Chapter 10
“Nathan?”
He looked around. Holly’s living room. She stood a few feet away.
“How long?” he asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes, not too deep. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I checked on you ten minutes ago and saw you’d dozed off. I didn’t want to wake you. I have a spare bedroom if you want a bed.”
He waved a hand at the floor. “Do you care if I stretch out in here?”
“On the floor?”
He shrugged.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble setting you up in the spare bedroom.”
“I’m good right here, thanks.”
“At least let me put some blankets down, that wood is like concrete.” She returned half a minute later with an armful of blankets and a quilt.
Nathan picked up the coffee table and moved it aside. He didn’t want to drag it across the oak floor. Then he helped her spread the blankets out.
“Do you sleep on the floor very often?”
“I usually end up there by morning, so I may as well start there.”
“Bad dreams.”
He nodded. “It’s just something I’ve gotten used to over the years. It’s no big deal.”
“I know I keep saying this, but I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“I’m just a guy.”
“No, you aren’t just a guy. Trust me on that.”
“We had a hell of a day.”
She took a step forward and took his hand. “Yes, we did. It doesn’t have to end just yet.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
* * *
An hour later, after Nathan had fallen asleep, Holly gathered her strewn clothes. Her body still tingling, she padded down the hall, being careful not to make any noise. He looked at peace. She wondered if he was truly asleep. The screams of her surveillance techs still fresh in her mind, she couldn’t begin to imagine the horrors he’d endured at the hands of his sadistic captor in Nicaragua. When he’d removed his shirt, her mind couldn’t register it. She’d betrayed outright shock and it had nearly ruined the moment. The crisscrossing network of scars on his chest and back looked vicious and brutal. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d endured. And yet he had a positive outlook on the world. He still cared. Despite how he thought of himself, Nathan McBride was a truly remarkable man. He’d been so aware of her needs during their lovemaking. Granted, there hadn’t been many: She could count them on one hand. But hands down, he’d been the most unselfish lover she’d ever been with. She hoped there might be a future for them. But given their situations and their professions, and given the distance separating them, she doubted it could work long-term. One or the other would have to relocate, and possibly give up the life he or she had built for themselves. She toyed with the idea of transferring to San Diego, but she liked being a special agent in charge of a major field office and was sure the same opportunity wouldn’t be available in San Diego for some time. Such openings were extremely rare and she felt fortunate to have been promoted to Sacramento’s top position. At least we’ll always have something special between us, she thought, tucking herself into bed. Nathan was right, it had been one hell of a day.
* * *
Holly awoke with a start. What was that sound? Had an animal somehow gotten into the house? She reached for her gun, but her hand froze an inch from its cold form. She heard a muffled moan followed by a hiss and spitting sound. No, not animal. Human. She tore the sheets away and hurried down the hall. In the living room, she dimmed the overhead light before flipping the switch. Oh dear Lord, Nathan. His hair plastered to his head, he was covered in sweat, moaning and waving his hands in front of his face at invisible demons. He issued a howl that sent a shiver through her body. He was there, in Nicaragua, being tortured. She remembered what he’d said on the ride up to the cabin, how he’d put a girlfriend in the hospital for waking him up, but how could she let this go on? Would he wake up on his own? She took several steps back and called his name from the opposite side of the couch.
No response.
She said it louder. Again, nothing. What should she do? Steeling herself, she yelled his name. His eyes snapped open, wild with anger. Gritting his teeth, a growl escaped his lips. He jumped to his feet and assumed a low fighting stance, his hand clutching an invisible knife.
“Nathan, it’s me.”
His eyes darted around the room and returned to hers. Her instincts told her to back away, but she held perfectly still. His expression changed to recognition. She rushed around the sofa and wrapped him up in her arms, ignoring the sticky feel of his skin. They held each other without speaking for several moments.
His voice cracked. “What time is it?”
“Just after four in the morning. You okay?”
“I’m really thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water.” She returned a few seconds later and handed it to him.
He downed it in a single pull. “The moths came for me again.”
They settled onto the floor facing each other.
“Moths?”
“In Nicaragua, my interrogator put a bright light in my face at night. The moths were attracted to it. My hands were tied. I couldn’t bat them away.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Thanks for the water.”
She could see he was still trembling.
“I’m okay.”
But he wasn’t okay. An echo of terror still etched his face. She reached over and held his hand.
He half chuckled. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my picture was next to baggage. I’m sorry you had to see that. I was hoping for the night off.”
“Hey, there’s no need to apologize about anything.”
He looked down at himself. “I think I need a shower.”
“Come on.” She led him down the hall to the guest bathroom. “You want some company in there?”
“Is there a mustache in Mexico?”
She laughed, hardly believing how good it felt. “I’ll take that for a yes.”
* * *
She dropped Nathan off at the Hyatt just before five in the morning. “I’ll make sure Harvey has a copy of the tape before six.”
