by Sam Cheever
Angie and Debra jumped and their heads swiveled toward the sound of the deep, cigarette roughened voice. All they could see was a tall, dark silhouette, and the flash of light off a gun barrel that was pointed at Alastair.
Angie threw her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream.
"Oh shit!” Debra Burns said with true emotion. “I told him to frickin’ hurry."
Angie suddenly realized the man couldn't see her and therefore would probably not know she was there. She placed a hand on Debra's arm and, when the girl turned to her, put a finger in front of her lips and moved away, keeping as quiet as she could without being able to see where she was going. She thought she remembered seeing a large, wooden crate of some sort just a few feet away, to the left of where she'd been sitting.
Her foot bumped something hard and metallic and it skittered across the floor, spinning toward the man with the gun. Angie bit her lip, and stopped moving, sure the flashlight would be on her within seconds.
"Damn it!” Debra Burns screamed. “That probably chipped my freshly done pedicure all to hell."
The flashlight swung in the girl's direction and she was standing upright, looking all teetery but managing to keep herself on her feet nonetheless. She glared into the bright light.
A husky laugh rolled across the room and Angie quickly shuffled the last few steps to the crate and slid behind it.
"I knew you was stupid, Ms. Burns, but did you really think you could outrun me with that strip on your ankles."
Debra Burns sniffed audibly and gave him her most haughty voice. “Probably not, but I was hoping I'd at least get the chance to head butt you into something sharp and ugly, so I could stomp on your shriveled little privates for a few minutes."
The husky laugh was preceded this time by the sound of a locking zip strip. “Come on hero, you'll be joining the lady ... and I do use that term extremely loosely ... against this wall. As soon as we get the last of Honeybun's men we'll be coming back for you two."
Angie felt around the ground quickly, looking for something she could use as a weapon. She grimaced as her fingers skittered over dried and crunchy bug corpses and god knew what else. But finally she felt something long, cool, and solid and clasped her hand around it, pulling it close.
She ran her fingers along the object and located the sharp edged V at one end. A crow bar. Probably used to open up the crate and then dropped, forgotten behind it. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer of thanks and then forced herself to peek around the crate.
The flashlight beam illuminated Debra as she hopped backward and lowered herself back into her spot against the wall. Then suddenly Alastair was standing in front of Debra, looking down with a carefully blank face.
The tall cowboy with the gun shoved Alastair in the back and he fell forward, hitting his head hard against the wall before he could get his bound hands up to cushion the blow. Angie panicked when his head smacked hard against the wall and she jumped up, running blindly toward the tall man with the crow bar raised high over her head.
Adrenaline made her stronger than she expected and she hit the man hard enough to make him stagger and lower his gun arm in surprise. But she missed his head so he didn't go down.
Debra Burns helped him with that.
As he stumbled to the side, already lifting his gun toward Angie again, Debra swept her bound legs along the floor and kicked his legs out from under him. He grunted and went down. The gun went off and dislodged a bullet into the ceiling, raining dust and debris down on their heads.
Angie didn't wait for him to get up again, she brought the crowbar down hard on his stomach and he folded, holding his middle with both arms and gasping for breath. The gun dropped from his hands and Debra kicked it away from him.
Angie saw something long and white sticking out of the man's back pocket and reached for it, quickly wrapping it around his ankles and zipping it tight. Then she took a second one and tried to coral his wrists. Instead he grabbed her and pulled her to the ground on top of him.
Angie gave a little yelp and panicked, flailing her arms and legs wildly. She inadvertently kneed him in the groin and he grunted but still didn't let go of her wrist.
Until the end of the gun was pressed to his forehead and a very angry voice said, “Mister, if I were you I'd take my hands of that woman right now or you're gonna be able to put a pipe through your forehead and flush out your beady little brain."
Angie felt the man's iron grip lift from her wrist and she sat up quickly, climbing off him and snatching up the zip wrap from where she'd dropped it when he'd grabbed her.
