by Phil Swann
The reason for my—some might say—misguided optimism, was based on math. When Clegg asked Colonel Pennington what the size of his platoon was, Pennington scoffed and said he had barely enough personnel to field a baseball team. That meant there were only nine or ten men in the entire town. Even if I stretched that number to a dozen, it was still manageable. Heck, when I was in high school, me and my buddies would sneak into places like movie theatres, basketball games, and carnivals all the time—and that was with every adult in town being on the lookout for hooligans like us. So, getting in wasn’t my problem—what to do once I did, was. As it turned out, the answer was literally right in front of me.
“Hey, Gene,” I asked, breaking the silence in the car. “when we get there, tell me again what happens?”
“We pull up to the gate. Somebody will come up to the car and ask what we want. We show them the money, and we drive to the factory.”
“Uh-huh. Which is on the other end of the town, right?”
“That’s right.”
I looked in the back of Gene’s station wagon and saw a tarp, a spare tire, and a bunch of other junk scattered about.
“And when do they search us?”
“Once we’re inside the factory. We’ll get out of the car. They’ll look it over, and then pat us all down.”
“Good. Okay, fellas…here’s what we’re going to do. Gene, after we’re through the gate, you’ll make a hard right at the old church and start heading through town toward the factory. When you make that turn, I’m going out the back of this car.” I started climbing over the rear seat into the back.
“You’re what?” Barnard yelled.
“Gene told them he was bringing one person with him. He is—you, Sam. I’m going to be back here hiding under all this stuff.”
I could see Gene shaking his head. “What if the guy at the gate looks in the back? What if they’ve changed how they do things and search the car?”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Besides, I was thinking that there’s a good chance the kid at the gate will be the same one who was there earlier today. If he is, he’ll recognize me.”
“You’re just thinking of that?” Barnard barked.
“This will work, guys. Once we’re through the gate, just slow down a little when you make the turn at the church. I can do this.”
“You’re insane, Callaway,” Barnard said.
“When you guys get into the factory, keep whoever you meet occupied as long as you can. I’ll find Clegg and get him back to the church. You’ll pick us up on your way out.”
Barnard said, “Assuming you do find him, they’ll be guards, you know.”
“Don’t worry about it. I really do have a plan for that.”
“Why would I worry? You’ve thought everything else through so well.”
“We’re almost there,” Gene announced.
I gave Barnard a salute and began covering myself up. I pulled the tarp over the lower part of my body and then put everything else on top of me; oil cans, soda bottles, and finally, the spare tire. Once I was sure I was sufficiently camouflaged, I covered my head.
“Here we go,” Gene said, slowing down.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as slowly as I could. My heart was racing a mile a minute, but I did my best to ignore it and concentrate on not moving a muscle. The car stopped, and I heard the window roll down.
“What do you want?” a voice said.
There was no response. Then, I heard the same voice again. “You know where to go?”
“Yes,” Gene replied.
The window rolled up, and we were moving again.
“Okay, we’re through,” Gene said.
I popped out my head and started taking things off me. I squeezed myself around so I faced the tailgate. “Tell me when you’re about to turn.”
“It’s coming up. Get ready.”
“Trip,” Barnard said, “What if Armstrong and I don’t come back? Then what?”
I hadn’t considered that possibility. “You’ll be back,” I said, confidently.
“I’m turning now,” Gene said.
The second I felt the car veer, I held the door open and looked down. Even though it didn’t feel like we were going that fast, the ground below me said otherwise. I sensed the car coming out of the turn and knew it was now or never. I took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and then threw myself out. I hit the ground hard. I rolled, and rolled, and rolled. It felt like I rolled a hundred times before finally coming to a stop. Once I did, I looked up and saw the taillights of the station wagon speeding away.
I’m not going to lie, it hurt. But whatever pain I was in was numbed by the knowledge that I had only a limited amount of time to do what I had to do.
I jumped up and bolted for cover in the old church. The building had no doors left, so I tucked myself inside the first opening I came to. I peeked out and made sure I hadn’t been caught coming out of the car.
There was a partial moon, so seeing wasn’t an issue. I considered this to be both good and bad. Yes, I could see, but that also meant I could easily be seen. I concluded that was something I couldn’t do anything about and put it out of my mind. I took another look in all directions, and then ran as fast as my legs could move toward the hospital. It was only a few yards away, but it felt like a few miles. Once I reached it, I stopped and collected myself. I knew my next move had to be decisive, anything less and it was craps. I reached in my back pocket, took out my secret weapon, and then swung open the door like I belonged there.
I stepped into complete darkness. I fumbled around the wall until I found the light switch. Half of the overhead fluorescence came to life, but it only shed light on what I had already feared, the room was empty. I quickly moved toward the back where Michelle had been held. The door was open, and the room was empty. The room beside it was the same. I returned to the front of the hospital and turned off the switch. I had no idea what to do next.
Colonel Pennington’s trailer was the only other building I had been in, and although I knew it was unlikely Clegg had been put there, I had no better ideas. I decided that would be the next place I’d look.
