Amy Lynn, Into the Fire

by Jack July

  Garrett gave her a big grin. “Yes ma’am. Oh, this is Henry. He’s driving your truck home.”

  Amy shook his hand. “Thank you, Henry.” Then she paused. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “Yes ma’am, I drive for your brother.”

  “A professional. Outstanding. Don’t change my radio stations.”

  “No ma’am, I won’t.”

  “Let me get a bag out of the truck. Garrett, kick the tire and light the fire.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Amy walked out to the truck in time to hear her phone ring. She took it off the console and hit the button. “Hey!”

  “Hey to you. It’s Adele.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Huntington Airport. I’m fixin’ to get on a plane and go home.”

  “Yeah, ah, I just got a call from the Deputy Director of the FBI. Seems they’re looking at your family.”

  “About what?”

  “Bogus didn’t say anything to you?”

  “No, about what?”

  “From what I understand, the Teamsters Union tried to organize your brother’s company. Things got rough. Carla Jo Brown ended up in a coma in the hospital after a suspicious car wreck.”

  “What? My aunt is in the hospital? In a coma?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry honey, but it’s a little bigger than that.”

  “Bigger? What the hell you mean, bigger? That’s the woman that raised me.”

  “Well, the man that tried to organize the company from the inside is missing, as well as the Teamsters’ local president. They want to talk to Jack Brown. You know, Hatchet Jack Brown. He is nowhere to be found.”

  Amy leaned against the side of her truck, hand on her head. “Oh my God.”

  “Amy, listen to me. Go home, find out what the fuck is going on and get back to me. You have to play this straight, honey. I can help you, but you have to play this straight, understand?”

  “Yeah, yes ma’am.”

  Adele hung up the phone. Amy looked out across the parking lot and said to herself, “Oh sweet Jesus.”

  She turned and walked quickly through the lounge, tossed the keys to Henry and trotted out the doors onto the tarmac. Garrett was standing by the bottom of the stairs as she hurriedly approached. “Garrett, kick this thing in the ass and get me home as fast as possible.”

  Garrett had a look of shock at her sudden change in demeanor. “Ma’am? Is everything al—”

  “Now, Garrett, right the fuck now. Move!”

  He had never heard her swear before. “Yes ma’am.”

  Garrett pulled the wheel chocks, jogged up the stairs and secured the door. After entering the cockpit, he cranked it up and did an abbreviated pre-flight. Amy sat in the cabin and took out her phone. She started to dial Bogus, then stopped and gazed out the window. No, no you need to relax and think. Just, think. There isn’t much you can do from here and there isn’t much Bogus can’t handle. Relax, relax and think. Find out what has happened, and handle it. Calm, calm, good girl, handle it.

  Chapter 38

  A six-man quick reaction team of Bogus’ American-based mercenaries pulled up in a military-style Humvee. Princeton escorted them into the house. They immediately began a review of the evening’s plan. Bogus spent his time apart, in a more peaceful manner. When he was a young assassin, he would bed a young woman to the strains of classical music. He would later rise with a peaceful, thoughtful spirit. That demeanor would remain in place whether he was spying, interrogating or assassinating. Frighteningly efficient is how his boss at MI-6 described him. But now? He still played classical music, but it was in a stable as he lovingly brushed his horse, Renaldo. He missed his wife and felt a building rage at the pain brought upon his family. Things were confused and scattered. Worse, they were out of his control. He didn’t deal with that well.

  Leon unscrewed the top of a jar, took a sip and watched the activity across the holler. Princeton escorted a group of men from the house. Leon watched as they all shook Princeton’s hand and climbed into a Humvee. After the Humvee left the driveway, another vehicle arrived, the Range Rover. He saw Athos and Micky get out. He felt great relief but at the same time a sense of sadness. He knew how much Micky loved Mathias. It was dark. However, his tractor had headlights, so he figured he would go ahead and bury the horse with Micky.

  Bogus and Princeton met Micky and Athos at the top of the porch steps. Bogus carefully looked Micky over. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, sir. Just a couple stitches over my eye.”

