by Alan Black
Carl said, “Here he comes. Open the passenger door.”
Harpo dropped down from the loft, swarmed over the back of the truck and into the passenger side of the front seat. Harpo settled in to listen to the music.
Rooster moved his rifle from the seat next to him and put it between his leg and the door. He was careful not to bump the scope. He shook his head. “I know that Harpo has learned to use these things, but I would just as soon he not play with my dad’s old 30-06 until I know how well he can aim, you know what I mean?”
Carl nodded. There were two old tarps in the back of the truck. He grabbed one and edged up to Harpo. He held up the tarp, showing the ape both sides. He wrapped himself in the tarp and hunched down on the floor, hoping Harpo would take the hint.
Rooster asked, “You think he will get the plan?”
“He should. Most orangutans are great tool users. There are documented cases of them fashioning clothes from twigs and leaves to imitate the humans around them. It is a different question whether Harpo cares enough to try it.”
Harpo grabbed the tarp and sniffed it. He wadded it up into a ball and held it on his lap, but did not wrap it around him.
Carl grabbed the other tarp and wrapped himself in it. He hunched down in front of Harpo. He tried to show the ape what to do.
Harpo did not do anything except listen to the music.
Carl eased the door shut. He jumped into the back of the truck. He curled into a ball and pulled the tarp over himself. He left his face and an arm free. He tapped the back window.
Harpo looked at Carl. He hooted in laughter. He hunched down and covered himself with the tarp.
Without waiting for any command, Rooster put the truck in gear.
Carl lay in the back of the truck. He felt every bump in the rutted dirt driveway. He kept his eyes on the back window, but from his angle, he could not see Harpo. As he watched the trees he could tell when they reached the end of the drive and turned left. He had assumed that Rooster would drive the other way, but his cousin was planning to drive past the gangsters.
Carl saw Rooster’s arm pop out of the driver’s window. His cousin had just waved at the gangsters on the way past. Carl gritted his teeth hoping Harpo did not see. The orangutan had become almost addicted to waving, but as far as he could tell, Harpo remained hidden.
Then, just as they passed the white pick up truck, a long, orange hair covered arm stuck out the split back window of the truck. Harpo saluted the gangsters with an upraised single digit middle finger.
Rooster shouted, “That tears it.” He pushed the truck’s accelerator to the floor.
Carl slid in the bed of the truck, coming to a stop against the back gate. He wormed his way back up near the cab of the truck, only to slide halfway back as the truck bounced through a pothole. Carl was thankful the truck bed was rust-free, or worse, overlaid with wood planks.
“Hold on, Red. Quick corner coming up.”
Carl flailed about trying to find something to hold. He slid to the right and came to stop against the wheel well as Rooster took a left turn. He could hear Harpo hooting in laughter. He was not sure if Harpo was laughing at him, at the speed of the truck or just at the music.
The truck started to climb up a hill. The speed threw enough dust in the air from the dry road that an army smoke screener would be jealous. It made it easier for the gangsters to follow. The uphill angle was enough that Carl could see the white truck turning the corner to follow them. Even through the dust, he could see the passenger was on a cell phone. To his amazement, the gangster’s truck slowed. It came to a halt, just as Rooster crested the hill and Carl went airborn.
Carl came down with an “Umph.” He retained enough air in his lungs to shout at Rooster. “Their truck stalled out at the bottom of the hill.”
Rooster did not slow down. He shouted through the open window. “Good. They didn’t go as far as I hoped, but at least they are far enough from the house that they shouldn’t back track to cause Daisy May and the kids any trouble before I can get back home.”
“How much farther are you driving?” Carl said. His voice rising to a shout.
“Just over the next rise.” Rooster shouted back. “Then I bale out and you take off.”
Carl said. “Ok by me. Those gangsters back there got a cell phone call out. Our ruse didn’t work. The rest of their gang is going to be looking out for us in this truck.”
The truck slid to a stop. Rooster shut the truck off, climbed out with his rifle and tossed the keys to Carl. He waved Carl to follow him and he walked a few feet back up the road and stopped.