“You’ve got another long day ahead of you,” he said.
“Will you keep me informed of your progress?”
“You know I will.”
“Nathan… About this morning. ”
“It’s okay.”
She smiled. “I’ll call you later.”
“Stay safe, SAC Simpson.”
She smiled again and pulled away from the curb. He waved when she looked in her mirror, then strode through the lobby to the elevators. Harv would already be up, so he knocked quietly on his door. He saw the peephole darken just before the door swung inward.
“Mornin’, partner,” Nathan said, passing through the threshold. “Get much sleep?”
“A few hours.” Harv grinned. “You?”
“None.”
“Attaboy.”
“Hey, it was all in the line of duty.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Holly just dropped me off, she’s heading over to the office to make sure you have the tape by six.”
“I hope I wasn’t too… you know, overbearing last night about wanting to hear the tape.”
“You, overbearing?”
“I made some coffee. It’s not too bad.”
“So who are you bringing up from San Diego?”
Harv stared for a few seconds. “Did someone from the office call you?”
“Nope.”
“I guess you figured it’s what I’d do.”
“Yep.”
Harv handed him a cup. “You can’t blame me.”
He took a sip. “I’m totally aboard with it.”
“It’s after eight back east, so we should make that call to Thorny. It might take him a few hours to get the visitat
ion logs from the Castle. You still want that chat with FBI Director Lansing?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I thought as much. He wasn’t real happy about it, but Ortega’s arranged it for you. He sounded like he’s worried about being blacklisted from the investigation. Now that James has been found, he probably will be. You’ve got a very brief window at ten-hundred this morning.” Harv winked. “I’ve been instructed to tell you to lose the phone number after you make the call. It’s a direct line to Lansing’s secretary and she’ll put you through to his cell. He’s in New York City today.”
“Good work.”
“What do you hope to accomplish?”
“I want a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Harv just stared.
“We’re going after the Bridgestones,” Nathan said, “with or without his blessing and we don’t operate within socially acceptable boundaries. Let’s face it Harv, we’re no Ozzie-and-Harriet team. If we have to kick a few butts along the way, so be it. I just want the FBI to stay out of our way.”
“Lansing will want us to stay out of his way. I don’t think he’ll agree to what you’re asking.”
“Since blackmailing him is off the table, he definitely won’t agree. I just don’t want him running interference. Tailing us. Tapping our phones. You know the drill.”
“You really think he’d do that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What about Frank Ortega?” Harv asked. “How much do we tell him about what we’re doing?”
“As little as possible.”
“Because of your father?”
“Yes.”
“Ortega could still help us. I don’t think he’s been blacklisted yet, and Greg could access the NCIC database for us.”
“I’ve already got that covered.”
“Hasn’t Holly risked enough? Greg has access to nearly everything she does.”
“Nearly being the operative word.”
“Beyond access to the NCIC, what else would we need?”
Nathan sipped his coffee and said nothing.
“You want her to get the credit if we catch them.”
Nathan didn’t answer.
“The reverse is also true. She could take the fall if we screw up.”
“We aren’t going to screw up.”
“A lot of things could go wrong, Nate.”
“Lansing’s people are not going to collar the Bridgestones before we do. To steal a line from General Patton, ‘I’m going to beat that gentleman to Messina.’”
Chapter 11
Leonard Bridgestone pulled a gray pickup behind a supermarket and parked near its loading dock. As expected, the area was deserted. Ernie parked the stolen UPS truck next to the pickup and together they untied the tarp covering the pickup’s bed.
Leonard helped Ernie haul the Enduro motorcycle out of the bed and get it upright on the asphalt. He checked the large ice chest strapped to its rack. He squinted as his brother gave the ice chest a soft caress before pulling a ten-foot-long, three-by-six piece of lumber from the bed of the pickup. Leonard followed him to the rear of the UPS truck and hoisted its roll-up door. Bound and unconscious, the driver was stripped down to his underwear. Although the driver’s uniform didn’t fit Leonard perfectly, it was close enough. Ernie slid the three-by-six in next to the driver. Shaped by a table saw, two of its squared edges were cut at 45-degree angles along its length so it could be easily driven over when the time came. The bottom of the three-by-six also had a V-shaped channel cut along its entire length.
“Are we sure about this?” Leonard asked. “It’s not too late to call it off.”
“Of course we’re sure, they killed Sammy.”
“This won’t bring him back.”
Ernie frowned. “What, you having second thoughts?”
“Getting out of the country is going to be a lot more difficult.”
“Shit, we’ll get out. Is that your only reason?”
Leonard didn’t like the accusatory tone. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Use your fucking head, Ernie. This is a huge thing with huge consequences.”
“Hey, take it easy. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
“Once we do this, there’s no turning back. You know that.”
“I know,” Ernie said.
“Do you really? Do you have any idea? I wonder…”
“We already talked about this.”
“Well, we’re talking again.”
