Body Parts raca-1

by Kit Crumb

Chapter Thirty Five

  The light illuminated a shoe print that plainly displayed a logo—an oval with “EMT Special” in the center. “Shit, that seals it, they’re here.” All heads spun around as though they might be able to see the intruders.

  Then everyone looked at Simms. “Bonnie, you and Derrick stay put. Hubble and I’ll go back to the mansion.”

  Rye ducked back around behind a boulder when he heard the sound of running. Two men emerged from the mine and ran to the edge of the clearing where they disappeared down a trail that led into the woods.

  The two men burst into the clinic panting and breathless.

  Simms turned to face Hubble. “Get into storage and take the C4 plugs and detonators to the mine. Send Derrick and Bonnie back, I’ll need them here.”

  Hubble looked Simms in the eye and seemed to comprehend what was going to happen.

  “I’ll need a key.”

  “Of course.” Simms turned and led Hubble into his office, removing a key from his top center desk drawer.

  “Go! Set the C4 at the opening of the morgue and around the mouth of the mine, then wait for me.”

  As soon as Hubble was out of the office and down the hall, Simms took out another key, unlocked the small drawer on the right side of the desk and removed his .45 pistol. Then he followed Hubble about fifty yards into the woods and stepped off the trail.

  Rye watched from his hidden vantage point as a man entered the clearing just in front of the mine entrance. Moments later Derrick and Bonnie went back down the trail. He watched Hubble head into the mine, and took that as his cue to come out of hiding, In one quick move, he lunged forward and placed the barrel of the pistol in the center of the man’s back.

  In a flash, Hubble moved to the side using his right arm to knock Rye’s gun arm to the left. Rye tightened his arm, pulling the trigger in response. But Hubble was well out of the way and drove a left palm strike to Rye’s temple.

  As soon as his gun arm had been knocked away, Rye knew he was facing a trained martial artist. Seeing the palm strike from the corner of his eye, he twisted his head at the last minute to avoid full contact. He attempted several of the moves Claire had shown him over the years but they were all slow and poorly aimed. His opponent, though smaller, was landing strike after strike. Rye knew that one was bound to bring him down. Lurching to one side he managed to avoid a kick aimed at his kidney and turning, sprinted into the mine. Hubble, wanting to get as far away from the mine as possible, did not follow.

  Both women peered back into the black, at the sound of the pistol shot. Claire increased her pace and was suddenly being hit full face by a steady breeze.

  She shook the lighter. “Come on, light goddamn it.” Her thumb was raw from turning the rough wheel.

  Spin, spark… spin, spark

  Spin, flame. Claire quickly cupped her had around the flame. “Do you see a shaft anywhere? It’s got to be close. Must be an air shaft leading to the surface.”

  Crystal released her grip on Claire’s sleeve and ran to a small hole in the rock, about the size of a manhole cover, Inserting her head and shoulders into the ascending shaft. Claire took a last look and let the flame go out. Staggering and flailing her arms, she found Crystal. She could just make out the airshaft into which Crystal had climbed and could see her extended hand.

  “C’mon, you’re right it leads to the surface,” Crystal said. But Claire didn’t make a move, didn’t say a word. “Claire, c’mon. Claire, what’s wrong?”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Simms didn’t have to wait long for Derrick and Bonnie. He heard them talking as they half jogged, half walked down the trail. Without showing himself, he shot Derrick in the side of the head. Bonnie bolted down the trail toward the clinic. Simms stepped out onto the trail leveling his pistol at her head. He pulled the trigger, but missed, hitting her in the right shoulder. The shot knocked her to the ground, but she was up and running before he could get off another shot. He quickly checked Derrick’s pulse, then stepped around the body. When he reached the grass clearing that led to the clinic, he slowed to a walk. Bonnie was nowhere in sight but he could see blood on the door handle.

  Pulling open the door, he found the hall empty. But there was blood on the floor.

  “Bonnie, I heard shots. Are you hurt?” he called out.

