little crazy. If the FBI didn’t like it, they could send me the bill.

  The restaurant next door to the hotel delivered to guest rooms, so we tossed the traditional room service menu and decided to have some fun. For appetizers we ordered spinach and artichoke dip, shrimp cocktails, crispy baked chicken wings, and bruschetta. For the main course, we ordered cheeseburgers, a large Cobb salad, grilled cheese, French fries and onion rings. Dessert was chocolate cake, strawberry shortcake, banana cheesecake, and ice cream.

  With all the free food, William, of course, stuck around to partake.

  There was a ton of food left over, but we didn’t care. We had fun. We laughed and joked and tried to forget everything that was going on. Like the fact that there was a crazy woman out there just waiting for me to show my head.

  We offered food to the FBI agents at the door, but they refused. They were too professional to eat with the subjects of their protection. “Or too stupid,” Sara had said. She never understood how anyone could refuse free food.

  As the night wound down, the boys returned to their room for showers and bed. Sara, too, hopped in the shower as William and I finished the cheesecake.

  “So how’s it been going?” he asked.

  “Oh, wonderful. Sara and I are going stir crazy, the boys are constantly at each other’s throats, and I’m having nightmares that would scare the shit out of Stephen King.”

  William just listened. There wasn’t much he could say or do.

  “Besides being bored out of my mind, and exhausted, I think it’s the waiting that’s really getting to me. Wondering when Christina is going to make her move, what she has planned for me… It’s driving me nuts.”

  William nodded as he scraped a fork over the foam container, picking up the dredges of cheesecake. “So in six days, you’re outta here. You gonna make it?”

  “That’s not really up to me, is it?”

  Chapter 28

  The Gesù Catholic Church is the oldest church in all of South Florida. Built in 1896, it has served as a school, a church, and even a sanctuary. Soldiers from the Spanish American War worshipped there in 1898, veterans from the First World War prayed there after arriving from Europe in 1917, and when all of Miami served as training grounds during World War II in the 1940s, soldiers came to Gesù to receive the Sacraments.

  The Centro Hispano Católico at Gesù also assisted Cuban refugees with basic needs and helped with assimilation into American culture. They provided them with food, clothes, medical care, jobs, housing, daycare, school tuition, English classes, and immigration assistance.

  The Escalante family naturally gravitated to Gesù when they arrived in Miami in the 1960s. They became immediate benefactors of the church, supported their efforts in aiding other Cuban families, and were regulars at weekly mass. The four Escalante children grew up at Gesù. They were baptized there, received Holy Communion there, and gave confession there.

  Today, Carlos was being laid to rest there.

  Father Alejandro Balzan gave a beautiful eulogy to a packed house. He had been the pastor at Gesù for nearly fifty years. He was such a fixture there, children would often joke he was the pastor when the church first opened its doors in 1896.

  He was a close personal friend to the Escalante family and had known Carlos his entire life. More than once during his tribute, he became emotional and needed a moment to compose himself. He was not naive to the business dealings of the family, but they’d always been kind to him and the most generous of benefactors to Gesù, so he looked the other way.

  Christina sat in the front row on the aisle. She was joined by a number of distant cousins she never spoke to, an aunt she despised, and Raul, who sat directly behind her. Neither of her younger siblings were in attendance. She would deal with them later.

  On her right sat Luis Ernesto Escalante, her uncle on her father’s side. He’d removed himself from the business and distanced himself from the family after his brother was killed a few years ago. But the death of his “favorite nephew” rejuvenated his passion for family and he was out for blood.

  “I want this doctor dead,” he told Christina after the service concluded.

  “He’s being protected by the FBI. We can’t get to him.”

  “Mierda!” Luis shouted. Bullshit. More than a few heads turned in thei
r direction. She didn’t think he’d just accept that, but it was worth a try.

  Christina led him by the arm away from the congregation toward a corner of the church. She found herself in the unfamiliar position of trying to calm someone else down for a change. She wasn’t the only hot-head in the family. Luis was known to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. His tantrums were legendary.

