"Can you fire on the target on the platform?" the congressman asked. “It could be a sniper nest. Maybe we should make a preemptive strike and kill their sniper.”
Colonel Jacobs threw up a warning hand. "I don't recommend taking any action until we know who that figure is," he said. "What if it’s your son?"
The congressman looked at Jacobs like he’d sprouted horns. "Why in the hell would it be my son?"
"I don't know that it’s your son,” the colonel retorted. “We don’t have that information yet. But we sure as hell know your son is in there and I’d not advise pulling the trigger on anyone we can’t identity with one hundred percent certainty."
“Dammit!” the congressman muttered, conceding the point. He keyed his radio. "All teams, do not fire on that target unless you get an order from me. Over.”
He waited for a response. "Can everyone acknowledge that order? There's to be no shooting unless I give the order. My son is still out there. Do you understand me?"
His voice thoroughly conveyed his irritation at both the current situation and the larger state of things. A string of rogers and affirmatives rolled in. The congressman dropped the mic and returned to his seat, sitting down hard. He raked a nervous hand through his hair. "Bradshaw, get somebody with night vision on that gate with Cummings. I need to know exactly what the hell's going on out there."
Bradshaw took the mic back up and spoke into it. “Somebody with NODS take a position on the gate and coordinate with Cummings."
"This is Rico. I’m closing in on the gate with NODS right now. I don't have magnification but it looks to me like there's a figure slumped at the top of some kind of platform or staging."
"Slumped?" the congressman echoed.
"Ask him to hit it with an IR illuminator," Jacobs suggested. “He may be able to see it better.”
"Bradshaw for Rico. Do you have an IR illuminator?"
"I just activated it. That helped a little," Rico replied. "Can somebody cover me? I need to move forward."
"Cummings for Rico," Cummings barked. "I have you on thermal. Got your back."
"Roger that, Cummings!" Rico shouted.
The congressman wiped his face on his sleeve and sighed deeply. He wondered if he’d gotten in over his head. He never expected Arthur to surrender but he thought maybe the other men would flee when his army showed up. They weren’t, and he had no idea at this point what he was going to do about it.
"I'm within fifty yards," Rico said. “I see some type of platform with a figure on top. The figure is not moving and is slumped kind of awkward against a railing at the top of the platform. There's some kind of line running from the figure to a nearby tree but I can't tell what it is. It could be safety rope, I’m not sure."
Bradshaw looked nervously around the room. "Sit tight, Rico."
"You know they're awake over there," Colonel Jacobs said. "The gunfire originated with them. Maybe we should just ask them what the hell is going on."
The congressman shook his head bitterly, disgusted that it had come to this. The last thing he wanted to do was go begging to them for information. He couldn’t see as he had any choice, though. He returned to the radio and took the microphone. "This is Congressman Honaker calling for Arthur Bridges. What the hell you up to over there, Bridges?"
When Arthur’s voice finally came through the speaker, he sounded relaxed and almost cheerful, as if he were pleased that the congressman was taking the time to give him a call. "I'll tell you exactly what's going on, Honaker. Playtime is over. You’ve pushed me over the edge. That platform you're looking at is a gallows."
"You're the one pushing things too far, Bridges. I don't know what you think you're up to but this isn't funny."
"What I’m up to is serving justice. We’ve held a trial and a sentence has been handed down. Your son has been sentenced to hang from his neck until dead. The sentence will be carried out in about, oh, thirty minutes or so.”
“My son?” Congressman Honaker said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. Even beyond the loss of his only son, how would he ever explain this to his wife? How could he admit that his plan had led to the death of her firstborn? She would never forgive him.
“I guess you should have thought this over more carefully. You should have understood that your actions would have consequences.”
"How do I even know that's my son on this platform of yours?"
"It’s a gallows, not a platform. What does your thermal tell you?" Arthur asked. "I'm sure your snipers have already confirmed it's the real deal, a warm human body. You think I would be dumb enough to put one of my own men up there and expose them to fire? No way."
