Quick Sands: A Theo Ramage Thriller (Book 1)

by Edward J. McFadden III

  They lay in silence for a time, then Anna said, “I saw Splice last night.”

  Ramage propped himself up on an elbow.

  She rolled over and reached down onto the floor, picked up her pants and fished out the piece of paper Splice had given her. She tossed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Some information on the compound’s security system, and…”

  Ramage stuck out his chin and lifted his eyebrows.

  “It’s also a summary of the research the Sandman had Splice do.”

  “On?”

  “You.”

  He opened the paper and scanned it. “You’ve read this?”

  She nodded.

  “OK, then. Now you know me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You must have questions. Shoot.”

  “Ramage, I don—”

  “No, no. It’s fine.”

  “I get the basics. Sorry, by the way. It was shitty what happened to you.”

  “We all make decisions that affect the course of our lives.”

  “After the… incident you just disappeared. Feds help with that?”

  “It’s pure luck that I’m walking around free,” he said.

  “And how exactly did that happen?”

  “When crimes coincide with the US government’s objectives, they… fail to see what’s in front of them.”

  “Still. You may have done a service by wiping out those terrorists, but they could have had their cake and eaten it to. Put you away. Say nobody is above the law, and terrorists would still be dead.”

  “They could’ve done that, but as you saw Joan’s partner was involved, and that would have looked really bad for the bureau. Plus, people knew Joan. After I was arrested agents were patting me on the back.”

  “Clearly some higher-ups stepped in on your behalf.”

  “Joan had guarded some very influential people.”

  “So, what, you’re on probation?” Anna said.

  “Of a kind. They let me live my small life driving Big Blue as long as I check in with my contact every few days. Report what I’m up to.”

  “Rex?”

  Ramage nodded.

  “What I don’t get is why do they care? It’s not like you’re a risk to do this again.”

  “No, but I was really good at what I did. They reserved the right to pull me in whenever they want,” he said.

  “That doesn’t sound fair.”

  “Fair? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” He sighed. “They gave me two options: do whatever they want whenever they want and stay in touch. Basically, become an FBI asset. Or, stand trial in federal court for a bunch of crimes and know the FBI and Secret Service would do whatever was necessary to keep shit off their shoes, including selling me down the river.”

  “So, what happened? How did you…. The kid, how…”

  “It’s a long story for another time. We’ve got to get going.” Ramage stood and went to collect his clothes. He’d bought fresh underwear, and he had a clean shirt, but not pants. “There anywhere in town I can buy some clothes?”

  “Sure. Why you in such a rush suddenly?”

  “I’m going in tonight, which means I need to make some plans. Get some supplies.”

  “You mean we’re going in, right?”

  “Anna, I—”

  “Ramage, this is my town, remember? I’m coming.”

  He nodded. Since he hadn’t formulated a plan yet he didn’t see the point of arguing. He’d need backup. That was for damn sure. “Do you think Gypsy and Cecil will help?”

  “Do snakes make Ramage jump like a little kid?”

  “Like a little kid?”

  She threw off the sheets, got up, and put her arms around him. “Nothing little about you.”

  “Look’s like Willy is awake,” Ramage said.

  “Oh, goodie.” She pushed him onto the bed and pulled off his pants.

  Lunchtime found the lovers at Lucy’s eating in the private room while they waited for Cecil and Gypsy. Ramage chowed down a burger, and Anna picked delicately at a salad. The glow of their lovemaking had faded, and with the anticipation gone they both seemed content to give each other some space. He’d been honest with her. She knew he couldn’t stay, and that when their business was done, and Piranha was bleeding and he had Big Blue back, he’d be moving on. Or would he? For the first time since Joan had died he was thinking about the future. A future that suddenly had hope.

  “So how you gonna do this?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  “You plan to share them? They light that place up like a Christmas tree at night, and guards walk the perimeter and the fence is electrified. How are you going to get over or through that?”

  “I’m thinking we need a diversion.”

