In the Grey

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  She was almost out of the room when she turned and said, “See you tonight.”

  “Courtney!” Buffy gave a hysterical yell.

  Courtney rolled her eyes and went into the back.

  “Let’s go,” Raz swept into the living room from the study.

  They moved as a unit through the dining room.

  “I’ll get Royce,” Matthew said.

  Alex and Raz left the house and jogged to the sedan. Raz took the driver’s seat, and Alex got into the passenger’s seat. Royce and Matthew came from around the house and slipped into the back seat. No one said a word until they were a few blocks away.

  “What did you get?” Alex asked. “Royce?”

  “I found out that those hysterics were just an act,” Royce said. “Buffy celebrated the night poor ole Cee Cee died. She and her lover, who apparently lives with her, had a big party.”

  “You mean Buffy is lying about being sad?” Matthew’s voice was filled with mock surprise.

  “I’m saying she’s crazy like a fox,” Royce said. “I guess she’s all upset and talking about suing for more of poor ole Cee Cee’s estate, and all the while, she has the bulk of it.”

  “What a surprise,” Alex said. “Trixi said she has his secret money accounts.”

  “Trixi?” Royce asked. “What’s a Trixi?”

  They laughed.

  “How did you do, Matthew?” Alex asked.

  “That book they were talking about?” Matthew asked. “The Gadfly? There’s a battered copy of it sitting on a shelf between Marx and Lenin.”

  “You mean Buffy lied?” Royce asked. “How is that possible?”

  They laughed.

  “The pictures on the mantle and the wall have been moved around,” Matthew said.

  “Hasty redecoration at that,” Raz said.

  “Right,” Matthew said. “Like someone was in a hurry. Things are missing from the mantle and new things have been added. It’s like the whole house went through a cosmetic redo.”

  “I wonder if that happened when we showed up at the funeral,” Alex said. “Any idea what was moved?”

  “No,” Matthew said.

  “There are three hefty bags next to the trash cans,” Royce said.

  Raz turned the car around. They drove back to Buffy’s house and snagged the trash bags.

  “The FBI will be so jealous,” Alex said.

  “Actually . . . ,” Raz glanced at her. “They are very good at trash.”

  “Good thinking,” Alex said. “After all, we have a wedding to get to.”

  She took out her phone to call the FBI. She arranged for a team of agents to meet them at the hotel.

  “And what did you find, Agent Rasmussen?” Alex asked when they were on their way again.

  Raz pulled a six-by-ten photograph from the inside pocket of his sports coat. Alex took the photograph from him. The photograph showed fifteen smiling adults and maybe twenty children standing on the banks of a river on a hot summer’s day. She looked at it for a while before passing it to Matthew.

  “What is that?” Alex asked.

  “I’d say it’s an extended family portrait,” Raz said.

  “Looks like Grampa’s birthday or something like that,” Matthew said. “You can see the smoke plume from a barbecue or a fire pit in the background.”

  He gave the photograph to Royce.

  “Did you recognize anyone?” Raz asked.

  Alex turned around in her seat to get the photo from Royce. She looked at each of the faces.

  “I see Buffy,” Alex said.

  “People only see what they expect to see,” Raz quoted Patrick Hargreaves.

  “Okay,” Alex said. “What’s actually there?”

  “Upper right corner,” Raz said. “Old man; side view.”

  “Josef Yakovlev,” Alex said. “Wow. Do we know when that was taken?”

  “No,” Raz said. “But there’s more.”

  “Who?” Matthew asked. He and Royce leaned forward to see the photo.

  “Young girl; maybe five or six?” Raz asked. “Second row near the middle, holding a younger child’s hand?”

  “I pegged her for Buffy,” Alex said. “You?”

  “Who’s hand is she holding?” Raz asked.

  “A little boy?” Alex shrugged.

  She passed the photo to Royce for them to take a look. They shook their heads and gave the photo back to Alex.

  “Twenty dollars that’s Robert Powell,” Raz said.

