The Devil's Highway

by Timothy C. Phillips

  “To show that I am a reasonable man, Sheriff, I am going to make you a final offer. I urge you to listen closely to my following words and comply. Have Bradley Caldwell and the women you abducted waiting for me outside of town, in one hour, or suffer the consequences. I am taking steps to insure there is no further interference until this matter is resolved. That is all.”

  There was a weird buzz and an audible click on the line, and the call terminated.

  “What did he mean, ‘taking steps’? Garrett asked.

  “How do you like the guy saying we abducted those women?” Hughes asked incredulously. “He had them locked in a van like cattle.”

  “He’s just going for a Hail Mary pass, trying one last time to cover his tracks before we notify the Feds about what’s going down out there,” I told Hughes.

  “He’s dreamin’ if he thinks he can tell me what to do in my own county,” Garrett said, striking his palm with a fist. He actually looked angry, the first strong emotion I’d seen him display.

  The door opened and everyone turned.

  It was Claire, the dispatcher, again. She came in quickly and whispered in low urgent tones to the Sheriff. He listened for a second and then picked up the phone, listened, and set it down. He went over and spoke quietly to Deputy Hughes, who nodded and bolted for the door.

  “What’s going on, Sheriff?” I asked him.

  “Claire tells me the Internet seems to be out here in Delgado, and now the telephones, too. Roland, how’s your cell phone reception?”

  I pulled out my phone and checked. No bars.

  “Nothing.” I told him. “Cushman said that he was ‘taking steps.’ Looks like now we know what he was talking about.”

  Garrett nodded. “That’s just what I figured. It seems like they were smarting when we took Brad, but our little rescue mission last night really kicked over the hornet’s nest. The colonel is planning a response.”

  I looked at our little group: Andrea, Brad, Claire, and Ira. “Let’s go outside, everyone,” I said, and they all looked up as one. “I think Deputy Hughes might have some news for us.”

  We moved outside, no one speaking. We all stood in the road, looking towards the outskirts of town. After a while, there was a plume of dust out on the highway.

  “It’s Hughes coming back!” Garrett shouted. The dusty patrol car slowed as it approached and came to a stop in front of our little group.

  Deputy Hughes got out, shaking his head. “Well, it’s official. They blew the cell phone tower. Probably while Cushman was delivering his message. They must have used C-4. It’s nothing but a thousand pieces of scrap, now.”

  “The landline phones and Internet are out, too. They’ve cut us off. We’re totally isolated.” Claire stated grimly.

  “Except for old Route 191 here, and you can bet your ass Cushman’s people have that blocked off, too,” Garrett mused in his disturbingly calm way.

  “That can only mean one thing,” I said, looking steadily at Garrett, who nodded, but said nothing.

  “They’re coming for me,” Brad said quietly.

  “Yeah, kid,” Andrea said, and put her hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We aren’t going to give Cushman what he wants. He knows that. Those bastards are going to try to storm the town.”

  We walked as a group back into the Sheriff’s Office.

  “How much time do we have before they get here?” Claire asked.

  I shrugged. No use sugar coating it. “Well, we left them in considerable disarray. Hughes’ bomb was noisy and made a lot of smoke, but it’s not likely that we inflicted much damage; that’s not what it was designed for. No doubt now, the Colonel has given the word, and they’ll get reorganized pretty quickly out there. They might take sweet time, knowing we’re cut off. But remember, they’ve drilled and prepared for just this kind of thing.”

  “They’ve already knocked out our communications, which means they have at least a few people outside the compound. Those people have probably already received their marching orders, and could be on their way here, right now. When they see that Brad and the women aren’t waiting outside of town, they’ll act. But no doubt back at the compound they’re getting ready to give us the knock-out punch.”

  Chapter 19

  Sheriff Garrett was a man with a lot on his mind. “We’ll have to make arrangements to keep the people of Delgado safe. If Cushman and his men come in here shooting, a lot of people could get hurt.”

  “I didn’t mean to start a war,” Brad said.