  “Like?”

  “Like Gypsy and Cecil get a few of their social justice warrior friends and attempt a break-in with the intent of fleeing.”

  “Pretty old school. You don’t think they’ll see something like that coming?”

  Ramage shook his head. “These guys are nothing if not confident. They don’t know the sheriff is down and out. They’ll call, get no sheriff, deputies will show up that don’t know what they’re doing,” he said. He’d just made up the plan as he spoke, and he thought it sounded pretty good.

  “What about the fence? How you gonna get that turned off?”

  “What fence?” It was Cecil. He and Gypsy entered and took seats.

  Anna brought them up to date.

  “We’re in,” Gypsy said. Then she looked at Cecil, and said, “Right?”

  Cecil nodded. “I’ll throw something at the fence that will cause them to turn it off.”

  “Like what?” Ramage said.

  “I don’t know. I’ll think of something,” Cecil said.

  “And you and Gypsy can roundup three or four people who can be trusted not to tipoff the Sandman?”

  Gypsy nodded. “No problem.”

  “I’m going to need a bunch of stuff: explosives, ammo, rope, tools. Can you guys help get that? I’ll use my cell phone for video and pictures.”

  Anna said, “Dad’s got tons of ammo. Says he’s prepared for the Alamo II.”

  “I think I can get some explosives. Anything specific?” Cecil said.

  “Naw. Don’t even know what I’ll need it for yet.”

  “I’ll get some fireworks also. We can light things up with some tracers and bottle rockets. They won’t know what the hell is going on,” Cecil said.

  “I like it,” Ramage said.

  “How will we communicate?”

  “Simple two-way walkie-talkies will work. Any camping or sports outlet carries them,” Cecil said.

  “We actually have four radios, remember?” Gypsy said.

  “Oh, right. From the…”

  Everyone looked at Cecil and he hiked his shoulders.

  “You’re going over or through the fence at some point away from the diversion?” Anna said.

  Ramage nodded and said nothing.

  “So, what’s my part?”

  “You’ll be with me.”

  Anna smiled.

  “That smart?” Cecil asked. “Not to get into your business, but you’re uniquely qualified to do this type of stuff. We aren’t. Anna certainly isn’t.”

  Anna shot Cecil a dirty look and he lifted his hands, palms out in the universal ‘don’t get pissed at me’ signal.

  “You make a good point, but she’ll be with me, and it will be much easier for two people to search the compound; one as a lookout, the other a searcher.”

  “You can’t find a semi?” Cecil joked.

  “We’re going to find more than Big Blue in there. Bank on it,” Anna said.

  Gypsy put her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “You can get over that fence?”

  Anna started to speak and Ramage put up a hand. “We aren’t going over, we’re going through.”

  Lucy bustled into the room and
said, “I’m so sorry, hon. You guys eating?”

  “No thanks, Lucy. We’ve got to roll,” Gypsy said.

  Cecil looked at her like a puppy that had been deprived a treat after doing what it was told.

  “We’ve got a lot to do if we’re gonna be ready.”

  Cecil made an exaggerated frown.

  “Fine.”

  “Scotch up,” Cecil said.

  “To go,” Gypsy said.

  Ramage and Anna ate and drank, and Lucy returned with Cecil’s drink in a paper coffee cup. Gypsy reached in her purse to pay, and Ramage said, “This one’s on me. I hit the cash machine at the diner.”

  “We’ll be in touch in a couple of hours,” said Gypsy. “Dinner here tonight before we head out?”

  Ramage and Anna nodded. Gypsy and Cecil left.

  Ramage put his hand on Anna’s knee. “What is it with those two? How’d you meet them?”

  “They’ve been together since high school. Gypsy’s from here, though her family place is long gone.”

  “Long gone? How?”

  “When things went belly-up in the 70’s people literally took their homes apart and sold the pieces. When Gypsy’s family left she was sleeping in a tent.”

  “Gypsy.”

  “You’re very perceptive,” she said.

