by Phil Swann
“That wall is at least six meters high. This fence is roughly three meters.”
“Ellie, my metric conversion isn’t—”
Ellie interrupted. “That wall is twenty feet high, this fence is ten. How tall are you?”
“About six-one.”
“Right. We’re going to have to lean it against the wall thereby losing another foot. Ben, even if you had a five-foot reach, which you don’t, and the strength of Spiderman, which I doubt, this fence would still be too short. It’s not going to work.”
Ben looked at the wall and then the fence. She was right. It wasn’t going to be tall enough to get them over the wall. “Any suggestions?”
Ellie looked around. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you—”
She was gone before he could finish but was back in less than twenty seconds. “What about over there?” Ellie asked, pointing down the wall in the opposite direction.
“Why over there?”
“It’s a guard tower. We won’t have to get all the way to the top just—”
“To the first opening,” Ben said, understanding her thinking.
“Right. Then we can walk up to the top of the turret and exit the window on the other side. It might even have an outer ladder or fire escape; many towers do.”
Ben looked at Ellie and squinted. “How many prisons have you busted out of?”
“I get around,” Ellie replied.
They picked up the fence and moved steadily toward the guard tower. Ben walked backward, looking over his shoulder to make sure he stayed heading in the right direction and wasn’t about to run into anything. The fence was heavy, and Ben was impressed Ellie didn’t utter a single word of complaint. Ben however…
“My hands are being ripped to pieces. We’re screwed if it’s still not tall enough. Could this thing be any—”
“Okay, we’re here,” Ellie said. “Put down your end and come over to my side. We’ll walk it upright and lean it against the tower.”
Ben did as Ellie said and they propped up the fence. Ellie was right again. It was more than tall enough to reach the tower’s first opening.
“I’ll go first,” Ellie said. “You steady it.”
Ellie was on the fence before Ben could respond. She looked like an experienced mountain climber as she gracefully crab-walked her way to the top of the fence, grabbed a two-inch pipe running up the side of the structure, and swung herself into the tower.
“Come on up,” she said, sticking her head out the window.
Ben mounted the fence and began slowly wobbling his way up. He was sure at any moment his foot was going to break through the rusted-out metal lattice and he’d go tumbling onto the hard ground below.
“Let’s go, hurry up,” Ellie said.
Ben didn’t respond, too focused on putting one hand and one foot in front of the other. Once he got to the top of the fence, he stopped.
“Now grab that piece of conduit and fling yourself into the window,” Ellie said.
It took three tries, but eventually Ben got hold of the pipe and pulled himself toward Ellie. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him the rest of the way in.
“Well done,” Ellie said, looking up into the tower. “These stairs look pretty knackered, we need to watch our step.”
Ben was too winded to reply. He just nodded.
The steel staircase jig-jagged upward to the top of the tower. Ellie was right again. Many of the steps were rusted out and barely attached to the structure. It wasn’t long before they reached the portal leading into the guard’s nest. Ellie popped through first and rushed to the railing. Ben came out and crawled away from the hole on his hands and knees before standing.
“We’re in luck,” Ellie said, looking over. “There’s a ladder leading to a landing about ten feet below. I believe there’s another ladder we can deploy the rest of the way.”
“Like a fire escape.”
“Like a fire escape,” Ellie replied, with not a hint of “I told you so.”
“Lead the way,” Ben said.
Ellie climbed over the railing and onto the iron ladder. She stopped briefly and tested the structural integrity of the first rung before descending all the way down onto the platform. She looked up to Ben. “The third and sixth rungs are questionable but otherwise good as gold.”
Ben climbed over and came down with no drama. “That was easy.”
Ellie started working on the latch holding the other ladder in place. “Bloody hell!”
“Not moving?”
“Not even a little.”
“Let me try,” Ben said. “Where’s the flashlight?”
Ellie took the flashlight from her back pocket and shined it on the corroded latch. “This thing hasn’t been deployed in eons.”
Ben tried to break the latch free by putting his foot on the ladder and forcing it down. It didn’t budge. “It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?”
