Shot Down

by Steven Sheiner

  I stared in disbelief at the images on the monitor. Why in the world would the FBI falsify evidence against me? Did they even really care about the case? Stamper had originally ruled it a justifiable shooting, so I should have been in the clear. Right up until the point where I was served with an arrest warrant. Then it hit me, and I understood why the FBI cared. The Escalante brothers. They had been directing this whole thing from the shadows. Everything that had happened to me was because of them.

  When I finally snapped out of my trance I said, “Let’s show these to William. He can use them in my defense. Maybe he can even get my case dismissed!”

  “I don’t think so,” James said.

  “What? Why not?”

  James turned back to the monitors and, after a few clicks of the mouse, the images and the video were replaced by a cluster of emails, text messages, and bank records. He glanced up at me to see if I was paying attention before saying, “William has been working for you, but he hasn’t exactly been working for you, if you catch my drift.”

  I listened as he described what I was looking at and what it meant. The longer he talked, the more my heart sank. The one person that was supposed to be defending me had been working against me all along. I plopped down on the bed, demoralized.

  “Now what am I supposed to do? My trial starts next week and my attorney is going to sell me up the river.”

  No one spoke because no one had any answers.

  “Maybe I can go to the judge!” I began. Pointing at the screen, I went on. “This stuff proves attorney misconduct or malfeasance or whatever they call it! Between that and the pictures, maybe I can get my case thrown out!”

  James and Ingo looked at each other then back at me. I couldn’t tell if they were looking at me with sympathy or pity, or if they just thought I was losing my grip on reality.

  “Simon,” Ingo began, “according to all of this,” he said, gesturing at the two monitors in front of James, “nothing will stop your trial from proceeding. The judge is no doubt in on it, so this wasn’t going to turn out well, even if William were actually trying to defend you.”

  “Why?” I shouted, exasperated. “Why are they so hell bent on sending me to jail for something they forced me to do in the first place?!”

  “To get to me,” James said.

  Chapter 84

  “Why?” I asked.

  “For a lot of reasons, really. But mainly because the Escalantes are not big fans of loose ends,” James said.

  “But what would they need me for?”

  “To kill me.”

  “What? Why would they want me to kill you? And why would they think I would? I keep trying to tell everyone, I’m an optometrist, not an assassin. As far as they know, we don’t even know each other. Besides, there must be a dozen guards they could have bribed or countless inmates they could have influenced to get to you.”

  “Actually, you’d be surprised,” he said, more cheery than I expected. “My isolation unit had only eight other prisoners and a total of three rotating guards, and they all loved me. I’ve done favors for all of them. Big ones. Whatever they needed, if I could do it with a computer, I did it. The guards were well paid to protect me, and not just from threats on the inside. That’s where you come in. Your guilty verdict sends you straight to the isolation unit, at least initially. In time, you’d be able to get to me.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. Why was it so important for them to get to James? And why was I the only option? Something didn’t add up.

  “So what?” I said. “Why would I try to kill you just because I’m in your isolation unit?”

  James turned in his chair and looked directly at me, a serious look in his eyes. “You don’t know me, Simon,” he began. “You think I’m just some kid who’s good with computers, hoping to graduate college, marry his girlfriend, and raise their baby. But I’ve done things, things I’m not proud of. Things I did because I had to. ”

  “What kind of things?” I blurted out, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  He paused. Whatever he was about to tell me, he wasn’t excited about it.

  “A lot of things,” he said. “It’s not important.”

  “Like…?” I asked, waiting for him to tell me something.

  He exhaled, looked at me, then said, “You know that hundred thousand dollars that magically appeared in your bank account? That was me.”

  His words were like a punch in the gut. I’d spent the better part of a year wracking my brain trying to figure it out. Many nights I laid in bed after being woken by the ghost of Carlos Escalante, wondering where the money had come from. Now I find out the person responsible is sitting right in front of me. The same person I helped get out of jail.

  “Why? Why would you do that?” I growled. But I knew the answer before I’d even finished the question.

  He cocked his head and, with a look of derision, said, “For the same reason you and I have done everything we’ve done up until this point.”

  “They forced you,” I said.

  He just nodded.

  I laid back on the bed, arms out, and stared at the ceiling.

  “Lisa and the baby are constantly at risk,” he went on. “And until they’re safe, I’m at their mercy. I had to do what they said. With all the favors I did for the guards, they let me use a computer whenever I wanted, so it was easy. I did what I was told. I’m not proud of it, but I did what I had to. I’m sorry.”

  I was furious, but not at James. How could I blame him? He was in the same boat I was. His family was at risk and he would do whatever it took to protect them. Even if they didn’t know it.

  “We’re just their tools, Simon. They use us until they don’t need us anymore. Once you’re convicted and sent away, that will be the end, for both of us. As soon as they find out I’m out, Lisa and the baby are dead...”

