by Jon Mills
Jack ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I didn’t kill them.”
“Really? How sure are you about that? Cause you were pretty fucked up when I saw you last night. Hell, maybe you put a bullet in Isabel too.”
Jack’s nostrils flared. “No. No, you’re not going to twist this around.” Jack stumbled a little and leaned up against a post. The craving was unbearable. “Look, eh, you got any heroin? I just a need a little to get my head clear.”
He snorted and smirked. “Fuck. What a mess you are.” He stepped forward and gestured with his gun. “Get the hell off our property now.”
“Not until you tell me where’s Isabel?”
“Did you not hear me, fool? Get the hell out of here.”
In the distance Jack could hear the faint sound of police sirens. He had to act fast.
“Listen, just let me place a phone call to Ray. He’ll be able to clear this all up.”
Noah found that amusing. Jack dug around in his pants pocket and pulled out the card he’d given him the night before. He stared at Noah as he made the call. He knew the only hope he had of getting out of this situation was to rely on the very man who may have got him into it. Then again, he had to assume that Jimmie hadn’t told him about what was really going down today.
Ray answered.
“Hello.”
“Ray. This is Jack. Jack Redford.”
“Oh Jack, good to hear from yah. What a night that was, eh? You really were out of it by the time Jimmie took you home.”
“Where’s Isabel?”
“Isabel? She’s here. I thought it best she stayed at the house being as she passed out.”
Jack pressed the phone closer to his ear and moved out of earshot from Noah. “Listen, Jimmie is going to screw you over.”
“What?”
“The deal that’s taking place today. You aren’t going to see that money.”
The tone of his voice changed. Anger? “What are you on about?”
“The Miami connection was an arrangement he made with Jamal Whethers.”
“Jamal?”
“You know him?”
“A street dealer with no style. Yep.”
“He’s dead. Jimmie shot him but not before setting this whole thing up.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The sirens were getting closer.
“Because in about five minutes from now I’m going to be taken into custody by the cops. That can’t happen. If you want to see that 2.3 million, then you need to ensure that I get to that deal before it happens. Once they have that money, they are gone. You won’t see the Mitchells again.”
“Where is the deal taking place?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“You’re in no position to argue.”
“Listen, I will bring you the money but you have to reassure me that Isabel won’t be harmed.”
“Harmed? Why would I harm her?”
In the background he heard the sound of Chris Mitchell’s voice.
“Hold on a second, Jack, Chris is here.”
“Ray!” Jack tried to get his attention but he was speaking with his butler. He heard him tell him to let Chris in then he came back on the line.
“Go ahead.”
“Listen, whatever you do, don’t let Chris near Isabel or believe what he’s telling you. You have my word. Get me out of this situation and I will bring you the 2.3 million.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Jack scoffed and paused for a second. “Trust is overrated. Just get me out of this situation.”
Jack hung up as Noah stepped forward.
“Did you just throw Jimmie under the bus?”
“It was going to happen, Noah.”
“Screw you. Get on the floor now.”
“Wait.”
“I said.” Noah stepped forward closing the distance between him and Jack. Jack glanced up and raised a hand as the barrel got close to his face. “Okay, okay, just stay cool.”
He turned slightly and then took advantage of the moment and slapped the barrel away from him. It went off with a deafening crack and Jack lunged forward and grabbed Noah by the throat with one hand and held on to the shotgun with the other. They staggered back fighting for control of the weapon. Jack pushed upwards, the gun went off a second time and then they fell backwards to the ground. The shotgun slipped out of Noah’s grasp and across the dirt, coming to rest a short distance away. Noah swung several jabs that caught Jack in the side of the face. It dazed him but he wasn’t out of the fight. Rolling around in the dirt with the sound of sirens in the distance, they exchanged blows. Still in a foggy haze Noah was able to land a few shots that caused him to reel back in pain. Rising to his feet, Noah stumbled towards the shotgun. Jack got up and rushed him from behind sending both of them closer to the water’s edge. They fell over the side and down a small incline and landed in the water. Back and forth they went firing jabs and hooks at each other. Each time one thought he had whooped the other’s ass, he would fire back with a leg kick or elbow.
It was violent, and this kid wasn’t letting up.
Noah scrambled up the side of the incline and Jack raced after him. He brought him down hard and Noah spat dirt. Jack reared back his fist and jabbed him twice in the teeth and once in the gut. As he winced in pain, Jack got up and staggered towards the shotgun. He hadn’t made it within a few feet when Noah came at him from behind with a plank of wood and slammed it into him. Both fell to the ground and for a few seconds tried to catch their breath.
Jack crawled over to him, wrapped his hands around his throat and pressed his thumbs hard into the larynx. He choked and tried forcing away his attack but Jack was too strong for him. His eyes bulged and he was beginning to go red in the face. That’s when Noah parried his attack with a knee to the groin.
It was swift, brutal and effective.
