by Joe Nobody
“Is Terri in the courthouse?” came the icy question.
Diana understood at once. “No… no… she went to Meraton with Nick and the men.” He relaxed instantly. She started to update him on the rescue of the neighboring town when movement drew the pair’s attention.
A man suddenly appeared on the courthouse steps holding a large frame revolver and tugging one of the town’s volunteers by the hair. The stranger forced his hostage a few steps outside and then yelled, “Who is in charge here?”
Glancing at Bishop, Diana shrugged her shoulders and started to rise, but Bishop’s hand pressed down on her shoulder. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
The kidnapper was clearly impatient, quickly adding, “Come on out, now. I know it’s a woman running this show. Come on out, or I’ll kill a few of my guests to show you we are serious.”
“I’ll go with you,” Bishop said and stood up.
The two citizens of Alpha paced slowly down the street, Bishop being extra careful to keep his rifle pointed down, an indirect threat.
“That’s close enough,” sounded when the pair was within easy range of conversation. “I’ll make this plain as day,” the man began. “I’ve got 15 men with me, and we need food, guns, ammo, or anything else of value you’ve got laying around. Fill up that truck, and we’ll be on our way. Fuck around, and people will die.”
Diana didn’t hesitate, “There’s not enough food or fuel in all of Alpha to fill your truck. We’re on the edge of starvation ourselves.”
“Bullshit! I’ve had two of my cousins scouting this town for days, lady. We know y’all are eating like kings around here. Fill up the fucking truck, or I’ll start littering this pretty front lawn with the bodies of your friends and neighbors.”
“Let the people inside go, and I’ll take their place,” Diana offered.
A sneering laugh was the response. “Lady, I may not be wearing my Sunday best, but don’t underestimate my intellect. Stop trying to buy time, and start filling that truck. We know you’ve got beef, flour, bags of rice, and pine nuts. My men saw them. Guns and ammunition work, too. Anything else, you need to clear it through me.”
The man started walking backward toward the courthouse’s double door entrance, dragging his panic-stricken, sobbing captive with him. After a few steps, he paused and made deliberate eye contact with Bishop. “I know what you’re thinking, Bubba. I know you’re some badass swinging dick around here. I’ve got one word for you – ‘Don’t.’ Don’t try any heroic shit, or people will die. This ain’t our first rodeo… we lost all reservation over killing months ago.”
A few moments later, the man disappeared inside the limestone building.
Bishop pulled Diana out of the direct view of the courthouse, moving around the corner of a nearby building. Addressing the clearly frustrated woman, he shook his head and said, “I don’t think he voted for you,” and then added, “This isn’t good. Not good at all.”
Diana nodded, “No kidding. Any ideas? My week-long, on-the-job, volunteer mayor training didn’t exactly prepare me for negotiation and rescue,” contempt dripping from her words.
Bishop didn’t look at her, instead maintaining his gaze fixed toward the street. “They couldn’t have picked a better place to hole up. That structure was built as a fallout shelter back during the Cold War. The walls are thick, the windows small, and there’s clear ground all around the place. If they position their men well, we can’t even get close to the courthouse without their seeing us coming.”
Diana paced around for a bit before responding, “It sounds like I’d better give orders to start gathering food.”
“Yes, I think that’s the safe thing to do. I can talk to Deke. Those contractors are the best-trained people around. Maybe one of them will have an idea.”
Bishop started to turn, but Diana clutched his shoulder. “If we give those thieves that much food, there won’t be enough left for the town. Even if we clear out our reserve, I don’t know if we can fill that truck.”
“I know,” Bishop replied. “Buy me some time. Play along as if we’re giving in. I think we need to get some professional advice here.”
Diana set off, issuing instructions and consoling family members of the people being held hostage. Much of the food available wasn’t easily transferred from its storage location to the courthouse. There were four sides of beef at the taxidermy-turned-butcher, several bags of harvested wild greens and some boxes of canned goods being prepared for distribution. One by one, volunteers began carrying loads of foodstuffs, and at Diana’s request, left them lying on the ground in close proximity to the truck.