Bridges had a point. It couldn’t be anyone but his son. Concern pushed back the anger and he was pleading. "Bridges, don't do anything stupid. I’m begging you. Cross that line and there's no going back."
"The line is already crossed, Congressman. Go outside and you might be able to yell a last good-bye to your son. Of course, if you expose yourself to fire we’ll take you out.”
“Bridges!” the congressman screamed in rage but there was no response.
He gritted his teeth. His entire body flexed like it was building toward an explosion. He drew back to smash the radio against the wall but caught himself, knowing that would be a mistake. Instead, he keyed the microphone again. Bridges had left him no choice here.
"This is Congressman Honaker. All teams converge on that gate now. Take no action until you hear from me but get there ASAP."
14
Across the gate and up the winding gravel road into the compound, Arthur smiled at Kevin as they listened to the congressman’s transmission. They’d fooled him so far. He apparently believed the warm body on the scaffold was his son.
"Let’s give his people ten minutes to get in position by the gate, then we’ll put Robert and Sonyea on the road,” Arthur said.
"What about Bob?" Kevin asked.
Arthur looked at his watch. "What did I tell them? Thirty minutes?"
Kevin nodded.
Arthur’s mouth curled into a devious smile. “In five minutes, tip the scaffold, and let Bob drop to his death. They won’t be expecting that. I guarantee they’ll be crapping in their pants."
"That might turn into a firefight," Kevin warned. “They may lay down cover fire in order to launch a body recovery.”
Arthur shrugged. "Let them. If there is a firefight, it will be a short one. We’re dug in and have protected positions. Tell the men to let them retrieve Bob without a fight. They should keep their heads down and dispense enough cover fire to make it seem legitimate.”
“The chaos should cover Robert and Sonyea’s exodus,” Kevin pointed out. “Which I’m guessing is exactly what you hoped for.”
The men stepped outside of the commo shack, enjoying the cooler air of very early morning. The radio room was a heat trap but Arthur was insistent on light discipline. He paused outside and looked around. “Where’s Carlos? Every time I throw him out of there he waits for me right on the steps. He’s not there.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s in the head?” Kevin suggested, scanning the area for the radio operator.
“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I hope he’s back soon. I want someone monitoring the congressman’s radio traffic and we can’t do that from our handhelds. Some poor sap needs to be babysitting those radios and Carlos is that designated sap.”
“Well, I’m going to deliver the news to tip the scaffold in person,” Kevin said. “If I see Carlos I’ll send him back this way.”
Arthur nodded, sliding into his own side-by-side ATV. “I’m headed to the barn to see Sonyea and Robert off. Hopefully I’ll be back in time for the party.” He started the engine and floored the gas. There was something about those machines that made it impossible to resist.
15
Sonyea sat cool, calm, and comfortable in the front seat of the Polaris Razer parked in front of the hay barn. In contrast, Robert paced nearby like a caged cat. Their gear was l
oaded, their weapons ready, extra jerry cans of fuel stowed in the newly-fabricated rack on the back. All they could do now was wait on Arthur. When he said it was go time, they would go.
“Relax, you’re wearing me out,” Sonyea said. “Sit down or something.”
“I can’t,” Robert said. “This is how I think and there’s a lot to think about.”
“You must drive your wife bananas.”
Robert nodded. “I do. For a variety of reasons.”
“I got no doubt.”
Robert frowned at Sonyea, as if her agreement wasn’t expected or required. He turned away from her and faced the blocky man in tactical gear who was guarding the entrance to the barn. “Can I talk to the prisoner? To Jeff?”
The guard gave Robert a blank look. “It’s nothing to me, man. You’re going to be riding with him soon anyway. Knock yourself out.”
“Be right back,” he called to Sonyea, slipping around the guard and into the dark cavern of the hay barn.