I opened the door and made sure it was still clear. I stepped out and started across the road. I was three steps in when I could have sworn that I heard music. I stopped and listened. It was music, and it was coming from behind me, a few yards to my left. It was coming from the jail.
The music got louder the closer I got. I could also tell the music was emanating from a small transistor radio—a sound I knew all too well.
I stepped up onto a small landing and noticed light spilling out from under the door. Again, I took a deep breath, went to my back pocket for my secret weapon, and then flung open the door.
“What the hell?” the kid exclaimed, going for his pistol as he leaped from his chair.
“Holster that sidearm, soldier,” I commanded. “I’m here for the prisoner.”
“Who are you?”
I flashed the wallet Clegg had given me with my military I.D. “Lieutenant Callaway,” I answered. “I said, holster that sidearm.”
The soldier paused and then raised the gun. “You were with him today.”
“Of course, I was,” I said, making sure my irritation didn’t wane. “Who do you think got him here? Now put that gun down, we work for the same people.”
“And who would that be?” the soldier asked, still pointing the gun.
“Listen you, halfwit. If you make me walk all the way back to the factory and get Johnny to come over here, neither he nor I are going to be too thrilled about it. Is that what you want? Do you want me to go get Johnny?”
It was a huge roll of the dice, and I held my breath as I stared defiantly into the kid’s eyes. Finally, and happily, he lowered his pistol.
“I thought the plan was not to move him until morning.”
“Plans change. Now open the cell.”
Clegg was sitting on a small cot behind bars that looked as if th
ey could have been forged in the previous century. He stood up and stared at me. His wrists were cuffed behind his back.
The young soldier grabbed keys hanging on the wall, went to the cell door, and unlocked it.
“Undo those,” I ordered, nodding to the cuffs.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Johnny’s orders.”
The kid looked at me.
I smiled. “Don’t worry. I can handle this pansy.”
As the boy unlocked the cuffs, Clegg gave me a raised eyebrow.
“Come on, dumb-dumb,” I said to Clegg, taking him by the arm.
“What’s the new plan?” the kid asked.
“This,” Clegg answered.
It was one punch. The kid fell backward and crumbled onto the floor.
“Pansy? Dumb-dumb?” Clegg said, rubbing his fist.
“You know, I was selling it,” I replied.
“Yes, you were,” he said, going over and taking the soldier’s gun. “Help me get him into the cell.”
I grabbed his legs, Clegg the shoulders.
“Was the radio your idea?” I grunted, pulling the man into the cell
“I talked him into playing some music. I figured music would be just the dog whistle you needed.” Clegg shut the cell door and made sure it was locked. “How did you know about Johnny Wu?”
“Clegg, haven’t you learned by now I know everything?”
He smiled. “Okay, Einstein, now what?”
“We need to get to the church. That’s where Barnard and my friend Gene are picking us up.”
“Detective Barnard’s here?”
“Yeah, with my friend Gene. That’s how I got in. They’re currently buying heroin over at the factory.”
“Nice,” Clegg replied. “Where’s Carson and Stevens?”
I shook my head.
Clegg nodded. “Got it. Okay, Lieutenant Callaway, lead the way.”
I stuck my head out of the door, looked in both directions, and then bolted for the church. Clegg stayed two steps behind me. We entered the same door-less opening I had used after coming out of the car. Once inside, I checked one more time to see if we’d been seen. We hadn’t. Now all we had to do was wait for Detective Barnard and Gene to pick us up.
Ten minutes went by and still no Gene and Barnard. After fifteen minutes, Clegg spoke what we were both thinking.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Maybe just a few minutes longer?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, we can’t wait. Here’s what we’re going to do. This road is the only way out of here. We’ll head toward the factory. If we see them coming, we’ll flag them down. Come on, follow me.”
I didn’t particularly like Clegg’s idea, but I had nothing better.
We came out of the church and started making our way to the other end of town. Clegg would sporadically duck into a dilapidated building, check up and down the road, and then keep going. My senses were turned up to ten, so I perceived every shadow, every sound, every tumbleweed, as a threat.
The final structure we came to had the word POST OFFICE painted above its door. It was basically a rotted-out shed, and we took cover behind its last remaining wall. We each chose a corner, peeked around it, and surveyed the factory a few yards away.
There aren’t many things more ominous than an abandon old factory. Even though my brain told me the goliath before me was nothing but a brilliantly arranged heap of concrete and steel, the rest of me was convinced it was a sleeping monster ready to awake and reek holy havoc on anyone who dared approach it. I looked at Clegg to see if he felt the same way. Of course, the man was as calm as ever.
“Any ideas?” I asked, just above a whisper.
“Those buildings at the end of the conveyer belt look like they could be the furnace rooms. Those buildings over there look like they’re offices. I’m going to say that building over there on the end is a warehouse, and the one they went into.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Why? And how do you so much about magnesium factories?”
“I don’t,” he answered, pointing down at the dirt road. “But I do know fresh tire tracks when I see them. Come on, let’s go.”