  “Good, good. Athos? Good job.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you.” Athos patted Micky on the back, turned and walked toward the house.

  Micky waved then turned back toward Bogus. “Did the horses make it home?”

  Princeton froze. Bogus nodded his head. “Yes, yes they did.”

  Micky, relieved, said, “Thank God, I was so afraid they were hurt or lost.”

  Bogus looked down, thinking, trying to control his temper. Then Micky glanced at Athos as he walked in the house. “Bogus, do you know how amazing he is?” Gesturing at Athos, he went on, “You should have seen—”

  “Yes Micky, I know what Athos is. What I want to know is what were you thinking.”

  “I’m sorry, I was just—”

  Then Bogus lost his temper. “No, no Micky, this is not a game. You make a big show out of being a knight. But there is something you are missing. You must be responsible and held accountable. You were responsible to no one. You put yourself in danger, and because of that, Athos had to risk his life to save you.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  “You’re exactly right, you didn’t think. Did you think about your Ma? Did you? Did you think about her? Did you think about me, or Princeton, or your family? Did you think about anyone that loves you? You could have easily been killed this evening. Then what?”

  The reality of everything going on began to occur to Micky. He’d been afraid in Slovakia when held captive by the Countess. But it never occurred to him to be afraid with the two men that kidnapped him, because he knew, in his heart, Bogus and his Ma would come for him.

  Micky glanced over at Princeton, ashamed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m very sorry. I…”

  Bogus shook his head. “Sorry? Really? Well then, let’s go take a walk so you can see how sorry you really are.”

  Princeton spoke up. “Sir, I don’t think—”

  “Oh no, Princeton, our young knight needs to see the outcome of his decision making. Come, Sir Micky, let’s take a walk.”

  Bogus marched quickly down the stairs, that were behind the house, and headed down the old road with Micky and Princeton following close behind. Micky tried to lock eyes with Princeton. He didn’t understand what was going on. Princeton couldn’t look at him; he knew what was coming. Leon was sitting on the tractor on the other side of the grave when he saw the figures silhouetted against the lights from the house. He turned on the tractor lights.

  Micky approached the hole, not sure what he was looking at. Leon tilted one of the lights so it shined down.

  Micky stared in disbelief. “Mathias?”

  Bogus motioned with his hand toward the hole. “Yes, Micky, there it is, the result of your decision not to follow the rules.”

  Princeton spoke up. “Sir, that’s enough.”

  Micky cried out, “Mathias! Oh no, please no. Mathias?” He slid down the side of the hole and knelt by the horses neck. He began to sob. “Mathias, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Bogus continued in anger, “So you see, Sir Micky, it was Mathias that paid the price for your inability to follow simple instructions. Your actions killed your horse!”

  Princeton couldn’t stand it anymore. He shouted, “BOGUS, THAT IS ENOUGH!”

  Bogus snapped his head around and met the white-hot stare of a furious Princeton. Princeton was one of very few men that had the gravitas and enough of Bogus’ respect to back him down. Bogus l
ooked away, took a deep breath, checked his watch then turned back toward Princeton. “We’ll be leaving in forty-five minutes.”

  Princeton’s eyes burned holes through him. Bogus turned and walked back to the house. As Bogus walked away, Leon slid off the tractor, looked over at Princeton and shook his head. Leon could hear his grandson sobbing. He gingerly slid down inside the hole, knelt next to Micky, put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him.

  Brian Chambers stood in the doorway of Joe’s office at Braxton Trucking and gave him the big smile Brian was famous for. “Well, boss, I guess things are getting back to normal.”

  “I reckon. I just keep thinking about my aunt. Somethin’s gotta give. I talk to Kelly in the evenings, and she says every day that goes by without her waking up makes her chances a little worse.”

  Brian held up the Bible in his hand. “Well sir, it ain’t up to us. I was headed over to the hospital to sit with her. You want to ride with me?”

