by Jim Heskett
“Where is everyone else?”
“Out,” Trevor said. “You sent Jim and Conner to Colorado, and the guys you sent out east are coming back on a flight tonight. Also, there are a bunch of us on or near the Hopi res right now. I think they’re coming in later. Like, night shift.”
“How far away are they?”
“About an hour. Do I need to get them back right now?”
“No, but make a phone call. There have been some new developments they need to know about.”
“Yeah?”
Ronald stopped digging his fingernails into his palms when he realized he had drawn blood. He could feel the slickness on his right palm. “I think our friend Layne might know about the Pahana. Cornelius told me he was driving all around the state yesterday and had a run-in with the ones who operate the canyon tour up near Tonalea.”
“Sure thing, boss. I can get in touch with everybody, no problem. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Just tell them to be ready. Layne is probably coming for them.”
“I’m on it.”
“One more thing, Trevor. I have an important job for you, too.” Ronald leaned into Trevor’s ear and told him. Ronald didn’t know why he was whispering, but it felt right. Also, he liked that the three on the couch squinted and watched the exchange with interest.
“Got it,” Trevor said when Ronald had finished giving him his special assignment. Then, he slipped his phone out of his pocket. He raised it to his ear and wandered off through the living room as he made his call. Ronald gave a nod of the head to the others, still sitting and waiting.
When he turned to leave, he saw Ashleigh, padding across the carpet on the other side of the room. She raised her eyes at him, a guilty look on her face. She’d been avoiding him since yesterday. It was time they’d had a chat.
“My office, now,” he said, wiping the blood from his palms on his pants.
She nodded and walked in that direction, like a prisoner on her way to the gallows. She approached the door and then stopped in front of it, hands clasped over her waist. Head down.
He swept past her, into the room, and shut the door behind him, ignoring her. Heart pounding against his chest although he didn’t know why. Was he angry? Yes. Even though he dreaded this conversation, it needed to happen.
He took up a position next to the desk, then flexed his fingers for a few seconds. He needed to calm down. The quiet of the room felt nice, and he told himself to be reasonable with her. One mistake after months of reliable service was not something unforgivable. The right tone could prove crucial to turn this into a teaching exercise.
“Enter.”
Ashleigh creaked open the door and peeked inside. He waved her in, and she shut the door behind her, but she didn’t advance. She stood, hands clasped behind her, head still bowed. Good. Ronald wanted her to display the appropriate level of shame for what she’d done.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Is it, Ashleigh? Because I have a distinct feeling that today is not a very good day. Neither was yesterday. And, do you know why yesterday, in particular, was not a very good day?”
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Gaynor. It’s my fault Harry got out. I forgot to lock his door after one of our interview sessions. He was upset when we were talking, and I got distracted.”
“And it’s also your fault he’s battered and bruised, requiring a never-ending series of bags of ice to apply to his head and his hand. His lack of mobility could be a serious problem now.”
She appeared for a moment as if she might want to disagree with him on that point, but she held her tongue. “You’re also right, sir. Actions have consequences. I should know that by now.”
"Good," Ronald said. "I would like to think this little mistake can be an excellent lesson for you. You've come a long way in a short time, and you still have a long way to go."
"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?“
“No. You can go.”
She held still for a few seconds, then looked at him as she drew a breath.“I wanted to ask: any news on the buyer?"
"What do you mean?"
Ashleigh cleared her throat and did lift her head a little this time. "It's just that… we’re at the deadline in a few hours, and we don’t have the NSA report. Is the buyer willing to give us an extension?"
He looked at her, unsure what to think. He wasn’t used to being talked to like this. Questioning him, possibly trying to second-guess him? Maybe he had been too easy on her. Maybe he had emboldened her by not giving her the same physical punishment Harry had received.
What was she trying to hide from him? Did she know something he didn’t know?
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s under control.”
“So, you’ll update us on the status of the meet with the buyer?”
Ronald flicked a dismissive hand. He tried to kill the sour expression on his face, because now he was sure she was hiding something from him. This required time alone to think. “Don't worry about that. I'm taking care of it."
He opened his mouth to say more, but he paused when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Cornelius on the caller ID. Ronald held up a finger to tell Ashleigh to wait as he answered the call.
"What's the news?" he asked Corn.
"Now's my chance, sir. I have the asset alone, but probably not for long. A minute or two, maximum. They’re stopped at a gas station, and they’re split up.”
"Sounds like it's time to activate him. Keep me on speaker and put the phone in your pocket. I want to hear this."
Ronald set his phone down and turned on speakerphone while tapping the mute button. His in-room listener Ashleigh looked a little puzzled, but she didn’t make any comment. Ronald listened to the sound of Corn concealing his phone, leaving his car, and then shuffling across gravel.
"Hey," Corn said.
"Oh, Jesus," the asset said, terror in his voice.
Ronald watched Ashleigh intently to observe how she would react to this situation playing out on the speakerphone.
