by John Etzil
I started with Remington Man, since he was the biggest mess and I liked getting the hardest part of the job out of the way first. When I was done gathering all the body parts, I carried his plastic-cocooned body over to his SUV and tossed him in the back.
The Glock guy was a quicker cleanup, and I thanked the good Lord the whole time I gathered up his mess that I hadn’t used my Remington on this guy. I tossed him in the back of the SUV as well and locked it. I went back to the house, and Debbie met me at the door.
“All clean?”
“Not really, but I got the major parts in their SUV. We have to make sure we don’t leave anything of ours behind. Even in daylight, it’d be impossible to clean up the mess these guys left behind. How’s Mr. Kincaid?”
“Happy as a pig in shit.”
“Ecstasy will do that to you. He’ll spill his guts now.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard it on a Joe Rogan podcast, so I know it’ll work.”
“Joe who?”
“Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go talk to Mr. Kincaid.”
Happy as a pig in shit was an understatement. Mr. Kincaid couldn’t wait to tell us everything. So much so that we couldn’t get him to shut up. He went on and on about all the shit the CIA had done to him, how he loved his little Asian girlfriend who had broken his heart, and how Cosmo had enticed him with hundreds of thousands in cash. He even gave us seven locations where he had cash hidden.
After more than an hour, I needed a break from him talking, so I duct-taped his mouth shut. Debbie and I stepped outside for some fresh air. My adrenaline rush had dissipated, and fatigue was starting to seep into my bones. I knew this was a dangerous time, a time when mental mistakes were made.
“Wow, that’s some crazy stuff. I can’t believe men pay him to do that to their wives. What should we do with him?” she asked.
“What do you mean? We kill him.”
“I know that, but do you think that there’s a way we can free all those women who have a GPS tracking device in their implants?”
“I guess we could get a list of them and anonymously send it to the FBI. Along with his laptop.”
“That’ll work. Let’s finish our conversation with LoJack Larry.”
We went inside, and sure enough, we got the scoop on everything. His laptop passwords, login info, foreign bank account numbers, and payment info from the psycho husbands who’d implanted these devices in their wives without their consent.
But the most exciting piece of info I got out of him was the address of his last meeting with Cosmo.
I high-fived Debbie, thanked LoJack Larry for his cooperation and re-applied a rear naked choke. He passed out, and I duct-taped a garbage bag over his head. His lucky day. A nice nonviolent and pain free death by asphyxiation. Probably too good for Mr. Kincaid, but I had bigger things to worry about. I tossed him over my shoulder, carried him to the SUV, and threw him in the back on top of the others. I covered them all with black garbage bags and closed the hatch.
I went back inside the house. Debbie had cleaned up, turned off all the lanterns except for one, and closed and locked all the shutters. “Everything is sanitized.”
“Good, let’s get out of here. I’ll take everything in their SUV, and you follow me in my truck. If I get pulled over, you keep driving and meet me at the old mine on Adirondack Road in Tahawus. If I don’t show up within thirty minutes, head home.”
44
Debbie turned off the lantern with a gloved hand and closed the door behind us. I gave her a kiss and threw the go bags in the backseat of Remington Man’s SUV. I started her up and almost gagged. The stench of fried food was so bad it came out through the vent ducts, and I had to drive with the windows open to clear out the toxic air.
Tahawus was a little more than an hour’s drive south, and once I left the highway I didn’t see another car. Pulling into the ghost town in the dark was an eerie feeling, and I felt a shiver race down my spine. An honest-to-goodness ghost town, just like you saw in the movies when you were a kid. Except this wasn’t the movies.
With Debbie following me, I found the section of Adirondack Road that passed between the two lakes that had been created from digging the mine. The lake to the south had the easier access, and I pulled over next to it. All I had to do was roll away a few big rocks that acted as a barrier to keep folks from accidentally driving into the lake. That was no easy task, but my decades of weightlifting made it doable.
