Lost in the Maze

by Gary William Ramsey

  “Are you Macy?” the man asked in a gentle voice.

  “Yes I am. Who are you?”

  “Russ Brennan, Director Stancil sent me. You are just as he described you.”

  “Do you have identification?”

  Russ pulled out his wallet and flashed his retired law enforcement photographic identification. Macy inspected it carefully.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy to see you Russ. I was running out of options. The girl is in the floorboard of the back seat. Let’s get her in your truck.”

  She opened the back door. “Lisa this man is a retired FBI Agent. He’ll take you to safety. She took the girls hand and helped her out of the SUV.

  “Where are you taking me?” she murmured.

  “Young Lady, I knew your father . I’m going to take you to my place and wait for instructions on what to do next.”

  Russ opened the back door of the truck. “You just sit here. Joe doesn’t take very kindly to leaving his regular seat beside me.” Russ laughed.

  Lisa reached in the truck and petted the mutt’s head. Joe licked her hand and whined.

  “Move and all of you are dead,” Sonny’s gruff voice sneered.

  Macy turned and saw Sonny standing behind them holding a Glock G17 pistol. His eyes were red with rage.

  “You bitch, I would kill you right now but I’m sure Nevsky would rather get some answers from you before you die. When he and Dubov find out you’re a snitch, you’ll wish that I had just shot you here and now.”

  Russ stood very still saying nothing. He glanced at Joe. Lisa moved beside Macy and grabbed her arm.

  “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Macy, get the duct tape out of the truck.” He grabbed Lisa’s arm, jerked her to his side, and put the gun to her head. “If you or your tall friend here try anything, the girl is the first one to die.”

  Macy reached into the SUV, opened the glove compartment, and extracted the roll of duct tape.

  Sonny grinned, “Old man, you move very slowly to the back of the pickup, lower the gate and get in. Macy, you tape his hands and feet as soon as he lies down.”

  Russ began walking to the rear of the truck. He remained quiet, but as he walked past the open door on the passenger side, he gazed at Joe and winked. The mutt sat there not moving. Russ obeyed Sonny’s command, lowered the gate and got into the bed of the truck. Macy followed him, and stood at the back of the pickup.

  Sonny followed them dragging Lisa with him. The Glock was pressed hard against the back of her head. “Get in there and tape his hands and feet,” he ordered Macy.

  Sonny didn’t notice as Joe silently jumped to the ground behind him. Joe lowered his body to a crouch and slowly crawled until he was about a foot from Sonny’s back leg.

  Russ saw Joe’s movement. When his mutt got close to Sonny’s leg and looked at him, Russ nodded.

  Joe growled and clamped his bared teeth deep into Sonny’s left calf. Blood soaked his trouser leg. The mutt shook his head fiercely.

  Sonny screeched, dropped Lisa’s arm, twisted his body, and aimed the Glock at Joe’s moving head.

  With quickness far beyond the possibilities of a man his age, Russ leaped from the bed of the truck. He positioned one hand on Sonny’s chin and one of the back of his head and twisted fiercely. The loud crack of Sonny’s neck was drowned out by Lisa’s scream. Sonny crumbled to the pavement, stone cold dead.

  As he was dropping, Joe jumped away avoiding being hit by the huge falling body.

  Russ grabbed the gun from the dead man’s hand and stuffed it in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Lisa,” he said calmly, “Get in the front seat with Joe. Macy, help me drag the body to the truck. We need to get him in the back seat. I’ll dispose of the body. We must move quickly. The commotion might have been heard by the desk clerk.”

  Russ grabbed Sonny’s shirt collar and dragged him the open back door. He propped his back against the footboard, moved to the other side, opened the door and got inside.

  “Macy, handle the legs and lift as best you can.” He grasped the shirt at the shoulders and heaved, backing up as the body moved forward. Macy grunted when she lifted the legs and shoved. Russ was surprised at the woman’s strength. He stepped down to the pavement as he tugged one last time, securing the body on the back seat.

  Russ slammed the door. Sonny’s head was smashed. Macy shut the door on the other side where his feet were located. Sonny was secured in the back seat. Lisa was sobbing.

  Macy softly took her hand. “Lisa, listen to me. Russ will take care of you. You’re safe now. We’ll unite you with your family as soon as we can. You’ve been very brave.” She hugged the girl, and closed the door. Joe laid his head on her lap and she began to pet him.

  “”Don’t worry about the girl,” Russ said. “You did good Macy. We both better get going.”

  Macy hugged Russ’s neck. “One other thing you must do for me,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re going to have to punch me in the face. I’ve got to fabricate a cover story on how I lost the girl. Severe injuries showing that I resisted may save my life.”

  Russ looked at the stunning Indian girl. “Missy, I’m sorry I just can’t do that. You’re going to have to figure out another way. Please, I just can’t hurt you.”

  As tough as Macy had always been, this kind man brought tears to her eyes.

  “Okay Russ you take care of yourself and I look forward to seeing you again under better circumstances.”

  Russ jumped behind the wheel and drove off.

