“What’s the destination?”
“Don’t know that, sir. The administration offices’d have that information. They’re down by the Garden City Terminal, near the 1-2-3 stacks.”
“The what?”
Chris pointed down a shadowy, unlined paved road. “Just follow that road past the three white buildings on the left and the rail yards’ll be on yer right. After that the road veers right, and you should see the admin building straight ahead. They oversee yard operations and keep copies of all the scheduling there. Don’t open till 8 tho, so I don’t kn…. ”
“Good. Listen, there’s a bunch of agents coming right behind me. Let them in and tell them where I went. Alright, Chris?”
Chris nodded and spat, his eyes wide.
“Stay here. Don’t wander around,” Luke ordered, indicating the conversation was over.
Chris bobbed his head again as he stepped back and hit the button to raise the arm.
Luke inched forward and saw the road split. To the right down a short spur, he saw a wide, multi-lane road running past warehouses and into a container yard. Stacks of stories high patchwork colored containers were visible from everywhere in the port, brightly lit for around the clock crews. As Chris instructed, Luke’s road went left and stretched into darkness.
He flew past the ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ sign, and soon he saw the three buildings ahead on the left. As he approached, he could see the rail yard across the road from the buildings. The rail yard was very dark, the partially loaded rail cars lit only by the container fields beyond.
The cluster of three buildings had dull white siding and flat roofs. A shared parking lot wove around them and each building had weak lights illuminating their multiple entrances. The first building was marked #100. The second building was #110. As Luke glanced at it, the black metal digits weren’t the only thing he saw in the dim light. A familiar rusty green tailgate was parked behind #100.
Luke kept going until he passed building #110, then cut the headlights and slammed the brakes. Wrestling the steering wheel left, he entered the parking lot of the third building and swerved behind a parked tanker. He cut the engine and left the door open as he slipped out.
In the distance, he heard a helicopter. If Thad was flying TRT over from the airport, they were going to have words. Talk about advertising their presence. Luke cringed. It sounded like something Thad would do.
Sheltering behind the tanker, Luke surveyed the parking lot. Doubt washed over him, and he shot a glance over his shoulder at the dark rail yard. Why was her truck here, six thousand yards from the river’s edge? She could be in the rail yard, but that was a slow way to escape. Slow was not her style. Something wasn’t right.
He drew his weapon and darted into the blackness along the fence line. He sprinted the length of the parking lot until he was even with #100, then he knelt in the darkness watching. Seeing no movement, he crept to her truck and peered inside. Nothing.
The building provided pitiful cover, but he pushed his back against it anyway and followed it around pulling every door handle. The building was locked tight.
At the corner, he gauged the distance between him and #110. The roughly one-hundred-yard sprint offered no cover. He scanned the windows and the roof before sprinting across and fell against the rough siding listening for any sound. Nothing. He tried the back door. Locked.
Once more, Luke inched his way around the perimeter checking doors. He inched up a short handicap ramp beneath an unremarkable bronze sign that said CMS-CMG Shipping Lines, International. He pulled on the glass door expecting a deadbolt to catch. Instead, he pulled it open.
Luke let go of the door and pressed his back against the building so he could pull out his phone. He tried typing a text with one hand, then cursed and gave up. He holstered his weapon and hammered out a quick text to Thad.
Building 110. Set up on rooftops. Gate 1 will direct you. He drew his gun again.
2 minutes out, came the reply.
Luke slipped the phone into his pocket and reached for the door. He swung it open and crossed the threshold with his gun up.
The room he entered was a sparse lobby. The lights were off, but daylight would not have made the white Formica countertop and plastic chairs any more welcoming. A single window let in the weak light leaking from the container yards. To the left was a large cluttered desk and chair, on the right a keypad door. Luke tried the door. It was locked so he kicked it in.
This room was no more cheerful than the lobby. A row of modular desks sat along on the far wall, and a copier/printer unit in the back of the room. Another beat up metal desk piled high with paperwork sat along the front wall of the building.