Ellie shined the light onto the ground. “I guess we’re jumping.”
Ben looked over the bar. “That’s not exactly a step off the sidewalk.”
“About ten feet…doable,” Ellie replied, shining the light onto the ground below. “And it’s grass…and a hillside. That’ll disperse the energy as we tumble.”
“Tumble?”
“The secret is to not resist the fall. Let your legs crumble beneath you and just roll down the hill. Ben, listen to me, you can do this, but you have to land and roll. The last thing I need is for you to break an ankle.”
“Trust me, it’s the last thing I need too,” Ben responded, looking over the railing.
“Come on, you go first. Just sit down on the platform and ease yourself off. Drop, don’t push…and roll when you hit the ground. Understand?”
Ben nodded. “Got it. Drop. Don’t push.”
“And roll.”
“Roll. Got it.”
“And give me the gun,” Ellie said.
“Jesus Christ, I completely forgot I had it,” Ben said, taking the pistol from his waist and handing it to Ellie. “I could have blown my nuts off.”
Ellie stifled a laugh. “Ready?”
Ben sat down, letting his legs hang over the edge. “God, I wish I were drunk right now. Never had a problem falling down when I was drunk. Never got so much as a scratch, either. Where’s a bottle of Jack when you need one?”
“Go!”
Ben leaned over the edge and fell.
Ellie watched as Ben hit the ground and started to roll. It wasn’t elegant but appeared to be effective. “You okay?”
Ben stood up and checked himself. “Yeah, no big deal, nothing to it. Toss me the gun and come on down. Hit and roll, Ellie, that’s the secret. Just hit and roll.”
“Really? Is that the secret?” Ellie replied, tossing down the gun as well as the flashlight. “What a piece of work,” she muttered under her breath. “Stand clear.”
To Ben, Ellie’s fall not only looked banal but ballet-like. She landed softly, rolled three times in a tight tuck, and returned to her feet before reaching the bottom of the hill. She brushed herself off and stuck out her hand for the flashlight. “Okay, we’re out. Brilliant. Now let’s go get some help.”
Ben just looked at the woman. “So, you’re an archeologist?”
“Yes,” Ellie replied, wondering why Ben was asking.
“You’re freakin’ Indiana Jones.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Just give me the torch and let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ben and Ellie ran along the eastern side of the prison, Ellie keeping it to a slow jog at Ben’s request. Once they came around the wall and cleared the medieval castle façade, they could see the sign of the truck stop sitting high in the sky to the west.
“Is that it?” Ben asked, bending over and putting his hands on his knees.
“That’s it,” Ellie replied. “We go down this road until we cross railroad tracks. We turn right, then go straight to the duel car
riageway. It’s located just off the exit.”
Ben looked up. “Or…”
“Or what?”
“Give me the flashlight,” Ben said, holding out his hand.
Ellie handed Ben the light. He shined it onto a large grassy meadow flanking the west side of the prison in the direction of the sign. “We cut the corner across this field and through those trees out there.”
“Does it go all the way through?”
Ben shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know, but I think we should try. Not only will it save time but also be safer. If we stay on the main road, we’re going to be ducking for cover every time we see headlights.”
Ellie considered Ben’s suggestion and then nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Ben almost immediately started second-guessing his plan. The field was ruttier than it appeared in the dark, making running not just difficult but dangerous. But even so, less than fifteen minutes later, they were crouched in a wooded ravine behind the Pilot Travel Center looking up at an armada of parked eighteen-wheelers. He didn’t say it, but Ben was thrilled—if not a bit shocked—his idea had actually worked.
“You ready?” Ellie asked.
Ben pulled out his shirttail to cover the pistol at his waist and nodded.
They climbed out of the ravine, trotted onto the brightly lit parking lot, and then weaved their way through a maze of idling semis until they reached the entrance to the busy twenty-four hour store. They calmly walked through the immense sliding glass doors and did their best to blend in with the other weary, late night travelers.
