The Fourth Law

by Paul Stein

  “Once, I beat a man’s toes off with a ball-ping hammer,” he said with a malicious grin. “Now that was fun, but much too messy for tonight. The guy actually shit himself…can you believe that? Another time I used a portable drill on a gook chick just to see what a three-sixteenth drill bit through each of her joints would be like. That was messy, too…but delightfully painful. She was a tough ol’ broad, though…she made it all the way to a new ear hole before passing out on me.”

  Farley had returned to the torch and was again heating the brand to a bright cherry red color. “Tonight, however, I want to know what it’s like to brand a person. But don’t worry, son, you’ll get it over with the quickest. It’s your mother and auntie I’m really looking forward to. No telling what’ll happen when this hot brand sears their nipples,” he wondered aloud, just as nonchalantly as if he were preparing a barbecue.

  “You bastard,” Jer yelled. “Don’t you dare hurt my mother! I’ll hunt you in hell!”

  “You baastarrd,” Farley taunted again in his nasally voice. He came toward Jer with the branding iron, now glowing brighter than before.

  “No…no…please…no…aaaghhh!” Jer screamed as the hot brand pressed down on the center of his bare chest. A nauseating acrid smoke curled from the burning flesh and everyone but Farley began to retch. The sizzling sound of the hot iron burning through skin and muscle magnified the torturous cruelty. Finally Jer’s scream abated but only when the brand was mercifully withdrawn. His head slumped forward and he continued to softly moan in agony.

  “Shit, howdy, boy…you took that better than I thought. God damned! Okay, who’s next?” Farley asked unfazed, as if nothing at all had taken place.

  “Get in there…now!” Morris urgently radioed to Angelina, knowing that she was standing ready. He could see through the night-scope that Farley was torturing the young man with a hot poker, and even though ten minutes had not elapsed, there was no time to waste.

  “I heard the scream; I’m on my way,” Angel replied. “Be ready.”

  “Remember…don’t stand in front of the door,” Morris reminded, but there was no reply. Angel had dropped the radio and was running to the front door of the house.

  Morris drew a bead on the gunman, but had no clear shot through the plate glass slider. The target was standing either directly in front of the hostages, where the bullet would hit them upon exiting his body, or on the opposite side, where their presence obstructed a good shot. He hoped that Angelina could divert his attention just long enough to get off a kill shot.

  There came a sharp knock on the door as Angel said, “Hello, Mr. Struffeneger…is everything okay? I heard shouting.”

  Farley froze in his tracks at the sound of an unexpected voice. A Southern- sounding female was calling through the door, demanding his attention. The knocking persisted. He had no way to measure the seriousness of this threat. He’d been assured that no one was left on the premises, and his own cursory inspection showed no evidence of anyone. How could a woman have heard the scream?

  “Help,” Jer moaned as loud as he could manage, still reeling from the searing pain left by the terrible brand. The burn was so intense that he should have passed out, but he continued yelling to draw attention from whoever was outside the house.

  “Shut up. You hear me?” Farley fumed. “Or I’ll shoot you where you sit.”

  He moved cautiously toward the front door, wondering what to expect. There was no way he missed anyone outside. With no other living quarters or hired hands on site, Farley quickly determined that someone must surely have followed the Marshalls. He swung around, drew his Glock, and began firing into the door. Whoever was standing behind it was dead.

  This was all the opening needed by Morris. Farley had stepped beyond the hostages and given him a clear shot without background interference. He hoped to heaven Angelina had stayed clear of the door or she was now a casualty. He trained the crosshairs of the Nighthawk scope on the back of Farley’s head and squeezed the trigger.

  All hell broke loose. The bullet slammed into the plate glass slider, which exploded with a roar into a thousand shards of glass. The path of the bullet slightly deflected as it penetrated the glass, but hit the gunman along the side of his neck, spinning him around. Morris rapidly ejected the spent cartridge and jacked another in the chamber. He steadied the sights on the biggest part of the man’s torso and sent a second round into the house.

  Farley, meanwhile, was firing wildly through the wide opening, hoping to hit the shooter. As he did so, the second bullet found its mark, hitting him center mass in the middle of the sternum, cutting his heart in half. He dropped his hands, staggering forward, but momentarily remaining upright.