  “Yeah, yeah I think I will. Kelly don’t get off for another couple hours, maybe I’ll take her to dinner.” Joe turned off his computer, shifted a few piles of paper around, threw up his hands at the mess on his desk and said, “Fuck it, let’s go.”

  Thirty minutes later, Brian and Joe made it to Carla Jo’s room, only to be stopped by a clean cut man in a blue suit and black shiny shoes. “Excuse me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID. “Agent Bell, FBI. And you are?”

  Brian gently moved Joseph over. “We are here to see Carla Jo Brown. Excuse us.”

  Agent Bell stepped in front of Brian. “I would like to see some identification.”

  Brian shook his head. “And I would like you to kiss my ass. Excuse us.”

  Joe was visibly confused but smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Corporal Skeeter, on duty to watch over Carla Joe, stepped forward and said, “Can I be of some assistance?”

  Agent Bell assumed Deputy Skeeter was just a country hick and decided to bluff. “Yes, Deputy, I would like your assistance in placing these men under arrest for interfering with a Federal investigation.”

  It worked on Joe. It didn’t work on Brian. It definitely didn’t work on Skeeter. Joe’s eyes got big. “Under arrest?”

  Deputy Skeeter raised his hand to silence Joe. “Well now, Agent Bell. I will always come to the aid of other law enforcement agencies when necessary. However, you do understand that the Sheriff of Jackson County is leading this investigation. We are grateful that the FBI has come to assist, but the Sheriff’s department is not subordinate to you or your agency, nor do you have any jurisdiction in this matter. I respectfully request you step aside and cease and desist the harassment of these good citizens.”

  Agent Bell turned on the young deputy. “I am ordering you by law to assist me.”

  Deputy Skeeter never lost his calm demeanor. “I read the same law books you do, Agent Bell, and I’m asking you to step aside before this whole thing gets out of hand.”

  Joe spoke up. “Wait, wait a minute. He’s here to investigate who hurt Aunt Carla Joe. What’s the harm in it?”

  Agent Bell turned quickly back to Joe and smiled. “So, what makes you think this wasn’t an accident?”

  Just like that, Joe had walked into a trap. “Well, I don’t…”

  Agent Bell reached for a folder on a small table behind him, pulled out a photo and held it up. “So if that is your aunt, this is your uncle. Could you tell me where to find him?”

  “No, I haven’t seen…”

  Brian stepped in. “Close your mouth now, and don’t say another word.”

  Agent Bell gave Deputy Skeeter a sly grin. “Deputy, I believe this gentleman has information concerning this case. I will be escorting him to the Sheriff’s office for an interview.”

  Deputy Skeeter nodded in the affirmative. Joe looked incredulous. “Wait, what?”

  Brian stepped between Agent Bell and Joe. “This is bullshit, and you know it’s bullshit.”

  Agent Bell turned to Brian. “Step aside, or you will be going with him.”

  Joe took a breath. “Can I at least go in and see my aunt before we go?”

  Agent Bell nodded. “Yeah, make it quick.”

  Joe walked into the room and sat by Carla Jo’s bed. He held her hand. “I wish you were awake, you’d be the first call I make. I ain’t worried, I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. So, what would you do? WWACJD?” He chuckled to himself about his and Amy’s little joke. Then it occurred to him exactly what she would do. He picked up the phone and dialed the ER. “Is Kelly available?” A few moments later she picked up the phone. “Kelly?”

  “Hey, Baby.”

  “Call the lawyer and get him to the sheriff’s office.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothin’, not a damn thing.”

  An hour had gone by since Joe left with Agent Bell. Brian sat next to Carla Jo, trying to understand exactly what was going on. He reasoned better when he talked out loud. “Okay, Carla Jo, why is the FBI involved? Why do they want to talk to Jack? Why do they have a Deputy guarding you if it was an accident? Who is that other guy, Luther? Why is he hanging around?” He tapped his middle finger on the side of the bed, first slow then faster and faster until he stopped. He leaned in close to Carla Jo and whispered, “Somebody tried to kill you. If Jack knows who, oh, sweet Jesus.” He patted her hand a few times. “I’ll be right back.”