  “They don’t know you’re out?” I interrupted. “How could that be? Isn’t there some kind of record when a prisoner is released on bail?” I asked.

  “Not anymore,” he replied smugly. He leaned back and cracked his knuckles. “But they won’t stop looking for me. They know what I’m capable of now, and they can’t afford to have me running around out here. I know too much.”

  I nodded as he spoke, recognizing the truth in his words.

  I told them about my phone call with Sara and what she’d overheard about Christina’s intentions when this was all over. I watched Callie Ann for any reaction to what I said, but she was pretty stoic. I left out the other thing Sara had overheard. Now wasn’t the right time.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” James replied. “Like I said, loose ends…”

  “Told you,” Ingo added. “No way you just walk away from all of this.”

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “We need to end it, all of it, before you ever step foot in that courtroom,” James said.

  Chapter 85

  The day wore on and as night fell, Ingo headed home, followed shortly after by Callie Ann. With what was coming, we would all need our rest. Ingo had contributed greatly to the plan we now had in place, and would be instrumental in its execution. Callie Ann had sat quietly listening for most of the afternoon, saying little. I made sure to keep certain parts of the plan from her, wanting to minimize her involvement, but she was stubborn and insisted on playing a part. I had no choice but to agree for now. As I watched her drive off, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making a huge mistake.

  James had nowhere to go. Just released from prison, estranged from his girlfriend and child, no car, no money, his options were but one. He stared longingly at the unoccupied queen bed next to mine. I remembered how uncomfortable prison beds were, and I couldn’t imagine sleeping in one for an entire year like he had. I offered to let him stay and he graciously accepted.

  “That Callie Ann is, um...” he began.
<
br />   “Yeah, I know,” I said.

  “Did you…?”

  “No.”

  I’d caught him staring at her during the day. It was hard to blame him. He was a college kid and she was gorgeous, but we all needed to focus and that was just one more reason I wanted her out of the picture.

  It had been a long day, full of discoveries and revelations that took their toll on me both mentally and physically. Too tired to eat, I took a hot shower, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed. James went next. He had no clothes other than what he was wearing when he left the detention center, so I loaned him a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. When the lights went out, I discretely tucked my gun under the mattress and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  I slept like the dead until around three in the morning. A sound awakened me, something from outside. I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep until I did. I untangled myself from the sheets and went to the window. I peeked through the small gap at the edge of the curtains, but saw nothing. I stared out into the parking lot for a full minute before giving up and trudging to the bathroom. When the toilet was done flushing, I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. As I headed back to bed, the room was suddenly filled with light. I shielded my eyes from the brightness as it blasted through the curtains. At first I thought it was just some inconsiderate hotel guests with their brights on right outside our window. When I heard the very familiar click clack of guns being cocked and readied, I knew better. I dove head first across my bed, landing hard on the floor between the two beds. I reached up, grabbed James by the arm, and shouted, “Get down!”

  I yanked him off the bed and pulled him to the floor just as bullets exploded through the window, shredding the curtains, and sending glass everywhere. He fell practically on top of me, still clutching his comforter.

  “What the fuck?!” he screamed.

  “We have to get out of here!” I shouted. “Follow me!”

  With the comforter over our heads, James and I hugged the floor and crawled as quickly as we could toward the bathroom. The front door, the walls, even the ceiling were torn apart as bullets ripped through the room. The mirror on the wall shattered into a million pieces, the TV exploded, and James’s computer setup was destroyed. We reached the bathroom and I pointed to the small window just above the toilet.

  “Go!” I shouted.

  “Wait!” he said, and turned back to the door. He began to crawl out of the bathroom, back into the room.

  “What are you doing?!” I shouted.

  Pressed close to the floor, he slithered over to the computer tower that sat under the desk and yanked something from the front of it. He clutched it in his hand and wiggled his way back to the bathroom.

  “Are you crazy?!”

  “Let’s go,” he said, ignoring the question.

  I scrambled to my feet, popped the latch on the window, climbed up the toilet, and peeked my head out. No one was watching the back. They probably assumed we’d be asleep and make for easy targets. I waved for James to follow me and jumped down onto a grassy clearing. He was right behind me and, seconds later, we were in a full sprint, putting as much distance between us and the shooters as possible.

  “Who the hell was that?” he yelled out, running hard.

  “I have no idea!” I shouted in return, the shots still echoing through the night.

  “Jesus, is there anyone not trying to kill you?!”

  I turned to look at him as we ran. “How do you know they were after me?”

  He said nothing as we ran deeper into the darkness.

  Chapter 86

  The hedgerow provided ample cover, but we stayed low to the ground anyway. Across the street from where we hid, the house was quiet and dark. James and I approached as quickly and silently as we could. When we got to the back door, we crouched down and looked around again. It was hard to see through the darkness, but I didn’t think anyone had followed us. After we’d escaped the hotel hit squad, we ran hard and didn’t look back until we’d put a couple of miles between us and the hotel. We walked the last half mile to catch our breath and make sure no one was around.