The inside of the truck stop, or as Ellie referred to it, transport café, looked like a miniature shopping mall. There was a food court offering everything from sandwiches to three-course meals. An area for buying CB radios, cell phones, and all the necessary accessories that came with them. A small grocery store, a clothing store, an auto parts store, and two aisles dedicated to selling CDs, DVDs, and audio books. It was everything Ben could do to keep from shouting for help and announcing to everyone that he and Ellie had been kidnapped, but they’d decided earlier that acting like a couple of lunatics would probably do more harm than good. Besides, they were still only a few miles away from the prison and weren’t sure who they could trust. What if someone in the store was working for Buchanan? They’d stick to the plan.
Ben motioned for Ellie to follow him. They approached a young man stocking a shelf with motor oil. “Excuse me,” Ben said.
“Yes, can I help you, sir?”
“I sure hope so. My wife and I are in a real pickle,” Ben said, trying to sound as homespun as possible. “We left the house without either of our cell phones, and on top of that, I didn’t bring my wallet. Well, of course, you know I had to go and run out of go-go juice out there on Briley. I was wondering if you could possibly—”
“I can’t give you gas, sir. We’re not allowed.”
“No, I wouldn’t think to ask that,” Ben said over a chuckle. “I’m just wonderin’ if you’d let me use your telephone to call my brother to come out here and pick our useless butts up? I’m real embarrassed by all this, but I’d sure be most appreciative.”
The attendant thought for a second. “Sure, you can use the phone. Follow me.”
“Thank you, I’m much obliged. Lord, my brother is going to hold this over my head ’til kingdom comes.”
The attendant laughed. “Yeah, sounds like my brother too. It’s right behind here,” he said, taking them behind a counter. “Dial nine first.”
“Thank you so much.”
The attendant walked away, and Ellie gave Ben a huge smile. “Bloody brilliant, Mr. Lambros. Are you sure you didn’t go to drama school too?”
“We all have our skills, Dr. Scotes. Mine is slinging bullshit—that comes in handy in my line of work.” Ben picked up the phone and dialed Steve Donnellson’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and on the fourth went to voice mail. Ben put his finger on the hook, disconnected the call, and looked at Ellie.
“Maybe he’s asleep,” she said with no prompting. “It is, after all, four in the morning.”
Ben lifted his finger and dialed again. No answer, but this time Ben decided to leave a message. “Stevie, it’s Ben. Listen to me. I need…we need your help. Sarah and I have been kidnapped. I’ve escaped, but they still have Sarah. I’m at that Pilot truck stop off Briley Parkway by the abandoned state penitentiary—that’s where they’re holding us. I’m calling from the store, so you can’t call back…just get over here. And don’t call the police…unless you know somebody really well, because some of them are involved too. Jesus, Stevie, I know this sounds nuts but…please, pick up this message…and get out here. We need you, Stevie…please hurry.”
Ben hung up the receiver and looked at Ellie. “So how insane did I just sound?”
“Properly mad, if I’m honest,” Ellie said. “Perhaps you should call him back.”
Ben looked out at the attendant, who was suspiciously eyeing him back. “We can’t wait. But I do know who to call.” Ben picked up the receiver again and dialed. This time the call was answered on the second ring. “Pauly, it’s me. I need your help.”
»»•««
“Earl Buchanan!” was all Paul could keep shouting as Ben told him the story of his and Sarah’s abduction. Once he got to the part where Ellie, Stewart, and Beatrice Whitt entered the picture, Paul glanced in the rearview mirror at Ellie and shook his head.
“And you don’t have this song Tom was supposed to have given to you?”
“I think it’s in Sarah’s safe.”
Ellie spoke up, “Gentlemen, we have a time issue.”
“She’s right, Paul,” Ben said. “We have to get Sarah and the others out of there.”
“I’m on it,” Paul replied. “I called the mayor—he’s a friend. I told him what you told me on the phone. He’s contacting the governor, the chief of police, and the commissioner. We’re going to GIM—they want to talk to you.”
“What’s GIM?” Ellie asked.
“His publishing company,” Ben answered. “Did he believe you?”
“Yes,” Paul answered. “But, Ben…”
“I know,” Ben said.