Carl followed. He stopped next to Rooster. When he looked back the way they had come, he could see the road behind them, but he was sure the truck was out of sight.
Rooster said, “Give me my phone and keep an eye on the road.” He punched in a few numbers and began speaking.
Carl snuck a peek back at the blue truck. Harpo was still sitting, listening to the radio. Carl turned back to watch the road behind them, but there was no sign of the white pick up.
*
THE TWO GANGSTERS watched the blue pickup coming down the driveway of the farm. Marks and the ape had been at the farm for less than an hour. They looked at each other.
The driver said, “Mbotu should be here by now. We are to be sure we bottle up Marks and the ape until he gets here. Is that Marks’ driving?
The passenger shook his head. “I do not know. It could be. This one is wearing a different colored shirt, so maybe not. Mbotu will be angry if we let Marks get away.”
The driver said, “Yes, but he will be furious if we start shooting before he get’s here. He is set on getting revenge for Seku.”
The driver reached under his leg and pulled out a semi-automatic handgun. He flipped the safety off. “It is Marks?”
“I do not know. I do not know.” The passenger wailed in complaint, as he pulled the charging handle on the small Mac-10. “No. It is not Marks. Do not shoot. This man is alone and he has a mustache. Marks does not have a mustache.”
The blue pick up rolled past them. The mustached driver smiled at them and gave them a friendly wave on the way past.
The driver cursed in his native language. He raised his middle finger at the passing truck. A long orange haired hand stuck out the back window of the truck and returned the middle finger honor.
“No. No. No,” the driver said. “It is them. They are hiding in the truck.”
“After them, quickly. Do not let them get away,” the passenger said through clenched teeth. “What is wrong? No, you are flooding the engine!”
“I am not. I do not know what is wrong,” the driver said. “It is losing power.”
The white pickup started. The driver got it turned around, but it was sputtering as they raced after Marks and the ape.
**
CARL wondered what was taking Rooster so long on the phone, but as there was no sign of the gangsters following them, he did not want to interrupt. The dust from their passage had settled down to wait for the next passing vehicle. Carl continued to watch.
Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a different dust cloud. Another vehicle was coming from the east. It was on an intersecting road. Carl was of two minds. He did not want innocent people to drive past the gangster’s pickup. There was no way to tell how foul their mood would be since their truck stalled. Also, he did not want any prying eyes to drive past them and catch sight of a great orange ape listening to hip hop music in the front seat of an old blue pick up.
Carl chuckled at the thought. It was all too much through-the-looking-glass to be believable. He would not believe it if he saw it.
Carl was startled to see the other vehicle was a state police cruiser. It came to a T intersection with their road. He nudged Rooster with an elbow and pointed at the cruiser.
Rooster nodded.
The cruiser turned the other way. Instead of cresting the hill that hid the gangsters, it slowed to a stop. Two state police offi
cers got out of the vehicle. Both held long guns. From this distance, Carl could not see whether they were carrying rifles or shotguns.
The two officers approached the top of the hill and appeared to be looking over the rise in the same manner Carl and Rooster watched from their vantage point over this rise.
Rooster grabbed Carl by the back of the shirt and pulled him back out of sight. They stopped at the back of the truck.
“Who was on the phone?” Carl asked.
Rooster said, “I made two calls. I talked to Cloyd. He said he has his police scanner on and the police already have a description of my pickup with a driver, presumed to be you, and a red headed ape sittin’ in the front passenger seat.”
“The police? How could they know already?”
Rooster said, “My guess is that they have tapped the cell phone of those two yahoo’s back in the white truck. Those gangsters called their boss, who is on his way out here to kill you, Harpo and everyone else that gets in their way. My second call was to Daisy May to get the kids into the root cellar and hunker down until I get home.”
“You have got to take your truck and get back home.” Carl tried to push the keys back into Rooster’s hands.