"I don't have much time," Corn said. "You need to take care of this, now."
"I don't want to do it. I've changed my mind. Whatever you do to me, it doesn’t matter. I don't want to do this."
In his chair in his office, Ronald sat back, tenting his fingertips. Very curious to see how Cornelius would handle the next part of this little exchange with their asset.
"Listen to me, Officer Brendall," Corn said. "Layne Parrish stays in line today, or we won't just expose you, we’ll make sure your wife and child feel the pain as well. Understand?"
Brendall stammered, and if he made a reply, Ronald couldn't hear it.
"Good," Corn said. "Take care of it. Make him get that report, or we hold you personally responsible. I’ll be watching."
More gravel shuffling as Corn returned to his car and the engine started up. “It’s done, sir. I think he got the message."
“Good work,” Ronald said. "And Corn? Make sure you know where they're going. Keep me updated. At least once per hour.“
"Of course, sir."
Ronald ended the call, and then he met Ashleigh’s eyes to get her attention. "They are a lot closer than I would've liked. I think it's time we implemented Plan Bravo.”
"Now?” she asked.
"Now.”
INTERLUDE #5
Littlefield, TX | Eight years ago
Rain pours from the sky, sheets of gray amid the dark night. No stars. The countryside is free of streetlights and other light pollution. Only rain. Rain and trees and the headlights of the car Layne had to ”borrow” to get Juliana away from the chaos at the motel.
The safe house is ten miles outside of town, and only to be used in dire emergencies. As Layne thunders down the highway with Juliana Dewalt in the passenger seat, a hand clamped around the bullet wound in her calf, Layne believes this qualifies. The unexpected shootout was a shit-show. No warning. No preparation. A sloppy mess that never shou
ld have been allowed to happen. A few minutes after a possible lead on Vixen turned into a tense standoff at the bar, their targets tracked them to their motel. They were lucky to leave with their lives after such an embarrassing lack of foresight.
“Anything in the rearview?” she asks.
Layne shakes his head. “Haven’t seen a headlight for several miles. How is your leg?”
“I haven’t lost too much blood. I’ll be fine.”
Layne slows as the turn for the backup safe house appears up ahead. He only knows where to find it because there is an abandoned barn before the dirt road. This late at night, in this weather, it’s hard to see, but the crumbled bits of wood and faded red paint stand out.
“What do we do about the gear we left behind?” she asks.
He grits his teeth. “Nothing we can do. If the guys who attacked us didn’t take it, the cops will have it all by now.”
“That’s not good.”
“I know. We have to hope Control can smooth it out. Her, or someone from the NSA. It’s the best I can offer right now. I’m still trying to figure out how they tailed us from the bar.”
“We were sloppy,” she says. He knows it’s true, but doesn’t respond.
He kills his headlights and turns down the dirt path, casting more looks behind them along the highway. It’s safe now, for a little while, at least. Layne parks the car behind the farmhouse, a simple two-story white house at the foot of a hill. He helps Jules out of the car and to the house. She grunts as she ascends the porch steps, and he looks around.
“Didn’t Control tell you where the key would be?”
Layne frowns. “No, she didn’t say. We aren’t supposed to be here unless everything blows up. There’s no welcome mat, but she probably wouldn’t have been that obvious, anyway.”
He notices a hanging plant, swaying in the breeze. He lets go of Jules, and she hops over to a porch swing while Layne checks the plant. The key is buried deep in the dirt, and he shakes it off before he opens the front door.
Steamy hot air escapes the house and wafts over him. All the windows shut, middle of summer, this house not touched in months. It also smells like the garbage hasn’t been taken out in a while.
Layne helps Juliana inside, then escorts her to a couch. He considers leaving all the lights off but decides it’s not necessary. They’re far enough out of town and far enough off the road that they won’t have to worry about that. He only turns on one, though, so he can still see headlights on the road. On a night like this, anyone approaching would have to be crazy to drive without headlights in this rain.
Jules fans herself. “This place have air conditioning?”
“Not that I know of. The storm should cool it off in a little bit.”
“Great,” she says with a smirk as she hoists her leg on the coffee table, inspecting the wound.
“What do you see?” he asks.
“I don’t think this bullet needs to come out. I think we can patch it up for now.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure. Can you get me a first aid kit, or whatever we have here?”
Layne leaves the living room to hunt around in the kitchen for supplies, then he returns to Jules. She goes to work with the first aid kit, and Layne lets her do her thing. Field dressing a wound has never been his specialty. Luckily, he hasn’t had to practice that skill in the real world much.
Next, he jogs out to the car and returns with the laptop. As she cleans the wound, he opens the laptop and waits for the tracking program to load. He pops in his second concurrent piece of nicotine gum. Jaw hurting a little from the hours of chewing.
