Shake the Trees

by Rod Helmers

  “It’s Tim, ma’am.”

  “Sweet dreams, Tim.”

  Tim turned to her. “Huh?”

  Ellen smiled sympathetically and lightly caressed the teenager’s cheek with her right hand, but as soon as their physical contact ceased, she touched his side with the Taser held in her left. As his knees buckled, Ellen reached out and guided the lean body to a soft landing on the carpeted floor. After removing his Pizza Hut jacket and cap, she placed a pillow under his head and shoved a wad of $100 bills into the side pocket of his jeans. Then she reached into her bag and retrieved a roll of duct tape, and quickly bound his ankles and wrists and applied a strip across his lips.

  As she straddled him on her knees and studied her work, a lurid grin slowly replaced her workmanlike visage. Ellen shook her head in regret as she spoke to the unconscious figure beneath her. “The things I could have taught you. It would have been even better than the spa.”

  Then Ellen called out toward the closed bathroom door. “It’s time, Susie.”

  As Susie emerged with a droopy-eyed toddler and the little girl, Ellen spoke again. “It’s been long enough. It’s okay to give him another dose.”

  Susie still looked reluctant. Ellen handed her the bottle and continued. “It’s for his own good. You don’t want him running around here unsupervised do you? And we can’t have him strapped into his car seat screaming at the top of his lungs.”

  Susie nodded. “Okay.” She sat the little boy in the removable part of his car seat, and the sputtering child had soon swallowed more of the cherry flavored liquid.

  Ellen smiled sympathetically and handed Susie the tape and a small scissors. “Do it your way.”

  Susie sat on the floor with her daughter. “Remember the game Mommy told you about?”

  “Yes,” the precocious four-year old replied.

  “Your turn first.”

  The little girl cut a piece of tape and put it across her mother’s mouth and giggled. Susie laughed with her eyes and took the tape and scissors and placed a strip across her daughter’s mouth. Then the process was repeated with the ankles, except this time Susie wrapped tape around her child’s wrists as well. Then Ellen knelt down and taped Susie’s wrists. Finally, she secured the sleeping toddler in place by winding the roll of tape around the plastic carrier several times.

  “Are we good?” Ellen asked.

  Susie nodded. Saying thank you with her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” Ellen responded. “I’ll send somebody as soon as I can.”

  Ellen put the Pizza Hut jacket and hat on, zipped up the red insulated carrier, and walked out the door with the pizza. After snatching the plastic pizza delivery sign off the roof of the teenager’s car, she tossed it inside the Parker’s van and sped off to the Roswell Industrial Air Center.

  She parked well away from the terminal and up against the chain link fence where she had a clear view of the tarmac. After adjusting the frequency on the aviation radio she’d purchased at the avionics store in Tampa, Ellen removed a small pair of binoculars from her bag and studied the fuel attendant. It was the same overweight man she’d seen two days earlier. She focused on the writing above his shirt pocket. His name was John.

  Bubba could have just put the Citation on autopilot, but he was letting Sam become accustomed to holding the airplane on course and in straight and level flight. Sam jumped as the radio came to life.

  “Citation Four Niner Foxtrot Zulu,” the disembodied voice demanded with unexpected urgency.

  Bubba recognized the tone and grabbed the yoke. “I’ve got the airplane.” Then he keyed the push to talk button next to his thumb. “Citation Four Niner Foxtrot Zulu. Go ahead Center.”

  “Citation Four Niner Foxtrot Zulu, initiate emergency descent and clear the airspace immediately. No vectors. ROW is directly below you. Contact the tower at 118.5. This is an emergency. Do not delay.”

  “Emergency descent, ROW, 118.5, Citation Four Niner Foxtrot Zulu.” Bubba released the push to talk button and nodded at the area map that Sam was now holding. “What the hell is ROW?”

  “Roswell Industrial Air Center,” Sam replied.

  Bubba switched to intercom, turned on the audible speaker, and again thumbed the push to talk button. “Everybody fasten your seat belts right now. No kidding. We’re fixin’ to make an emergency descent and landing.”

  Bubba pulled back on the power levers, and the big turbofans wound down quickly. He concentrated on the airspeed indicator, and as soon as the needle passed a critical figure, he popped the air brakes. Sam strained against the three-point restraints as Bubba continued to focus on the airspeed indicator. As the needle passed another critical airspeed, he lowered the landing gear, and the plane slowed even more. As the airspeed decreased even further, he put in 15 degrees of flaps. All of this was done to create aerodynamic drag and slow the airplane during its emergency descent.