A shot of pain from his nuts to his head went through Jack, then he curled over. It was almost paralyzing. Noah pushed him off, coughed and spluttered. Jack could hear his sharp inhales as he tried to rise. His shirt torn and face bloodied, he staggered for a second and then spat on Jack and kicked him three times in the gut. Jack grimaced and tried desperately to catch his breath. Fighting with a hangover, migraine and heroin withdrawal symptoms had put him at a serious disadvantage.
As Noah walked over to retrieve the shotgun, cop cars came skidding into view. A plume of dust and grit rose up behind them. Jack looked on as Garcia jumped out and pulled his sidearm. He gave Noah a command but he ignored it. Noah picked up the gun and turned towards Jack.
“Put it down, Noah!” Garcia’s voice yelled but he was paying no attention.
“I told you to leave,” Noah said raising the shotgun. He had just brought it up level when multiple gunshots erupted and Noah’s eyes widened, he dropped to his knees, blood trickled out of his mouth and then he curled to one side.
Jack tried to get up but he was still in agony from the knee to the groin. He was about to explain himself when cops rushed in and threw him over onto his front and began to read him his Miranda rights.
“You are under arrest for the murder of two federal agents, you have the right to remain silent—”
“Listen to me,” Jack said. “I didn’t do it. It was the Mitchells or Ray Edmonds.”
They weren’t listening to him. He was hauled up and dragged off to a cruiser by Garcia.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leaving the officers to clear up the mess, Garcia headed back to the station with Jack. A bright morning sun bore down on them, and he flipped down his visor. He glanced out the corner of his eye at the rearview mirror and looked at the state Jack was in. He was intrigued by who this man was and what his involvement had been in the recent string of murders. It would be a good fifteen-minute trip back to the station unless they got caught up in traffic going through Everglades City.
He made a gesture with his head. “Why did you kill those feds?”
“I didn’t,” Jack
shot back.
“So why were they in your home?”
“The Mitchell brothers did it.”
“Really? How so?”
“Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of it all but I woke up this morning with them beside me. I can assure you it wasn’t me.”
“And how can you do that?”
Jack dropped his head and shook it.
“Who do you work for?” Garcia asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you I work for the FBI?”
Garcia scoffed. “Yeah. Yeah I would. And let me guess, so does your wife?”
He nodded affirmatively. Garcia sighed. It was always the same when he got them in the back of the cruiser. Hardened criminals would turn into puppies and come up with all manner of excuses if they thought it might buy them time, or get them off a charge. He’d had a few manage to get out of handcuffs; thankfully there was a divider between the front and the back seats. It was the only thing that saved him from getting his throat slit by one lunatic.
“Did you kill Jamal Whethers?”
Jack shook his head. “No. That was Jimmie Mitchell.”
“So you were there?”
He nodded.
“So what is your involvement?”
Jack realized there were two ways that this could go. Either Ray would respond to his request and somehow pull a few strings to get him bailed out in time or the cops would be the only other means of stopping the deal from happening and making sure Isabel was safe. He knew full well the moment that Jimmie had that money he was probably going to kill Karla. He wasn’t in the business of loose ends. That kid didn’t deserve to die at the hands of an asshole like him. Instead, Jack outlined for Garcia why he was in Chokoloskee. It was a long shot but he had few options.
Once he told him, there was silence.
“Please. I have heard some whoppers in my time but that could win an award. You honestly want me to believe that you and your wife work for the FBI?”
“She’s not my wife.”
“Okay.”
“She’s an agent. I recently got brought on as an informant. Prior to that I was wanted by the FBI and if I’m really honest, I used to work for the Mafia.”
Garcia let out a small laugh, which then erupted into a full belly laugh. He laughed so hard that he nearly lost control of the vehicle.
“Oh that is priceless. Now let me guess, your name is not Jack Redford?”
“Winchester.”
“Jack Winchester. Oh this is just beautiful.”
They came to a set of lights that turned red. The cruiser purred as it idled and Garcia tapped with his fingers on the steering wheel. The radio crackled and every now and then they would hear an update.
“So you were wanted by the FBI, and they hired you to find out where the influx of drugs was coming from?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s the most ludicrous account I have ever heard. So the FBI is in the business of employing criminals, are they?”
“Believe it or not, it happens every day. Who the hell do you think are their informants?”
“Not criminals.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
Garcia got on the radio and gave them Jack’s real name. “Sheila, do a run for me, would you. The name is Jack Winchester.”
“You won’t find anything. The only ones who have details about my record are the FBI, and they made sure that no trace of who I am exists.”
“We’ll see.”
The cruiser pulled forward as the lights went green. Jack gazed out at the gloomy-looking gray skies. Dark clouds rolled in threatening rain. The distant boom of thunder could be heard. He couldn’t believe the turn of events. His worst fears had come to fruition, not only was he going to have to endure a week of cold turkey, but he was going to be locked up and Ray had Isabel.
A few minutes later Sheila came back over the radio. “No record.”
“Thanks,” he said eyeing Jack skeptically in his mirror.
“Look, this deal is going down to today, in less than an hour from now. If you don’t take me to an address in Naples, she will be dead.”
“Karla.”
“That’s right.”