“So talk.”
Seeing it was hopeless, Leonard slammed the roll-up door and latched it. “Let’s just do this before I change my mind.” He retrieved a helmet with a dark visor from the front seat of the pickup and handed it to his brother. Ernie pulled it on, swung his leg over the motorcycle, and pressed the starter button. Its four-stroke motor hummed to life in a deep-throated rumble. His brother nodded. He climbed into the UPS truck and pulled away from the loading dock, heading for Kern Parkway. He was sorely tempted to drive in the opposite direction and never look back. He thought back to the raid at the compound and had to admit seeing Sammy’s lifeless eyes had hammered him. His youngest brother, someone he’d sworn to insulate and protect, was dead. Murdered. By a sniper, and a damned good one at that. Leonard hadn’t wanted to involve Sammy in Freedom’s Echo, but Ernie had talked him into it. He should’ve known better, should’ve known something like this would happen. And now they were about to raise the stakes.
He forced his mind back to the task at hand and merged into traffic. In the side mirror, he watched his brother gun the motorcycle’s engine to keep up. He scanned the traffic in both directions, looking for cops. Close to his destination, he turned right and slowed. Behind him, Ernie pulled over to the curb and stopped. He drove the brown delivery truck into a driveway and rolled to a stop at a guard shack with an automatic gate.
His hand on the butt of his gun, a security guard, sharply dressed in a blue uniform, came out of the shack and approached the UPS truck.
“Where’s Malcolm?” the guard asked. Then he smiled. “Too many beers last night?”
“Couldn’t say,” Leonard said. “Probably got a case of the flu.”
“Yeah, it’s been going around lately. Since I’ve never seen you before, I’ll have to ask for some ID.”
“No problem, glad to do it.” Keeping his head down so the bill of his cap covered his face, Leonard climbed out of the jumper seat and walked around the front of the truck. A few more paces and he’d be out of the camera’s line of sight. Before the guard could react, he pulled a.45-automatic from his jacket and pressed it into the guard’s belly. “Open the gate and you’ll live to see another day.” In one smooth movement, he removed the guard’s gun, shoved him back toward the shack’s entrance, and pushed him through its open door. Staggering backward, the guard lost his balance and fell with a grunt.
Leonard jammed the barrel of his automatic into the guard’s mouth and pushed until the man’s head met the cabinet under the counter. “Open the gate right now.”
When the guard didn’t move, Leonard stomped on the guard’s left hand with the heel of his boot. Fingers crunched. The guard howled and bit down on the blue steel lodged in his mouth. Chips of teeth flew.
“Open the gate.”
The guard made some unintelligible sounds.
Leonard yanked the gun from the guard’s mouth and pressed it against his forehead.
“I can’t open it from here, they have to do it from inside!”
Leonard’s mind raced with possibilities, all of them bad. Precious seconds were ticking by. “Tell them there’s a UPS delivery for Special Agent in Charge Holly Simpson. I’ll blow your brains out if you try anything cute.” He nodded to the picture sitting on the counter of two girls in pigtails. They looked like twins, around six or seven years old. “Nice-looking girls,” Leonard said. “Yours?”
That got through. The guard struggled to his feet and picked up the phone. He waited a few seconds. “UPS,” he said, but that was all he said.
Leonard squinted.
The guard held up his good hand in a defensive gesture. After a few more seconds, the guard replaced the handset into its cradle. Leonard heard the whine of an electric motor. Through the shack’s rear window, he saw Ernie’s motorcycle pull behind the UPS truck. He knew his brother was retrieving the three-by-six piece of lumber from the back. The heavy iron gate began rolling along a large inverted V-shaped track bolted down to the concrete. As it opened, Leonard knocked the guard unconscious with a blow to the head. Then he pulled a folded envelope from his pocket and placed it on the counter.
Being careful to stay out of the camera’s line of sight, he walked around the back of the truck where Ernie already had the three-by-six in hand. Without looking at his brother, he climbed back in and pulled the truck forward, just inside the gate where it blocked the camera from seeing the motorcycle behind its rear bumper. With the gate fully open, he knew Ernie was setting the board down atop the gate’s V track. He gave his brother a few more seconds to climb back on the bike before driving down the driveway toward the building’s front entrance. In his side mirror, Leonard watched the gate attempt to close, but when it hit the board blocking its path, it reversed direction and stayed open.
Leonard pulled the truck over at the curb in front of the main building’s glass facade and stopped. Come on, Ernie, move it.
At the entrance, Ernie coasted the bike up the curb’s wheelchair ramp, killed the engine three feet from the glass doors, and lowered the motorcycle’s kickstand.
Are we really doing this? Leonard thought. He was tempted to yell for his brother to stop, but knew Ernie would ignore him. He watched his brother slide off the bike, remove the bungee cords securing the lid, and open the ice chest. Leonard knew he was flipping the arming switch and setting the timer for fifteen seconds.
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