Behind the desk, a plate glass window replaced most of the front wall. Through it he saw the dark hole of the rail yard and the glow of the container stacks beyond. The harsh industrial lights were losing their oomph as the sky lightened from inky blue to soft gray.
Another door in the corner of the room led out to the front lot. A familiar leather bag sat on the floor beside it. Keeping his eyes on the door, Luke stepped into the room.
Something hard crashed down on the back of his head and the room dissolved into a blurry haze. He staggered forward and blacked out.
The linoleum was cold on his cheek when Luke came to. He sat up and reached to touch his throbbing head, but something clinked and his hand stopped. Opening his eyes, he saw his right wrist cuffed to a modular desk leg with his own handcuffs. He slid the cuff to the floor and touched his holster hopefully, but his fingers closed around air. Instead, he used his left hand to rub the knot forming on his neck. “Looks like you keep getting the jump on me.”
Gray light backlit a familiar shape between the desk and the window wall. She was wearing her favorite jacket, she loved that jacket, with her face raised toward the sky. “You keep letting me,” she said quietly.
Luke saw the outline of the gun in her hand. “No argument there,” he said.
She wasn’t watching him, so he scanned the immediate area around him. The desk leg was flimsy enough to break, but not before she could put two in his chest. He saw his gun laying on the desktop, her back to it.
Boots thudded above them. The cavalry had arrived. Luke’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling when he heard the noise. As though she’d expected it, Tully didn’t flinch.
The loud whumping sound Luke heard earlier grew louder. It was now loud enough to drown out the ruckus above them. Unlike the stomping boots, it made Tully’s head turn. Luke’s eyes followed hers to the plate glass window. The chopper he’d heard minutes earlier was touching down on the road out front.
Through the window, Luke watched three TRT officers approach the chopper pilot, guns aimed at his chest. The man raised his hands in surrender and was unceremoniously yanked from the cabin and hustled away.
“Now what? You sail off into the sunset?” Luke meant to sound apathetic, but it came out angry.
Her laugh was hollow. “The boat was my back up plan. My pilot was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.”
“Wow, your getaway kinda blows. I’m a little disappointed,” Luke sneered at her. “But I gotta give credit where it’s due. Even I’m impressed with how long you played me. Like the professional you are.”
Tully turned her head enough to see him, but not look directly at him. She offered no defense against his tirade.
“They’re going to study you for years to come, babe,” Luke said. “You constructed the perfect disguise. The wolf in a sheepdog’s uniform. But you got sloppy, didn’t you? Leaving the cell phone behind.”
“I wasn’t sloppy,” she said quietly.
“Oh yeah?” Luke’s voice was mocking. “You left a critical piece of evidence at the scene. What the hell do you call it? I call it a rookie mistake.”
“I did what I had to.” Her voice was firm like she was done talking about it.
Luke scoffed. “What does that mean? Were you bored? And I was the entertainment.”
Tully took a deep breath and straightened. She still wouldn’t look at him.
“And your partner. Tully, you framed your partner. That man saved your life.”
“No.” She sounded choked. Her head dipped and her shoulders heaved like she was struggling to breathe.
Luke didn’t care. Her reaction was enough to light a fire in his gut. “You planted a receipt in his bloody uniform to throw me off your scent. You worked when he was out of town. Just enough, Tully. Just enough breadcrumbs that if anyone ever came sniffing around they would focus on him, not you.”
“No,” she cried out, not able to keep the pain out of her voice this time. She whirled to face him, and the look on her face tore at him. “I didn’t plant that receipt.”
“I don’t believe you.” Luke said it, but he did believe her. Still playing the fool.
“I don’t care what you think. I didn’t even know he had it until after he died. That’s when I found it missing.” Her voice barely rose above the turbine engine noise leaking through the front door. “He must have found it in my gym bag when I left it out.”