Rooster shook his head. “No. Those yahoos gave their boss their new location. We are almost a mile and a half from the house, so their boss will try to meet up with his two guys here. Besides, those troopers would not let me drive past now, no matter what the reason. They are putting a circle around those two, setting a snare for their head honcho. He should be walking into a trap that will make what they did to Dillinger look like a Sunday school picnic.”
“Are you sure? Because I will give myself and Harpo up to the police right now rather than see Daisy May and the kids get hurt.”
“I know that, you knucklehead. Don’t you worry. Daisy May and Spud will have everything wrapped up tight. Besides, these city morons or the police wouldn’t be able to find the root cellar even if they knew that was what they were looking for.”
“How are you getting home? Still going cross country?”
“Home? All I have to do is jump that little fence right there and I am back on Marks property.”
Carl looked startled. “Really, I thought this was the Miller’s place from that first ridge up to the next cross roads.”
“Used to be. Ray and Donna retired to Sun City, Arizona a few years ago. Got a good deal from them. You really need to get up here more often.” Rooster shook his head. “Anyway, Cloyd says the plan is still a go. He will meet you in Hanceville as soon as you can get there. He says that even though the police are on the lookout for you, he has a little diversion plan that might help.”
“You get for home, Rooster. And thanks. I owe you.”
“All you owe me is a ten-year-old, beat-up truck, and that is, if you don’t bring it back. Otherwise, just promise me you will drop by for dinner, soon.”
“You got it,” Carl hugged his cousin. “Please, you head for home now and go take care of your family.”
Rooster grinned, “Naw. I think I’m gonna cut around to the top of the ridge and take a look see. This is more exciting that re-runs of NCIS. You git now.”
Carl watched his cousin. Rooster reached through the barbed wire fence and set his rifle on the ground with care. He vaulted the wire, picked up the rifle and sprinted across the grassy field. He disappeared into the trees and did not look back.
Carl slid into the front seat of the truck.
Harpo looked across at him and grinned. Rooster must have lowered the window. The ape was sitting with his right arm hanging out the window. He had found a greasy old baseball cap on the floor of the truck and plopped it loosely on his head.
Carl eased the truck into gear and headed for Hanceville. He wondered what kind of diversion Smithson could pull that would help him cut across the Alabama countryside, sight unseen.
TWELVE
JACK KEEGAN glanced at Natalia as she shouted “Ha!” The state police cruiser’s speedometer was pushing 110 miles an hour, so he could only spare a glance. Even that was dangerous, as the more he looked at the woman the more he wanted to look at her.
Steve shouted from the back seat, “Ha! What?”
Natalia did not respond to Steve. She did notice Jack’s glance and grinned at him. “I am listening to the State Police radio tac-two frequency. William’s task force has intercepted a call saying Marks and Harpo have left the farm in a blue and white pickup.”
Jack asked, “What call? Did they say where the info came from?”
Natalia said, “No, but from the way they phrased it, I think it must be from their intercept of the cell phones on the RCS.”
“RCS?” Jack asked.
“Rwandan Crime Syndicate,” Natalia said with a laugh.
Her throaty laugh reminded Jack of an old June Allison movie. He liked it. June Allison spoke in a throaty raspy voice that was the sexiest voice Jack had ever heard. It crushed him to learn Ms. Allison’s voice was the product of an operation rather than her own true sexiness.
Natalia continued, “That is what Williams is calling the African gang. The man obviously has no sense of style. I would have gone with the Ape Shooting Squad. ASS for short.”
Jack almost lost control of the car laughing.
Natalia put a hand on his shoulder. “Ease up on the throttle there, LT. Marks and Harpo have slipped the noose, so rushing there won’t help. Besides, I don’t want to get there in the middle of a shootout between your guys and the ASS. I am just a zoo employee assigned by my boss to help you coordinate your search, remember?”
Steve agreed from the back seat. He said, “I wouldn’t mind a little zoo payback from those guys. Both Teri and Bud are zoo family. They didn’t deserve what they got. But, I agree with Natalia, I am armed only with a little trank gun, unless you want to loan me something?”