  “This is a war that started two years ago, son. You’re just here for the final showdown.”

  Suddenly, the front windows exploded inward. Glass showered into the room, and the room filled with a deafening blast. If we hadn’t been inside Claire’s cubicle, we would have all been sliced into a thousand pieces. As it was, the sound was ear-splitting.

  “Get your heads down!” I yelled, but there was little need; everyone was diving for the floor, except Garrett. Totally unflappable, he was already on his way to the corner to pick up his rifle. I saw that he had already pressed his revolver into Andrea’s hand.

  Outside a bullhorn squelched and blared. “This is it, Sheriff! We want Brad Caldwell! Send him out here now!”

  “Well, if this isn’t what you call role reversal,” Garrett stated calmly. “Hughes, cover the back, these guys are using our own tricks against us.” Hughes nodded and, still squatting, edged out of the room towards the back of the building.

  “I’ll go with him,” Andrea said, and crawled past me.

  “Give us Brad Caldwell and it ends right here! We don’t care about the women,” came the voice over the bullhorn again.

  Brad looked absolutely terrified. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Maybe I should go on out there.”

  I placed a hand on his arm. “I came a long way to find you. You’re staying put.”

  I peeked out over the counter. The lobby’s large front glass with the badge decal had been blown to slivers, which were all over the carpeted floor. There was still a lot of dust in the air. I couldn’t see beyond the lobby, which probably meant that whoever was outside couldn’t see inside. On all fours, I crept cautiously forward.

  “Longville! What are you doing?” Garrett asked in a heated whisper.

  I crept over to the edge of the now empty window, and looked up at the door. It was typical of law enforcement facility door windows; it was a blond wooden door, with a large window, the kind made out of two sheets of glass, with some wire mesh sandwiched between them. This reinforced window had hung together in its frame, but was badly spider-webbed. I was willing to risk a quick look out with the distortion of the shattered glass, and the dust still obscuring me.

  I brought an eye up to one corner of the ruined window and looked out. There was a large SUV out there, parked right in the street. All four doors where wide open, and two men crouched behind it; I could only see their feet. The other two, I was willing to bet, were around back, awaiting further orders.

  They’d rolled straight in, turned in the middle of the street to block off traffic, and tossed a concussion grenade right up to the door. They knew how small the department was, and had probably long ago devised a plan to free any of their people that found themselves locked down in Delgado. When I decided I’d seen enough, I crept back to deliver my report to Sheriff Garrett and the others.

  He wasn’t there. Brad and Claire were crouched, up under the cubicle desk.

  “Where are Garrett and Ira?” I asked them.

  “Garrett said to tell you that he had a plan, and wait for his signal,” Claire told me.

  She pointed up towards the ceiling, where a hatch door was open and a small ladder dangled down. “They went out that way.”

  “What signal?” I asked, but they both looked at me wide-eyed.

  Cursing, I turned and crawled back towards the front of the ruined lobby. The dust was settling, now. I peeked out of the corner of the window again.

  “This is y
our last warning!” The man on the bullhorn announced. “You’re surrounded! Give us Caldwell and it ends!” Then I could see black-clad two figures, crouched low, wearing flak jackets and carrying heavy weapons, moving slowly from behind the SUV.

  And then the Sheriff gave his signal.

  There was the explosion of Garrett’s trusty .30-06, and the front glass of the SUV disappeared in a silver explosion of powdered glass. Revenge for his spiffy front window, no doubt. One of the battle-dressed figures lifted his automatic weapon and rattled off a burst toward the top of the building. I fired at both figures, and they both flattened on the ground and began spraying the front of the Sheriff’s Office with lead, dislodging what was left of the door window. I rolled through the shattered glass back to the dubious protection of the communications area. But Garrett wasn’t through.

  Outside, I heard his .30-06 speak again, and more glass shattering. There was another answering spray of automatic weapons fire, and cursing. Garrett had said he had a plan, and now I knew what he meant; it wasn’t one he’d just dreamed up. He had known for a long time that his station might be assaulted by the Redemption Army, so he’d come up with a contingency to deal with that, being a true professional.