  Macy got into the SUV, started it and followed Russ out of the parking lot. She heard sirens in the distance, and hoped that the police weren’t headed in that direction. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked back toward the entrance of the motel and saw the desk clerk standing in the doorway looking at her. “Oh shit,” she said aloud and screeched away.

  Macy made several turns in short order and was able to get on a deserted road away from the freeway. She drove for about ten miles until she was far removed from the business district. She pulled behind a closed Shell station, switched off the engine and killed the lights.

  Macy knew that she had to fabricate a believable yarn so Dubov would be convinced that she resisted. She could not afford to loose his trust if she was to find out information about the conspiracy with high-ranking government officials.

  It had to appear that she put up a fight, and was left injured by the people who took Lisa.

  Macy gritted her teeth and banged her head against the steering wheel as hard as she could. The blow stunned her. She repeated the same action three times until blood leaked into her eyes.

  She sat back, closed her eyes and allowed the blood to stream down her face and soak into her clothing. Making no attempt to stop the bleeding, she struggled to regain full consciousness.

  About twenty minutes later, she grabbed a handkerchief from her bag and wiped the blood from her eyes. Macy looked into the rearview mirror. Her left temple was red and gashed, and she knew that by morning it would be blue black as a result of the gash and the bleeding. The wound was already beginning to swell.

  She took a deep breath, cranked the SUV, activated the navigation system, and put in the address for Teterboro Airport.

  The calming female voice from the navigation system melodiously said, “Proceed to the designated highway and the directions will begin.”

  Macy pulled out onto the highway and began driving. The pain in her forehead was throbbing, and she repeatedly wiped the blood from her left eye.

  The navigation system guided her to the freeway and after what seemed like an eternity, she spotted the signs directing to Teterboro airport and the executive area where the private jets were parked.

  Macy sluggishly drove to the private hanger where Orin Sturgess had parked the Gulfstream G550 a mere few hours before. She got out of the SUV and tottered into the hanger.

  Sturgess was relaxing his 6 ft
. 4 in. frame on a lounge chair in the office. He was reading a magazine with a beer setting on the end table beside the chair.

  He raised his freckled faced and his eyes widened.

  “What in the hell happened to you?”

  Chapter 30

  While driving, Russ Brennan glanced over at the dazed girl. She was staring straight ahead with a blank look in her eyes. Her limp hand rested on Joe’s head. He recognized immediately that she was experiencing emotional shock. His FBI training educated him to recognize acute stress reaction, also called acute stress disorder; psychological shock, mental shock, or simply shock is the result of a psychological condition arising in response to a terrifying or traumatic event.

  Lisa had certainly suffered extremely traumatic events in a short period of time, and her body had apparently shut down. Russ knew that trauma disrupts the body’s natural equilibrium, freezing it in a state of hyper arousal and fear. In essence the nervous system gets stuck in overdrive. He knew that the best treatment was to restore Lisa’s physical sense of safety.

  In a soft, reassuring voice he said, “Lisa, you’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Joe and I are your friends, and we will protect you. Do you understand?”

  He received no response. Joe attempted to lick the girl’s hand, but it fell limply to the seat. Russ pulled over to the side of the road. He took off his jacket and put it over the girl’s shoulders.

  “Please Lisa, I’m taking you to my home. I’ll make something for you to eat and you can sleep.”

  No response. He put the truck in gear and continued. He knew his best bet was to get her to an environment where she could feel safe. The imposing body of the huge dead man in the back seat didn’t help.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Russ pulled into his driveway. He got out of the truck, and walked to the passenger side. Joe hopped out when he opened the door. He put his hand under Lisa’s legs and the other at her neck. She felt almost weightless as he carried her into his cabin.

  Russ placed her on the couch, removed his jacket, grabbed a blanket from the closet and covered her. Her eyes were still open, revealing only the blank stare. Joe whined, sitting at the edge of the couch watching her.

  “Joe if we can’t get her conscious within an hour, I’ll be forced to take her to the hospital, and I don’t know how I can answer their questions.”

  Russ went to the fireplace, placed four logs on the grate from the hearth with kindling underneath. He lit the fire with a lighter. He thought the sounds and vision of a crackling fire would be calming to Lisa. He then went to the other side of the large family room and turned on his old phonograph. It held one 33-rpm record. A Johnny Mathis song, his deceased wife’s favorite, filled the room.

  “Chances are, ‘cause I wear that silly grin, the moment you come into view, chances are you think that I’m in love with you.”

  His mind drifted to the happiest time of his life when he and Sarah sat in front to the fire, his arm around her, sipping wine and listening to Johnny Mathis. A cough, coming from the couch brought him back to reality.

  He rushed to the couch where Lisa was sitting up. Joe’s head was on her lap and she was petting him.

  “Hello Lisa,” he said softly. “Are you hungry?”

  She looked at him and nodded. Joe licked her hand and she continued to rub his head.

  Russ went to the fridge, pulled out a quart of milk, and filled a glass. He grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from a package in the cupboard, put it on a napkin and took it to Lisa.

  “Honey, you snack on this while I make you some chicken soup.” She looked at him but still said nothing. However, she ate the cookie, drank the entire glass of milk and handed him the glass. “Very good,” Russ replied. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

  Lisa nodded.