“What?” Ellie asked, clueless to the unspoken words between Ben and Paul.
Ben said, “I’m not the most credible person around here these days.”
Paul said, “The former first lady of the United States has been kidnapped. That’s all I needed to say. But I wouldn’t go into everything you just told me. It’s just too—”
“Ridiculous?”
“I was going to say complicated. Tell them Buchanan has a grudge against you and came after you and your friend, Timon, while you were visiting Sarah. Dr. Scotes, I’d just say you’re here visiting your grandfather, he went missing, and you went looking for him. Don’t go into the weird stuff until after this is over. Also, you should lose the gun.”
Ben took the gun from his waist and put it in the glove compartment.
“How much longer until we’re there?” Ellie asked.
“Five minutes,” Paul answered, taking the Twenty-first Avenue exit.
“Make it two, Paul,” Ben said.
»»•««
Three patrol cars, two State Police cruisers, and an unmarked sedan were sitting in the GIM parking lot when Paul sped in. Ben and Ellie were immediately escorted out of the car and into two different offices. “Is the first lady all right?” was the opening question for both. Next came, “How were you abducted? How did you escape? What is your relationship with the kidnappers?” Ben was about to lose his shit when he heard a ruckus outside in the hallway.
“I’m a bloody British citizen, and I’m calling my consulate,” Ellie yelled. “My grandfather, my colleague, and my boss are being held against their will, and you people are wasting time sitting here on your penguin arses asking me a lot of stupid questions instead of doing something to get them out. Now where’s the damned phone?”
Dr
. Ellie Scotes was a beautiful woman, but Ben hadn’t noticed how beautiful until that very moment. He couldn’t help but smile when the detective questioning him jumped up and rushed out into the hallway. Ben decided to follow.
“Mr. Lambros, please stay in—”
“It’s okay, John,” a silver-haired man interrupted, walking up. “Mr. Lambros, Dr. Scotes, I’m Police Chief Sam Hines. My people just reported in from Sarah Lambros’ house. She’s not there, and there’s blood at the scene.”
“I know,” Ben said. “It belongs to Timon Baros. It’s like I told you guys, he was shot by Buchanan. Sarah is caring for him right now at the prison.”
A man in military fatigues came up and whispered into the police chief’s ear. Hines nodded and turned back to Ben and Ellie. “Okay, we have birds over the prison. They don’t see anything unusual.” He turned back to the man in the uniform. “Captain, how soon before your SWAT team is operational?”
“We’re good to go now, sir. Just give us the order.”
“Consider it given.”
The man nodded and began to walk away.
“We need to go too,” Ellie blurted out. “We know where they are, you don’t.”
Hines looked at Ellie and sighed. “Captain.”
The man from SWAT turned around.
“Take these two with you.”
“Is that an order, sir?”
“It is,” Hines replied.
The man nodded without argument. “Ma’am, Mr. Lambros, follow me.”
»»•««
Grey was awoken from a half-sleep by the chirp of his cell phone. “Pryce.”
“Grey, it’s Bob. Wake up.”
“What’s going on?” Grey asked, quickly sitting up and turning on the light.
“I just got a call from the director, who just got a call from the president, who just got a call from the governor of Tennessee. You’re not going to believe this.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Native Americans called it Wasioto. French fur traders, Riviere des Chaouanons. But in 1758, explorer Thomas Walker named it for the third youngest son of George the Second of Great Britain, Prince William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland.
Ben couldn’t remember the last time he was on the Cumberland River. Was it when he and Tom were boys? He seemed to remember Tom and Stevie having a friend with a boat. He couldn’t recall the boy’s name, but he could remember badgering Tom to let him go waterskiing with them. Tom said no, he begged some more, Tom still said no, and then came the yelling, name calling, some pushing and shoving, until ultimately their mother had to intervene. As he remembered it, she ordered Tom to take him along or “You won’t be going yourself!” Tom yelled something back like, “Why does that little brat have to ruin everything I want to do?” Ben considered the possibility he could be remembering it wrong, but he probably wasn’t.