  “Apparently, even in Elementary School.”

  “You’ve seen Splice’s report? Before I gave it to you?”

  He nodded. “Sheriff did a ‘this is your life’ with me last night.”

  “Ramage, what are we?” She looked at the table. “I mean, what are we doing?”

  Ramage took a bite of burger then answered with his mouth full. “Eat ‘in.”

  “Don’t be a wiseass.” She punched him on the shoulder.

  Ramage dabbed his mouth with his napkin and dropped it in his lap. “What are we? Friends? Lovers? Partners in crime?”

  “What does all that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lucy came back. “Anything el…” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “What’s with you two? You could cut the tension in here with a butter knife.”

  Ramage said, “Maybe you can help us?”

  “Wha—” started Lucy.

  “Ramage!” Anna said.

  “Lucy, when you look at Anna and I, what do you see?”

  Now that the question was out there, Anna watched Lucy for an answer.

  “Don’t suck me into this. I’ll get the bill.”

  Ramage put his hand on Anna’s knee again, but this time she moved her leg.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The moon and stars hid behind low clouds fat with rain, the terrain a dark wasteland dotted with devil grass and mesquite. Sand bit Ramage’s face as he trudged along like a blind man, Anna behind him. In the distance the Sandman’s compound stood out like a cockroach on a baby’s ass, white high-pressure sodium lights blazing in the blackness. He walked slow, being careful not to step in holes, or to get tangled in vegetation or debris. They still had a mile to go across rough unforgiving land that threatened to trip, scratch, and stab them with each step.

  Ramage glanced at his watch. 4:42AM. They had forty-eight minutes before the party started. He’d explained to his conspirators that the end of shift was the best time to go in. Security personnel typically followed the same duty schedule as police departments: 7AM to 3PM, 3PM to 11PM, and the graveyard shift, 11PM to 7AM. Guards at the end of their shifts tended to be lazy, tired, and thinking about what they planned to do when they got off.

  The duo threaded through the brush, following random animal paths, but heading basically south toward the compound. The ground got rough, holes and arroyos splitting the plain, and he heard Anna panting. The land angled upward, and a mountain of sand rose from the hardpan before them. To the north mesas stood like monoliths and stands of mesquite climbed from their tops like hair, shifting and swaying in the wind.

  Sinkholes and dense patches of thorny low brush pushed them off course, and ahead the huge sand dune blocked their view of the compound. To the west the mountain of sand trailed away into blackness, but to the east the grade of the dune tapered down to the hardpan.

  “Go around to the east?” Anna said.

  “Can’t we climb over it?”

  “If you want to die. Remember what I told you about K2? Quick sands? We get caught in a sand avalanche and we’ll be buried alive,” Anna said.

  He glanced at his watch. 5:09AM. Twenty-one minutes until show time. “Around it is,” Ramage said. “But let’s pick up the pace a little.”

  They headed south, skirting the edge of the sand hill, and they hadn’t gone far before the glow of the compound’s lights spilled over the dune as it narrowed to the hardpan. A gust of wind tore across the plain, sandblasting the companions, and Ramage lowered his head and pulled his scarf tight around his mouth and nose. The dune fell away revealing a long, thin arroyo that cut across the land like a scar. Light blazed like a supernova from the compound, illuminating fifty yards of sand beyond the fence line.

  Ramage and Anna traversed the arroyo and eased into a shallow gash in the ground, lying face down and peering into the blackness. The chain-link fence was a hundred yards off, and he didn’t think anyone could see them in the depression beyond the lights glow. Ramage drew the Glock he’d taken off the cop in Dallas, and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt. He hoped the old lawman had taken his note to heart, otherwise his retirement party was probably already scheduled.

  Anna cleared her throat. She said, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Didn’t want to do it in front of the others.”

  Ramage turned to her.

  “Are Gypsy and crew really our backup? You’ve got something up your sleeve, right? I mean, if shit goes real bad,” Anna said.

