by Diaz, AJ
“I can and I am.” Mike’s hands went up in surrender. The paramedic on the other side of the gurney started to come around, arms flailing in anger. Susan pushed the gurney into him as hard as she could. The man hit the concrete.
While he was on the ground, she limped as fast as she could toward the cars in the lot. She glanced at the keys in hand and saw a key for an Accord. Head darting every way, she spotted the silver car and made her way to it.
The paramedic she’d knocked over and now his partner were coming at her. She shut and locked the doors. They started pounding on the windows. “Well, I’ve never driven before,” she muttered to herself. “This should be fun.”
She twisted the key, turned the automatic to reverse, and pushed the pedal. Not expecting the gas to be so touchy, the car launched backward with a screech. The two paramedics jumped aside in terror.
Then she switched the car to drive and did something she’d always wanted to do.
Floored it!
Blood was still spilling from his wound and soaking through his clothes. Bullets rutted the green overhead. Jeff was awash with fear. And pain.
Abruptly, the gunshots ceased. Laying there in the dirt, shoulder bleeding, he listened. When he got used to the quiet, he could make out the men rambling. Their voices steadily rose as they walked closer.
He heard footsteps—one of them was on the top of the green! Carefully listening to the steps, he figured the man must be near the flag, which is what marks the hole. The hole was just a matter of feet away from him. The only reason he hadn’t yet been shot was because the bunker was deeper than normal, which was weird, but he was in no position to question it.
“Should we do this?” asked one of the men.
“It’s the best way to trap him.”
“Fine.” A few beats. “But are you sure? Hamell will be mad.”
“He won’t be mad if we kill this lieutenant.”
Jeff couldn’t figure what they were talking about.
“But are you sure?”
“Will you just open it?” yelled one of them.
Something bad was about to happen, Jeff knew. Quietly whimpering, he got onto his knees. Slowly and painfully, he rose to his feet. He took a few steps up the bunker until he could see a man’s head. He had to get this shot. Had to.
Lifting his gun with his good arm sent pain down his bad arm. Weird. He held his breath and…
A cracking and throbbing noise rose from beneath him. It sounded like machinery. Suddenly, the bunker he was standing in split down the middle. Then, like glass sliding doors, the opening grew, separating apart. He had a foot on both sides of the widening opening, and it was making him do the splits. Sand spilled into the aperture.
Finally, he stepped onto one of the sliding doors and watched the ground open before him, giving way to an underground chamber. Dogs started barking from inside, followed by a growl from a lion. Then a grumble from an elephant.
It dawned on him. This was where the ring of robbers was hiding their loot! In a hole in the golf course. A nineteenth hole. Stepping inside and forgetting about the men overhead, he saw all sorts of animals in cages on either wall, glowering at him. A large painting was rolled up in the back. A golden statue, a small mountain of jewelry boxes, crates brimming with weapons—it was all here. Everything stolen in the last few months.
Behind him, sand spilled off the side of the round opening.
One of the men dropped into the room.
“Please move!” yelled Andrew at the car in front of him, though it was no use. The car was going strikingly slow. Probably the speed limit, but everything seemed slow to him right now. He’d just pulled off the freeway, ran a red light, and now the golf course loomed a half-mile ahead. His GPS showed Taylor’s destination a few minutes past the golf course.
He couldn’t pass the car because a score of motorcyclists was roaring by in the left lane. He looked to the right. It was nothing but a short drop into a ravine. No shoulder. The ravine curved and met a mountain further ahead. There was a shoulder there. But he wouldn’t meet it for at least a minute at the rate he was going. The speedometer read forty, which was just about the speed limit on this road.
Honking several times, he reared the car in front of him. Their bumpers were almost touching. Then it happened, and he saw it all too clearly. A squirrel ran up from the ravine into the road. The car in front of him applied the brakes. And he had no choice.
Wrenching the wheel to the right, his truck plummeted into the small ravine. The grill smacked into a rock with a crack! White smoke from the engine mounted against the stark blue sky. Before his car completely stopped rolling, he was out the door, running up to the road.