  Brian looked down the hall and spotted Deputy Skeeter chatting with a nurse at the Nurses’ station. “Want some coffee, Deputy?”

  “They got some here; gitcha a cup.”

  “Okay, thanks. Hey, you got a minute?”

  Skeeter checked his watch. “I got thirty minutes, then my shift’s over.”

  They sat on the chairs outside Carla Jo’s door. “Deputy? I was wonderin’ what the FBI has to do with this.”

  “Sorry Brian, I don’t talk about investigations.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know that, but is there public info that I haven’t heard? Something from the news?”

  “Well, you know that Sitzberger guy, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sheriff let him out, he picked up his car at Tommy Lee’s and disappeared. He never made it home. He traveled across state lines on business, which, in a way, makes it federal. I would guess that’s why the FBI is involved.”

  “Oh? He’s missing?”

  “Yep. Found his car on the highway. Can’t find a trace of him. Then of course there’s a missing person’s report on Lamont Hughes.”

  “Teamsters president?”

  “Yep. Hell, nobody knew he was missing till they found his car stripped in the north side. He left work around lunch last week and just disappeared. They all figured he went on a drunk; he was famous for that.”

  “Where’s the Teamsters office at now?”

  “They got two floors of that new fancy building downtown.”

  Brian shook his head. “I hate goin’ down there, especially in a truck. That place is a traffic nightmare.”

  “I get assigned that duty, just trying to keep traff…” The deputy stopped in mid-sentence as he flashed back to an old pickup truck and a conversation with Jack Brown. The deputy looked at Brian. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  “Yeah, okay. Bring back donuts.”

  Skeeter didn’t hear him. He stepped around the corner and dialed his dispatch. “Miss Kitty, Skeeter. I need Dennis Headley’s home phone number.” After a few moments, “Yeah, the tractor guy.” She read it off to him, he thanked her, hung up and dialed.

  “What!” shouted the drunk old man.

  “Dennis? This is Deputy Skeeter.”

  “I ain’t callin’ you Deputy Shit, you little fucker.”

  “Dennis, I liked your daughter; she didn’t like me.”

  “Yeah, I know. Now she’s hooked up with some no account, tattooed… piece a fuckin’… shit.”

  “Dennis, did Jack Brown come see you about a tractor?”

  “Jack Brown? ’Nam vet from Bla
ck Oak, all scarred up, that Jack Brown?”

  “Yep, same one.”

  “Hell, I ain’t seen him in years, not since I got too many DUI’s. Cain’t go to the VFW, now I have to drink at home. You’d think they’d come visit me, but fuck no. So I’ll sit here with the damn dog, bottle of Beam and them jiggly titties from my set of Bay Watch DVD’s.”

  “Dennis, I’ll stop by and visit with ya’. Thanks man.”

  “Fuck you, y’a fuckin’ cop!”

  Skeeter hung up and gave a 1,000-yard stare at the wall, thinking, Son of a bitch, he was there and he lied.

  Chapter 39

  Bogus adjusted his tie in the mirror, giving himself a last look before visiting the congressman. When he conducted business of any kind, the seriousness of the event dictated the quality of the couture. Bogus was wearing the best he had. Princeton watched him carefully as he eyed the hat rack. If he chose a hat, someone would die. On occasion, he would wear a hat as a fashion statement, but Amy didn’t like hats; she loved his hair. It was almost too long, a little wild but painstakingly cut to look that way. He turned away from the rack. “Princeton, are we ready?”

  Princeton’s jaw was set so hard he could have broken rocks with it. Princeton rarely showed anger. Through clenched teeth he replied, “Yes, sir. The aircraft is fueled and Tigger is on his way.”

  “You seem angry.”

  “Yes, sir. I am livid about the way you treated that boy.”

  “Yes, well, I did the best that I can, with the tools that I have.”

  “Sir, your tool bin is sparse. The Lady would have—”

  Bogus cut him off and raised his volume. “The Lady isn’t here, now, is she?”

  “No, sir.”

  Bogus ended the conversation with, “And there you have it.”