I didn’t like being a passenger in the back seat of the SUV. I couldn’t see much of anything except what the headlights shone on. From my perspective, that was mostly just falling rain. Doug was sitting next to the driver. He had his headset on and was monitoring the radio. There was nothing for me to do, but sit there in my muddy clothes next to a fully armored, equally muddy, FBI agent. That guy looked like a soldier who was part of futuristic army, ready to invade Afghanistan or possibly Mars.
Once we ran the plates, we knew that the suspect vehicle belonged to Kevin Watkins. The surveillance had indicated that Gary and Watkins were alone in the truck.
I would have given anything to be able to listen in on their conversation. Still, I knew that putting any kind of wire on Gary might have gotten him killed. There had been no opportunity to put a bug inside Watkins truck.
“The subject vehicle is exiting the interstate at exit 575.” Unit seven reported.
“Where is that?” Doug snapped.
“The vehicle has left the highway. I’ve lost visual contact.” Unit seven announced.
Doug was looking at the map app on his tablet, trying to figure out where exit 575 might be.
“Unit four, I’m exiting at 575, Unit four …I have his tail lights in sight. Subject vehicle has turned north, repeat north over the highway. He is now northbound on…County Road 3101, repeat northbound on 3101, over…”
“Roger that, you are north bound on 3101. Continue surveillance. We are approaching the interstate on 370, will attempt to intercept you on County Road 1252. ETA…” Doug looked at the driver.
“About two minutes sir.”
“…Two minutes, or less.” Doug finished informing Unit four, as he shot the driver a meaningful look.
The big SUV’s engine roared louder, as the driver pressed on the accelerator.
In a moment we were hurtling through the rain, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, at seventy five miles an hour.
The rain was stopped for the blink of an eye, as we flew under interstate 20, then it slammed down again like a waterfall on the other side.
“The subject vehicle has turned and is now headed east, I repeat east on 1252. I don’t think I should continue…”
“Stay on him. I repeat stay on him, until we relieve you.” Doug informed Unit four.
We slewed to a near stop, as we turned east onto County Road 1252. I was afraid the other SUV behind us would slam into us.
“How far?” Doug asked the driver.
“…Half a mile, maybe less. We should see their taillights any minute now.”
We sailed across County Road 370 without any concession to the stop sign. I thanked God that there had been no traffic at the intersection.
“It looks like your prayers were answered, Doug. Watkins did come back our way, and we’re back in the surveillance.” I pointed out.
“What? Hell, we’re just damned lucky, if you ask me.” He barked.
We could see two sets of taillights ahead of us.
“Break off, Unit four. We have the subject vehicle in sight.” Doug instructed.
We saw the turn signal indicating a right turn, blinking on the car ahead of us. That vehicle slowed and turned at a gravel driveway, as we went by it, carefully reducing the distance between us and the subject vehicle ahead.
“Unit nine, I’m stopped on the side of the road, west-bound on 1252. Maybe a mile and a half ahead of you, over…”
“Roger that Unit nine. Stand bye. All units report your locations.” Doug ordered.
When everyone had reported in, Doug positioned units at all of the approaches back on to I-20 between our location and the small town of Liberty City.
“Unit nine, turn around and take up a position at the edge of Liberty City. Attention, all units. Stay alert. Units one, two and four, will continue to follow the subject as long as he stays east-bound on 1252. It will get problematic if he goes all the way into Liberty City. We’ll converge and redeploy if that becomes apparent. Stand bye. That is all.”
Chapter 49.
It was nearly six thirty now. Most folks had made it home from work, and were sitting down to supper. Out in the backwoods and boonies there was very little traffic in the rain.
Suddenly, the brake lights and the left turn signal flashed in front of us.
“Shit! Doug swore. “Unit four, subject is turning northbound onto County Road 3111, that’s Joy Wright Mountain Road. Take over pursuit. “
“Roger that, Unit four, I’ll take it from here.” Unit four responded.
We had to keep going eastbound. Watkins would have noticed if two big black SUVs had turned to follow him. He probably wouldn’t be surprised if a single old pickup truck, the third vehicle on the road, eventually turned onto the same road he was on.
“What do we do now?” I asked Doug.
“We’ll pull over right here, study the map for a minute and then follow them up Joy Wright Mountain Road. ”
“Who is that in Unit four?
“Ranger Sergeant Formby. He’s one of the three Texas Rangers in plain clothes, assisting with this surveillance.”
We did a U-turn with the other SUV right behind us, turned right onto 3111, and pulled over.
“Man, I wish this rain would let up,” Doug said.
And just like that, it slowed to a sprinkle and stopped.
“Another answered prayer.” I observed.
Doug ignored me as he studied the satellite imagery on the screen of his tablet.
After a moment, he looked at the driver and said.
“OK, let’s go, and don’t spare the horses.”
We had just pulled up onto the pavement when Unit four reported in.”
“Unit one, Unit four, I’m cut off from the subject vehicle. Repeat, I have lost the subject vehicle. Over…”
“What do you mean you’re “cut off”?” Doug snapped.