“You left it in your gym bag? On purpose? First the phone, then proof you were in Atlanta when he was killed. Tsk, tsk, that’s not very professional,” Luke mocked. “Maybe Thad was right. Maybe you are just a sociopath after….”
“It was for someone else, okay.” She cut him off. “I was going to plant it on someone, but not Pete.”
“Who?” Luke asked the question, but he already knew the answer. He’d known it the second Captain Timothy told him the dead man’s name at the Executive Club.
“Don’t make me say his name.” Tully turned to face the window so she wouldn’t have to look at Luke. “I saw Pete talking to Nick. I knew he had suspected me for a while, but that’s when I realized he was checking up on me. He must have found the receipt after that. I think he made up his mind to confront me about it the night Nick killed him.”
“You expect me to believe that you didn’t willfully implicate Easton, but you worked when he was out of town. Why?”
“So he wouldn’t find out.” She whispered to hide the waver in her voice.
“His blood is still on your hands,” Luke growled.
She didn’t answer. Didn't turn around.
“Did any of it help?”
No answer.
Enraged at her silence, he sent a pounding kick at the desk leg, the only thing he could reach. “Did it help?” He roared at her.
“What?” She sounded choked again.
Luke ripped at his cuffed hand violently making the desk shudder. “All those scars. You’ve been stitched up more times than there are days in a month. Did all those ridiculous heroics soothe your conscience when you were out killing for money?”
Tully stayed still and silent.
“All those lies and now you have nothing to say.” Luke gave up and let the handcuff clink on the floor.
“I never lied to you.” Her voice was strained, but she was calm.
“Don’t.” Luke jammed a finger in her direction. “Don’t pretend you’re broken up over this. Of all that horse shit, what was true? Tell me.”
“You messed everything up when you came here,” she said. “You were never supposed to happen. Not you.”
“You knew what would happen when you left that phone. Maybe you missed that day in hitman school, but you don’t get to choose your FBI agent. At least you were lucky and drew a clown that fell for your BULLSHIT.” Luke yelled the last word. He needed her to cry, scream, curse. Anything to show that it had mattered.
But she didn’t. She looked out the window. The darkness hid most of her face, but he knew she was sad by the way her shoulders hunched and her arm wrapped around her waist.
Even now he had no defense against it. “You win. I see now that I was just a complication while you were trying to offload your boyfriend.”
She flinched.
Luke sighed heavily and sat back. “You told me you loved me. Was it true?”
He watched her shoulders heave. When she answered it was a forced whisper. “No.”
Luke laughed bitterly, his nostrils flared, and his mouth carved into a twisted smile. “Here I was thinking I was riding in on a white horse to save you. Turns out I was the donkey that got taken for a ride.”
Tully turned and looked straight at him. She was still sad but smiling. It scared him. He could forgive her. He already had, but it was too late for any of that to matter.
The sun was cresting the container stacks and light was filling the room. Luke could see her hand clench and loosen around the butt of her father’s Nightguard.
“A white horse?” She shook her head and smiled again. “I don’t get a happy ending.” She brought the revolver up and her eyes fell from Luke to the snub nose.
“Tully, no.” Luke knew the words were useless before they came out. “It’s not too late. Turn yourself in to me and we…we can work it out.”
Her thumb worked the release and the cylinder swung open. “Work it out,” she repeated.
“Yes.” Luke on the other hand, couldn’t keep the mounting fear out of his voice.
“You mean an insanity plea.”
“If that’s what it takes, yes. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not insane.”
“You don’t want to spend the rest of your life on the run.”
“You and I both know that is not going to happen.” The gun tipped in her hand and bullets plinked on the floor a moment later.
“Tully, stop. I can help you.” Luke abandoned all pretense and begged. “Please let me help you.”
Her smile was heavy. “You want the truth, Luke? The truth is there was never any other choice for me.” Her wrist flicked and the cylinder locked into place, empty. She tucked the gun into her waistband in the hollow of her back and pulled her jacket over it.