Before I could say anything, he was off. By the time I caught up to him, he was already at a door and turning its handle.
Once upon a time, it was made of steel, but now the ancient door mostly consisted of rust. When Clegg pulled on it, the hinges screeched like they hadn’t been rotated in years. I was positive the horrendous shrieking was echoing through the entire factory, and I grit my teeth to make it stop. It didn’t. Once the door was far enough ajar for us to slip through, Clegg entered first.
The light inside was sparse, but there was enough for me to see that we were surrounded by wooden crates. I noticed straw sprouting out the top of one of the them, so lifted the lid, stuck my hand in, and pulled out an object. It was smooth, white, and identical to the statues I saw in Charlie Wu’s house—identical to the one used to club him over the head.
I showed Clegg the statue, and he nodded.
“That way,” he mouthed, pointing toward a passage between a row of crates to our right.
It wasn’t until I started down the dark corridor that I realized Clegg wasn’t behind me. He’d gone down another passage on the left.
I looked up and all around me, and then continued on. I went deeper and deeper into the maze, squeezing past scores of wooden crates and stacks of empty pallets. I was moving at a good clip when something inside my gut brought me to a complete stop. I looked around and listened. I saw nothing, and I heard nothing, but I knew without a doubt there was someone else in the building other than just me and Clegg.
I got my bearings and then proceeded past another row of crates. After a few yards, I spotted a garage door up ahead of me. I started for the door when I saw Gene’s white station wagon parked under a large hook attached to a thick chain. I also noticed the car’s interior light was still on. The closer I got revealed why. The passenger side door was open. I was about to go back for Clegg when I heard something metallic click behind me.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Callaway.”
I froze.
“Hands up,” the voice commanded, pushing a gun barrel into my back.
I did as I was told and lifted my arms.
I was nudged forward, weaving in, out, and around more stuff, until I arrived at an open area where the light became brighter. At first, I saw no one, and then Clegg entered from the opposite side. His hands were in the air too. The affable Dr. Lassiter, no longer wearing spectacles, was holding a gun to the back of Clegg’s head.
“Guess we’re in the right place,” Clegg quipped.
Seconds later, Detective Barnard came out from behind a forklift. Two armed soldiers walked behind him. A gash was over the detective’s right eye, and blood was running down the side of his face. One of the soldiers pushed Barnard, causing him to fall hard onto the floor.
“You okay, Sam?” I asked.
Barnard leered back at the man who shoved him, and then up at me. “I’m fine. Just a bump.”
“Put down your arms,” the voice behind me ordered.
I dropped my arms, and the man came around in front. It was the well-tailored Major Reeves.
“I got him,” Reeves yelled out.
A dozen men in army fatigues suddenly appeared from all corners of the building. Like trained puppies, they congregated in a straight line. Finally, after everyone was in place, Johnny Wu strolled out of the darkness. Gene Armstrong was at his side. There was no gun being held on Gene.
“Well done, men,” Johnny said, taking the gun from Doctor Lassiter.
Gene refused to look at me, much less say anything to me.
I put all the words I had for him into one icy stare.
“Can I lower my arms now, Doctor?” Clegg asked.
“Carefully,” Lassiter answered.
“
I’m a partner now, right Johnny?” Gene begged. “I lived up to my part of bargain, so I’m in, right? A full and equal partner.”
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a cop, Gene,” Johnny replied.
Gene rubbed his hands together. He looked like a man about to come out of his skin. “I didn’t know. Honest, Johnny, I didn’t know. But I did everything else you told me to do. I played it cool, man. I pretended I didn’t want to come out here. I even tried to talk him out of coming. You should have seen me, I was super cool, man. I even talked about Harold, just like you told me to do.”
“But you brought a cop,” Johnny repeated.
“What was I supposed to do?” Gene yelled. “I had no choice. Otherwise Callaway wouldn’t have come.”
“When did you sell me out, Gene?” I asked.
Gene glanced at me but didn’t answer.
Johnny looked at us both and then smiled. “Mr. Armstrong called me this morning. He thought I should know that an old friend of his was asking about heroin in Las Vegas. Imagine my surprise when I learned who that old friend was. Then, when Robert—sorry, Major Reeves called and told me two men were in the town, and one was named Lieutenant Callaway…well…you can fill in the rest.”
Clegg said, “You figured Trip would ask his old friend Gene to help him come back in here to rescue me.”
Johnny snapped his fingers. “And I was right.”
“Always working an angle, aren’t you, Gene? Still looking to make a fast buck.” I said, with as much contempt as I could muster.
“I’m in. Right, Johnny?” Gene asked, again.
Johnny looked at Gene and nodded. “Of course, you are, Gene. You did good. You did real good. Thanks for calling me.”
Gene smiled.
Johnny smiled back, and then raised the gun to Gene’s head, and pulled the trigger.
The sound reverberated throughout the warehouse. I jerked backward, as Gene collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his temple.
None of the men in line so much as blinked. One of the men behind Barnard rushed over to retrieve Gene’s body.