“It’s a roadblock, sir. The Sheriff’s department has a roadblock up. They told me that I can’t go on, because there is a bridge washed out up ahead. They made me turn around.”
“What about the subject vehicle?”
“They let them go on through sir, right in front of me.”
“Did you ask why?”
“Yes sir, I did. They told me that the subject vehicle was a local and only lived a short distance farther up the road, on this side of the damaged bridge.”
Doug was silent for a moment, rage building in him.
“OK, roger that, Unit four. Stay where you are, we’ll be there shortly.”
The driver was already stepping on the accelerator.
“Did you get the badge numbers?” Doug asked the Ranger.
We were pulled off on the side of the road where the Ranger had waited for us. The north wind had replaced the rain.
“No, Sir, they were wearing plastic raincoats over their uniforms. I did get the license number on their patrol car.” Sergeant Formby said, handing Doug a piece of paper.
“Sir, the County Department of Roads and Bridges say they have had no reports of bridge wash outs, not even any flooded roadways.” The driver informed Doug.
“No surprise there.”
“Agent Booker, under the circumstances I felt that it would have been a bad idea for me to identify myself as law enforcement. Did I make a mistake?” Sergeant Formby asked.
“No. You would have endangered our asset if you had done that. You handled it the only way you could have. This was just something that we didn’t anticipate.”
“Now what do we do?” I asked.
Doug showed me the satellite image of the area he had pulled up on his tablet.
“The problem is that on just the other side of the creek, the road forks. Even if we could get past the road block, we have no way of knowing which fork Watkins took, and you can see the satellite image shows there are several cross roads and branches on each one of those forks. They could have gone in pretty much any direction. We don’t have any Units north of here and no eyes in
the sky. That’s it. We’ve lost them.” Doug concluded.
“We promised Gary we’d cover him…” I started.
“Yeah, well it didn’t work out did it? Apparently you forgot to ask your god to handle the weather and the opposition.” Doug sneered.
Before I could respond, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, hoping for some reason that it was Gary calling me.
I saw that the caller was one of my clients.
I put my phone away.
“I repeat, now what do we do?” I said to Doug.
“We wrap it up. If Gary made it to the meeting and lives to tell the tale, he’ll probably call you. If he didn’t, oh well. It was a nice try.”
“Can we at least check out the roadblock? Maybe they really didn’t go far past there.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“I guess we should. We have to confirm the Sheriff’s deputies are either legit or phonies. Sergeant Formby, go back to the roadblock and feed them some kind of story. Maybe you’re visiting your sick Uncle or your girlfriend or whatever. See if you can get past the roadblock. Then report in.”
“Sir, I tried the girlfriend story already. They didn’t buy it….” He saw the look on Doug’s face and changed his tone.
“I’m on it.”
We waited as Ranger Sergeant Formby’s taillights disappeared up the road. A moment later we got the news.
“Unit four reporting, they’re gone, Sir. The deputies have removed the barricade and they’re gone.”
“Wait for us, we’ll be right there.” Doug responded.
Again, the driver was mashing on the accelerator.
We found Ranger Formby pulled over at the edge of the road, about a half mile farther along. Other than his truck and some car tracks in the mud, there was no sign that anyone else had been out there.
We all got out of the vehicles and conferred for a moment. The wind was gusting at about forty miles an hour.
“OK, they gave us the slip. We’re going to go looking for them. When we come to the place where the road forks, Sergeant Formby will go left and we’ll go right. We’re looking for that Sheriff’s department patrol car or any large gathering of vehicles. Look for headlights leaving the road, or any brightly lit building. If anyone spots anything suspicious, we check it out. We have units standing bye, so we can call in the cavalry or do whatever we need to do at that point. Any questions…?” He looked around.
“How far do we go, and what do we do when we come to cross roads or intersections?” Sergeant Formby asked.
“Use your best judgment and call it in. We’ll do the same.”
I had to admit that Doug was doing all he could to find Gary. It wasn’t his fault that we had been outsmarted. It wasn’t his fault that some local LEOs were involved. The weather had ruined our aerial surveillance which would have covered this contingency. That wasn’t his fault either. I could see that he was weighed down by the responsibility, but he wasn’t throwing his hands up yet.
It took about forty five minutes of driving around on back roads in the dark, without any indication of where Watkins had taken Gary, before he called it off.
“Attention all units, hold your present positions until further ordered. We’ll wait to see if the subject vehicle returns the way it came out here. Unit four, return to the intersection of Joy Wright Mountain Road and County Road 1252. Stand by for further instructions. That is all.” Doug informed the other units.
“Let’s go meet Unit four at Joy Wright Mountain Road and 1252.” He told our driver, dejectedly.
Ten minutes later, both of our big SUVs pulled to the side of the road, southbound on 3111, about a hundred yards away from the intersection with CR 1252. There was no sign of Unit four yet.
“Doug, I don’t see much point in sitting out here in the dark for who knows how long, hoping to get a chance to resume surveillance on Watkins. We know that if Gary is still alive and well, he’ll be taken back to the parking lot where his truck is parked.”
Doug nodded thoughtfully.