  Outside, the Sheriff and Ira were firing down on our invaders from the rooftops, firing and moving along a path that he had mapped out months or years in advance. After another few seconds, there was another shot from the sheriff, and a loud explosion and a blast of orange light that lit the ruined lobby as the SUV’s fuel tank went up. Brad, Claire and I gave a cheer. I ran forward in time to watch the two would-be commandos running down the street as fast as their encumbering garb would let them.

  “They’re running!” I shouted, jubilantly. But that was when they hit us again.

  Another explosion rocked the structure, this time from the back. I heard a muffled cry, and two bursts of gunfire. Then silence. Smoke started rolling in from the back room. I took a deep breath, and started to head to the back of the office, thinking of Andrea and Hughes, when out of the smoke stepped a figure.

  Dressed like his friends who had been out front, in flak vest and black BDUs and combat boots, this man also wore a gas mask. The stuff rolling into the room was tear gas.

  “Claire! Brad! Get out now!” I yelled. They immediately scrambled to their feet. But at the sound of Brad’s name, the masked figure’s head whipped around, and he uttered a muffled “Stop were you are!”

  I grabbed the muzzle of the gun and wrenched it upward. The masked man squeezed off a long burst that stitched a zig-zag of holes on the ceiling tile. He managed to clap me hard across the temple with the butt of the gun. I saw stars, but I didn’t let go, because that meant certain death. I am a big man, and he was as tall as me, but I had the weight and strength on him, and I used it now.

  Driving him back, with all my weight, I kept him on his heels clear to the wall, keeping him off balance, using the weight of his gear against him. He grunted, probably hot and maybe a little tired inside that flak jacket and mask.Wisps of tear gas, though, were burning my eyes and making it hard to breathe.

  I brought my knee up into his crotch, one, two, three times, and he started to buckle.

  I finally managed to wrench the gun from his grasp and turn it on him. He put his hands up. I turned him around and gave him a quick frisk, which turned up a large hunting knife and a radio. Then I tore the gas mask off and turned him around. I recognized him immediately. It was Sergeant Palin, my red-headed escort from my first visit to the Compound.

  I pointed towards the back room. “That way!” I needed to check on Hughes and Andrea, and taking Palin with me was the only way.

  Hughes was in the corner, wheezing with his hands at his throat. Andrea had soaked a rag in water and was holding it up to his mouth. Palin’s partner lay on the floor, not moving. A pool of dark red soaking into the carpet around him said he probably wasn’t going to move any more.

  “I shot him,” Andrea said quietly. “They lobbed one of those bang grenades and tear gas in through the window glass. There was a blast and then you couldn’t see anything. I got under the table and held my breath. When he came in he fired his gun, so I aimed at the muzzle flashes and fired. I—I got him in the throat.”

  Hughes staggered to his feet and whipped out his handcuffs, and still wheezing, rammed Palin against the wall, and clamped them on him, tight. “You’re going to pay for this, you son of a bitch!” he hissed in Palin’s ear.

  Palin sneered. “You think this is over, Hughes? Well, you’d better think again. This has just started! Give me Caldwell and let me walk out of here. No one has to die!”

  “People have already died,” Andrea replied. “You people have a lot to answer for. And now we all know what Brad knows. What Fernando Mendoza knew. And now the whole world will know.”

  “Then none of you will leave here alive! There’s a plan . . . this was just a smash and grab. The real assault is something you can’t even dream of!” Palin spat.

  Garrett, Ira, Claire and Brad chose that moment to filter back inside through the shattered doorway.

  “Longville bagged one alive, Sheriff,” Hughes announced.

  “Good job, Deputy Longville,” Garrett commented with his usual steely cool.

  “Andrea got one, too, Sheriff,” I said. “One dead, back there.”

  Garrett let out a long low whistle. “Hughes, take this rat to his cage, please.”

