Down Range

by Taylor Moore

  Asadi made the motion back, even though his knees felt like jelly and his stomach was queasy. He was game for anything the beautiful girl told him to do.

  The door to the hallway flew open to reveal a chisel-jawed man on the other side. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with yellowish hair swooped back like a lion’s mane. He scanned the room until his scowl rested on Asadi. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, boy?”

  He raised a short glass, filled to the rim with a dark liquid, and thrust it out clumsily. Mumbling slowly, he switched his glare to the girls. As the man staggered toward them, Asadi got a better look. With his tan outfit and tall leather boots, he resembled the hunters in Butch’s magazines. All that was missing was a rifle.

  Sophie spoke with a quivering voice. “You’re Preston Kaiser, aren’t you?” She took a step back as he turned to face her. “I’ve seen you around town.”

  For the first time since he’d entered the room, Kaiser smiled. “No doubt you have, little girl. I am the town.” He took a few steps forward and stopped. “And I’ve seen ya’ll too.” His hungry eyes narrowed on Sophie. “Cheerleaders, right?”

  She swallowed hard. “Eighth grade.”

  Asadi’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Sophie.

  “Went to one of your football games last fall. Got a nephew plays quarterback.”

  Chloe spoke up. “Yeah, we know Duke. He’s our friend.”

  Kaiser shook his head. “He ain’t worth a damn.” He took a couple of wobbly steps toward the girls. “Enjoyed watching you two though. Almost made it worth my while.”

  Asadi wished he could understand their conversation. From the tremor in the girls’ voices, he could tell they were terribly frightened.

  Kaiser took a gulp of his drink, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and stared Chloe down. “What are you so scared of, honey?” He pointed at the door leading to the hallway. “It’s not me you gotta worry about. It’s them boys outside you gotta watch out for.”

  Sophie stepped forward and stood by Asadi. “When my dad hears about this, he’s—”

  “Your daddy ain’t gonna do nothing.”

  Moving over to a silver canister on a table behind the leather sofa, Kaiser scooped out a few ice cubes and dropped them in his empty glass. He poured himself more of the brown liquid, swirled it around. He reached behind his back with his free hand, pulled a black pistol, and let it hang at his side.

  “You don’t scare us,” Sophie said.

  Although her words were strong, Asadi could hear the fear in her voice. Something bad was about to happen and he thought she sensed it too.

  Kaiser set his empty glass on the end table. “Little girl, you don’t know the meaning of the word scared. But you will. Trust me, you will. Down in Mexico you’ll be introduced to a whole new ugly world you should pray didn’t exist.”

  Chloe said with force, “They’ll know you’re responsible.”

  “Well, not necessarily.” Kaiser smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “You see, all the evidence points to your daddy being involved with some muy malo business partners south of the border. And because of his poor choices, you and your family got caught in the cross fire.”

  Chloe didn’t back down but sounded less confident. “Nobody will believe that.”

  “Doesn’t matter what people believe.” Kaiser locked eyes with Chloe and moved from the table to where she was standing. “What matters is evidence. And I’ve got people who’ll make sure it all points back to your dear sweet daddy.” He reached out to stroke Chloe’s cheek, but before he could, she let loose a glob of spit that hit his nose.

  Kaiser’s face registered a look that fell somewhere between shock and rage and he unleashed a backhanded slap that knocked Chloe to the floor. Asadi rushed to help her, but a hard shove from Kaiser sent him tumbling.

  Struggling to his feet, Asadi ducked a wild right hook and a clumsy left jab that sent Kaiser stumbling over the rug and face-first to the floor. He was rising to all fours when Sophie snuck up from behind and bashed him across the temple with a brass table lamp. With the humming clang still echoing, Kaiser’s elbows buckled, and he crashed forward.

  Backpedaling, Asadi saw the pistol and bolted for it. He had just grasped the gun when he saw Kaiser’s eyes open and settle on him.

  33

  Smitty leaned against a lion’s pelt and scanned the length of Kaiser’s trophy room. With its vaulted ceilings and exposed rafters, it looked and felt like a small church chapel. Dark and shadowy. Almost spiritual. The floors and walls were covered in all kinds of skins, heads, and full body mounts, from zebras to rhinos. Their glassy dead eyes flickered in the light of the fire.

