They Called Her Indigo

by Sam Lee Jackson

  I chuckled.

  “So what do we do?” he continued.

  “About Newman?”

  “Yeah, about Newman.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “And?”

  “We need to prove that my threats are not just threats.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Two things. One, we go to Vegas and show him we can do what I said we can do. Including hacking the man and show him we can spread lies about him all over cyberspace.”

  “Or, the truth.”

  “Yeah, or the truth. At least show him we can do it.”

  Blackhawk thought about that. “I don’t like the idea of getting Jimmy’s friend involved in this stuff. I think we need a pro.”

  I went over to the couch and sat down. “So, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  He sat behind his desk. “What are you thinking?”

  “Call the colonel, get the old gang together.”

  “What are you, Andy fucking Hardy?”

  “If you’ll be my Judy Garland. We can go out to the barn and put on a show.”

  43

  Martha answered the phone.

  “Hello, ma’am, it’s Jackson.”

  “Why Jackson. So good to hear from you.” As usual it was like talking to your grandmother. Always warm and friendly. I knew her, and the colonel had retired to the southern part of Illinois, but I hadn’t been there. So in my mind’s eye I always saw her in a farm kitchen with a gingham apron, talking on an old party-line crank telephone on the wall.

  “I trust you are well, ma’am.”

  “Old age, Jackson. My advice is, don’t do it. But of course not everyone gets the opportunity, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain. The colonel is in the other room. Hold on, I’ll get him.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  After a few moments I heard him pick up the phone. “Hello Jackson,” he said in that deep baritone of his..

  “Hello, sir.”

  “I’m sure you are calling to enquire about my rheumatism and my knee surgery.”

  “Yes sir. How are your rheumatism and your knee?”

  “Just fine, Jackson. They are just fine. Now, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m trying to help a young woman and her seven-year-old daughter. I could use some help.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  So I did.

  As usual he didn’t interrupt. When I finished, he was silent a long time. I waited.

  “So you threatened this guy and now you want to make good on it.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “The guy’s a civilian. As tough and scary as he thinks he is, he really isn’t.”

  “No sir, he isn’t.”

  “This may cost you some money. Nobody works for free anymore. Except for, maybe the good Samaritans, you and Blackhawk. And did I hear you say Indigo is with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you ran into her by accident?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence,” he said. “Are you sure it was coincidental?”

  “It’s been a while, and I haven’t seen anything to the contrary. She’s fallen in lust with a friend of mine.”

  “Yes, of course she has.” He paused again. “I have a young woman that has done work for me that has a really remarkable ability with cyber-technology. You figure out what you want and when. She will cost you a thousand. For the other, I can contact Echo and Fabian. They should be available, unless they have taken side jobs. That would give you a five-man team. That should be enough. What will you pay?”

  “I was hoping five-hundred a man. I pay all expenses for no more than two days in Vegas. They’ll gamble it away at the airport, on their way out of town anyway.”

  He chuckled. “Most likely. I’ll run it by them. Have them call this number?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Very well. Come see us sometime, Jackson. Martha would love to see you. We aren’t getting any younger.” He disconnected. The conversation was over.

  44

  I booked three rooms, double queens, at Circus Circus for $49 a night. Two-night minimum. They were all on the same floor. Blackhawk, Indigo and I flew in on an early bird Southwest flight. Indigo almost had to fist-fight Nacho to keep him from coming.

  Echo was coming in from Seattle, and Fabian was coming from Chicago. Both were due in at about the same time, around, five o’clock. We had the day to wait. Indigo went to the pool, to work on her tan. Blackhawk and I rented a van, with cash and a clean, but bogus, credit card. We drove out to see Newman’s property.

  We each had hard-copy satellite imaging of the surrounding area, showing all the streets and main thoroughfares. We spent a couple of hours driving into, and then out of, his posh neighborhood. Timing it to the freeways, then timing it to the airport. This was just precautionary, but we had been taught to do our due diligence.