There were round bales stacked in the middle section of the structure, white plastic cinching their girth. Hidden behind them were the stalls, including the one that had been converted into a holding cell by making a welded cage of one-inch rebar with a locking gate. Translucent acrylic skylights allowed a murky light to seep in though a layer of pine needles, dust, and pollen when the sun was overhead. Now, being up before the sun, everyone was depending on headlamps.
When Robert skirted the towering stack of bales, he was surprised to find Carlos standing at the cell, his body nearly against the bars. Startled at Robert’s appearance, Carlos smiled awkwardly.
“Hey, I just wanted to see the big scary cook,” Carlos said. He held up a pack of gum in his hand. “He asked me for a piece of gum. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“It’s not a problem for me,” Robert said, “but I don’t make the rules. How’d you get in here, anyway? I didn’t see you pass us.”
“The back door,” Carlos replied, nodding toward a windowless steel door against the back wall.
Robert nodded. Something about the whole scene was a little weird to him. Although it didn’t make sense, he had so many other things on his mind that this incident seemed trivial and unworthy of any of the limited space available.
“Well, I have to get back to the radio,” Carlos said, pushing through the back door and disappearing into the dark.
Robert approached the bars and eyed the prisoner. The cook looked like hundreds of other raggedy cooks Robert had seen over the years, his clothes stained, his t-shirt stretched out and riddled with holes. He was shoving a stick of gum in his mouth. While Robert watched, the cook shoved the wrapper in his pocket, his eyes not leaving Robert.
“So you’re Jeff?
The cook nodded.
“I’m Robert. Sonyea and I will be your escorts.”
Jeff snorted. “My guards, you mean?”
Robert gave a gesture that indicated he conceded the point. “Yeah, I guess that’s an appropriate term for it.”
“I mean, it’s not like we’re going sightseeing, right? We’re not friends. I’m your prisoner and you’re taking me on a one-way mission to keep my family and the other families from reaching this place.”
“That’s fair, Jeff, but it doesn’t have to be a one-way mission. You may survive this if you follow the rules and don’t act like an idiot.”
“Meaning what?” Jeff said with a frown.
“Not acting like an idiot? That means don’t try to escape,” Robert replied. “Don’t try to interfere with us conducting our mission. Don’t try to harm us.”
“So just play along like a good boy and everything will be okay, right?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And if I don’t?” Jeff asked, taking on a defiant attitude.
Robert stepped closer to the bars, all traces of friendliness gone. “I think the terms were already explained to you so don’t test me. You know the consequences from meeting with Arthur and Kevin, don’t you? A slow, miserable death, torture, or the death of your families if they get caught in the crossfire between our people and yours. You’re doing the right thing so just make sure you continue doing the right thing. No crazy ideas. No change of heart.”
“I’ll take that under consideration,” Jeff replied.
“I’d strongly advise very careful consideration,” Robert said. “If I have to kill you and dump your body in the dirt, I’ll do it. I’m more than capable. More than willing. It might also be relevant to mention that I’m a little on edge right now. I’m missing my family and ready to get home to them. The presence of your people outside of this compound is the only thing that’s preventing that. Just keep in mind that I might have a hair trigger where you and your people are concerned. Once I start hitting, I don’t know when I’ll stop. And if I have to pull a gun, I might not be able to keep my finger from curling a little too tightly around that trigger.”
The drone of an approaching engine was followed by the crunch of gravel and an ATV skidded to a stop outside. Robert abandoned his conversation and jogged back through the barn. He found Arthur hopping from the seat of his ATV, nimble as a man half his age.
“Showtime!” Arthur yelled. “You guys buckle in and arm up.”
Robert wanted to ask if there had been any new developments but the time for discussion was past.
“Get moving,” Arthur said. He pointed at the guard. “Thompson, get the prisoner out here. Cuff him with his hands in front, then use another set to cuff him to the roll cage. Put him in the front seat.”