He flipped open his phone and dialed the police.
There was no way he could get to Taylor now. Only pray Chad was on it.
The golf course was his best bet—from what he could tell, Taylor was there when the chaos started. And the sound of gunshots in the distance confirmed his suspicions.
Chapter 27 Susan was on the road, going fast, slow, fast, slow. She couldn’t seem to keep her foot steady on the pedal when she rolled over bumps. Fortunately the Accord was an automatic. Going about sixty miles an hour, she came up to a car. Without slowing, she drove onto the dirt shoulder and swerved around the car, coming back onto the asphalt with a shriek from the tires.
Knowing Taylor had gone down this road, she continued. But she had no idea where Taylor was. She simply had a hope that she would spot something. What that something was she had no idea.
She came to the next speed-limit-going car, this time passing on the left lane, for there were no cars in it at that moment. Then, on the right shoulder, she saw a small golf cart putt-putt-putting along. Cars were passing it left and right (if you’ll excuse the expression). Passing it herself, she realized it was Chad. She couldn’t help but laughing as she slammed the brakes and quickly reversed. When she was alongside she rolled down the window and said, “Hop in.”
It took him a second to realize it was Susan. Once he did, he quickly scrambled into the passenger seat faster than Susan had seen anyone enter a car. Speaking hurriedly, he said, “We’ve only got a few minutes. Keep following this road.”
Susan punched the pedal. “On it.”
It was now that Chad remembered to put on his seatbelt. “Do you have a driver’s license?” he asked over the strident engine.
“No.”
“Have you ever driven before?”
“No, why do you ask?”
He gripped his armrest in fear. “No reason.” The words came out in a small voice.
Susan reared a truck. As she’d already done a few times, she pulled onto the shoulder to pass the car. Only this time, two backpack-toting kids were walking on it. The kids froze in terror. Chad was screaming as well. Susan tugged the wheel sharply to the right, sending them up the mountain adjacent the shoulder.
In a maneuver that reminded her of the Matrix, the car rode sideways on the sloped mountain, passed the kids, and pitched back onto the shoulder with a crunch. When they’d gotten just ahead of the truck, Susan heaved the car back onto the road.
Chad was still screaming.
Lieutenant Jeff Arterman was at a loss. He was shot in the arm but was okay. He’d just discovered the ring’s secret hiding place for all their loot. But he’d forgotten they had just been shooting at him. Why did he have to be so dumb?
Now all five of the men were standing in the doorway. Staring at him. One of the men, the one with the bleeding hand, stepped in front of the rest and took vengeful aim.
Jeff still had his gun in hand, dangling at his side. He didn’t know if he could pull it off, but he didn’t have much of a choice. In a swift move, he brought his arm parallel to the ground and fired. And fired, fired, fired, fired! The gun blasts perforated the air inside the chamber like mini-explosions. The animals roared, bellowed, clawed, and bit at their cages. The man that was standing in front of the others collapsed, possibly dead.
The others turned tail and hid behind the entrance.
Knowing he didn’t have much time, Jeff punched another magazine into his gun and shot the locks on the animal’s cages from point blank. The animals violently head-butted their doors open, snarling. The men were coming back into the entrance when the animals, which they’d captured, came charging at them. A lion, a tiger, many vicious, angry dogs, and an elephant interspersed and pressed through the aperture, knocking the men over, biting them, and chasing them away.
“Take this left turn. Take this left turn!” squealed Chad.
Susan almost missed it but turned sharply at the last second, barely avoiding a car, and hit the dirt road. Still going the same fast speed, they were rocking up and down over the bumps in the road. The car passed through eucalyptus trees. The ground was nothing but soft dirt.
Then they came to a hairpin bend. Susan’s depth of perception told her she couldn’t make it at the speed she was going. Slamming the breaks, she turned the wheel. The car lost traction and, instead of making the turn, slid into the trees that lined the road. The passenger door dented inward, and Chad leaned away just in time.
Susan accelerated and made the last of the hairpin with ease. The car plunged through the pillar of dust, and at last they saw the ocean. Seconds later they saw the house on the water. Chad checked his GPS. “This is it.”