“And so will Isabel,” Jack said.
“You have a second name for this Karla?”
“I only met her once.”
“For someone you met only once you certainly seem to have an attachment to her, Mr. Redford, or should I call you Winchester?”
“Call me whatever the hell you want. Listen; get on the line with the bureau. They’ll confirm it.”
“They’ll speak up for a known criminal?”
“Maybe not for me but for Isabel they will.”
Garcia looked as if he was weighing it all up. Now whether he believed him was another matter entirely. When he picked up his radio, Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sheila, get me the number for the Florida FBI head office.”
“So you believe me?”
“I don’t trust you at all but I’m tired of chasing my tail. What I do know is that the Mitchell brothers are poisoning this island, so if it means making a phone call, I’ll do it.”
He pulled off to the hard shoulder to place the phone call. A few minutes later he was on the line with an agent. There was a lot of back and forth and he could see that Garcia didn’t believe him by the way he joked with the agent.
“I know, but what can you do. Yeah, one sec.” Garcia twisted around. “What’s the name?”
“Simon Thorpe,” Jack said.
He went back to chatting with an agent and was placed on hold. Several trucks shot by at a fast rate of speed but Garcia wasn’t paying any attention.
“Agent Thorpe. I’m Lieutenant Garcia from the Collier County Sheriff’s Office. I have with me here a man going by the name Jack Winchester, or Jack Redford. Does it ring a bell?”
Jack could hear Thorpe muttering on the other end of the line.
“No, he says that he was hired by the FBI.” Another tense pause. “One second,” Garcia placed his hand over the phone and cast a glance over his shoulder. “He says he doesn’t know you.”
“Well of course he’s going to say that. They said they would deny association. Ask him about Agent Isabel Baker.”
Garcia shook his head but posed the question. A few more seconds of silence and then he looked back at him. “No. They don’t have and they never have employed an agent going by that name.”
Jack frowned. “What? Put him on speakerphone.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Thorpe!” Jack shouted. “If you don’t help us out, Isabel is going to die and so are a whole lot of people.”
“Okay, okay, settle down,” Garcia said.
Garcia got back on the phone, he smirked and nodded as if finding the whole account amusing. Then he hung up.
“What did he say?”
“He said that they have no record of you or Isabel on file.”
“Bastard!”
He was going to throw them to the lions. Why? It was a simple matter of saving face. No one except a few people in the FBI knew about them. And those that did were higher-ups and they were probably breaking a number of laws by hiring criminals as informants. Of course they were going to deny it. If the media caught wind of the FBI hiring an ex-Mafia mobster, there would be public outcry. No, they were holding their cards close to their chest.
They continued driving north on County Road 29, Jack looked despondently out the side of the cruiser at the mangroves and lush vegetation. There were no houses for miles, just lines of cars making their way through the dense Florida outback.
“Anyone else you want me to call? The president or perhaps one of your Mafia colleagues?”
Jack shook his head, and then it dawned on him. “Call the FBI back. Don’t tell them who you are and ask to speak to a Daniel Cooper and put him on speakerphone.”
Garcia shook his head and put the phone down.
&n
bsp; “Come on, man. Do you care so little about your job that you aren’t willing to make one more call?”
“For a criminal, yeah.”
Jack banged on the hard transparent plastic divider.
“Keep it up, it isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
“One call. If I’m wrong, you take me and charge me with the murders. I’ll sign off and you can look like the big hero.”
“Big hero? You obviously don’t understand how the police are portrayed. We aren’t the good guys.”
“So do something good for yourself, or your wife. I see that photo.”
There was a photo of his wife and child clipped to his sun visor. Garcia pushed it out of view.
“One call.”
Jack could see he was reluctant to do it but for whatever reasons, he picked the cellphone back up again and dialed the bureau. There were a few minutes until Cooper came on the line. Jack had instructed Garcia to not tell Cooper that he was a cop, and only to ask when Isabel Baker would be in the office.
“Who’s calling?”
“Just a friend of the family.”
“Oh, right. Um. Yeah, she’s not going to be in for a while. But I can take a message.”
Garcia grunted, then hung up at the prompting of Jack.
“Believe me now?” Jack asked.
There was silence in the vehicle as they continued on. Jack didn’t prompt him any further, he just allowed it to sink in. If he were a smart man he would put two and two together and realize what the FBI was doing.
“Okay, so let’s say for a moment I believe you. You’re still breaking the law by running from a murder scene. I still have to take you in. If what you have said is correct, then I’m sure we will have it all cleared up in no time.”
Jack banged on the plastic.
“Oh come on, man. Wake up and smell the coffee,” Jack shouted.
After that point Garcia ignored him. They drove for another five minutes in silence. A dark SUV overtook them going at a considerable speed. Garcia muttered something about how if he wasn’t bringing Jack in, he would have nailed that guy and given him one hefty fine.
“You are going to have another two dead people on your conscience,” Jack said, trying to appeal to his guilt. Garcia glanced at him in the mirror, as he turned right from the county road onto the Tamiami Trail.