Thompson snapped into action. In seconds they could hear the echo of him barking orders at the prisoner deep inside the hay barn.
“Something wrong?” Arthur asked.
Robert still hadn’t moved. He was trying to process everything and something was still bothering him but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Then get cracking! Get in and buckle up. We’ve got less than two minutes until all hell breaks loose.”
Robert came back to life and headed for the driver’s seat of the Razer. He double-checked his weapons, then took a seat, buckling himself in. Sonyea was in the back seat, sitting behind Robert so she had a clear view of the prisoner.
“If he tries to fight me, you’re my backup,” Robert said. “Stab, shoot, beat—whatever it takes.”
“Got it.”
The massive Thompson arrived at the vehicle and stuffed Jeff into the passenger seat like it was something he did every day. As Arthur asked, he handcuffed his hands to the passenger side grab handle. He could hold on for dear life but he wasn’t going to jump out and run.
“Might as well buckle his seatbelt,” Arthur suggested. “Just in case Robert wraps it around a tree or something.”
When Jeff was buckled in, Arthur leaned into the cockpit and patted Robert on the shoulder. “Be careful, buddy. Don’t take any ridiculous chances. I don’t want to have to explain to your family why you didn’t make it home.”
Robert nodded and started the engine.
“Be careful,” Arthur warned Sonyea, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Don’t let Robert do anything crazy.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sonyea said. “But you know how he is.”
Arthur nodded that he did. He patted the roll cage and stepped back. “Let’s do this. Stay on the route I showed you and try not to shoot if you don’t have to. It will just draw Honaker’s men to you.”
“Got it,” Robert said.
He punched the gas pedal and the Razer spun the wheels. He didn’t have a lot of experience with the machine and his nerves got the best of him. The 1000 cc engine got the light machine up to seventy miles per hour before he knew it and he had to drop off the throttle. He shot a quick glance to his side and saw Jeff was terrified. Robert was afraid to glance behind him for fear of wrecking but he imagined Sonyea had the same expression frozen onto her face. It was too late to do anything about it now but helmets might have been a good idea.
The
y barreled down an old logging road that Arthur maintained as a back door into the compound. They’d been turned back while trying to ride out of here before on horses but the hope was that this time would be different. Arthur was now certain that his diversion would draw all the troops to the front gate and leave them a clear path of egress.
In better times, they maintained the trail up until it crossed over to National Forest property, mowing it with a tractor on a regular basis. It hadn’t been mowed in several weeks now and the summer underbrush was quickly overtaking the route. Pokeberries, stinging nettle, and blackberry vines all fought for dominance.
A blaze of two white lines circling a tree indicated the point where they left Arthur’s property. Robert had a compact AR pistol in his lap, a round chambered and ready to go. Sonyea was wielding the Kel-Tec KSG with wicked custom loads Robert had gotten from a friend at Maker Bullets. Already nervous, Robert’s anxiety ramped up even further after crossing that line. He expected at any moment they’d receive the same response from Honaker’s men they’d gotten before—rifle rounds flying in their direction, intent on killing them.
Robert tried to maintain a high rate of speed while watching for obstacles or attackers. He quickly realized that there was no way he was going to spot camouflaged shooters at this speed so he returned his eyes to what was in front of him. Just as he did, he saw that he was about to barrel into a downed tree. It wasn’t massive and he probably could have moved it with his winch and a snatch block fastened to a nearby tree but there wasn’t time for that. They weren’t far enough out of range yet. The last thing he wanted was to be standing still outside of this vehicle with armed bad guys running around.
He whipped the wheel and the vehicle slewed sideways. He punched the gas and the machine shot over the low shoulder, shooting the gap between trees until it was past the obstacle. Robert turned left, made sure the four wheel drive was engaged, and swung around the end of the fallen tree. On the steep slope the Razer felt tippy but he was committed now. There was no going back.
Compound Fracture Page 8