Taylor and Abby were sitting there silently. Praying. Their hands were both lacerated and sticky with blood. The brittle ropes wouldn’t budge.
Taylor watched the bomb timer in horror. “30 seconds.”
Abby gulped. “Twenty five.”
“Here we go.”
“Not so fast,” said Susan, bursting through the doorway.
Taylor and Abby sat upright in joy. “Sue—Sue—Susan—bomb!” Was all Taylor could say, eyeing the bomb in the corner of the room.
Chad stumbled in after Susan. Susan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the bomb. “Can you disarm it?”
Chad’s face was green, and he looked like he was going to puke. He’d been staggering like a drunken man ever since he’d gotten out of the car. “Oh, stop complaining!” said Susan. “Be a man. Disarm it!”
“Hurry, Chad,” Taylor and Abby were saying.
Chad put up a finger as if to say, “I got it.”
Ten seconds left on the timer.
He picked up the bomb and ran outside. Seconds later they heard a low-pitched explosion and a colossal splash of water. He’d thrown the bomb into the ocean.
Smart Chad.
Then they heard him puke his guts out. They all couldn’t help but laughing.
Taylor and Abby both sighed in relief. “Thank you, God,” they both mumbled, eyes closed.
“At least it’s all over, now,” said Susan.
“It’s not over,” Taylor retorted. “Jeff.”
Chapter 28 Jeff was also sighing in relief. He’d finally won the firefight. All the angry animals had chased off the men. Walking slowly to the man he’d shot, now in a slump on the floor, Jeff reached down to feel his pulse. He was scared to do it, thinking he might have a killed a man. Sure enough, the man was dead. Jeff would have welled up in tears then and there at the thought that he’d just killed another human being, regardless that the man was a criminal, if another person hadn’t dropped into the opening. The man in the opening was brandishing a pistol.
And it was the captain.
“So, how’d you find out about this place?” asked the captain.
“I think I should ask you the same question. I have a very bad feeling you’re a dirty cop.”
The captain raised his gun. Aimed it at Jeff’s head.
“I guess I was right,” muttered Jeff.
“You figured it out, Jeff. You almost ruined my plan. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Frowning, Jeff said, “That’s why you encouraged my promotion to lieutenant?” A pause. “Because I’m just dumb and slow?”
“Exactly.”
Now freed, Taylor and Abby ran for the Accord. Susan grabbed Chad, who was leaned over the ocean, puking, and they all piled into the car. “I’m driving, thank you very much,” said Taylor.
“Fine,” said Susan.
Chad looked at Taylor. “Thank you. I can’t stand Susan’s driving.”
“Hey,” said Abby, entering the vehicle, “this is my dad’s car.”
“It’s a long story,” was all Susan cared to say.
The final door closed and Taylor sped, weaved through the meandering dirt road, and sliced on the asphalt road to the golf course, seamlessly passing cars and smoothly skidding to a stop in front of the clubhouse.
Her dad was talking to a squad of police in the parking lot. “Dad!” yelled Taylor, throwing open her door.
Needless to say, they ran up to each other and embraced. Taylor apologized for being disobedient. Many times and rapidly. Andrew, a very good dad, said, “I forgive you. Now please forgive me for not encouraging you in your detective abilities.”
Stepping back, Taylor smiled.
He returned the smile. “I take it you solved the case.”
“How could you tell?” she asked.
“The smile gave it away. So, what happened?”
“Before all that,” she said, “I think the lieutenant is in trouble. You’re an architect, Dad. Under what hole in this golf course could there exist a secret underground chamber?”
He studied her eyes for a moment. Probably to make sure she wasn’t making a joke. Seconds later Mike Adamson unfurled a large engineer’s map of the golf course over the hood of a car. The police stood over as Andrew studied it. Finally, he said, “The eighteenth hole looks about right.”
“Let’s go,” said Taylor.
“How are you planning to get away with all of this?” the lieutenant asked, hands in the air.
