THE PRICE SHE'LL PAY: For the secret she never knew she had...

by Cara Charles

  “It has been far too long since I last saw your character lined face, I apologize.”

  “It’s all because of my cooking. I promise no more Shepherd’s Pie. Keep your head down, hippie.”

  “You do the same. Out.”

  Jan knew Sid would do the job with an unmatchable skill set acquired over a lifetime.

  AFTER THEY HUNG UP, Sid poured two weeks of cat food in large bowls, filled a solar heated horse bucket in case the two heated waterers failed, for Stan his old creamsicle tomcat, still outside on the prowl. He was a bit like Stanley, never too old for the hunt. If one day he couldn’t come home again, Stan the mouser would make it out there.

  Sid fixed a strong pot of Earl Grey. Bergamot reminded him of Fiji and Dez’s laughing face. Sid ate his mission carb loading foods, and read Jan’s requisition, seeing the mission in his mind.

  He checked the Mammoth flight plans. Mavra’s Boeing Business Jet filed for Vegas at 1200, not much time.

  Fortified, Sid went to his garage and uncovered his other old Jeep.

  Back inside, Sid played a bit of Beethoven’s 5th to loosen his hands and listened for the cat door under the house. Stan knew what Beethoven’s 5th meant.

  Sid took the winters off to paint and be with Dez. Desiree would visit in February and they’d go to Fiji. He had planned to take her to Canada for the holidays as a surprise, but now this. In the New Year, he’d insist she fly south with him.

  That previous summer Sid had re-equipped every one of his hideouts, borrowing a pack team from a ranger buddy. His itch had told him to.

  He’d been to his remotest cabins outside of Mono Hot Springs, and Muir Trail Ranch, Cottonwood Creek and Crab Tree Meadow, and Huntington Lake. If the bogies were to ever track them, they’d have a hard time finding them.

  In the Alabama Hills where Tom Mix, Randolph Scott, John Wayne and many other beloved cowboys chased bandits, and rode off into the sunset with their sweethearts, he’d even dug out a cave as a hiding place and built furniture and supplied it. Greenhorns could get lost in there and never be found. He knew the rocky moon-scape of the old Cowboy Country like the back of his hand, because he lived down the street. Sid and Dez and their team could survive a long time out there, ‘in them hills.’

  Every October he took Desiree hiking around his back-country, near Mono Hot Springs. They’d visit his old Ranger’s cabin, she’d take pictures, then he’d paint those rarely seen landscapes, and frame them in his own exquisitely hand-made bleached wood frames. He’d become famous, his work impressive, selling at the exclusive Yosemite Valley’s famous Ahwahnee Hotel, the Wawona and at the south entrance the stately Tenaya Lodge. Sadly, their retirement was on hold. The loneliness was eating them both alive. The ticking of the clock was now too loud to ignore.

  Sid felt the adrenalin surge. Admittedly, he still thoroughly enjoyed this old, familiar feeling as he ran through the checklist, and dusted off his old aeronautic toolboxes. He eyed his mission hash marks next to the phone. He had twenty-five more to go. At least, he had a count down. She didn’t. That upset him.

  He hoped no one at Mammoth Airport would recognize him. It was dangerous taking a job in his backyard.

  As Sid’s A&P mechanic jumpsuit tumbled, he shaved his artist’s beard, buzz cut his hair to a businessman’s length then dyed his hair blond.

  In 30 minutes, Sid looked fifteen years younger. Sid checked his special thermos and tools, loaded his guns, A&P supplies, and his put his mission CD into his souped up old Cherokee.

  ‘Never ignore your instincts’ was a motto that had kept Sid and his team alive.

  Sid grabbed his jumpsuit out of the dryer, and folded it. He had only about twenty minutes to get to his plane at Lone Pine Airport and fly into Mammoth, just up the road. He wondered how deep the snow was on his abandon airstrips throughout the Sierras. He had his skis in the plane, his snow camo, snowshoes, and survival pack.

  He listened to the weather report. It would be a tight window. His disguise as the “rent a private jet A&P mechanic,” worked every time. Truthfully, Sid was a very seasoned Master Chief A&P mechanic. Sid adjusted his mirror and looked over his disguise, and did a quick workout to warm up. She’d approve.

  Jenny his Jeep roared to life, Sid let her idle before he left his long dirt driveway. Sid ran through his mental checklist one last time hoping Stanley appeared. With his remote, he locked down his house.

  Now Stan came into the yard and meowed.