  No answer. Simms imagined her lying unconscious on the floor in one of the clinic rooms. When he stepped around into the first exam room a blur of red came out of nowhere slamming him in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him backwards. He staggered to catch his balance but was struck again by the fire extinguisher, this time in the groin. Tentacles of pain shot into his abdomen driving him to his knees. Bonnie followed him out the door and pushed him over onto his back. Raising the extinguisher high, she plunged it down aiming for his groin, but the move was too obvious and ponderously slow. Raising the gun, extending his arm full length, Simms fired several shots into her at near point blank range knocking her back through the door and onto the floor.

  Ignoring the throbbing from his broken nose and the urge to curl up into a fetal position from the pain between his legs, Simms staggered to his feet and stumbled down the path toward the mine.

  He cleared the trees and crossed the clearing just as Hubble came out of the mine. Hubble didn’t see the gun until Simms had it leveled at his chest. Neither spoke. Simms fired three shots driving Hubble against a boulder next to the entrance of the mine. He didn’t see the three figures moving through the woods in the direction of the mine. He picked up the flashlight Hubble dropped and began scanning the walls for the C4. Finding all twelve plugs, he discovered the detonator just outside the morgue, picked it up and put it in his pocket.

  “Hubble, efficient to the end,” Simms’s said as he limped back to the entrance.

  When he was clear of the opening, he turned to face the mine and began walking backwards, finally stopping near the middle of the clearing. His attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of running feet. Before he could turn to see what was happening, someone tackled him around the ankles, knocking him to the ground. His right arm was yanked behind his back urging him to his feet. Two men stepped into view.

  “Where’s Rye Anderson?” the taller of the two demanded.

  Simms blinked and shook his head, totally confused.

  The shorter man stepped forward delivering a savage punch to his stomach. The arm behind his back wouldn’t allow him to bend over, as the convulsions demanded.

  “I’ll ask you one more time. Where is Anderson?”

  The smaller man stepped forward and spoke to the man holding Simms in an arm lock.

  “Turn him loose, Phil.”

  Bobby Panther snapped off a right jab to Simms’s already broken nose, but the scream was masked by the blast from a shotgun.

  Paul Casey and Bobby Panther whipped around to see a woman standing there, chest-heaving, shotgun pointed directly at them.

  The woman chambered another shell. “Peter, get over here.” Simms limped past Bobby Panther. Jamming his hand into his pocket, he pulled out the detonator. Staggering next to Rosie, he held out his hand, thumb poised over a bright red button. He pressed it.

  The blast knocked over the Panther brothers and drove Paul Casey up against a tree, driving a huge cloud of dust out of the mouth of the mine that covered nearly the entire clearing. By the time they got to their feet, Rosie and Simms were gone.

  “Everyone alright?” Paul said, between coughs.

  The brothers looked first to the mine, then the trail.

  “Shit, what the hell happened?” Bobby asked.

  Paul ignored the question. “Phil, get down the trail after them. Bobby, go back the way we came, on the run, block the gate with the car. I’m staying to search the mine.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Rye slowed to a jog when he lost his light to the first bend in the tunnel. He would have fallen in the same vertical shaft that trapped Crystal if he hadn’t stopped to listen to th
e sound of voices. For a moment, he thought he recognized the voice of one of the guys who kidnapped him, but shook it off and shuffled past the shaft. When he heard what he thought were female voices he began to run, dragging one hand against the tunnel wall for guidance. In the dim light of the airshaft, he could just make out the image of a woman. As he neared, it became clear that it was Claire. Just as he reached his wife’s side, an enormous blast rocked him backwards; the concussion that followed caused his ears to pop.

  Crystal looked up at Rye from her position in the shaft and extended a hand. As he grabbed Claire by the seat of her pants and collar, he shouted, “Go, go, go,” and threw his wife into the air vent, diving in after her.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  “I found Bonnie in the hall, Jesus Christ, Peter,” Rosie said. Then I saw Derrick on the trail. Where’s Hubble?”