  Morris repeated his action and pumped a third shot from the Winchester .30-06 into the man’s forehead. The bullet tore through his skull, blowing his brains and the back of his head all over the room.

  Stuart Farley was dead. Ryan heard him crash to the floor and could see by the absence of his shadow that he was no longer moving. The propane flame still cast an eerie blue light throughout the room, but the only sound now was the subdued hiss of the torch. Somehow the rescue he prayed for had miraculously come to pass. Ryan was overwhelmed with a tremendous sense of relief.

  Within seconds of Farley hitting the floor, Angelina rushed into the room off the back porch and through the broken glass. She groped for a switch and turned on the lights. The light exposed a grizzly scene that momentarily gave her pause. She steadied herself, looking past the carnage of the nearly headless man and moved quickly to Sela’s aid. She began by carefully pulling the tape off Sela’s mouth.

  “Oh, my God, Sela. I’m so sorry…are you okay?” she asked, fumbling with the rope, not knowing how to get her untied.

  Sela was awestruck, too stunned to comprehend everything that had taken place in the past few minutes. She was trembling with nervous energy and her voice quavered. “I…I’m…o…okay now,” she said. “I ca…can’t believe it…you found me. You really did it, Angel. You…saved us. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”

  “It wasn’t just me…I had help. There’s a policeman out there that’s been tracking you for a long time. He’ll be here any minute. Here, let me help you,” Angel said, moving to Sarah, pulling her shirt up to cover her exposed breasts. She carefully removed the tape from Sarah’s mouth and then moved to Jer.

  “Oh, my poor baby, look what he’s done to you…how dreadful. It’ll be okay, sweetheart; we’ll get you help real soon.”

  As Angelina was tending to Jer, Morris came rushing into the room. He was carrying his rifle, still wearing the night-vision goggles that were perched precariously on the crown of his head.

  “Folks, I’m Lieutenant David Morris from Palo Alto Police,” he started, laying the gun carefully against the hearth. “Let me see if I can get you out of these ropes.” He drew a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and skillfully cut through the rope, using great care as he worked. With the rope severed, he unwound the full length, freeing the hostages.

  “Which of you is Mrs. Marshall?” he asked, looking to Sarah and Sela.

  “I am,” Sarah replied shakily.

  “We’ve been trading phone messages for a few days now, ma’am. I’m honored to meet you, but regret I couldn’t prevent your son’s injury…we’ll get the medics here right away. Angel, please call 911. Ask for paramedics and police at Wildcat Farm,” Morris ordered.

  “I’m on it, Dave. Get the young man over to the couch. This burn looks ghastly,” she said, grimacing, caressing Jer’s face before she moved toward the kitchen in search of a phone.

  “Mr. Marshall…I’m pleased to meet you too, sir,” Morris said, jerking the tape quickly off Ryan’s mouth. “You’re one pain-in-my-ass slippery hombre. I don’t know how you two made it this far…but my hat’s off to both of you. Your parents are one-of-a-kind, kid,” he said, looking over to Jer. “I’ve never seen two more determined people in my life. They obviously love you very
much.”

  “Don’t be concerned with me…get my wife and Sela untied,” Ryan urged. He was stunned by Morris’s arrival, but incredibly grateful he somehow figured out where they were being held.

  “How…how did you find us?” Sarah asked hesitantly, her voice shallow, unable to shake the trauma of hearing Jer’s hideous ordeal.

  “Ma’am, you’ve only to thank the young lady over there on the phone,” he said, nodding his head toward Angelina. “Angel pieced it all together; she’s the one who unlocked the riddle. Had it not been for her, we wouldn’t have arrived in time. She’s deserves all the credit for your rescue.”

  “It’s not over, Lieutenant,” Ryan said urgently. He and Morris lifted Jer and were walking him awkwardly toward the sofa. “We’ve got to go after these guys…now. They’ve got Jarrod. They’ll kill him once he activates the gravity machine.”

  “Relax…it’s okay now,” Morris replied. “There are two special agents tailing him to Fort Knox as we speak. They won’t get away with anything…trust me.”