Bishop made for the hotel where the Darkwater contractors were staying. As he zipped up in a borrowed golf cart, he found most of the operators standing outside, curious at what all of the commotion was about.
Bishop quickly explained the situation.
Deke whistled, “This really is the wild, wild West.”
“No shit,” Bishop added, “Any brilliant ideas?”
Deke shook his head, “Hostage rescue is a tricky business, slick. Takes special training and equipment. I know a little bit about the methods, but for sure, we don’t have the equipment. Snake cameras, radios, or cell phones for the negotiator to talk to the crazies - we don’t have any of that stuff.”
The group continued to float a few ideas, but Bishop didn’t hear anything that had a good chance of working without getting a lot of innocents killed. He thanked the contractors and made for the cart when Deke offered, “We’ve got thermal imagers. They won’t show much through the limestone walls of that building, but they can see heat through glass most of the time. I don’t know if that’s any help.”
Bishop scratched his chin, an idea starting to formulate. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bishop located Diana two blocks down from the courthouse, the mayor directing several workers while trying to maintain control of the situation.
“Give me good news,” she said.
“I can’t just yet, but I’ve got an idea. I need some time.”
“Gathering up that much food is going to take a while. I’ve got a couple of the men looking for older guns no one uses anymore.”
Bishop noticed the sides of beef that were being stacked nearby. Each slab of meat was wrapped in thick cheesecloth. Looking back at Diana, he said, “Don’t load those until I get back.
Ignoring Diana’s questioning look, Bishop hustled off in the golf cart, heading back for the church. He had spied a pair of old stereo speakers in the maintenance shed and made a beeline directly for them. A small amount of work with a screwdriver resulted in successful retrieval of the speaker’s magnet.
The next leg of Bishop’s scavenger hunt involved his load gear. Bishop carried a flashlight designed with interchangeable settings, one of which was infrared. All the time cursing having only one useful arm, he retrieved some para-cord, and with great effort securely attached the magnet to the body of the flashlight. He replaced the batteries with fresh, recharged units and then tested his device on the metal porch railing.
The next stop was the church infirmary. During his visit to have his wound cleaned, Bishop had noticed a box of chemical heating pads sitting in the corner. Normally used for sore backs or aching muscles, the devices contained small bags of iron powder that when squeezed, combined with carbon and water, producing heat for several hours. He gathered up the box and headed back toward the courthouse.
Bishop recruited a passerby to help him carry the box to Diana. The deacon peered inside and flashed Bishop a puzzled look. “Are you worried the beef has a slipped disc?”
Bishop grinned, and replied, “No, but I do believe those heating pads will show up on a thermal weapon’s site. They should shine like beacons in the night.”
“I used thermal guidance systems in the Navy,” she replied, “I didn’t know we had anything like that in Alpha.”
“The Darkwater guys have them. I also want to hedge our bet,�
�� Bishop said, holding out the flashlight. “This torch shines an infrared strobe. We need to stick its magnet on the truck some place where it won’t be noticed. The beam should be pointed skyward.”
Deacon Brown looked Bishop in the eye and nodded. “I see what your plan is. You intend to let them out of town with the food and then hunt them down after we have all of our people back. Very good.”
Bishop looked down, disappointment crossing his face. “I just hope Nick and Terri are back soon. I can’t help you chase these assholes down, but at least we should be able to find them. Maybe the Darkwater guys will help with the dirty work.”
Diana put her hand on Bishop’s good shoulder and reassured her friend. “You’ve given us a chance, Bishop. Not only will we need this food back, but we can’t have rogue hostage takers roaming the streets.”
Deacon Brown maintained eye contact with Bishop until he acknowledged her words with a nod. She then immediately turned to her workforce and began issuing instructions regarding the heating pads. A few minutes later, all of the chemical devices were hidden inside bags of food, closely intertwined with the cheesecloth wrappings, where their presence was inconspicuous.