  I raised a hand up to knock, but before I made contact, the door was yanked open and a large gun was thrust in my face. Ingo stared at me down the barrel of his Mossberg 590A1 tactical shotgun with rage in his eyes. I’d seen the gun a few times on visits to his house, but I’d never found myself staring down the business end of it. It was not a good feeling. Considering it was the middle of the night and who we had been dealing with, I could understand his unease.

  Ingo remained motionless as he raised his eyes and looked around to see if we’d been followed. When he was satisfied we were alone, he lowered the gun and hurried us inside. With the door closed and locked behind us, he returned the Mossberg to its resting place in the nook near the door. He flicked on a light and directed us to the kitchen table. James and I each pulled out a chair and sat while Ingo went to the fridge. He came back with three bottles of beer, and slid one to me, then James.

  “Umm, it’s three-thirty in the morning,” I pointed out.

  “Looks like you could use it,” Ingo replied, and took a seat across from me. “Both of you.” James had already popped his open and started gulping it down. Ingo twisted the cap off of his and took a swig.

  “What’s your excuse?” I asked.

  “It would be rude to let my guests drink alone,” he said with a wink.

  I had to admit, I was still on edge after being shot at. Again. I picked up the bottle and thought about our narrow escape, and wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t gotten up to use the bathroom. James and I would probably both be dead. I shook it off, twisted the bottle cap loose and took a long pull. It was ice cold and delicious. Ingo was right, I needed it.

  “Alright, what happened?” he asked.

  I looked at James. He tilted his head, raised his beer, and said, “All yours.”

  I turned back to Ingo and told him about our late night visitors and the Swiss cheese that was now my hotel room.

  “That was not part of the plan,” he said flatly, a confused look on his face.

  “You don’t say,” I retorted and took another swig.

  Ingo stood up, beer in hand, and paced around the kitchen. Pacing was usually my thing, so it was almost amusing to see Ingo doing it.

  “Not joking, mate. We need to think about this,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Who was trying to kill you? And, for that matter, which one of you?”

  I looked at James. He just shrugged and took another sip of his beer. I turned back to Ingo and said, “I thought about it all the way over here.”

  Ingo stopped pacing and looked at me. “And?”

  “I don’t think Christina would back out of our deal,” I began. “Why would she? We’re doing all the work, and she’s gonna reap the rewards. She will end up on top, with no more competition, just as she wants it.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “I suppose a guard could have talked, so it’s possible the two brothers know you’re out,” I said, looking at James.

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. Those guys lo—”

  “We know, they love you,” Ingo cut him off. “But the Escalantes can be very persuasive. Look around. We’re all sitting here because of just how persuasive they can be.”

  A look of panic swept across James’s face. He sat up taller in his chair, put his beer down, and said, “If they know I’m out, Lisa and the baby are in danger! I have to go! I have to find them!”

  “That’s exactly what they would want you to do,” Ingo replied.

  “He’s right,” I said. “If something happens to Lisa or the baby, they will have no leverage over you. They’re safe, for now at least.”

  James sat back in his chair,
somewhat—though not entirely—relieved.

  “But let’s pretend for a minute it wasn’t them,” I said. “The brothers might not even know you’re out.”

  I looked up at Ingo and found his eyes already locked on me.

  “That would mean…” I began.

  “Yup,” he said.

  I sat in silence pondering this new development. If it was true, my problems just got a lot worse.

  “What?” James said. “What does it mean?”

  I told him what we were thinking, and who might be behind the shooting at the hotel.

  “Oh, shit,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Ingo replied.

  Only a few people knew Christina wasn’t actually dead. Everyone else would believe she’d been murdered. Including her family. Enrique and Gustavo might be happy about it, but others would not. Especially her uncle, Luis Ernesto Escalante. William and Agent Stamper told me about him when they were giving me an abbreviated history of the Escalante family that first night in the hospital. His fiery temper was matched only by Christina’s and he would not rest until I was dead.

  “I have to see him,” I said.

  “What? Are you crazy?” Ingo said.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t seem like a good idea,” James echoed.

  “Simon, he thinks you killed Christina. His people will kill you before you get anywhere near him,” Ingo went on.

  “I have to try. I can’t wait for him to come find me. There are things he needs to know. Maybe he can help us.”

  “Alright, that’s enough beer for you,” Ingo said, and took the bottle out of my hand.

  James chuckled, but I wasn’t kidding. Enrique and Gustavo wanted me in jail, Christina would want me dead soon, and no one who was supposed to be on my side intended to do anything about it. Maybe it was time think outside the box.

  “I’m going to see him.”

  “You’ll never get there alive,” Ingo warned, shaking his head.

  “At the rate I’m going, that’s the likely outcome anyway, right?”