  Russ took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom located just inside his bedroom door. She went in, and he closed the door. He waited there until she came out.

  “I would love to have some chicken soup now,” she whispered.

  Russ took a deep breath trying not to show his emotion and joy that she spoke.

  Lisa went to the fireplace and sat down on the floor in front of it. Joe followed her and lay by her side. The calming crackle of the fire and the blaze filled the room with warmth.

  Russ went to the kitchen and looked in the cupboard. His normal grocery run was a week away. He shook his head realizing that there were no cans of soup. However, he did have a can of chicken broth left over from his dieting, while preparing for his colonoscopy last month.

  The doctor found two polyps of the cancerous nature and removed them. He thought for a short time that he would join Sarah in heaven, but Joe needed him alive for the present.

  He removed the can of broth, opened it and dumped it in a pot. Going back to the fridge he grabbed carrots, celery, left over rice, and two chicken legs from last nights supper. He chopped the celery and carrots, stripped the meat from the chicken legs, and put them in the pot along with the rice. To that concoction he added salt, pepper and Italian seasoning. He turned on the gas burner to low and as a last thought added some chopped onion to the mixture.

  “Lisa the soup will be ready in about twenty minutes. You stay with Joe. I need to make a quick phone call.”

  Russ didn’t want the girl to hear so he took his cellphone and went to the front porch. He punched in the private number of Director of the FBI Stancil. The Director answered on the second ring.

  “Okay Russ, what do you have for me?”

  “Sir, I have the girl. Had to kill the driver. I’ve got the body in the back of my truck. Macy is fine and should be able to protect her cover. The girl was in shock, but she is slowly coming out of it. What now?”

  “Good job Russ. I’m trying to reach a couple I trust in Texas. We’ve must keep the girl undercover until I find out who I can trust in the government. Our country is in serious trouble. You remember Special Agent Stewart. He’s working on this case with me and he is not convinced that Senator Roberts is dead. If the couple in Texas can take the girl, Agent Stewart will pick her up and transfer her there. You just keep her calm and safe until you hear from me.”

  “You got it.”

  After hanging up, Russ went back into the house. Johnny Mathis’ song “The Twelfth of Never” was playing.

  “You ask how much I need you, must I explain?

  I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.”

  You ask how long I’ll love you; I’ll tell you true:

  Until the twelfth of never, I’ll still be loving you.”

  Russ smiled when he saw the girl rubbing Joe’s head while he licked her hand.

  She looked up when he walked in.

  “Sir is the soup ready? It smells great. I’m really hungry and I think Joe is too.”

  Okay, she’s going to be fine, Russ thought and smiled again. He walked over to the table, grabbed three bowls, spoons and a box of crackers.

  It’s been a big night and he was starving too.

  Chapter 31

  I lay very still and quiet in the underbrush, grasping the weapon. I had loaded five shells in the Remington Wingmaster shotgun, emptied the backpack of everything except the water container and additional shells, and strapped it on. I left everything else, including the machete, and the remainder of the ammo, in the cocoon not ten feet away.

  Momentarily I heard voices. The first thing I could understand came from the man with the high-pitched voice, Gimble. Only their lower legs and feet were visible to me from my vantage point.

  “Mike, you know we’ve got to find this guy and kill him. The boss don’t want nobody knowing about our drug business.”

  “It’s a small island,” Mike answered in his low gruff voice. “We’ll find him. I just wonder who he is and how he got here. There ain’t no sign of a boat or nothing, just that shitty camp he set up. We burned that bitch down,” he snorted, and cackled.

  I recognized a thick Russian accent from both men.<
br />
  A thought entered my mind about attempting to capture them using the shotgun. However, there are two of them and chances are I’d get shot. A better idea is to take them out one at a time. I want to avoid killing them. I am not a murderer.

  “Hold it,” Gimble said, and they stopped no further than five feet from where I was hiding. I heard Gimble sniffing. “Do you smell something Mike? I thought I got a sniff of Spam.”

  I held my breath. The empty can of Spam was lying on the ground in front of my cocoon. If nothing else, Spam does have a robust, distinct odor.

  “You bastard,” Mike said, snickering. “You’re always hungry. I don’t smell a damn thing except your foul breath. Let’s keep moving. Mary’s expecting us back in camp soon. She’s making me a garlic cheese grits bake. There ain’t no sign of that guy, and we been looking since daybreak. Let’s get some breakfast and we can continue the search.”

  “I need to take a piss,” Gimble replied. He took it out and the stream landed about a foot from where my head was hidden. I held my breath and lay motionless. When he finished, the men moved in the direction of their camp.

  I decided to follow them. Maybe if they separated, I could handle them individually. I really don’t want to kill anyone, just disable them.

  I knew that I wasn’t safe, and eventually they would catch me off guard. Certain death would follow.

  Also they have what I need, the boat.

  Remaining a safe distance behind, I skirted the clearing at the edge of the marijuana field. I moved closer and watched as they entered the gate and walked past the storage shed and the equipment building. As they approached, Mary came out of the doublewide trailer. I entered the gate, darted to the equipment building and hid to the side of it.