  “I didn’t call Rex today. My two days are up in the morning.”

  She nodded emphatically. “He’ll definitely come?”

  “He’ll probably give me until lunch before he calls Dallas. When we’re done here, I’ll call him. If I don’t…”

  “He won’t come himself?”

  Ramage shrugged in the darkness.

  “Have you ever met Rex?” she asked.

  Ramage said nothing.

  Headlight beams appeared to the south, two vehicles running close together. They disappeared in a dip in the land and reemerged with only red running lights glowing. Gypsy and crew were right on time.

  “Clock’s running,” Ramage said. He lost sight of the red running lights as the two stolen cars disappeared behind a sand dune, and Ramage pulled out Cecil’s night scope and raised it to an eye. The landscape was painted in mint green, and the white pinpricks of the cars running lights stood out like klieg lights in the darkness.

  “They’re almost here. Let’s get in position,” Ramage said. He stuffed the Glock in his pants behind his back and put away the scope. He crawled over the lip of the depression and Army crawled toward the fence until he lay just outside the glow of the compound’s floodlights. If the main gate to the yard was 6 o’clock on a watch face, he was currently at 4 o’clock. Mounds of debris, equipment, and stacks of crates were stored inside the fence line, but space had been left so a sentry could walk the perimeter. Ramage didn’t see the guard in the darkness, but he knew he was there somewhere. That had been one of Splice’s three security notes. One guard patrolled the fence perimeter from dusk ‘til dawn.

  Ramage and Anna crawled further west until they were positioned at 1 o’clock in the north-west corner. He pulled his gun, breathed deep, and waited.

  Anna crunched next to him and he heard her spitting sand.

  “You OK?” he whispered.

  “Yup.”

  Gypsy and Cecil planned their assault on the southern side of the compound, and from his current position Ramage could monitor the diversion’s progress.

  The vehicles had switched off their running lights, but Ramage saw the dark shapes barreling toward the compound across the dark landscape
, leaving a rooster tail of dust and sand. He heard the thump and rattle as the cars left the road and bounced across the hardpan. Nothing moved outside the compound, then someone yelled, and a person ran through the bright lights across the yard toward the southern fence line.

  “Ready?”

  “Vitam impendere vero,” she said.

  Ramage smiled.

  Headlight beams snapped on and sliced through the blackness as the vehicle’s driven by Cecil and his team raced across the hardpan toward the fence. Gunshots rang out, glass shattered, and several floodlights went out around the perimeter of the compound. Ramage joined in, firing four times and taking out the floodlights nearest him.

  With their section of the fence line dark, Ramage and Anna sprinted across the hundred yards of open space until they were next to the fence. They got low and waited in the darkness, guns at the ready.

  On the southern perimeter chaos reigned. Machine gun fire rose above the clamor and guards spilled from the large metal warehouse at the center of the yard. Yelling and screaming tore the silence. Trucks started, and flashlight beams jumped and panned over the scene.

  A figure dressed all in black—Ramage knew it was Cecil—rose from behind one of the car doors and threw something at the fence.

  A spattering of gunshots. The chain-link fence in front of Ramage buzzed and he leaned back.

  The dead possum Cecil had thrown stuck to the fence, and sparks and tiny jets of flame glowed in the blackness. Cecil threw another piece of roadkill onto the fence, then another. Nasty smoke billowed across the yard, the scent of burning flesh filling the air. The gunshots died away, and the alarm sounded, a piercing double chirp that roared over and over.

  “Go ahead,” Ramage said.

  Anna sighed and pulled a screwdriver with a rubber handle from her back pocket. She touched the tip of the tool to the fence and got a spark. “Still up.”

  A crowd of guards had formed on the southern perimeter and they were firing into the darkness, the tinkle and pop of bullets hitting metal and shattering glass filling the night. Ramage knew Gypsy and Cecil were already gone, waiting for Ramage to call them in if needed, but worry still gnawed at him. There was always the possibility of a stray bullet or a ricochet.