"Put your wrists together."
"You ain't gonna shoot me."
The gun went off and the man cried out, grabbing the forearm closest to Alastair. “You were saying?"
Moaning in pain, the man quickly complied and Angie zipped his wrists together.
Then she stood up and looked at Alastair. He was standing in the beam of the flashlight, which the gunman had propped on a box across the room, and his face was dark and scary with anger.
He still hadn't lowered the gun.
She went over and touched his arm. “You can lower the gun now, Alastair, he can't do anything with his wrists and ankles bound up."
Alastair appeared reluctant to lower the gun. “Search his pockets for the knife first. He'd have had to cut our ankles loose to move us."
Angie nodded, impressed by Alistair's clear thinking in the face of a terrifying situation. She found a small pocket knife in the man's shirt pocket and held it up in front of Alastair. He finally lowered the gun, stuffing it into the front of his jeans.
Angie sawed through the heavy zip strip on Alastair's thick wrists and handed him the knife. He had Debra Burns loose in less than a minute.
"Let's get out of here.” Alastair said after he'd helped Debra to her feet. “I don't care if there are bullets and bad guys out there. Apparently they're everywhere."
"Amen,” Angie murmured.
Debra grabbed the flashlight and they headed toward the door.
As they opened it, they heard the sound of a plane starting to taxi toward the runway.
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Chapter Seventeen
A black Hummer was tearing after the Light Jet that taxied swiftly down the runway. Debra Burns gave off a little scream and started running toward the departing jet.
"Son of a Bitch! Come back here! Where the hell's my money?” Her voice was a piercing shriek that managed to rise above the sharp whine of the small jet, which was quickly picking up speed.
Suddenly a small, black BMW swerved onto the runway in front of the jet and the plane jerked sideways, its flaps dropping in an effort to slow down and keep from hitting the car, which had stopped sideways across the runway.
The Jet jerked from side to side a couple of times, its wings dipping dangerously, and then the flaps went up again and it seemed to be picking up speed, apparently hoping to leave the ground before it hit the BMW. By this time the Hummer had managed to catch up, and was swerving sideways toward the plane in an obvious effort to push the small aircraft off the runway.
Finally the plane's wheels hit grass and stumbled. The plane left the surface of the runway for a moment, and then thudded back down. The flaps came full down and the little plane screeched to a stop, spinning around in the grass beside the runway until it halted with a groan, facing the opposite direction.
As Angie and Alastair ran toward the Hummer, a man in a dark suit climbed out of the BMW. He reached back into the car and pulled out a large, black bag.
Sirens suddenly rose above the drone of the small plane and they looked up to see Brita's car barreling toward them, a flashing light tilting dangerously just at the edge of its roof. Brita threw on the brakes and skidded to a halt mere feet from where they stood.
When they looked back, Alfric had the man in the suit leaning over the BMW, spread eagled, and a man whom Alastair recognized as Brita's partner, Bud Shinks, was rummaging t
hrough the black bag.
"Money!” They heard him exclaim as they ran up, breathing heavily, “It's filled with money."
Alfric clapped a set of cuffs on the young man who'd been driving the BMW and turned, nodding. “I figured as much. This guy must be one of the kidnappers."
An inhuman shriek split the night and everyone jumped and turned as a horse, wild eyed and frantic, still saddled and with reins trailing behind as it ran, shot past them and headed toward the far end of the small airport. They'd barely had time to register this oddity when they heard a yelp and turned just in time to see Bud Shinks go down.
Debra Burns stood over him, a gun in one hand and the bag of money in the other. She jerked her head up as Alfric took a step toward her. “Unlock those cuffs and let him go."
Behind them Brita made a noise as everyone turned to look at the man in the suit.
Alfric glanced at Brita and she gave him a small nod.
He released the young man and stood back, allowing him to stride toward the young heiress.
She frowned at him. “What took you so long? I was kidnapped and that piece of shit almost took off without us?"