  Sid got out of his Jeep and scratched his old cat.

  “Gotta go to work, buddy. Go get some breakfast.”

  Stan meowed understanding, then headed for his cat door under the house.

  Sid crossed the wooden bridge over his creek, leaving his one perfect world for the flawed world of humans. He looked back at his Sierras, maybe for the last time.

  Sid was on his way to the Lone Pine Airport to fly his own plane to Mammoth, and wait for his prey. Mavra Kimirov’s private Boeing Business jet.

  CHAPTER EIGHT -- SANTA PAULA, CALIFORNIA

  CORD, A SKINNY OLDER TEEN in his Ojai Valley Inn maintenance jumpsuit was in his garage apartment behind a rundown Victorian off of Hwy 150, the back road to Ojai.

  Contents of Elise Andersen’s purse lay sorted on his unmade bed. He shoved her two hundred in cash in his pocket as the dog next door began losing its mind, barking.

  ‘Rent money, I’ll sell the credit cards to Wapo. The Blackberry’s too old-school, but different. I’ll get Wapo to go rob her house in Montecito, and get a finder’s fee.’

  Something hit the ground with a splat. The neighbor’s barker suddenly got quiet.

  ‘Wapo swore he’d poison that fucking dog.’

  Cord was thrown face first into the bed by two guys in ski masks.

  “Where’d you get the purse, punk?” Dennis, of Dennis and Larry, the M4SB team asked.

  “Who the hell are you, Clint Eastwood? Get the fuck off me, man!”

  Dennis laughed, “I’m your worst nightmare.” Dennis had his knee in the kid’s back, forcing Cord’s face into the soft bedding.

  The kid cursed, twisting and kicking his feet.

  Larry held his legs. “You gonna talk kid? Or die for a couple of bucks? Where you’d get the purse?”

  Dennis pulled his head back, so he could gulp air.

  Larry pulled the cash out of his pocket.

  ‘Did Wapo send these dudes or were they taking over his territory?’ “I gave Wapo all the cards last time, I swear. You could bag her house in Montecito, while she’s at the spa. Take it all! You old Fuckers! It’s all yours.”

  “Wapo, huh? Where’s this Wapo live, Ese?” Dennis yelled in his ear, like a drill sergeant.

  “Fuck you Mr. Eastwood! I stole it from the Inn.”

  “Where’s the person who owns this purse?” Larry asked.

  “Getting her wrinkles smoothed. Her Brazilian. Hell if I know.”

  “When did you take it?” Dennis yelled again.

  “Ah twenty minutes ago. Just before I left.”

  “From...?”

  “The Inn. You deaf as well as old?”

  “Where on the property, Mouth?”

  “OK. Fuck! She left it by the pool.”

  Dennis twisted Cord’s ear, “Pool’s closed. Make this easy, stupid.”

  “Ouch! Shit! All right! The locker room. Early this morning. Now fuck off.”

  “What else did you take?”

  “Fuck you. That’s it! How’d you find me?”

  Larry grabbed the kid’s wallet out of his pocket and read his license. “Cord? Jesus boy! He’s eighteen in two weeks. You’re an adult criminal now. Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Fuck school! Who needs it?”

  “Why you do? Right now, you’re the valedictorian at Dumb Fuck U. Or is it graduate school at the University of Folsom for you, hot shot?” Dennis now tired of this kid looked at Larry.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Dude? You are such a dumb shit. Going to s
chool would be a good thing for you. Unless, you want to be a dumb ass your whole life. There are GPSs in phones, credit cards, and IDs these days. Fool! Don’t you read? Purse snatching went out years ago. We’re guest security. We just press a few buttons, find you punks, and teach you a lesson. Are you even teachable, hot shot?”

  “Hotel security? The fuck you are.”

  “Private security, kid. Lots of blood on our hands, and mileage on our bones. We don’t answer to anyone. But we take care of business. Get me?”

  Larry was tense and this kid’s attitude had gotten under his skin. They needed to get back to Ojai. Larry stepped out to IM Dear. ‘Dear. Sorry Orca is NOT with her purse. A Kid stole it. We’ll put another GPS on her car. She can’t be far. M4-SB out.’ Larry walked back into the room.

  Dennis said, “Me thinks Cord the tough guy here, needs our Tough Love 101.”

  “Once a punk, always a punk. Aye Cord?”

  “Hold him down long enough to make your point Dirty Harry.”

  “Naah. It will be past my tee off time by then. Up to you, Ese.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Cord spat on Dennis.