  “In the mine, but he was dead before the blast.”

  Rosie stopped running. “Everything’s turned to shit, Christ, turned to shit. What are we going to do?”

  Simms reached over and pulled the shotgun from her grip.

  “Keep it together, Rosie. We torch the clinic and the mansion and drive out the front gate like nothing’s happened.”

  “Like nothing’s happened? Have you seen yourself? You look like you were hit by a truck, the grounds are littered with bodies… and who were those guys?”

  Simms ignored Rosie’s ranting and started walking. “There’s no time for this, honey.”

  The two moved on in silence until they reached the clinic.

  “I’ll take care of the clinic, you torch the house. There’s gas in storage room. Now get going.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do? I’ve never set a house on fire before.”

  “Goddamn it Rosie, use your imagination.”

  * * *

  Bobby Panther sprinted down the dirt road leading to Pericolo Lane, keys in hand before he even reached the car.

  With tires spinning, he hung a three-point U-turn and skidded onto the pavement headed for the gate. A man in a blue suit and sunglasses stepped out from behind one of the stone pillars.

  The guy was built like a linebacker, and waved for him to stop. Bobby was actually slowing down when his door flew open and someone yanked him out. He’d wrestled for twenty years and was undaunted by the giant of a man who had him by the arm. But it was the .45 leveled at his chest and the sharp pain in his arm that stopped him.

  Phil Panther nearly tripped over Derrick’s body. There was no reason to stop; he could see by the twist of the head that the man was dead. When he reached the clinic, fire was billowing out the windows. Phil ran around the wood and stucco building searching for a way in but it was too late; he couldn’t get within ten feet of the structure before being driven back by the heat. When he reached the mansion, he opened the front door and called out, but a collapsing staircase drove him back out. Covering his mouth with his shirttail, he entered a side door but the heat was too intense to go on. Pausing to cough and clear his lungs, Phil circled the mansion, and not finding anybody, headed to the front gate.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Even before the dust settled, Paul Casey began picking his way through what used to be the opening of the mine. With his shirt collar pulled over his mouth, he felt around until the dust finally settled and he could see the mine was completely sealed. His hip ached and his head throbbed, but he knew he couldn’t rest until he caught up with the man who killed Rye Anderson. It was slow going down the trail to the clinic, which was burning itself out. When he reached the mansion, the ground floor windows were blown out and flames licked the outer walls. He finally allowed his pace to slow as he approached the gate, but was surprised to find it open.

  The car blocking the way wasn’t Bobby’s muscle car, it was a black and silver BMW. A knot formed in Paul’s stomach at the sight of Phil kneeling over a prostate figure. Hopping as fast as his hip would allow he came up next to Phil, prepared for the worst.

  “Bobby.” Paul stared down at his friend in total disbelief.

  “He’s fine Paul.” Phil said looking up. “But you’d better have a look in the BMW.”

  Paul passed through the open gate, and immediately recognized the two occupants as the woman with the shotgun and the man who had blow up the mine. They were leaning stiffly at odd angles. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he reached the car—both had been horribly gutted.

  As he turned from the car, Phil greeted him, his arm around his brother who was rubbing the center of his chest.

  “Jeez, I think one of those blue suited goons punched me in the chest. Thought I’d been shot.”

  Paul looked to Phil for an explanation. “Apparently when Bobby got here he wasn’t the only one looking to catch up with those two.” Phil nodded toward the BMW.

  Bobby broke loose from his brother, walked the last few steps to the car and peered in the open window.

  “I guess they wanted them a lot more then we did.”

  Phil turned a grim face on Paul. “Rye and Claire?”

  Paul shook his head. “The mine was sealed by the blast. Bobby, why don’t you drive down and get the local sheriff?”

  Bobby shook his head as he walked to join his brother. “Not a chance. The last time you sent me on an errand I got punched in the chest by a gorilla. I’ll just call,” he said, holding up his cell phone.