  “What?” Alex flipped the photo in front of her face. She shook her head. “I’ll give you that the child looks familiar. He could also be Cee Cee?”

  She gave the photo back to Royce.

  “I think he’s right,” Royce said.

  “That’s the Boy Scout,” Matthew said.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Alex said. “You think the Boy Scout is the ‘him’ Cee Cee let down?”

  Raz nodded.

  “But Cee Cee denied knowing him!”

  “Cee Cee lied,” Raz said.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Matthew said.

  Shaking her head, Alex leaned against the back rest. They drove toward the motel in silence.

  “I wonder . . . ,” Alex said as they pulled into the hotel parking lot.

  Raz found a parking spot and turned to look at her.

  “I wonder if Robert Powell isn’t actually his name,” Alex said. “Cee Cee might not have recognized the name ‘Robert Powell.’”

  “Sure,” Raz said. “And?”

  “How did Trece’s identity get switched with his cousin’s?” Alex asked. “His identity was swapped completely – fingerprints, DNA, everything. I couldn’t keep him out of prison.”

  “She’s right,” Royce said. “They are good.”

  “They must have had a lot of practice,” Raz said.

  “Must be how Cee Cee got around,” Alex said. “Swap identity here or there . . .”

  “What do we do?” Royce asked.

  “We have to figure out who Cee Cee let down,” Alex said.

  “How?” Raz asked. “Everything points to the Boy Scout.”

  “Good question,” Alex smiled. “No time for spy work, though. We have a wedding to attend.”

  The knock on Alex’s window brought them to the present. The FBI took the bags of trash they’d taken from Buffy’s home. Joseph met them on their way into the hotel to meet the rest of the team.

  “Did you just give away the trash?” Joseph asked. “What are you thinking?”

  “We have other business to attend to,” Alex said.

  “Oh yea?” Joseph asked.

  “Pete and Sue Ann are getting married in an hour or so,” Alex smiled.

  Joseph grinned.

  “Shall we?” Alex asked.

  “I’ll let the team know,” Joseph said.

  Alex nodded.

  F

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Saturday, early morning

  November 20 – 1:05 a.m. PST (November 20 – 3:05 a.m. CST)

  Pelican Bay, Crescent City, CA

  Trece woke with a start. He knew that sound – the march of boots, the jingle of keys, and the toneless whistle of the head guard as he moved down the hallway.

  Someone was leaving Pelican Bay by armed guard.

  Trece sat up and looked out his cell at White Boy. His best friend’s attention was focused on something coming down the hallway.

  He felt like he was in a pocket of still safety. The sound passed the first cell. The sound passed the second cell. Trece’s heart began to beat overtime. He heard the guy in the cell next to him get up and go his door. Trece watched White Boy.

  The sound passed the third and the fourth cell. They were either taking the guy next door or him.

  “What’s going on?” White Boy asked.

  “Paperwork came through,” the other guard said. “They’re moving him to Florence. They intercepted plans to escape in a tunnel or some other bullshit.”
<
br />   Trece felt the prisoners around him react. Florence, Colorado was the location of the Federal Supermax Prison. By reputation, life in Florence was only slightly worse than Pelican Bay SHU. Trece licked his lips, but didn’t get up from his spot on the bunk.

  He still had no idea who was being moved.

  “Hey,” the prisoner in cell one yelled out his door. “You better get my lawyer.”

  The tension on the pod increased a notch. White Boy glanced at Trece.

  “Nobody wants to talk to you, asshole,” the prisoner in cell four said.

  “Shut up,” a guard’s voice came from down the hallway.

  “I’m s’pposed to get you,” the guard outside his cell said to White Boy.

  Trece breathed a sigh of relief. The guard only wanted White Boy’s help to move another prisoner. The guard leaned in to say something to White Boy. From his vantage point in the dark looking out into the lit hallway, Trece could see White Boy’s jaw muscles tense. His right forearm tensed and relaxed.

  And Trece knew.

  He was the prisoner being moved.

  This was like something that would happen to Alex. He was being taken to his death. His heart beat so fast he thought it was going to come out of his chest. He glanced around the room to see if there was a place to hide.