  Up front stood about a dozen machine-gun-toting sicarios, Renegade roughnecks, and Mescalero cowboys—a motley crew of discoteca derelicts, oil patch thugs, and Stetson-clad ranch hands. Smitty hadn’t seen a nest of crooks this thick since the prison yard in Huntsville.

  Nagual paced back and forth before them like some kind of old-world general. Dressed in all black, he had the look and intensity of Che Guevara. It was something about the eyes. He was tall and wiry, built less like a cage fighter and more like a long-distance runner. Despite his slight frame, he was scary as hell. When he spoke, nobody said a word. And that included Kaiser.

  Smitty did his best to keep out of sight, slinking between Boggs to his left, and a mounted nine-foot Kodiak bear to his right. Unfortunately, it did no good. Nagual looked to the back of the room and switched from Spanish to his trademark heavily accented English.

  “I am expecting a visitor tonight. And that means you two will be here to greet him.”

  Smitty didn’t say a word. Just nodded. He prayed his partner would do likewise. Of course, that would’ve been too easy.

  Boggs crossed his arms, leaned forward, and spat a stream of tobacco juice on the Spanish tile floor. “Well, jefe, I don’t see that happening.” He tilted his head at Smitty. “We done our part. Killed that old man and snatched the boy. Far as I’m concerned, the job is done.”

  Nagual’s face tightened. “And the woman?”

  Boggs shrugged. “Ain’t nothing between her and where she was headed but ice, snow, and a whole lotta nothing. She’s a popsicle by now.”

  Wading through the crowd of Mexican hitmen and Mescalero cowboys, Nagual marched toward them. “And the loss of our shipment?”

  “Smitty done told you that old fart ran off with it before we got there. Nothing we could’ve done.” Boggs’s lips curled into a smile. “You don’t comprende too good, do you?”

  Smitty clenched his jaw. He’d seen the kind of twisted stuff Nagual had done to people for less than what Boggs was doing right now, and he wanted no part of it. Last fool to cross him was macheted to death and dunked in a barrel full of acid.

  Nagual stopped within a few feet of Boggs and bored a hole into him with his eyes. “Perhaps you are just not capable of completing simple tasks.”

  Boggs unfolded his arms and puffed out his chest. “Let me splain your ass something, jefe. Our job is delivery.” He made a motion with his hands as if he was lifting something. It was an over-the-top use of sign language clearly meant to be insulting. “Your job is supply.” He pretended like he was throwing something on the ground. “If there ain’t no shipment when we go to pick it up, then that’s your fault. Not ours. Your damn pilot missed the drop. Maybe you should talk to him.”

  “I have spoken to him. And I made a very convincing case to his replacement that such an incident will not be repeated.”

  Smitty knew exactly what that meant. Boggs was about to get the both of them executed right there on the spot.

  “Mistakes were made on our side,” Nagual admitted. “But why didn’t you just take back the package he stole?”

  “Coulda done that, but you told us don’t do nothing without asking first. Just following your orders. Jefe.”

  After several seconds of awkward silence, Nagual’s eyes softened, and his lips cur
led into a smile. “You caught me on a technicality, I suppose.”

  Nagual turned to his hitmen and translated for them. He shook his head with a contrived look of disappointment. The Mexicans let loose with some nervous laughter and Smitty joined in, just to lighten the tension.

  Assuming the laugher was at his expense, Boggs’s face turned beet red as he jerked his hunting knife from a hip scabbard and lunged. Smitty didn’t know if Nagual saw, heard, or sensed the attack, but he sidestepped the blade with ease.

  The knife hadn’t hung in the air for more than a half second when Nagual pulled a T-handled push dagger from his belt and sliced Boggs’s forearm, then followed with a matching dagger that ripped through the psycho’s fleshy paunch like warm butter.

  By the time his injuries registered, it was already too late. Boggs made another lunge with his knife, took a wild swing, then lost his balance and stumbled to his knees.