  “The doctor will be dealt with,” she said.

  “When?!” he shouted, making no effort to lower his voice despite their surroundings.

  Christina gave a quick look around and then moved closer to Luis. She leaned in and talked softly, practically whispering in his ear. As she spoke, the scowl ebbed from his face and a smile began to appear. When she was done talking, he was beaming. He hugged her, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Me encanta.”

  I love it.

  Chapter 29

  “What do you mean he’s still alive? It’s been over a week!”

  “I’m telling you, he’s still alive. He and his family are holed up in some hotel up north. The FBI is babysitting.”

  “Is Christina still alive?! She must be dead. That’s the only explanation for the doc still breathing!”

  “Gustavo, relax. I don’t know what she’s up to, but I’m sure Christina has something up her sleeve.”

  “Something is wrong. Christina doesn’t let shit like this go.”

  “I agree. This isn’t like her.”

  “Should we kill him ourselves? We can’t afford to have him talk.”

  “No. He’s too smart for that. He won’t put his family in any further danger. Certainly not with the FBI watching. But we do need to move quickly with the next phase of the plan. I don’t know what she’s up to, but let’s not wait around and find out. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 30

  The morning after our celebratory feast, everyone slept in. Mandy woke Sara and me just before eight, while the boys still hadn’t emerged from their food coma as eleven o’clock approached. Whatever. All that awaited them was another day of eating, reading, and TV. Let them sleep.

  Over the last week, Sara and I had learned to stay out of each other’s way in the morning. The room was cramped and it was easy to get on each other’s nerves. We took turns in the bathroom and got our morning routines done.

  Freshly showered, teeth brushed, and dressed for another day of doing nothing, I took a seat at the small table and picked up the paper. Before I could even find the sports section, the phone rang. It was the first call we’d received in over a week. As far as I knew, we weren’t allowed to make or receive calls, and if we tried, the operator would prevent it.

  Sara and I both looked at each other.

  “Well this can’t be good,” she said.

  I made my way over the phone, and lifted the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Took you long enough. I thought maybe you skipped out early,” William said.

  “I wish,” I said, and mouthed, “It’s William” to Sara. “But, frankly, I’m in no rush to meet Christina.”

  “Actually, I have some interesting news on that front,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Wyatt Earp and his sidekick last night, but it appears Christina has left the country. She was spotted boarding a private jet yesterday morning after the funeral. The flight plan they filed was to Spain. No return date given.”

  “The funeral? Carlos’s funeral?”

  “One and the same.”

  I swallowed tightly, wondering what kind of nightmares that image would evoke.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “She could still have her people out there waiting for me, right?”

  “I don’t think so. Like Stamper said, she’ll more than likely want to do the deed herself. If she’s still planning to do it.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re starting to buy into Stamper’s theory?”

  “All quiet for eight, going on nine, days now. And don’t think the FBI is scaring her away. Christina and her men could easily handle the two boy scouts at your door. Same goes for the ones camped out in the lobby and the other two in the parking lot. If she wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” I said, wondering why we even bothered hiding out here. “Why didn’t you want to tell me this when Agent Stamper and Detective Lawton were here?”

  “They didn’t want you to know.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They want you scared. If you start to relax, you’ll be an easy target. They want you to keep your guard up, be alert at all times.”

  “From what I’ve heard about Christina, I’ll be an easy target no matter what I do.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. Tact was not one of William’s strong suits.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Now nothing. Keep hanging out until the Feds say you can go home. In the meantime, you and Sara can breathe a little easier knowing Christina is on another continent, and you are probably the farthest thing from her mind.”

  Chapter 31

  The small plane landed gently on the makeshift runway in a remote part of central Florida. Surrounded by orange groves, the single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza was practically invisible once it was on the ground. Twice a week the plane landed in the same place, at the same time, and was met by two black Range Rovers within minutes of touching down. The cargo was transferred to the SUVs and the pilot was back in the air less than ten minutes after landing. The operation ran like clockwork.