Jack eased up on the accelerator, slowing the cruiser down to a modest sixty-five. He flipped the lights and siren off. “I think Natalia is right. We do not want to walk into that mess unless invited. I was caught in a crossfire once before in Afghanistan, when I was where I shouldn’t have been. It was not pleasant. So, we get back to our task at hand and let Williams handle his own ASS.”
Natalia asked, “Afghanistan?”
Jack said, “Yeah, um, maybe I can tell you about it over dinner sometime?”
Natalia said with a smile, “I was afraid I was going to have to ask you. What took you so long?”
Jack said, “Well, we have been busy so far.”
Steve leaned forward, poking his head between Jack and Natalia. He said, “Hey! I like Mexican food if we are going out.”
Natalia took her hand off Jack’s shoulder. She placed it on Steve’s face and shoved. She laughed, “As if. I’ve seen you eat. Gators have better manners.”
Jack laughed with her, “Mexican is good for me, too.”
Natalia smiled. She said, “Is that more sexual harassment or a comment on my cultural upbringing? Never mind, I like Mexican food, but it gives me gas. So, let’s save that until you find out you can’t live without me. By then a little gas on my part won’t be too bad.” She rifled through the papers scattered about her. “Besides, there is a report in here about a place that Dr. Marks frequents call Billy-Bob’s Backyard Barbeque and Booze Bistro. It sounds like a fun place to try.”
Jack nodded. He looked over at Natalia. He liked this woman more and more. “I am all for that, but we do still have to track down Marks and Harpo.”
Natalia looked away from Jack. “Kill or capture. Isn’t that what the orders say?”
Jack said, “I do have an obligation to follow orders. I am sorry. I don’t want anyone hurt, but we have judicial warrant at this point.”
Natalia did not say anything.
“Come on, Natalia. I can’t defy the State Attorney General, State Police Headquarters orders, and a State Supreme Court Judge all at the same time. Not if I want to stay in law enforcement beyond being a rent-a-cop.�
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Natalia said, “I am private security for the zoo, so I guess I am a rent-a-cop, remember?” She still did not look at him, keeping her face to the passing scenery.
Jack said, “That is not what I meant.” He glanced over his shoulder at Steve, “Hey, help me out here.”
Steve shook his head, “Sorry, Keegan. I am a rent-a-cop too. You dug this hole yourself. You figure a way out of it.”
Jack wanted to reach out and hug the woman he barely knew. Even at the snail’s pace of sixty-five miles an hour, that was not a good idea. “I am sorry. So our date is off?”
Natalia flipped her face back to Jack. “I am not using a date with me as a bribe to keep you from doing your job. The one thing has nothing to do with the other. What kind of woman do you think I am?”
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was not sure what to say.
Steve laughed from the back seat. “Stop digging. The hole you are in is getting deeper all the time.”
Natalia reached across and stroked Jack’s cheek with her fingertips. “We do what we are out here to do. Then we go to dinner. We will see where it all takes us, okay? So, what is next, LT?”
Jack realized that Natalia’s touch had caused him to ease up on the accelerator. He was down to fifty. Traffic was starting to back up, as other motorists were not willing to pass a state police car, at even this slow pace. He pulled off the road into the parking lot of a combination gas station and convenience store.
He said, “The GPS says that the next turn off is to Carbon Hill. We sit here until we get an all clear from Williams’s task force. Then we go visit the Marks’ family farm and see what information we can gather. Assuming we can find the place.”
Natalia looked surprised, “We just wait?”
“Well, not exactly wait and do nothing. How long ago did Marks take off in the blue pickup?”
“No more than fifteen minutes.”
Jack shook his head. He said, “Those back roads might slow him down, but he is sure to be up on pavement by now. Running at an average of sixty-five miles per hour gives us a circle with a diameter of about forty miles. That is expanding exponentially every minute. Do we have anything else on the truck? Whose truck is it and what is the license number?”