  When the guards came in, he put up a hell of a fight. The more he fought, the more guards came into the room. White Boy kept yelling to him to knock it off, but he was too amped up, too frightened to hear him.

  Finally, they knocked him to the ground where they put a restraining belt on him. They flipped him over to clip in the chain from the ankle shackles. They cuffed his wrists and clipped them to the belt before tightening down the shackles. With the help of White Boy, the guards got him up and pushed him out of the cell.

  Terrified, the other prisoners on his pod turned away from their doors. The guards pushed and prodded Trece with their stun batons. They marched out of the pod and down a long hallway. Ahead, Trece made out two guards standing in the dim light at the end of the hallway.

  Trece swallowed hard. From this distance, he could tell that they were tall, and looked mean. He glanced over his left shoulder to make sure White Boy was with him. When they got to the end of the hall, the federal prison guards nodded to the Pelican Bay guards.

  They turned right and walked down another hallway. At the outside door, the Florence guards made the Pelican Bay guards sign the forms to release him into their custody. In desperation, Trece stared at White Boy. The guards grabbed Trece’s arms and started toward a transport helicopter. They went a few feet, and the guard on Trece’s right turned back to look at White Boy.

  “What are you doing?” the guard yelled.

  Surprised, White Boy pointed to himself.

  “The paperwork says you’re coming, too,” the guard said.

  White Boy ran to catch up.

  “I don’t know how you got so lucky as to escort this jerk to Colorado,” the federal guard said.

  “Bad karma,” White Boy said.

  White Boy got in the helicopter first and helped the guards drag Trece inside. The guards bounced Trece into a seat and sat across from him. The helicopter took off.

  “This is your Captain checking in. We’re going to have a balmy flight with low turbulence.”

  Trece looked up at the intercom speaker.

  “We have some lovely snacks of low-fat turkey jerky, or what we call shoe leather. Our beverage today is low-fat water, since we’ve noticed you’ve gotten a little chubby in prison.”

  “Zack?” Trece asked.

  “That’s the Jakker to you, asshole,” Zack said.

  “But I thought you only flew Alex,” Trece said.

  “They went another way,” Zack said. “You still have to go to Florence. Sorry, man. We wanted you to hear a friendly voice and know we cared. Can’t you hear the compassion in my voice?”

  “No.”

  “Suck it, Ramirez,” Zack laughed.

  Laughing, Trece looked at White Boy and the guards.

  “You wear F’s?” Trece asked.

  “Nah, we’re friends of Freddy’s,” the guard across from him said.

  “And big fans of turkey jerky,” the other guard laughed.

  “Well, thanks for coming,” Trece said.

  “We won’t put you in a cell, but you’ll have to stay restrained,” the guard across from Trece said. “That’s the best we can do.”

  “It’s really . . . ,” Trece nodded to keep from crying.

  The men smiled.

  “Get some rest,” White Boy said. “We never know what’s going to happen next.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Trece said.

  FFFFFF

  Saturday, early morning

  November 20 – 5:05 a.m. AST (1:05 a.m. PST)

  Rincón municipality, Puerto Rico

  “You know, there is one thing we could do with the gold bars,” Jesse said.

  Looking out the window at Rincón municipality flying by, Alex raised her eyebrows. She was sitting next to Raz in the back of an armored SUV cruising along Puerto Rico Highway 115. Matthew, Vince, and Leena sat in the middle seat. The rest of the team followed in two armored SUVs.

  “We could buy one of the big houses on the water,” Jesse said. “How many bars could that be?”

  Alex counted. With her hand against her thigh, she gestured four.

  “What are you doing?” Raz whispered.

  “Trying to figure out how many bars it would take to buy one of these gorgeous homes,” Alex whispered back.

  “Five,” Raz said. “Maybe six.”

  “I figured four,” Alex said.

  Raz tapped Matthew’s shoulder. He turned around to look at Raz.

  “Ask our Coast Guard friend how much the big houses on the water cost,” Raz said.