I pulled out my go bags and handed them to Debbie, who put them in my truck. I put the SUV in neutral and started to push it over the side. As soon as the front wheels cleared the edge of the cliff, the big vehicle came to a grinding halt. The SUV was so long that the rear length more than balanced out the part of the engine that was forward of the front wheels, so it was hung up. I put my shoulder into it but couldn’t move it an inch. Holy crap, this was bad. If I didn’t get this monster over the side, my flawless record of making dead bodies disappear would be over. I thought about all the DNA evidence I’d left on the bodies and scattered through the interior of the SUV, knowing that the thousand-foot-deep water would eliminate all of it in short time, if the vehicle was ever recovered.
I changed tack and tried lifting the rear bumper, figuring that if I could raise it high enough, the weight of the tipping engine would slowly make it lighter, and I’d be able to topple it over the side that way. Despite my better-than-average deadlifting skills, I was unsuccessful in raising it more than a few inches, so no toppling forward.
Debbie grew impatient. “What the hell, Patrick? Hurry up.”
“I’m trying, but I can’t move it.”
She came running over to lend a hand, and the two of us grunted and groaned in our deadlifting quest, but we still couldn’t get the rear end high enough to topple it over the cliff.
We collapsed from exhaustion, and Debbie said what I didn’t want to hear. “You know what this means, right? You’ll have to push it with your truck.”
I didn’t answer, but I knew it was coming to that. The only problem was that I’d need the delicacy of a surgeon to push the SUV with my truck and not go over the side myself. I had a vision of my truck following suit, me tumbling down inside of it, Debbie yelling from above, “Nice move, Patrick. I’ll let Frankie know!”
“All right, but let’s get everything out first. Just in case. I don’t know how close I’ll have to get to the edge to push the SUV over, or how much momentum I’ll need to have. With this gravel surface, traction—and more importantly, braking—will be poor. I’ll have to gun it and then brake hard once the SUV topples forward. Then it becomes a question of whether or not I can stop on the slippery gravel before my front wheels go over the edge.”
“Better be careful of hooking your bumper over the SUV’s, too. If you manage that, the rear of the SUV might lock into your bumper when it rises up and take your truck with it.”
Great. One more thing to worry about. Now I’d be tumbling down, connected to my SUV buddies, and forever entombed right next to them. Talk about karma…
Enough with the thinking. I went to my pickup and removed all of my tools, including the lead-shielded bag with the phones inside, stuck them in our go bags and laid them to the side. I climbed in and took a deep breath. I decided to leave my door open, just in case I had to get out fast.
I put the truck in four-wheel drive for better traction and inched my way forward until I felt the solid clunk of my fender on the back of the SUV. I pressed on the gas, soft at first, and my Toyota engine revved, but we didn’t move. I felt the torque of the revving engine tilt my truck, but still no forward movement. I pressed the gas pedal down some more, and the engine roared louder. Nothing. I felt my tires lose their grip and they started churning in the gravel. Still no movement. Shit. I backed off the gas.
“You might have to ram her, Jack. Please be careful.”
I didn’t see any other way. I couldn’t just leave these guys here. No matter what, I had to
get that SUV over the cliff.
I backed up about thirty feet, gave Debbie a smile and a nod, and gunned the engine.
I was only going about twenty miles an hour when I struck the rear of the SUV, but the impact was terrifying. First my headlights crushed out and in the dark I had no idea how close I was to the edge. The airbags went off at the same time, and I jammed on the brakes so hard that I almost hurt myself.
I’d always been a big believer in positive thinking, complete with self-talk, as a way to tilt the odds in your favor when trying to achieve a goal or get out of a bind. All the while I kept repeating to myself, “I will stop my truck before the edge, I will stop my truck before the edge…”
Except I didn’t.
At first I thought I had it made. The split second of stoppage when my truck slammed into the back of the vehicle raised my hope of a successful outcome, but, positive self-talk or not, it wasn’t to be. The impact was enough to grind the SUV loose and send her flipping over the edge. It all happened in slow motion. The big ass of the vehicle raising up, teetering for a second, and passing the tipping point before flipping over and tumbling away. It was a beautiful sight, but there was little time for enjoyment.