Movement from the front of the courthouse drew everyone’s attention as the same man appeared, this time with a different female hostage as a shield. “Listen up! I’ve been watching you gather the loot, now it’s time to start loading the truck. We’ve no doubt worn out our welcome by now.”
Diana stepped forward and announced, “I’m not putting one calorie on that truck until we talk about how the exchange is going to go down. I want my people back.”
“First, you’re going to assign a couple of strapping, young men to pack those sides of beef for us. After that, I’m going to send one hostage out of the building at a time. Each one is going to load his or her share of that food onto our truck. As the loading is completed, I will give permission for that person to return to you. We are going to keep two hostages with us. That way, you won’t get a wild hair up your ass and try to ambush us on the way out of town. I’ll drop off the last of my charge five miles outside of the city limits. You can pick them up at your leisure.”
Diana thought about the terms for a moment before responding. “Agreed. Let’s get this over with.”
Realizing the obvious choices for loading the dump truck, Bishop quickly hustled one of the bulked men out of sight. He explained to the fellow where and how he wanted the flashlight mounted. Bishop turned on the device, setting it to strobe an infrared beam. He handed it over, wishing the deliveryman the best of luck.
The man carrying Bishop’s flashlight made sure he was one of the crew that hopped up into the bed of the truck. As the second side of beef was hefted up, he and another man dragged the heavy load toward the front near the cab. Bishop was watching closely as the two men played it perfectly. The beef seemed to slip from one guy’s hand and land on his partner’s leg. Shouting out, the injured fellow reached for the edge of the dump-bed and stuck the flashlight between the cab and the front of the steel box. He even managed to stick it pointing perfectly skyward. Mission accomplished!
The rest of the hostage exchange went smoothly, but Bishop didn’t hang around to witness the proceedings. Speeding off again in the cart, he traveled the side streets of Alpha until he found the address of one Mr. Hugh Mills.
In performing her municipal duties, Terri interviewed quite an interesting assortment of folks, in the hope of assimilating refugees and residents alike into the public works program. One of the most interesting of Alpha’s citizens, Mr. Mills was quite the charmer, in his late 50s, and a widower. He explained to Terri that back in his old Air Force days, he used to fly C-130s all over NATO.
“I hope that husband of yours knows what a lucky guy he is to be hitched to a stunner like you, Ms. Terri,” the old gentleman had told her. “I sure do miss my Janet,” he continued. “You know you just assume that the ones you love will always be here.” Recently retired, he had flown a few small commercial stints, avoiding full-time employment so that he and his soul mate could cruise or jet away to exotic locales. But that changed when Janet was killed by a drunk driver. Bishop found the man working in his garden and introduced himself.
Bishop announced himself as “Mr. Terri” and explained his strategy to the pilot, relieved when the man’s eyes brightened. “Bishop, I’d be glad to pay back the people of Alpha for all they’ve done for me. Besides, I could use a little adventure. I should probably tell you though, I have not flown at all since my wife’s death last year. My heart just wasn’t in it. But without any other traffic around, I should be able to get my bearings pretty quickly. The other issue is that I don’t know what condition my plane is in. I figured it was pointless to walk out to the airport since I didn’t have enough gasoline to get her in the air anyway.”
Bishop invited Mr. Mills to take a ride with him out to the hangar, and his new acquaintance happily agreed to go. The two men hopped into a golf cart and proceeded to the north side of Alpha.
Arriving at the airport reminded Bishop of the gunfight that had occurred on the premises just a few, short months ago. Alpha had been ruled by thugs at the time and he had invaded their turf to scavenge medical equipment to save his old boss. It had been a desperate fight while one of his party had found and readied a plane.