  The guy’s property was impressive. A large, almost ten-thousand square-foot, terracotta tiled roof mansion. It was enclosed in a fenced, five-acre compound that was surrounded by ocotillos, bougainvillea and palm trees. It was in an area that proudly called itself Seven Bridges. I saw no bridges. On the other side of the gate was a U-shaped drive that, at its apex, had a two-car garage on each side of the covered entry between. As we went by, Blackhawk took pictures of the vehicles parked in front and of the two guards that were in the guard shack at the gate. We drove around the block, if you wanted to call it that. It was more like driving around a small farm. There was a canal bordering the back. That made it a little more problematic. The good news was that, as rich as this area was, there wasn’t an HOA wall or gate and guard to contend with. Each property stood alone. Most were gated on their own.

  Satisfied, we drove back to Circus Circus, stopping at a grocery where we bought a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bottle of Smirnoffs, along with chips and nuts and such. We drove back and parked in the casino garage. We still had a little time to kill so we went to the casino to gamble. I wasn’t crazy about gambling, but it passed the time.

  At half past five we were back in our room when Indigo knocked. I let her in.

  “Bottle’s on the dresser,” I said.

  She fixed a drink and sat by the window. She looked out the window. “Place is a shithole,” she said.

  “You would know,” Blackhawk said. “You worked here.” She didn’t reply. She took a drink.

  Blackhawk and I fixed a drink and dragged chairs over by her. We sat, put our feet up on the air unit that was under the window and sipped our drinks. We were quiet as we waited. Finally, there was a knock on the door,

  I looked out the peep hole. It was Echo and Fabian. Echo was a smaller, slender and dark guy. Head of thick black hair. Stronger and tougher than he looked. Fabian looked like his code name. Coiffed hair, a little long over the ears. Good looking, like a TV stud. About my size, with a ready smile. Liked to joke. Knew when not to joke. Steady in action. Reliable. I opened the door.

  Blackhawk and Indigo didn’t get up. It wasn’t that kind of reunion.

  I stepped back to let them in. “Glasses, ice and booze on the dresser,” I said.

  “Circus Circus, for Christ’s sake,” Fabian said, fixing his drink. “I expected the Bellagio or at least the Wynn.”

  “You always did have champagne tastes,” Indigo said.

  “I only have a beer budget,” I said. I sat on the bed, leaving my chair for one of them. “I appreciate you coming. Get your drink and I’ll tell you what we have.”

  Once we were all settled, I said, “Did the colonel give you any background?”

  They both shook their head. “He said you’d fill us in,” Fabian said. “Just said it’s a two-day job and you’re good for a K.”

  “Half a K,” I said, “but nice try.”

  “Half a K,” he said, with a grin.

  “In a nutshell, here it is. I have an asshole, a made guy that is bothering a friend of mi
ne. A friend with a seven-year-old daughter. She was this jerk’s girlfriend at one time. She got pregnant, and she made the mistake of telling the guy the baby was his. She tells me she lied. She was just trying to leverage him. But now the guy says he wants the little girl. At any rate I want this jerk out of her life. I explained to him…”

  “As you punched him in the nose,” Indigo grinned.

  “Yeah, as I punched him in the nose, what we could do to him, if he didn’t walk out of their lives. And stay out.”

  “And this girl is just a friend?” Fabian said, looking at me with a half-smile.

  “She was abandoned with the girl and no money, so she comes knocking on Jackson’s door,” Indigo said.

  “I thought you lived on a boat,” Echo said.

  “Boats have doors,” I said.

  “Why do you care?” Fabian said.

  “Because he came on my dock and threatened my guest,” I said.

  “You always did want to joust with windmills,” Echo said.

  “So you threatened him, and you don’t think he believes you.”

  “No,” Blackhawk said. “He doesn’t believe us. This is a bad guy. He’s not above killing the woman to get the child. In the civilian world he is a very scary guy. And he is used to getting whatever he wants. He’s got the mob behind him and a punch in the nose just pissed him off.”