I knew that my front tires were close to the edge, but they were still on solid ground. Yes! I put the truck in reverse, floored it, and felt the front of my pickup fall and hit the ground.
The edge of the cliff, weakened by the grinding of the big SUV, had given way.
Oh shit.
I gunned it some more, but the Toyota just didn’t have the power to back its front wheels up and over the cliffside.
I pushed aside the deflated airbag, yanked my keys from the ignition, and got out of my truck. I backpedaled far enough away from the edge of the cliff to feel safe and took a knee to catch my breath and let the adrenaline stop running amok through my bloodstream. My whole body was shaking, and my hands trembled as I placed them on the ground for balance.
“Holy shit, Jack. I thought you were a goner.” Debbie hugged me so tight that I fell sideways. We lay there for a few seconds, and the reality of the situation sunk in.
She placed both hands on my face and kissed me softly on the lips. She whispered, “You know what we have to do, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”
I’d had that truck for a long time. Cheryl and I had bought it together after we’d started dating. I could never bring myself to part with it, but the realization that life kept moving forward and would never stop tossing remnants of my time with Cheryl overboard had never been more apparent than it was now. Each day that passed left me with fewer and fewer things in my life that linked us together, and now my truck was one of them.
I stood up and smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Together we lifted the rear of the truck and sent her flipping over the side. A few seconds after she disappeared into the black night, I heard the loud smack of the two-ton machine belly-flopping into the water. It wouldn’t take long for it to sink to the bottom and be gone forever. I made a mental note to fill out a stolen vehicle report when I got back to the office, just to cover my tracks.
We rolled the rocks back into place. I wiped my hands together a few times to clean the dirt off and smiled at Debbie. “Let’s walk until we hit a cell tower.”
“Who you gonna call?”
“Why, Frankie, of course.”
She reached up and smacked me in the back of my head. A playful gesture that made me laugh. She followed it up with a hug. “Why not Uber? Huh?”
We laughed, partly because it was funny, and partly because the toughest part of the mission was over and we were a little giddy from being overtired. She intertwined her arm in mine, and together we picked up our go bags and started walking.
45
Frankie picked us up in my X5M with Catherine sitting shotgun. Debbie and I hopped in the backseat, threw our go bags behind us into the cargo area, and after a few pleasantries, we dozed off.
By the time we got back to Eminence, it was late morning and Debbie had to work in the evening. She called me into our bedroom, and despite my fatigue level being off the charts, I got excited because I knew that Debbie had to shower for work, so I figured it was an invite.
She had other ideas. “Frankie was parked in my spot. That bitch.”
“Honey, you need to get past this. It’s not like she did it on purpose. Give her a chance, she likes you.”
“Really? Oh, that’s right, she’d do me. How could I forget?”
“Frankie has what you might call an overactive libido. And just because she’d do you, that doesn’t mean she likes you. But I can tell, she does like you.”
“So how many women did the two of you sleep with?”
“Oh, come on, that doesn’t matter. That was years ago, before I even met you.”
“More than a few?”
I didn’t answer.
“I knew it…”
“Knew what?”
She ignored my question and trudged into the shower, slamming the door so hard that the walls shook. Sheesh…
I knew that Frankie had to leave, so I went out to the living room. She and Catherine were sitting on the couch, the dogs by their feet. When she saw me, she hugged Catherine goodbye, and I walked her out through the garage.
“So, Jack, other than losing your ride, mission accomplished?”
“Yeah, it went well.” I looked at her and smiled.
“I knew it would. Man, you look tired.”
“I’m wiped out. I’m not used to going days without sleep anymore.”
“This is a young man’s game, Jack. You oughta think about chilling for a while. You got it good here. Your Debbie’s a hot little number, and you know so many guns for hire that can take care of things for you.”