Steering onto the main tarmac, Bishop noted his getaway dune buggy remained right where he’d left it. The engine had suffered too much bullet damage and sputtered to a violent end. Bishop hurried by the converted HUMMER, swiping the dust from the hand-painted logo on the hood as he passed. Ignoring the broken glass and rusting bullet holes, he whispered, “You deserved better,” under his breath.
The remainder of the airport looked untouched. Hugh wasted no time hopping out of the cart and hustling into the massive storage shed where several aircraft were accommodated.
Before Bishop could follow him, Mr. Mills exited the facility, shaking his head. “It’s here and appears undisturbed. All that we need is some gasoline.”
“I can handle that,” Bishop boasted. “I’ve got connections with the city council.”
The two men sped back to Alpha where Bishop exchanged the golf cart for his pickup truck. His first stop was to find Diana.
“You want to requisition gasoline for what?” Diana asked.
“I want to get one of the airplanes functional and use it to find the devices we hid on that truck. I think we can find our crooks a lot faster from the air.”
“At night?”
“Yup. The contractors have infrared for heat detection, and I have night vision. The welcoming committee had a pilot listed – that’s Mr. Mills standing over there. In the long run I think we’ll use less fuel tracking the extortionists from the air than searching the entire desert in trucks.”
“Okay, Bishop. I sure hope this works. I’ll send men to the church and have them take the spare cans from the maintenance shed. We’ll bring them to the airport.”
Bishop spread his hands, “I would put the odds at 50/50 that we’ll find the thieves. But something you said the other day made me think that having a functional airplane or two wouldn’t be a bad idea anyway.”
“Something I said?”
“When you compared our little shindig here to Alaska, it made me think. They use small aircraft a lot there because of the terrain’s inaccessibility and the often-impassable roads. If we develop airborne capabilities, it could solve all kinds of issues. Medical emergencies, resupply, and security – the possibilities are practically endless.”
Diana pondered Bishop’s idea and nodded. “I see what you mean. I bet Nick will love it. Okay, Bishop, you’d better get going. Good luck.”
Bishop’s next stop was the hotel where the contractors were housed. Deke gathered his gear, throwing his rifle, pack and other equipment in the bed of Bishop’s truck.
A short time later, Bishop and Deke stood, watching Mr. Mills while he made ready in the cockpit. Smiling, the pilot nodded at
Bishop and yelled, “Everything appears to be in good shape. If you can give me a jump, I think she’ll start right up.”
The engine sputtered and paused for a few rotations and then roared to life. Hugh studied the gauges and controls for a bit before giving his spectators the thumbs-up sign through the window. Bishop yelled over the engine noise, “Deke, let’s roll.”
The sun was just dropping behind the Davis Mountains to the west as Bishop and Deke squeezed in the tiny cockpit. Bishop spread a small map across his lap and pointed out his flight plan for the two men. “The way I figure it, that truck can only travel at 50 mph or so. They have a 45-minute head start, so that means they have to be within 50 miles of Alpha by the time we get airborne. We know they headed north out of town, so our search area can’t be that big.”
“I’m assuming you don’t want them to know we’re flying around?”
“That’s right. As far as we know, no one has tried anything like this. Deke’s got a thermal monocle, and I have a light amplifying device. We have no idea of their effective range, but it’s probably 5,000 feet or less.”
Hugh thought for a bit and then smiled at his passengers. “My instructor flew scout plans very similar to this one in Vietnam. He taught me a technique for fun, and I never thought I would use it. But I think it is a strategy that could apply here. Basically, I’m going to climb to 6,000 feet above the ground and then coast down to 3,000. We won’t make any engine noise that can be heard on the ground that way.”
Deke’s eyes widened at the pilot’s statement, the contractor muttering, “Coast?”
Mr. Mills chuckled and responded with a simple, “Trust me.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Hugh rolled the airplane across the tarmac and positioned the small craft directly in the center of the runway. The wind was dead calm, so the direction for takeoff wasn’t an issue. “Here we go,” the pilot announced as he increased the throttle. In a matter of moments, the three were looking back at the hangar from a lofty elevation.