  “So you want to show him what scary really is,” Echo said.

  “Yeah, pretty much. I want him to know we can reach out and tweak his nose any time we want.”

  “So we go tweak his nose?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Indigo said. “Where do you get this nursery rhyme shit? Tweak his nose.”

  “What would you say?” Blackhawk said, smiling.

  “I’d scare the little fucker until he shit his pants.”

  Fabian laughed. “I like her version.”

  Blackhawk stood and went to the dresser. He opened a drawer and pulled a stack of papers. There were five packets, each stapled together. He handed them out.

  “These are the schematics on the house. One shows the floor plan. The other the grounds. Then the third one shows the street grid of the roads around the place. In the back are photos we took of the house, vehicles and guards.” He looked at Echo. “You get the security system.” He handed Echo a blueprint. “As you see, it’s not that complicated. People that believe they are scary can’t imagine someone coming into their lair.”

  “Lair?” Indigo said.

  He ignored her. “The weakness to the electronic security is there is only one power source, with no back-up. Not even batteries.” He leaned over and touched Echo’s blueprint. “Here, at the back, and the main out by the street.”

  Echo studied it. “The guy’s an idiot.”

  “Yeah, he is,” said Blackhawk. “But we don’t go in thinking that. We go in thinking he is as big and bad and scary as he thinks he is.”

  “We don’t go in over-confident,” I said.

  “When do we go?” Fabian said.

  “I’m planning early in the morning. Say about four o’clock. I’m waiting for a text from the colonel on another surprise we’ll have for the guy.”

  “What kind of surprise?’ Fabian said.

  “I’ll show you when we are in and have the guy. You’re going to like it.”

  “What about tools?” Echo said. He meant firearms and such.

  “The colonel arranged to have them in our rental van this afternoon. They’re probably already there. It cost me a couple of grand.”

  “So you think this broad is worth this, and she’s only a friend?”

  “She’s only a friend,” Indigo said.

  “It’s not the woman,” I said. “The little one is worth it. This asshole stays in her life, it will fuck her up.”

  “What do we do with the guy once we have him?” Echo said.

  “Indigo will make him shit his pants,” Blackhawk said.

  45

  At three fifteen in the morning we were at the van, changing our clothes. The clothes we changed into were worthy of a SWAT team. Dark clothes, rubber-soled shoes, ski masks, Kevlar vests, and even helmets. The weapons were used, but they worked. Two shotguns, five pistols, all loaded. No extra shells. All were expendable. They would be ditched when we finished.

  Blackhawk drove. We pulled up to the guard shack at four. There was only one guard at night. He had been watching a little TV but was asleep when Indigo and Fabian hit him. They trussed him up with duct tape and swung the gate open just before Echo shut down the security system and cut the power. Indigo whispered to the guard that if he put his head outside the shack she would blow it off.

  They piled back in and Blackhawk drove up to the door. Without security lights, the place was pitch black. Amazing, no battery backup, nothing. I had covered the lens of my combat light so that only a sliver of light came through. I put the sliver on the lock and Echo pulled his small packet of tools and popped the door in less than thirty seconds.

  We went in silently. The house was quiet. As planned, Indigo and Fabian went up the circular stairway that was to our left. The upstairs had a game room, a media room complete with recliners and a popcorn machine, and three bedrooms. They were goon hunting. Blackhawk and Echo took the family room and the small bedroom that bracketed the dining area. I went through the living room, into the vestibule to the master suite. The door was closed. I tested the knob and it turned.

  I silently slid the door open. There were two massive walk-ins on either side. It was too dark to see. I flashed the light into a walk-in for a second. Newman’s bed was against the far wall and there was a lump in the middle of it. He was alone. There was a bed stand on the left side. I silently went to it, flicking the light a second at a time, pointed at the floor. I opened the drawer. He had his 9 mm Taurus in it. I gently took it out. I went to the foot of his bed and sat down. He groaned but didn’t wake.