“Yeah, I know, but after Flight 2262… ah, you know my deal.” I looked away and thought about my murdered wife, Cheryl. Killed in horrible fashion in an event that had put me over the edge of reason and turned me into the blood-seeking vigilante that I am today.
Frankie tugged my arm. “Jack, you can’t go around killing bad people forever. You’ve had a great run, a perfect record, but sooner or later the odds are going to catch up with you. You’re going to make a mistake that’s going to come back and haunt you, or worse, a loved one.”
I bristled at the thought. I didn’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I didn’t act on the knowledge that was at my fingertips. I sighed. “I still have more I need to accomplish.”
“Suit yourself. Call me if you need anything. Oh, and Catherine’s cool. She’s been through a lot, but I think she’ll be fine. She just needs to spend some time in recovery and with some good people instead of the dirtbags she’s been hanging with.”
I opened her car door for her, and she tossed her backpack in the passenger seat. She gave me a hug. “Be well, Jack.”
“I will. You too.”
She sat in the driver’s seat, closed the door, and pressed the push-button start. The throaty rumble of a powerful engine as it came to life never got old to me. It didn’t matter if it was an automobile or an airplane, it never failed to raise my testosterone levels, and for a few seconds I forgot how bone-deep tired I was.
She rolled down her window as she drove away. “See you around, Jack Lamburt.” And with a wink and a smile she was gone. I stood in the driveway and watched her taillights fade away, wondering if I would ever get the chance to repay her.
“Need a tissue?” I turned around, and Debbie was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side. Her hair was still wet, and she wore one of my XXL T-shirts, a habit of hers that I loved, especially since she’d never once bothered to put a bra on under it, and it was so big and loose on her that if she leaned two degrees forward I saw what drunken Bobby could only dream about. “I hate to interrupt your Kodak moment, but I wanted to thank Frankie for all the help she’s given us, especially for looking after Catherine. They hit
it off well.”
“Good, I’m glad. Catherine needs a friend.”
Debbie came outside and hugged me from behind, wrapping her arms around my waist and kissing me on the neck. “I know I gave you a hard time about her, but she did us a real solid. Thank you, Jack.”
I turned around and kissed her on the lips. One of my hands slid up inside of her shirt, and cupped her breast.
“Hey, you two, get a room.” Catherine stood leaning against the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, shaking her head. Buddy bolted outside with a tug toy and wrestled his way between our legs, looking up at me, and switching to Debbie when I didn’t take him up on his offer. Right. Like I was ever going to let go of Debbie’s naked breast and exchange it for a slobbery dog toy.
Debbie pushed me away and reached down, grabbing a handful of rubber. “Come on, little gray boy, let’s see what you got.”
I looked down her shirt and smiled.
I went inside, unpacked, and showered. My level of fatigue had reached the point of mandatory inaction, so I lay down in my bed. Debbie joined me, and as soon as she settled in next to me, I fell asleep.
Three hours later, the alarm went off and I woke up refreshed. I lay there for few minutes and thought about what Frankie had said. About her prediction that sooner or later, my Batman fantasy life would catch up to me and come crashing down. Would I ever be able to put Flight 2262 and Cheryl’s memory behind me and live a normal life? I had things most men would give their left nut for. I was a father. I had a great girlfriend and, thanks to my dad and his fast-food empire, more money than I would ever need. I was healthy—well, physically anyway—yet I couldn’t quench that burning desire to rid the planet of bad people. People who inflicted unimaginable pain on the weak. On the unsuspecting.
I felt my heart rate pick up and my pulse pound in my ears. I flashed back to Cheryl’s mother, her face racked with pain, sobbing uncontrollably at Cheryl’s second memorial service, the one that I was able to attend after my rescue. The roller-coaster ride of horror that she’d endured. The happiness of her pregnant daughter’s marriage and all the promise it had held in the form of grandkids. The horrific news that Flight 2262 had disappeared in the middle of the largest ocean on the planet. The euphoria of learning that there were hundreds of survivors, and the gut-wrenching pain, again, of losing a daughter.