Brian Davies shrugged, “I found your car and was trying to figure out what happened to you. I finally figured I might as well come here. I saw the plane leaving and panicked. All I could think was to stop it."
She scowled at him, shaking her head. “It's a good thing I wasn't on that plane or I'd have been mighty pissed at you. They almost crashed."
He just shrugged. “It worked out okay didn't it?"
She sighed and nodded, opening her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out another voice startled them.
"Thanks for bringing me my money, Davies."
They all turned with a jerk to find Susan Burns standing in the doorway of the small plane, a mean little smile on her plain face. “Now if you'll just bring it over here and hand it to me I won't kill your little girl friend."
Brian paled and reached for the bag but Debra Burns yanked it out of his reach, “You're not taking this money and leaving me here, bitch!"
Susan Burns laughed. “You don't think?"
Brian looked from one to the other of the two women, clearly confused as to what to do next.
Then suddenly Debra turned and pointed the gun at her step mother. “You can come here and try to get the money mommy dearest, but you'll have to go through me first."
Susan Burns scowled and looked behind her into the plane, “Get back in that cockpit you asshole or I'll shoot you and fly the plane myself."
Then she turned her hostile gaze back to the crowd on the tarmac before her and swung the gun toward Brian Davies. She pulled the trigger and Brian went down.
Before he hit the ground her gun was trained back on Debra.
Debra gave a little squeal of alarm and dropped Bud's gun.
"He's not dead, Debra. But he will be with the next shot. Now bring the money to me."
Debra Burns gave a shaky laugh. “Did you think I really had feelings for him, Susan? Oh ... and I bet you thought I had feelings for you too didn't you?"
The woman in the jet scowled. “You little bitc...” But she never finished that thought. Suddenly she jerked and her head rolled back, and then she was falling face forward toward the grass below.
A man in a white shirt and navy slacks appeared behind her, his hands in the air. A large flashlight was still clutched in one of them. “I'm the pilot. I'm here under duress. Don't shoot."
Debra Burns reached down and picked up the gun at her feet, turning as she straightened. Brita took two running steps and launched herself into the air. Her sneakered foot connected hard with the wrist of Debra's gun hand and it made a horrible snapping noise.
Debra went down with a blood curdling scream and the gun flew sideways. Clovis, who, along with the rest of the Honeybuns had arrived during the standoff between the two women, picked it up and engaged the safety. The Honeybuns all stood in a semi-circle behind Alastair and Angie. They watched in silence as Alfric's men moved in to gather up Debra Burns, still shrieking and holding her broken wrist. Godric was the only one missing from the family support system. He was kneeling beside Brian Davies taking his pulse.
Brita walked up and knelt down beside him. “Is he gonna be okay?"
Godric looked up and nodded. The bullet went through his shoulder. It didn't hit anything important."
Brita nodded and turned to Davies. His eyes were open and glazed with pain. “Thanks for the phone call. You did good work today."
Debra Burns screamed as they hauled her to her feet and Davies winced. “Is she all right?"
Brita nodded. “She has a broken wrist, that's all. She'll be able to wash dishes in the prison kitchen in no time."
Brian winced again and sighed. “I tried to help her. But I suppose she's beyond my help now, huh?"
Brita turned to watch the spoiled young heiress being led away by her men, who had finally arrived. She was screaming a truly impressive array of foul words at her officers and trying to stomp on their toes as they walked her to the waiting squad car. “I suppose she has been for a really long time, Mr. Davies.” She turned back to him with a sad smile. “You'll want to do a little better job in your choice of girlfriends next time."
Davies just shook his head and lay back as Godric ushered the newly arrived ambulance crew over to him and gave them instructions for his care.
Brita patted him on the forearm and stood up. “I'll talk to you at the precinct tomorrow, Mr. Davies. You can fill me in on the details of what really happened here."
The young man just nodded and kept his eyes shut. Brita thought she saw a tear at the corner of one of them.