  “No, you don’t understand…listen to me,” Ryan demanded, carefully laying Jer down. “Jarrod’s gonna pull something; I guarantee it. He’ll stop at nothing to bring these guys down, even if it costs his life. You don’t know his resolve. This has sparked his revenge like you can’t believe.”

  “Ryan, listen to the officer,” Sela forcefully interrupted, grabbing his arm. “You’ve done enough. Let the authorities take it from here. These men are breaking into Fort Knox for-cryin’-out-loud. They won’t get away with this. Now, please…your only priority is Jer.”

  Jer lifted his head from the pillow, attempting to sit up. “Go get him, Pop,” he said weakly. “Uncle Jarrod needs you. He sacrificed himself to save the rest of us. We can’t leave him out there alone.”

  “I can’t allow that, sir,” Morris ordered, taking charge of the matter. “Listen to reason…you and Mrs. Marshall have been a tremendous asset, but your lawlessness has run its course. You’ll go to the hospital with your son, or I’ll have no problem placing you under arrest.”

  Ryan walked over and calmly picked up the Glock still lying beside Farley. He made an obvious show of sticking the gun in his belt, and then let his hands drop to his side. “Do what you gotta do, Lieutenant. I’ve come too far to give up now. If you knew the history behind this mess, you’d understand why I have to go after Jarrod. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to explain. I’d like your help but I’ll continue alone if we can’t agree.”

  “I’d do what he asks, Lieutenant,” Sarah chimed in. “I’ve seen him like this before and there’s no changing his mind. We owe Jarrod everything. With Angel’s help, Sela and I can take care of Jer. Now, both of you get going…please,” she insisted.

  “Judas priest,” Morris said, throwing his hands in the air, totally exasperated.

  From the clenched jaw and steely look, Morris could tell Ryan Marshall’s unwavering tenacity was far beyond anything he could reason with. The man wouldn’t be merely cajoled into giving up this foolish quest. In all his years of law enforcement he’d never encountered a more stubborn family. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving in to their demands. But everything he’d gone through in the past few days with these folks told him there was no use arguing. The only way to even marginally control Marshall’s actions was to accompany him. God Almighty…I’m going to have some explaining to do.

  Morris inhaled slowly and then sighed. “All right…you win, Marshall. But we’ll do it my way. Understand? Jesus…I can’t believe I’m giving in to this.”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant. You won’t regret this.”

  “I already do,” he said, dismayed.

  “Sarah, Sela, take care of Jer,” Ryan said, turning his attention to his family. “Son, I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life. You have the courage of a lion…it’s beyond anything I could ever imagine. I’ll see you soon, okay? And, Angel, your name perfectly suits you. You’ve been my family’s salvation.”

  “You’re much too kind, Mr. Marshall, but dare I say…times a-wastin’,” Angel replied. Her hands were on her hips and she spoke with authority. “Well, don’t just stand there yammering…go find our guys. Emerson and Jason need your help. You boys be careful now,” she said earnestly.

  Ryan hugged Sela and moved to Sarah. They embraced tightly and Sarah whispered, “Don’t you leave me now, mister. I’m counting on you to see the rest of this through without me.”

  “Just take care of our son, sweetheart. I’ll be back with Jarrod by sunrise. I love you, Sarah,” he said, and lightly kissed her lips, stroking her back lightly.

  “I love you too, Ryan.”

  “Let’s get going. They’ve got about a thirty-minute head start,” Morris stated, and the two men disappeared into the night to rescue Jarrod Conrad.

  AUGUST EIGHTH

  SIXTY-FIVE

  FORT KNOX

  MIDNIGHT

  COLT HAMIL’S drive from Wildcat Farm to the Brandenburg Gate at Fort Knox proved to be uneventful, as he had anticipated. Struffeneger and Starkovich had followed Colt from a safe distance, stopping several miles out to await deployment of the gravity machine before entering the premises. The op so far was according to plan.

  It was just past midnight when Colt eased the Peterbilt up to the main gate, an imposing cantilever steel structure controlled by two military policemen within a sturdy guardhouse adjacent to the gate. The compact hut contained a glut of video surveillance directly linked to the base command center. No one could pass on to the base without proper identification; only then would the electronic lock keeping the gate in place be deactivated. As Colt came to a stop, a lanky MP carrying a clipboard emerged from the guardhouse to assess the situation.