  Hughes shuffled Palin off towards a cell.

  Garrett put a hand on Andrea’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  She smiled her tough smile. “I’m just sorry that it wasn’t Cushman.”

  “You’ll get your chance, if what Palin says is true,” I commented.

  Garrett turned to face me. “What’s that?”

  “As you were coming in, he mentioned some kind of assault plan.”

  Garrett made a sour expression. “I’ve long suspected that they had some kind of plan in place. If I ever arrested Cushman, I knew that they’d be out here in force to get him back.”

  “It might pay to know the details of such a plan,” I suggested.

  Garrett nodded. “Well, we’ve crossed the Rubicon, now, for sure. Time’s wasting. Let’s talk to your playmate in there, and see what he knows about this so-called plan.”

  Chapter 20

  “Tell us about this invasion plan of yours, Palin.” Sheriff Garrett was sitting across from Palin, emotionless, looking sort of disinterested, like a man who had all the time in the world.

  Palin shrugged. “Just wait a while, I’m sure you’ll see what it’s all about.” He tried to smile and act confident, but a fine layer of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  “You’re in deep shit,” Hughes said. I circled around behind Palin. That made him more nervous. He turned to look at me.

  “You need to look at me, Palin,” Garrett said calmly.

  “I’ve got five women over in the Fermosa, they say you’re part of a human trafficking set up.”

  “You can’t hang that on me, Garrett. I had nothing to do with any of that.”

  “Got to lay it on somebody,” Hughes said, looking at his fingertips. “Looks like Cushman wants that somebody to be you.”

  “You guys know that was Kiker and his crew, not me.”

  Garrett leaned back, looking like a reasonable type of guy. “I don’t know any such of a thing. But if you have some information, maybe you better fill us in on that, along with this invasion plan.”

  Palin grimaced like his next words hurt him. “Okay, you sons of bitches. I know about the plan. I can fill you in on what’s coming. But what do I get if I tell you about it?”

  “If you’re information’s good enough, I’ll make sure that you don’t get burned for what Cushman and Kiker had going. But for coming into my town and shooting up the place, there’s no bargaining. You better sing it fast, too, Palin. My time’s pretty short.”

  Palin nodded morosely.

  “Get him a pen and pa
per,” Garrett told Hughes.

  In a few minutes, Palin had outlined what was coming. The plan was called Operation Jackknife and it was originally conceived as a plan to rescue for any important members of their group taken by Law Enforcement.

  Once Palin started talking, the words poured out of him. He told us that Cushman had made the decision to put Jackknife into action after we rescued Brad. Not everyone had known about the human trafficking going on in the desert. Just a hand-picked few. All that had started after Tolbert’s death, after Cushman brought Kiker in.

  The Redemption Army had been hurting for money in those days. Kiker had worn Cushman down to getting his feet wet in the darkest of trades. Kiker had argued that the compound’s location and secrecy made it the perfect cover for such activities. Cushman had finally given his go ahead for a one-time operation, bringing young women north from Sinaloa, and moving them on to Russian mobsters who came down from Los Angeles. The money had been enough that he’d plunged right in after that.

  Kiker’s team kept the whole thing quiet, never letting word leak out to the faithful at the Compound. The web of secrecy began to unravel when Brad arrived. Cushman saw him as the heir apparent, and so, after a time, had decided to entrust him with his darkest secret. Conflicted, Brad had heard that Fernando Mendoza was in the area, digging for information of the Redemption Army. He had contacted the man, but somehow, Kiker had learned of the meeting. When Mendoza had learned too much, Kiker had taken him out.

  Now, Cushman and Kiker were desperate to contain the truth about their human trafficking and the murders they had committed, even if that meant taking out the town of Delgado.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Garrett had most of the townspeople of Delgado, along with the women we had freed from the Trafficker’s van, gathered in the street outside the battered Sheriff’s Office. Mayor Ferguson and several older people—probably the town counsel, I reasoned—stood at the front of the crowd, eager for news.