* * * *
* * * *
Louis leaned against the limousine and examined his fingernails. He'd been waiting for at least an hour for Mr. Bigg to come down and he was getting sick of waiting. His whole body hurt and he wanted to go home and take a couple of pain pills and drink a cold beer.
Finally the glass doors of the building swung open and Mr. Bigg came out with Julio at his side. Julio held the door for his employer. “The two men you sent to the Marine base have disappeared, sir. We haven't heard from Bones or his crew yet either,” Julio informed the little man in the perfectly fitting dark suit.
"I should have fired him a long time ago. Both him and his damn horse.” Bigg sighed. “There's been nothing on the news about Burns or his daughter. Since we haven't heard from Bones we'll have to assume he's double crossed us again. He's probably in Mexico with the money by now. Call Gleason in the morning and tell him to find Bones and get rid of him. I'm sick of the man's shit."
"Yes, sir."
As soon as they cleared the door, Julio stepped in front of the smaller man and scanned the area with suspicious dark eyes. Louis felt himself bristling. “I already checked out the area, Julio, about ten times."
Julio ignored him and turned to give Bigg a slight nod. “All clear, sir."
Louis shook his head and swore under his breath. Ever since he'd let the little bitch pancake his balls and stab his neck he'd gotten no respect from the other guys. It was so unfair. That shit could have happened to anybody.
Louis limped around to the driver's side of the car and opened the door.
It was late and all the businesses had been closed and quiet for several hours. The night was dark and very quiet. Which was why the sound of an approaching engine could easily be heard from a couple of miles away.
Louis reached for his gun and Julio stepped in front of Bigg as the roar of a small engine came nearer. They soon realized the sound was from a single motorcycle, its driver dressed completely in black, with a Darth Vader like helmet on his head.
The cycle tore through the night at an impossible speed but it slowed as it neared them. Louis’ gun was out and pointed toward the cycle, but it was hidden by the door of the limo. Looking over the car at Julio he knew that the big man had drawn his too.
The cycl
e glided to a stop and the driver pulled off his helmet, showing them a smiling face topped by shiny red-blond hair.
Louis immediately recognized the rider. He stuffed his gun back into his jacket pocket and came around the door. “Warwicke Honeybun! I'll be damned.” Louis walked toward Warwicke with a hand outstretched, smiling broadly. “What the hell are you doin’ out here at this time of night?"
Warwicke took the outstretched hand and smiled. “I always run the streets at night, it's nice having them all to myself. I'm afraid I took a wrong turn somewhere though. I was gonna ask you guys where the hell I was."
Julio laughed. “Warwicke Honeybun lost? That's one for the papers."
Warwicke laughed too. “I'll be forever in your debt if you don't tell anybody.” He reached down and turned the key to silence the big cycle.
In the sudden quiet a faint sound could be heard a few blocks down. The clip clop, clip clop that broke the silence was something the men standing there had never heard in the city before. They all turned to look down the street, squinting into the shadows. The street appeared to be empty, but the shadows at the side of the road split suddenly to show them, unbelievably, a horse, with a rider on its back. The rider wore a cowboy hat and swayed gently in the saddle as if he'd been riding all his life.
Julio looked at Bigg, “Bones? What's he doin’ down here with that animal? Has he lost his flippin’ mind?"
The rider drew near and they peered closely at him, waiting for him to speak. The cowboy hat was pulled low on the tall man's face and his features were in shadow. He stopped about ten feet away and stared at them in silence.
Warwicke finally spoke. “Hey cowboy, wanna race?” He patted his cycle.
The man in the saddle snorted and reached around to remove a small, black object from where he'd tucked it into his jeans at the small of his back. “I don't think so, bro.” Then he shot something into Julio's broad chest. The big man flapped his lips for a few seconds and then dropped like a stone.
Warwicke reached a hand toward Louis and the greasy haired thug jerked and hit the ground hard. Warwicke looked at the taser in his hand and grinned. “Wow, cool."