He checks the photo he snapped of the assailant, outside the motel. But, it’s dark, and the rain obscured the man’s face. Layne sighs as he puts his phone back in his pocket. Instead, he turns his attention to the laptop. The tracker software hones in, the dot shrinking. It appears to show their Latino guy from the bar, and he’s on the move, traveling fast. In a car. But, not in their direction. He’s headed east, away from Littlefield.
“Hey,” she says, demanding his attention. When he looks up at her, she says, “Thank you. Back at the motel. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t know they’d followed us after the bar.”
Jules shrugs. “It’s my fault, too. After the bar, they seemed interested in getting out of there. You’d think if they were going to kill us, they would’ve done it there, not later at a motel, with potential witnesses.”
“Yeah, it’s odd, but I don’t get the feeling it was planned to be that way. I think they realized they made a mistake, so they tracked us down.”
She pats the couch next to her and gives him that look, the one she hasn’t given him since Mexico City. “Come sit with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, Layne, you and your moral compass. It must be exhausting, carrying that thing around with you all the time.”
He doesn’t respond, and a moment of silence blooms between them. Then, her face changes, a wistful look. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“Then stop stalling.”
She breathes out as she tightens gauze around her calf. “This is my last op.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I got a job offer in California. Vanton Industries. Ever heard of them?”
He shakes his head. “Should I have?”
“They’re a biochem company. They have offices all over the world, but they asked me to come in last month to talk about a security job. Daphne didn’t know about the interview. I told her I needed personal time.”
“What’s the job?”
“They host business leaders and foreign dignitaries and a bunch of other people who need bodyguards while in the country.”
“Good money?”
She gives him a slow nod.
“Then you’d be crazy not to take it. I could say a lot of things, Jules, but all that matters is I’ll be sad to see you go.”
She pats the couch again. “That’s why you should come over here so we can properly say goodbye.”
“Not a good idea, Jules. I’m sorry.”
She spreads a knowing smile. “I wondered if you and Daphne were still…” she lets the sentence hang in the air, her smirk implying the rest.
“We’re not. This month we’re not, at least. I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know, Boy Scout?”
“I don’t know about anything,” he says. “I’m dying for a cigarette, and this nicotine gum isn’t cutting it. I’m too distracted. I should have known they were following us.”
“Hey,” she says, dipping her head to catch his gaze again. “We’re going to get Vixen. We will find her and find the report.”
“I hope so. We need to wrap this up.”
“What does your tracker say?”
“It’s slowing. They’re stopping at a point, about three miles east of Littlefield.” He switches over to a geographical view, using a combination of various satellite feeds. “This is interesting. They’ve stopped at a house, but it’s tiny. Like a shack. But, there are at least a dozen cars there, and heat signatures all over the place.”
“Underground?”
He nods. “That’s a safe bet.”
“So, Vixen is at some underground compound with a dozen cars, we’re supposed to assault it with a fraction of our op gear, and Daphne won’t let us have any backup.”
“That’s about the size of it. We need to do this tonight if we can.”
She sits back and sighs. “Let me get some sleep and rest my leg a little. If they’re still there before dawn, we go in.”
26
An hour later, Layne and Serena arrived in Strawberry, Arizona, with Brendall leading them along Highway 260. As they ascended in elevation, the air cooled and the patchy green shrubs of the desert blended
into grass and pine trees. The drive through the town proper only took a few minutes, and then they entered hill country outside.
A couple miles past, Layne spotted the shantytown in a small valley. Roughly the size of a square city block, hundreds of corrugated metal roofs packed together across the space. Some rusted, some new, a patchwork of earth-tones and metal. The area was like a bird’s nest made from found materials, with houses mingled among the spaces where cows and goats wandered. Hills surrounded the mass of buildings on all sides, like natural defenses to the makeshift town. Stray dogs buzzed around the outside like flies on a carcass.
Brendall slowed and parked by the side of the road. A row of vans and motorhomes lined the exposed edge, with people sitting at folding tables, selling native crafts, jewelry, dried meats, and other wares.
The crew of merchants all sat up in their chairs, looking expectantly at these three new arrivals. While Serena had the skin tone to blend in, Layne and Officer Brendall certainly did not. Many of the locals looked as if they were preparing themselves to pitch to tourists slumming it for great deals on handmade things.
Brendall waited for Layne and Serena to join him. “We need to be incredibly careful in there,” the big cop said. “It doesn’t look all that big, but it’s a maze, as soon as you step foot inside. There’s no street structure, and everywhere that’s not inside a shack is someone’s backyard. They can come at you from any angle.”
Layne noted the rise and fall of Brendall’s shoulders. The way he had trouble making and maintaining eye contact. He was nervous. Layne had no idea what sort of history the man had with this place, but he got the feeling it wasn’t good.
“What’s our destination?” Serena asked.
“Close to the center is a large house they use as a gathering place. Like a bar. It’s a place where you can get whatever you need. Anything. I think we should head there and poke around a bit. If someone has details about your kidnapped friend, that’s where we’ll get answers.”
“Understood.” Layne eyed Serena. “You good?”