  “Like I said. Once a punk...” Dennis shoved Cord’s face into the bed. After muffled screams, he went limp. “Cooperate or suffer more brain damage than you’ve already got.”

  “He’s faking,” Larry said.

  “Smart move though. Uh-oh. Smell that? Got a pee-er.”

  The kid had peed his pants. So they let him up.

  “Fuckers! If I was older and stronger, I’d kill you both where you stand.”

  “OK. But while you’re killing us you’d still pee your pants.”

  They both laughed.

  Cord snorted, “I did that to get you to stop.”

  “Ya, right. Cooperate or we’ll make you eat your wet drawers. You know we can insist, son.”

  “Fine. Fuckers.”

  “Good answer. He’s got balls. I’ll give him that.”

  They picked him up by the hair and belt and placed him on his feet. He tried to kick, but Dennis twisted his arm so hard the kid cried out in pain.

  “All right! You can’t blame me for trying, you old fucks.”

  Larry searched through clothes, and grabbed a pair of stained underwear.

  “Here. I’m tired of his mouth. This will take him down a notch. It’s better than a bar of soap. Let’s give him a taste of his future. Tasty huh, hot shot?”

  “Mom used to grind the soap on our teeth. Worked good.” Dennis laughed.

  “We had to keep it in our mouth for five minutes.” Larry smiled.

  “They don’t make moms like they used to. God bless ‘em.”

  Larry returned the contents to the purse and took it with him.

  Dennis put Cord in a headlock, shoved the stained underwear into his mouth, grabbed a towel, then carried him to the back passenger seat of their black Ford Explorer and made Cord sit on the towel. Dennis gave him air to keep him conscious as they drove down the hill to the Santa Paula police station as Larry called the station.

  Dennis sat in back with Cord, keeping him in a headlock.

  “Sarge? We’re dropping off a kid who found a purse at the Inn. Thanks.”

  Dennis pulled Cord out of the back then removed the drawers from Cord’s mouth.

  “Get your ass in there and turn in this purse. Next time we catch you stealing, we’ll drag your ass in the rocky creek up the road, and see how long you can hold your breath. Comprende, Ese?”

  Mocking them, Cord agreed. “O.K. Old-school Fuckers. I promise on my grandma’s social security I won’t steal.” His face went sober. “If I go in there, they’ll arrest me.”

  “Oh gee whiz. Whizzer. This is your lucky day then. You’re not quite an adult. Lucky you. Juvie isn’t so bad Cord. This time make the most it. Hit a book or two. Be your own best friend. Save your ass from prison and guaranteed daily rape.”

  “‘Better read than dead, man. You might have a future beyond a pine box in the prison cemetery, yet.”

  Larry was sincere.

  “Shit. All right! All right!”

  Cord glared at them while thinking strategy. He turned.

  They watched Cord walk toward the station door. He hesitated and looked around, then back at them. He was checking his options.

  “He wants to rabbit. Look at him.”

  “Poor kid. He doesn’t scare so easy.”

  “Alone at his age. Not in school. Pretty obvious he’s had a hard life.”

  “No mom, no doubt.”

  Larry honked the horn.

  Cord looked at them.

  Dennis took off his dark wrap around sunglasses, stepped onto the sidewalk and gave him the “I’m watching you” sign and waited.

  “Choose your path, son. I can out run you. So don’t try it. I’ll break your neck in the tackle, lightweight. Remember. They love the little ones in the big house.”

  Cord tucked the purse, flipped him off, and ran.

  Dennis flew after him.

  Still quick from his good days on the basketball court Cord reversed evading Larry too, and ran up to the doors laughing.

  Dennis opened the door then kicked Cord hard in the pee-stained ass as he went inside.

  “Be seeing you, Cord. He’d make a great Special Forces. Let’s drag his ass down to recruitment. Pit bulls can be sweet if you train them with love and respect.”

  Larry checked his phone,“Recruitment’s two blocks over.”

  A new text from Dez said, ‘Ojai team not answering. Please check this out.’

  Larry called #1, then #2. No answer.

  “We’ve got to go. Gus is not answering. Neither is Jorge. Shit.”

  DENNIS AND LARRY followed their teams GPS signals to Hogan’s Hollow in Ojai. Interrupting a foursome’s game, they showed their badges, and went about inspecting the two avenues of live oaks.

  They waved the foursome to play through. Nothing was there.

  Upon closer inspection they found bloodstains. They came across a camo tarp covered in leaves, under the roots of a huge oak. Knowing what was under it, they looked together. Twelve males, including Judge Robles.