  Too terrified to move, Smitty stood like stone. The whole fight seemed to go down in less than a second. In a moment of clarity, realizing he might be next, Smitty took a shaky sidestep as Nagual moved in behind Boggs, gripped his chin, and yanked back.

  Nagual dragged his blade across Boggs’s jugular and windpipe. The giant fell forward, his body spasming, blood pumping out of him on the shiny tile floor.

  Smitty could barely control his bowels. He’d told Malek this was going to happen—warned him this whole thing was crashing in. And now he was going to have to die for it.

  Looking from Boggs’s quaking body to Nagual, whose glinting daggers looked hungry for more, Smitty shuffled backward a few more steps.

  Nagual smiled before asking in a velvet voice, “What about you, friend? Any more technicalities I should be aware of?”

  His back to the wall, Smitty went stiff. A step either way and those damn little blades would cut him six ways to Sunday. He’d have begged for his life if he could speak. But a vigorous head shake was all he could manage.

  34

  Asadi’s heart sank when he realized they had ended up right back where they started. Spinning around in the dimly lit hallway, he eyed the paintings carefully to be certain. But he was sure of it when he saw the American flag—its bright shining colors still vivid in his mind.

  In the face of their failed efforts to escape, the black gun at his side suddenly felt so heavy he could barely keep it in a grip.

  Noticing his struggle, Chloe offered to hold it. “We’ll take turns,” she said with a smile.

  A little embarrassed, Asadi handed it over, but felt immediate relief. “Tenk you.”

  Glancing around the foyer, Sophie whispered to her sister, “We’re just going in circles.” She scanned the darkness of the formal dining room to their right and spotted a swinging door at the far side. Moving to it with caution, she nudged it open with two fingers and peeked inside.

  Asadi and Chloe eased up behind her and peered in also. Beyond the threshold was an industrial-grade kitchen equipped with stainless steel appliances and a big butcher block table surrounded by stools.

  The lights were off, but a pale blue glow coming from the far window provided just enough illumination to maneuver by. Asadi eased up behind Chloe, who kept her pistol leveled, sweeping it back and forth in a side-to-side motion.

  Spying a door leading to the porch, Sophie moved to it, turned the knob and yanked, but it didn’t budge. She rubbed her thumb over the smooth dead bolt. “Locks from the inside.” Sophie turned and whispered, “Now what?”

  Chloe eyed the door leading back to the dining room. “There’s no going back. Mr. Kaiser’s out there.”

  “We have to,” Sophie argued. “We’re trapped in here.”

  At the sound of approaching voices, Sophie nodded at the spiral staircase in the corner.

  Chloe looked nauseous. “Up?”

  As the voices grew closer, Sophie grabbed Asadi by the sleeve and dragged him up the stairs with Chloe close behind. At the top, they took the first right into a tiny bedroom. By the light of the full moon shining through the window, Asadi and the girls rushed to the closet.

  Sophie eased the accordion door open, ducked as she crawled beneath the hanging clothes, and sat with her back flush to the wall. Asadi and Chloe followed.

  Once inside, Sophie reached forward, gripped the side of the door, and slid it closed.

  In the darkness, Sophie whispered so softly Asadi barely could hear her. “Were we followed?”

  “I don’t think so,” Chloe whispered.

  They sat in pitch-blackness for at least a minute with no other sound but their panting. Finally, Sophie spoke again, “Was there a phone out there?”

  “I didn’t see one.” Chloe paused. “I think our only chance is to get to the highway and flag someone down.”

  “Okay . . . how do we do that without getting caught?”

  Chloe had just started to speak when a light switch clicked, and a beam flooded beneath the door.

  A metallic voice barked and the man standing outside growled, “Nada.”

  Asadi could hear Chloe’s ragged breath and was certain the man outside could too.

  A blast of static, the metallic voice again, then the man answered his walkie-talkie, “Voy para allá.”

  His footsteps thumped away, the light switch clicked, and it went dark again.

  It was Sophie who spoke first. “That was way too close.” She slid the door open and crawled out on hands and knees.

  With eyes adjusted to the darkness, Asadi could make out hunting gear around them in the closet—thick camouflage coats and quilted pants. He nudged Chloe and pointed to them.