  I pulled the electrical tape from my light. I wadded the tape and put it into my pocket. I shined the light into his face. I held it there for at least thirty seconds before he moved. Suddenly he sat up, putting his hand out to block the light.

  “What the hell,” he said.

  I stood up. “Get up,” I said.

  “What the fuck? Who is it?”

  I walked around and hit him in the head with his pistol. Just enough to draw blood, but not enough to put him out.

  “Get up,” I said again.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said. He put his hand to his head, then looked at the bloody hand.

  I moved toward him again. He thrust his hand out. “Wait, wait.” He climbed off the bed and came to his feet. He slept in pajamas.

  “We’re going downstairs,” I said.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Downstairs,” I said, drawing my hand back to hit him again.

  “Wait, wait,” he said again. He started moving. I kept the light on him, so he could see to walk.

  “Into the living room,” I said.

  When we got there, the party was complete. There were four guys standing in their underwear, their hands zip tied behind them.

  “Put the power on,” I said to Echo. He went out the front door. A few seconds later the power came on and he came back in. Blackhawk switched on a couple of lights. I put the combat light away.

  “What the fuck is this?” Newman said.

  “Shut up,” Indigo said. Newman started, surprised she was a woman. You couldn’t tell by looking. She looked at Fabian. “Put those two armchairs side by side. Leave about four feet between them.” Fabian complied. She turned back to Newman. “Take your jammies off.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” He was getting his bluster back.

  Indigo turned and shot one of his men in the thigh. The man screamed and fell to the floor. “Take your jammies off,” she said.

  Newman stared at her. She waved her pistol at him, but he still just stared at her. She turned and shot another one in the leg. He howled
and went down. She turned to Newman. “Take your jammies off or you are next.”

  Newman slowly started to slip out of his pajamas. We all knew that there is something psychologically debilitating to be naked in front of your enemies. It takes the bluster right out of you. You can be brave and stubborn all day long, but once you are naked in front of strangers, especially bad guy strangers, all that goes away.

  He got down to his tighty whities, when she said “Stop. I don’t want to see your frizzled little pecker.” She waved the pistol at the two chairs. “Go stand between the chairs.” Newman moved over and stood between the chairs.

  “Now, squat down between them.”

  He started to go down on his knees.

  “No, not on your knees, squat down.” Newman squatted. She looked at Fabian, “Zip his wrists to the arms of the chairs. One at the wrist, one at the elbow. Make them tight.”

  Fabian pulled out two black zip ties and did as she asked. I looked at Blackhawk and he looked at me. Neither of us had a clue as to what she was doing.

  Once Newman was secure, Fabian stepped back. Indigo went to Newman and squatted down so their faces were on the same level. She reached over and pulled the elastic of his underwear. She shoved her pistol down there and said, “Now, I want you to shit your pants. If you don’t, I’m going to blow your dick off.”

  Newman began to breath heavy, his face red in full blown panic.

  “Do it now,” Indigo said calmly.

  “I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t.”

  She pulled the hammer back on the pistol and Newman literally began to cry. “I can’t, I can’t.”

  Indigo stayed looking at him for a long time. Now he was gasping for breath, ragged and sobbing. She finally stood up. She looked at me. “I tried,” she said.

  I nodded. I looked at Echo. “Turn the TV on,” I said. He found the remote and switched it on. I pulled my phone. “Put it on CNN,” I said. Echo found the channel. “Turn the volume up a little,” I said. He did. I pressed the pre-determined speed dial code on my phone.

  I looked at Newman. “You’ll want to watch this,” I said.

  After a few seconds, there was a blip on the screen, then Newman’s face appeared. The photo was an old booking photo, but it was unmistakably Newman. A woman’s voice came over the photo. “This is an amber alert. This man is being sought for kidnapping a young girl after sexually molesting her. His name is Donald Newman and he is wanted for many counts of child molestation and child pornography. If you see this man, notify your local authorities immediately.” Her voice stopped, but the photo lingered. Finally, she said, “He is considered dangerous. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.” There was a blip and the regular show continued.