  The farmer that owned the land was paid handsomely for the oranges he’d plowed under to create the landing strip, and received regular payments to keep it clear and his mouth shut.

  The pilot brought the plane to a halt, but left the engines running. As he looked out the window, he could already see dirt being kicked up by the SUVs as they approached from the south. He hopped out of the plane, opened the rear cargo door, clutched his AK-47, and waited.

  The Range Rovers typically held four men each, both to make the cargo transfer quick and to protect the shipment on the drive back to Miami. They were armed, experienced, and professional. The pilot knew every one of them by face and name. Should anything or anyone change without prior notice, he was instructed to take off immediately and without hesitation, or die trying to protect the shipment.

  The two black SUVs came to a dusty halt just behind the tail of the plane. The driver’s door of each opened, but no one got out. The pilot stared, waiting.

  What are they doing?

  Anxious, he gripped his assault rifle a little tighter. His first instinct was to jump in the plane and take off. But there had never been a deviation from the routine before, and he didn’t want to overreact, not knowing what was happening. Despite his instructions, he wasn’t sure what he should do.

  He raised his AK and sidestepped away from the plane toward the bordering orange trees. He wanted to get a look at the driver’s side of the first SUV without getting too close. He squinted in the bright sunlight and inched his way toward the open door. As he got closer, he peered over the door frame only to realize the driver’s seat was empty. He walked around the door, leaned in, and looked around inside the SUV.

  Empty.

  He noticed what appeared to be a streak of blood smeared across the driver’s headrest.

  His heart was pounding. He knew something was very wrong, and that he’d made a terrible mistake. He cursed at himself for not leaving in the plane when he had the chance. As he straightened, he heard a voice.

  “Hi.”

  He turned quickly, but it was too late. The last thing he saw was Gustavo’s face and the barrel of his gun.

  “Told you it would work,” Enrique said.

  “You called it,” Gustavo concurred.

  Chapter 32

 
; “Hijos de puta!” Motherfuckers. Christina pounded her fist on the small, square cafe table, rattling her cup in its saucer and launching her spoon into the air. Her guards posted outside came racing in ready to smash some heads. She held up her hand and they quickly retreated back to their posts.

  She and Raul had been sitting quietly, drinking coffee at the Onna Café when he broke the news. Onna had the best coffee and pastries in all of Barcelona, and they had made it part of their daily routine since arriving.

  Startled people looked on as Christina angrily got to her feet and began pacing and cursing. Raul had waited until they were seated and had their coffees before he told her, hoping to avoid a public spectacle.

  “We have to go back!” she practically shouted, as she paced back and forth in front of him.

  “We can’t. Not yet.”

  Raul remained seated, not sure how Christina would react. She wasn’t used to people telling her what to do and his mind started racing. Was she armed? Would she shoot him in broad daylight, surrounded by witnesses? She didn’t have the same kind of influence with law enforcement here that she had back home. Perhaps that would engender some restraint. But she rarely considered the consequences of her actions until it was too late. Her impulsiveness wouldn’t allow her to think that far ahead.

  She moved on him quickly, pulling him out of his chair, and slamming him up against the brick wall at the back of the cafe. So much for avoiding a public scene. There were gasps and stares from the other cafe patrons, but she didn’t care.

  “Christina!” he shouted. “We need to stick to the plan! You know what they want, and you know what you want!” There was panic in his voice.

  She pressed a finger hard into his chest and said, “This plan of yours better work!”

  “It will work! Trust me! We have to be patient!”

  She looked him in the eyes for a moment and then gave him one last shove. “It better,” she said, then returned to her seat at the table. She picked up her coffee and took a sip, as if nothing happened, unfazed that everyone in the cafe was staring at her. Raul remained pressed against the wall, his heart pounding.