  She rose up, eased a brown fleece pullover off the hanger, and handed it to her sister. Then she gave a coat to Asadi and put one on herself.

  Sophie zipped Asadi’s coat to his chin and pulled the hood over his head, cinching the cord so tightly it left only his eyes exposed. She turned to her sister who was slipping on a camo beanie she’d found in one of the pockets.

  At the sound of shouting downstairs, Chloe stiffened. “Someone’s coming.”

  Sophie grabbed a chair from a desk, dragged it across to the window, and used it as a ladder to reach the latch. She twisted it open with her thumb. “We can jump out the window.”

  Chloe looked like she was going to be sick again. “From the second story?”

  “There’s at least a foot of snow on the ground. It’ll be soft.” Sophie looked to her sister in desperation. “Come on, Chlo! We have to get out of here!”

  At the rumble of footsteps downstairs, Sophie yanked the window open. The screech of metal on metal was followed by the genk-genk-genk of the alarm system. A blinding strobe in the hallway flashed in unison with the blaring siren.

  Asadi looked back to the window, where floodlights outside turned on in sequenced clusters across the compound, illuminating the snow-covered grounds in a halo of white.

  Sophie leaned over, surveying their landing pad below. “It’s really thick here.”

  Chloe stepped up to have a look for herself. “Maybe there’s bricks underneath.”

  As a light clicked on in the hallway, Sophie climbed onto the windowsill and made the first leap. Right behind her, Chloe perched precariously, then turned back to Asadi before taking the plunge. “It’s okay. Just follow me.” Within an instant, she vanished.

  Asadi sprinted to the chair, climbed up it onto the ledge and rested there on his haunches, careful not to tip forward. He glanced down but found neither girl, just two dark holes in a fluffy white snow dune.

  Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, Asadi leapt, falling for what felt like forever before slamming into the earth with a bone-jarring thud.

  Below him. Around him. Above him. A frozen cocoon covered his body.

  Panic was taking hold when he felt a tug on his coat and was pulled from the mound.

  Asadi wiped the snow from his eyes and sprinted after Chloe, chugging through powder as high as his knees. Hurdling icy skeletons of small shrubs and darting around
swollen bushes dusted with snow, he ran as hard and fast as he could for at least a hundred yards.

  Their flight blocked by the edge of a frozen lake, they hunkered down in a grove of leafless trees to catch their breath. Through a clearing in the woods, a group of men on horseback galloped by, bunched together so tightly it looked as if they were moving as one.

  “How many are there?” Sophie whispered to Chloe.

  “Too dark to tell. Three. Maybe four?”

  Sophie’s eyes rested on the pistol in Chloe’s hand. “Really think you can use that thing?”

  Chloe nodded but did not look confident. “Just aim and shoot. Like Grandpa taught us. Remember that rattlesnake out by the corral?”

  “I remember us missing every shot and Grandpa chasing the thing down before it slithered into the barn.”

  Whatever they were arguing about, Asadi prayed they would figure it out soon. Only minutes outside in the frigid wind and his body was numb. The powdery snow had gotten into his shoes and melted. Now his socks were squishy and freezing.

  Sophie sighed, scanned the frozen grounds, and turned to Asadi. She made the running motion with her arms again. “You ready?”

  They had just gotten to their feet when a gunshot cracked, and a bullet whapped the tree behind them. Nobody said run, but they did anyway. Tearing a path through the grove, they dodged skinny saplings and ducked low limbs in a sprint to nowhere.

  A snow-covered shrub tripped Asadi but he smothered a cry. He scrambled to his feet and dashed to the girls, who suddenly stopped at the edge of a clearing.

  A man on horseback charged toward them, and Sophie grabbed Asadi’s coat to yank him the other way. But they were stopped by three more riders coming in on all sides.

  With no other option, Sophie turned toward the frozen lake and leapt out onto the ice.

  Asadi followed her lead, jumped from the shore and slid until his feet came out from under him. Scrabbling back up with Chloe’s help, he tore into a slipping, sliding sprint, then slid to a wobbly halt when he finally caught Sophie.