  Chapter Forty

  A stretch limo pulled into the gas station in Denton Beach. The windows weren’t tinted they were blacked out. When the attendant walked up to the driver’s window, all he could see of the lone figure inside was a silhouette.

  “Fill it up?”

  The window rolled down four inches, and the attendant noticed the driver never took his hands off the wheel.

  “I need directions to Pericolo Lane,” a voice said in a thick accent. The voice didn’t come from the driver.

  “Sure. Two blocks north, take a right at the Book Nook.”

  The window rolled up and the limo drove off.

  * * *

  “Mildred, would you get a look at that limo?” Sally Moore said to her sister.

  “Oh my God,” said Mildred. “I’ve never seen one so long. I wonder if it can make even half the turns on that road?”

  “Could you bring me that box of books, I need to start now if I’m going to get them entered by the end of the day,” Sally said.

  For the next twenty minutes, Mildred and Sally Moore worked independently, one entering books, the other shelving, occasionally interrupted by tourists and the few regulars who routinely visited the Book Nook.

  Mildred looked up from the computer as blaring sirens grew closer and closer.

  “Sally, do you have your little TV on again?”

  “No.”

  Sally deserted her shelving and walked to the picture window that looked out on North Main.

  “Something’s going on. Millie, come see.”

  Mildred joined her sister at the window.

  “My goodness, what in the world would take two police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck? And would you look at that black sedan.

  Sally laughed. “Probably the FBI.”

  The two women took turns speculating on what might be happening. As the sirens faded, the women went back to work.

  * * *

  The stretch limo slowed at the gate of 20415, then stopped. The first of four passenger side doors opened; a man climbed out, fastened the middle button of his sport coat. The distant wale of sirens filled the air. The man—dark complexion, hair slicked back—heard the sirens, but looking up and down the road saw nothing. Without taking a step, he turned his upper body only and spoke to someone inside.

  ”Claro.”

  The remaining limo doors opened and six nattily dressed men emerged.

  One, clearly the leader, paused and looked around. “Beautiful,” he said. He too heard the sirens, but they seemed so far away he thought nothing of it. He looked over at Paul Casey and the Pant
her brothers, then at the stone pillar with the address. He spoke in Spanish to his companions; all heads turned in an attempt to locate the direction of the sirens. The leader walked across the road.

  Paul walked to head the man off. As they met near the center of the road, the man stopped. “Excuse me. I see that this is 20415.” He spoke with a strong Spanish accent, then seeing Paul’s apparent confusion, added, “Please forgive me. I am Eduardo Santana, representative to the Columbia delegation. We have an appointment with Doctoro Simms and Señora Rehnquist.”

  Paul had made the first man out of the limo as a bodyguard the moment he stepped onto the road. He was puzzled by this other man, however, until the names Simms and Rehnquist were mentioned.

  “Perhaps you could direct me?” Santana said.

  The sirens were now clear enough that it was apparent that they came from several vehicles.

  Paul managed to produce his most cordial smile. “Certainly,” he said, and stepped back indicating the silver and black BMW. “You’ve arrived just in time.”

  The stranger shook Paul’s hand. “Bueno, señor. Thank you very much.” He turned and walked back toward the limo where he joined his companions. Paul walked back to join the Panther brothers as quickly as his hip would allow.

  “What did you tell the police?”

  Bobby was still rubbing his chest. “Everything I thought would get them up here in a hurry. Black market organ sales, murder… and I threw in the fire for good measure. Why?”

  “Judging from those sirens we should see half the county’s law enforcement come flying around the corner any minute.”

  Paul watched as the group of men from the limo—the Columbian contingent—walk across the street and converge on the BMW.

  Paul’s eyes widened, and he instinctively took a step back. The highway patrol vehicle whizzed by, narrowly missing the men. It then suddenly turned into a skid, stopping crossways to the road. A second vehicle, a sheriff’s patrol, skidded to a halt parallel to the limo, blocking it from the delegation.