  “Good morning, sir,” the MP said, recognizing Colt’s master sergeant rank. “Can I see your manifest, sir? It’s an odd time for a delivery, isn’t it?” he questioned, glancing at the fully covered transport.

  Rafie took charge, using his rank to limit the MP’s questioning. “Corporal, we’ve got a classified transport here. We’ve traveled nonstop since leaving San Francisco yesterday. Our orders are to deliver this shipment post-haste without interruption or delay. The time of our arrival is irrelevant.”

  The MP shined his light through the cab of the Peterbilt and saw he was being addressed by an officer. Holy shit, a major’s in the truck? What the hell! “My apology, sir,” he said, snapping his arm to a crisp salute while coming to attention.

  Perfectly played, Rafie thought. The MP is off-balance. “At ease, Corporal. As I’m sure you’ll discover from the manifest, General Hershey is expecting this delivery. We’re hauling top-secret equipment; certainly you understand the importance of getting us through without further delay.”

  “Yes, sir, just let me check the manifest against the log and…”

  Rafie cut him off again. “Maybe you didn’t hear me clearly, Corporal. The manifest is self-evident. There will be nothing on the log about this delivery. Again, this is classified…not something that will make the log. Now if we’re delayed further, I’ll be forced to wake General Hershey. Do you really want that?” he asked, pausing to let the question sink in. “Think it through, Corporal.”

  The other MP was growing curious and had come out of the guard shack when he recognized his partner was addressing an officer. He began slowly walking to the rear of the semi. Colt wasn’t expecting to leave the truck, but if they didn’t get through the gate soon, more invasive action would be necessary.

  “It’s okay, Charlie,” the first MP yelled to his partner. “Open the gate. This load’s cleared…issue a pass.”

  “Good decision, Corporal,” Rafie said. “When I report to General Hershey, I’ll mention that your performance was textbook. I also appreciate your thoroughness.”

  “Can you tell us what you’re hauling, sir?” the MP asked inquisitively.

  “You know better than that, Corporal…even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. As I sa
id, it’s classified—most likely something to further safeguard the depository. But for your sake, I advise you not to mention it.”

  The MP handed the manifest back to Colt and the Brandenburg Gate slowly opened. He steered the truck carefully through and steadily accelerated. Their next and final stop was the Fort Knox depository.

  Kilmer and his men had remained deathly still throughout the delay at the gate. Everyone’s apprehension was peaking, but no one made a sound, including Jarrod. Kilmer pressed his gun to Conrad’s temple and was pleased the normally contrary professor kept still throughout the gate inspection. When the truck started moving again, everyone breathed a little easier.

  As Colt drove, he could see the unmistakable sign of the depository ahead in the distance. There was nothing obstructing the massive ivory-colored granite edifice, which was fully illuminated to enhance surveillance. Decades ago the thick stand of maple trees surrounding the edifice had been removed in favor of an unobstructed view surrounding the compound. At night the two-story perfectly square building stood out against the night sky like a giant Akoya pearl on black velvet. As he drew nearer the depository, he could see the four corner-post guard towers that marked the outer perimeter of the compound. In the seventy-five years since the depository had been constructed, there had never been an attempt to steal its treasures. That unbroken record would change in the next thirty minutes—the mundane guardianship of $100 billion worth of gold bullion would never again be the same.

  Colt pulled the Peterbilt next to an electrical pole about 300 yards from the depository. This distance was predicted to be the minimum necessary to safely avoid detection from the security cameras. He locked the air brakes and shut down the diesel engine, which signaled the men in back to activate.

  Wasting no time waiting for Colt and Rafie to release them, Ventura used his Ghost Ryder Buck knife to cut through the tarp. He was already wearing pole-climbing spurs and hurried to the electrical pole to begin connecting the power. As he did so, Kilmer finished cutting the opening and everyone scrambled out. Sully was first to hit the ground and worked in earnest with Colt to pull the heavy plastic tarp off the load. In only minutes, the antigravity machine was completely uncovered and Sully was hauling the electrical cable from the device to Ventura. Every move was precise as clockwork.