The captain rolled his eyes. “Let’s see. I’m going to kill you, and I’ve already killed the only other girl who knew.” Hamell checked his watch. “Yeah, she’s dead by now.”
“What about Susan?” asked Jeff.
“That dumb British girl. She doesn’t know anything.”
The captain stepped forward. Jeff stepped backward in suit. “And now,” said Hamell, cocking his weapon—
“Hey, I’m not dead,” came a voice.
Stunned, the captain turned around to see Taylor standing in the entrance. She was a silhouette against the sky. Jeff couldn’t help but smiling.
“I have smart friends,” she said, “including the lieutenant.” Taylor approached the captain and lieutenant, intrepid.
“Well, then,” said Hamell. He kicked Jeff in the gut and pushed him to the floor, then spun his gun toward Taylor. “Move!” he bellowed. “Over here with Jeff.”
She did as he said. When she got to Jeff, she helped him up. “Hands where I can see him,” Hamell bellowed, laughing. “It will work out just like I planned. Now I can just dispose of the two witnesses—”
“How did you figure it all out?” asked Jeff to Taylor. “I still haven’t figured out the mysteries.”
“May I?” she asked, looking at the captain.
With a deep sigh, he replied, “Fine. I’m a little interested in that myself.”
Taylor, hands raised, explained. “It was… well, I guess it wasn’t simple. As you both know, I believed there was a connection between the many robberies and the murder in the café. I was right.”
She cleared her throat. “That first time we went to the circus, Susan and I saw an elephant being stolen. We were captured. During the ride to our deaths, I listened as a man on the phone took down eighteen things. Turns out those things were numbers. Susan noticed that we passed a golf course. Also, at school, Abby told me that something mysterious was happening at this golf course.
“The owner of the course, the board members—everyone except management—was in on it: An underground chamber to hide stolen loot. This. The guy wrote down eighteen things because the way to access this place takes an eightee
n-digit combination. The cups in each hole on the course have numbers ringed around them. You simply turn each cup to the right number. The way you turn the cups is by squeezing a ball into the bottom of it. The ball fits tightly enough in the bottom to turn the cup, which is why all the bad guys had golf balls in their pockets or somewhere near them. Like yours.” Taylor pointed at the captain’s pocket.
“Anyway,” she continued, “the robberies were connected to the murder because Jack Cadell was one of the robbers. As part of his initiation, he probably had to steal something big. He knew his estranged son had a large golden statue. That would work.
“So, he stole the statue, but only had one problem: there was a video camera above his son’s door. Jack is reportedly bad with electronics, so he didn’t realize that the video camera wasn’t even hooked up to anything. He probably looked around for a monitor or tape so he could destroy it, but, not finding any, he knew he would have to keep his son from reviewing the footage. As we know, the camera is a dud. But he didn’t know that.”
“Why didn’t he just wear a mask?” asked Jeff.
“He was. And that was his problem. He was wearing a ski mask. One of two ski masks he’d bought that doubled as beanies. On the top of the ski mask, the letters JC were emblazoned. Just like the matching one his son has that is emblazoned with the letters AC. He knew his son would recognize the beanie, so he had to do something.
“Jack probably didn’t want to kill his son, though they didn’t have the greatest relationship, so he instead killed someone he barely knew. Brad Ringer. Jack worked at the café and knew about the love triangle among Aaron, Chelsea, and Brad, and he played into it. He killed Brad early that morning; and before Aaron came back from his night shift, he planted the bloodied pocketknife in Aaron’s jacket pocket. Then he waited. When Aaron went to the café that morning, Jack snuck the body in through the backdoor. The door has a combination lock on it, but Jack knew the code because he’d worked there.
“He had quit his job the day prior, which is what made me suspicious. It was all a pretty good plan, actually. He stole the statue to enter your gang, got his son arrested for murder, retired, and took up golf. You, on the other hand, had opportunity to get a dummy promoted to lieutenant. You knew that would work perfectly. A lieutenant who didn’t really know the rules and didn’t do anything important. Only problem was, he was smarter than you gave him credit for. And now you’re caught.”