  Matthew leaned forward to the front seat where their two US Coast Guard MP guards sat.

  “Couple million,” the driver said. “Why?”

  “Trying to figure out how to spend some gold,” Raz said.

  Alex laughed.

  “When we finish here, I’ll show you my favorite spot, Uncle Agent Rasmussen,” the driver said. “You can buy me a house while you’re spending your gold bars.”

  Alex chuckled and looked back at the window. She saw Jesse in the reflection.

  “Who would miss it?” Jesse asked. “We could come here for holidays. The kids would play on the beach . . . It would be fabulous.”

  Matthew turned around to Alex.

  “Why is Jesse giving a Puerto Rico travelogue?” Matthew asked in a low tone.

  “Bored, I think,” Alex smiled.

  “You guys are bored?” the US Coast Guard MP from the passenger seat said. “This is the biggest action this island has seen in . . . years.”

  “We’ve been on the road a while,” Alex said.

  The team laughed. The MP stopped at the police barricade and began a quick conversation in Spanish with the Policia de Puerto Rico. The neighborhood was secure. The residents would remain in their homes. The residences on either side were clear, and the beach was secure. The house was isolated and secure. The Puerto Rico police were ready to provide back up and move in when necessary. The Coast Guard SUV moved toward a Spanish-style mansion on the water. The MP pulled to a stop behind a house a block away from their target. The cars behind pulled in next to them.

  Alex and the team got out of the SUVs and went around to the back. They picked up US Coast Guard–issued handguns and M240 machine guns. Even though they each wore their dragon skin body armor, Alex agreed to wear an additional Coast Guard-issue body armor vest for this mission. She wished everyone good luck when she gave them their earbud communicators.

  When they were armed and ready, they split into teams. Vince led Leena and MJ to the west entrance of the building. Joseph took Colin and Royce to the east entrance. Matthew, Margaret, and Cliff ran ahead to come at the building from the beach side.

  Alex
and Raz ran to the garage. Alex glanced up to check on the Policia de Puerto Rico snipers. She pointed to a police team and waved them to follow her.

  The neighborhood was dark and silent. A warm saltwater breeze blew off the Bahia de Aguadilla. The teams reached the house at the same time.

  Alex looked up at the Policia de Puerto Rico sergeant in charge of the scene. He nodded.

  “Go,” she said.

  Vince dropped down to pick the lock on the side door. Joseph cut the power. Their intel told them that Angel Ramirez, Trece’s cousin was asleep in the bedroom above the garage.

  “We have two guards on the patio,” Matthew said. “Smoking.”

  “Go,” Joseph said.

  Pop. Pop. The guards were down.

  “Stay down,” Margaret said. “We only want him.”

  “Secured,” Matthew said.

  Alex waited while Vince, Leena, and MJ moved from the west door and Joseph, Colin, and Royce moved from the east. Over her earbud communicator, the grunting and punching of their fighting sounded almost erotic. She glanced at Raz, and he winked.

  She bit her lip. As a team, they’d never completed this type of action without Trece and White Boy. Tonight, the team was on fire. They were finally going to bring justice to the cousin who had destroyed Trece’s childhood, haunted his adult life, and now sent him to prison.

  Personally and professionally, there was a lot at stake for them.

  Alex closed her eyes and listened.

  They performed like professionals. They gave each bodyguard the option to walk away; most did. Step by silent step, they secured the building. Every bit of training, worrying, haranguing, and harassing came through in the team’s professional demeanor.

  They kicked ass.

  “Fey, you are a go,” Joseph said when he was standing outside Angel’s door.

  The garage door opened a foot, and Raz rolled under it. Alex followed him. They slipped past the expensive cars to where Cliff waited.

  “He’s not alone,” Cliff said.

  Alex gave him a curt nod. Raz held his machine gun. Alex slung the machine gun over her shoulder and pulled her Glock 9 mm from her sacrum holster. With Raz in the lead, they crept through the house. She was halfway up the stairwell when she said, “Go.”