“Tully, please.” Luke strained against the cuffs. “Tully, no.”
She took a deep breath and drew her shoulders back. Ignoring her bag, she walked to the door and rested her hand on the bar.
“Tully. Tully, wait.” Luke was yelling when saw her stop. Thinking she had listened, he fell silent.
She turned to look at him. “Pete had nothing to do with this. He was a good man. I know you don’t owe me any favors, but please don’t make his family pay for what I did.” She pushed the door open and descended the three stairs to the parking lot.
The whine of the idling turbine engine filled the room then faded as the door closed behind her. When her boots hit the pavement, a piercing voice cracked out of a bullhorn. “Stop. Turn around and put your hands up where we can see them.”
Tully kept walking toward the helicopter.
Luke spun and kicked the desk leg as hard as he could. Something cracked, but it didn’t give. He kicked it again and again until he heard wood splinter and the leg bent. He glanced up.
Tully was halfway across the parking lot. She paid no attention to the bullhorn and kept walking.
This was taking too long. He had to get to her. What she was going to do couldn’t be undone. Luke’s foot slammed into the leg and he was rewarded with a satisfying crunch. The metal leg fell to the floor. He slid his cuff off and launched himself at the door praying he wasn’t too late. He slammed into it and burst on to the pavement. What he saw made him feel cold.
Twenty agents had taken cover around and on top of building #100. The roof bristled with rifle barrels aimed by men in full tactical gear. Luke could feel rather than see the rest of them hunkered down behind scattered vehicles. The bullhorn boomed again ordering her to put her hands up.
Tully stood at the open door to the helicopter cabin. She faced down every FBI agent and TRT member in eastern Georgia, her shoulders squared and unyielding. The morning sun bounced off the containers and haloed the scene in golden light.
Her eyes found his, calm, even as he heard himself yell her name over the frenzied orders from the bullhorn. Luke broke into a
run.
Tully never wavered. Never taking her eyes off Luke, she reached behind and pulled out her father’s gun. Bringing it around she pointed it at the mass of FBI agents sweating behind cover.
Gunfire drowned out the engine. The air above Luke filled with whizzing and the sound of bullets plinking on the fuselage. She stumbled and drop the gun, but he was still fifty yards away. He ran faster.
On the roof, Thaddeus screamed into his radio for a cease-fire as soon as he saw Luke sprint into the hail of lead. When that didn’t work, he began hitting agents on the back and waving frantically at the team leader on the ground. The firing tapered then stopped.
Tully took a step forward and fell to her knees gasping. Luke threw himself down beside her and caught her before she hit the sandy grass. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her.
He looked down. Blood bloomed on her white shirt beneath the jacket, and her tanned skin was pale. She opened her eyes and took a ragged breath. Something warm ran down his forearms. He held her head up with his hand as she struggled to speak.
“Luke.” Her voice was hoarse.
“I’m right here, Baby.”
“I’m…sorry.” Her expression was labored with the effort of speaking. A tear escaped and lingered on her scarred cheek.
“Shhh, don’t talk.” His own tears blinded him.
“You were r…right, you know.” She convulsed in his arms and licked her lips like they were dry. She tried to smile, but lacked the strength to hold it. “It…was enough…I was with you. wasnough,” she slurred, fighting to speak again. “…forgot what that felt like.”
He shifted her limp body in his arms to bring her face close. She stiffened in his arms as a small red bubble formed in the corner of her lips. Her head lolled back, and she grew heavy in his arms. Luke pulled her tightly to his chest as footsteps pounded on the road.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The red, white and blue banner proclaimed ‘Onessa for Senate’ above the jumbotron declaring “WE DID IT!” in 10-foot letters. As the newly minted U. S. Senator Onessa and his polished wife strode onto the stage holding hands, the crowd of thousands went wild. The couple waived happily to the crowd who cheered louder.
The Last Innocent Page 29