“We’re not going to stay out here. I’ll have Unit two find a spot where they can watch Gary’s truck. The other units will stay in position until midnight. You and I will return to base. If we don’t hear from Gary or he doesn’t make it back to his truck…We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
He turned to the combat ready agent beside me.
“Agent Sheffield, go climb in with Unit two. Tell them you’re to set up back where Gary’s truck is parked. If our asset shows up, call it in and provide cover for him until he leaves. Get the license number of whoever drops him off. If he doesn’t show, stay with his truck until morning, or until you get further instructions.” Doug told him.
“Yes sir,” said agent Sheffield, as he exited the vehicle.
Chapter 50.
Shortly after Unit two had disappeared into the night, a set of headlights appeared behind us, pulled over and cut the lights. Doug got out of our big black SUV with the government plates and walked back to the pickup designated Unit four, driven by Texas Ranger Sergeant Formby.
Looking back, I could just barely see Doug talking quietly with the Ranger.
When Doug came back and climbed into the passenger seat, he told the driver we should head back to Tyler.
“What did you say to Sergeant Formby?” I asked him.
“I just told him losing our subject wasn’t his responsibility. There was no way to predict he would be stopped by local Sheriff’s deputies. He handled it well, and didn’t tip them off that he was following Watkins. He may have saved Gary’s life.”
“It was a good thing to do, Doug. I’ll bet the Ranger really feels bad about how it turned out. I’m sure he appreciates you telling him it wasn’t his fault.”
He shrugged and said. “Yeah, well the ultimate responsibility rests with me, anyway.”
“I still believe it will all work out.”
“You would,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you still think you have a direct line to that god of yours? Are you a prophet who can predict what happens next? I don’t think so. Nothing has gone according to plan. At the moment, we are up the proverbial creek, without the proverbial paddle.”
I didn’t bother to respond.
Clearly, SAIC Doug Booker was in no mood to hear the truth.
We drove on in silence for a little while, until Doug spoke up.
“The thing I don’t get about you religious types is why you always figure you know some secret that normal, healthy people don’t know.”
“What do you mean when you say ‘normal, healthy people’?” I asked him.
“Well, clearly your belief in some sort of god is irrational, magical thinking, and if it isn’t complete insanity, it’s certainly delusional.”
“Hold on, are you saying you think all people who believe in God are insane?”
“Of course, the evidence is irrefutable. You live in a fantasy world peopled by angels and spirits and who knows what. You think there is some sort of outside force directing the course of world events. You believe there is a higher law than our government or any government. Am I right or wrong?”
“Are you right or are you wrong? That’s not a simple question to answer, Doug.”
“Oh come on. You people are always pointing out what you think is wrong in our society. You hate homosexuals. You hate people who live any lifestyle you think is libertine. You hate our government for not supporting your twisted religious intolerance. I asked you a simple question. Is what I said about your beliefs accurate or is it completely wrong.”
“Why are you attacking me?”
“Oh, do you feel as if you’re being attacked? Maybe you should consult with a mental health professional.”
“You’ve made some rather inflammatory statements. You’ve accused me of hating any number of people. Where is the evidence of that?”
“The thing is this, anybody who has to believe in some kind
of imaginary God, who will judge them someday, has to believe in that, in order to have any kind of morality-is a seriously sick and deranged human being. All decent people know the difference between right and wrong. We all have an inherent conscience. You religious types are the ones who are screwed up.”
“I’m aware people have a conscience. I believe God has endowed all people with a conscience. But everyone also rationalizes and is subject to self-deceit. Everyone thinks they’re right and anyone who disagrees with them is wrong. This leads to pride and resentfulness, rage and hatred, strife, even murder. If the only standard we recognize is one we find within ourselves, we will find ourselves violating even that. We allow all sorts of desires and attitudes to get the best of us. We find ourselves doing and saying things in violation of our own conscience and must therefore judge ourselves as guilty of sin. We can’t do the right thing, even if we all agreed on what was right, which we most certainly do not. We all fail and we all fall short. It is the very definition of sin. That’s why God sent Jesus to redeem us and give us a new life.”
“You’re insanity is showing. You really don’t get it. We’re all just a collection of carbon based molecules. That’s it and that’s all. You live, you die, and you are forgotten. All that Jesus stuff…? If he ever existed, he was just a guy who claimed he was God, and you people blindly believe the whole mythology. I’ve got news for you, buddy. The Bible was written by men, a bunch of bigoted-dead-men. You people treat that book like it was literally the word of God. WAKE UP! There is no God, You people have attempted to stop every move our government makes to improve our society into a more integrated and healthy community. You opposed gay marriage. You talk about love and morality. You people are always up on some high horse preaching morality, while you’re visiting whores on the side.”
I wasn’t shocked by his open animosity, but I was offended by his personal accusations.
“You’re right, the Bible was written by men, forty of them, over the course of about fifteen hundred years. They wrote it in three different languages, probably on three different continents. Isn’t it interesting that not only did they manage to maintain a continuous spiritual narrative and accurately record history, but they also accurately predicted future events?
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