  “Shit…” They said together. Dennis puked, because he knew everyone of them.

  They secured the scene as they’d found it and left. They crossed the fairway heading east to the avenue of oaks by the #7 Crosby’s Creek hole and found the other four of their guys, tarped.

  Larry called the authorities from a burner phone. Sirens split open the morning. Then he called the rest of their SB team in Montecito to give them a heads up and the bad news, then he’d call Dear.

  Desiree’s Blackberry rang. She answered.

  Larry said, “Entire posse and retiree, dead. No sign of Orca, thankfully. Please activate ID change for them, Dear. What a fucking waste. Out.”

  Desiree changed their ID’s with a few keystrokes, then she broke down and cried. She called Eamon. She couldn’t be alone anymore. She needed a shoulder.

  Desiree called the Santa Barbara/Montecito team, “Sorry about our posse. It’s a hard loss. Please keep your heads down. Anything to report?”

  “No, Ma’am. Place is empty. No sign of a struggle. Sorry about Ojai.”

  “Yes. We are undermanned. But we’re still ahead of them. That’s a relief. Play her messages for me. Please. Then get re-enforcements there. The locals. Anyone. You need help immediately. They’ll surely be heading your way if they’re not there already.”

  CHAPTER NINE — TRY NOT TO PANIC

  DESIREE CALLED D&L BACK.

  “Any news on her car?”

  Larry answered, “It’s still in the shop. Mechanic said she stopped by about 30 minutes ago. Removed a big duffle. I’d say after the assault. She’s in the wind. We’re done here. Can we back up the house team?”

  “Yes. Of course. Out.”

  Not one of them knew about Elise’s boat.

  DEZ CALLED the House team and listened to Elise’s messages, ‘…hairdres
sers, office…’

  “Elise. Hello again. This is Ivan Kimirov...” Ivan’s message began.

  “Oh my God. Has he completely lost his mind?” Desiree was livid.

  “…who faced you in court last year. What I have to say now is a matter of life and death. After making sure your father was the same Charles Larsen I knew long ago, it’s urgent that you know my granddaughter is coming to kidnap you and torture you. Two reasons. The damages I paid and because… Charles and I knew each other because another woman and I defected to General Eisenhower. Believe me when I say you are in great danger from my granddaughter, Mavra. I believe locked deep in your subconscious is the biggest secret of all mankind because your father knew us both. I believe you are not aware of it. But now other people are. Greed drives Mavra and those scientists she employs. She’ll stop at nothing to get you and employ all torture techniques to get this secret out of you. She believes that you must know something about my past associations during the last days of the War. I can say no more except she is insanely driven, Elise. Seek sanctuary. Anywhere. Go now! Protect yourself. Protect your family. Go to the shop, The Rose and the Amaranth in Friday Harbor Washington. Ask for Dr. Richards. Tell her I sent you. Mavra is a very vindictive loser. I’m so very sorry. She is dead to me. This sentimental old fool is to blame for your danger. I’ll try and help you. But trust no one except old friends. Erase this. And please, please go now! Good luck.”

  “Ma’am? She could have checked her messages and ran from Ojai.”

  “You’re right. Is there any way we can know?”

  “We have a fifty-fifty chance here. This is an old machine. My assessment is she would have deleted her first few messages, so I’d say they are all fresh and not retrieved. The best sign in our favor is none of her simple messages have been erased. Either way, the tape is keyed up.”

  “Agreed. Ivan thought he was doing his duty. Delete it. She’ll bolt if she gets his message before ours. Find her. Before they do. Leaving our message, now. Out.” ‘The FOIA file must have verified Mavra’s suspicions. Ivan knew she had seen his briefcase. Why had he kept it?’

  Elise’s phone rang until the machine picked up. Desiree’s message began recording. When Elise arrived home, a little jingle advertising a donation drive for a local animal rescue shelter would be on her machine. That jingle was the most powerful subliminal mental health science ever created, by Dr. Desiree Richards herself. She prayed after all these years her memory work with Elise hadn’t degraded. If Elise never heard her ‘come to safety’ prompt she would not know to come to Dez on her own. Maybe she should have left Ivan’s message, just in case. Some chance at safety was better than none at all. Desiree’s instincts also told her if Elise had heard his message then she was on the run lost to them, and that her subliminal training hadn’t initiated. Elise had to hear the doggie jingle. Desiree enacted her contingency plan with the touch of a button on her Blackberry.