  Now Bubba stood the jet on one wing and began a spiraling descent. Sam felt as if he were looking straight down at the ground. Ground that was rushing toward him. All of the objects below were quickly growing in size. Like some sort of time-lapse photography trick.

  Sam jumped again as the intercom crackled and Tillis’ annoyed sounding voice filled his headset. “Bubba. What the hell is going on?”

  Bubba switched off the audible speaker, and thumbed the push to talk. “Center said clear the airspace. Initiate an emergency descent and land. Roswell Industrial is directly below. This is one of those obey now and ask questions later sort of deals.”

  “Clear the airspace? Another 9-11?”

  “Nah. This area is chocked full of military and restricted airspace. Probably has something to do with that. But I’m not hangin’ around long enough to get my dick in a crack.”

  “Thanks, Bubba. Fly the airplane.” Tillis’ comment acknowledged his confidence in Bubba’s skills.

  “Roger that.” Bubba answered.

  Tillis pulled off his headset and turned to the frightened faces of Sandi and Sally. Both were clinging to his calm demeanor for assurance.

  “Nothing is wrong with the airplane. Air traffic control told Bubba to clear the airspace and land immediately.”

  “Why?” Sally asked.

  “Don’t know. There’s a lot of military and restricted airspace around here. It could have something to do with that.”

  “It’s her,” Sandi said in a monotone.

  Sally looked at Sandi with empathy. “She’s not superwoman. She can’t control the federal air traffic control system for god’s sake. It’s going to be okay. I promise.” She nervously looked to Tillis for support, but none was forthcoming.

  “Everything will be all right once were on the ground,” Sally added. Almost as if she was trying to convince herself.

  Sandi shook her head. “It’s her.”

  Sally looked at Tillis again. Tillis shrugged.

  “This is one hell of a coincidence though,” Sally conceded.

  The word sent a shiver up Tillis’ spine as the plane plunged toward the ground. He turned back to the window and studied the oddly shaped airfield still nearly three miles below.

  Ellen had the radio tuned to the tower frequency. When it crackled to life, she pulled on her cap and grabbed the red insulated bag containing the pizza. She walked briskly into the small concrete block terminal and across the waiting area. As she approached the double glass doors that fronted the tarmac, she turned to the man behind the adjacent desk and spoke.

  “Got a pizza for John.”

  “What a porker. Where’s Tim?”

  “Flu.”

  “Hey. Hold on there.”

  Ellen’s eyes narrowed as she looked hard at the man behind the desk. Weighing the pros and cons of dropping him to the ground in such a public area. With her free hand she touched the Taser in her pocket, but then decided to play it out.

  “What?” She asked hurriedly.

  “I’ll need to inspect that. New security regulations.”

  Ell
en’s jaw was set as she carried the insulated carrier over to the desk and unzipped it. The man reached in, flipped open the cardboard container and began to yank a slice free. Then recoiled in disgust.

  “What the hell? Veggie? That’s disgusting.” The man pushed the pizza away and motioned Ellen thru the doors. “Ask John Boy something for me.”

  “What’s that?” Ellen asked evenly.

  “Ask him if he’s on that new pizza diet I heard about.” The man laughed at his own joke. “Fat boy goes on a veggie pizza diet.” He shook his head and laughed some more. “What a shocker.”

  Ellen smiled, turned, and pushed open the glass door. Fat boy had a big shock coming, she thought to herself, but it wasn’t a veggie pizza.

  After the hydraulically operated steps had fully extended, Tillis was the first to exit the jet. He was surprised to discover a fuel truck parked tight up against the plane, and was even more surprised to see a fuel attendant already pumping jet fuel into a wing tank. He thought that perhaps Bubba had radioed ahead, but then wondered why they were taking on fuel anyway, given the jet’s extended range and the fact that they’d left Tampa with full tanks.

  It was a clear desert night, and he took a deep breath as he looked up at a sky filled to overflowing with stars and frayed trails of distant milky light. The fuel truck had been unexpected, but then something more startling intruded. His brain registered the incongruity even before the barely discernible odor of smoldering tobacco had fully found his olfactory nerve. He scanned the scene until he spotted a trace of smoke curling up from under the brim of the cap of the slightly built fuel attendant.

  “Hey!” Tillis yelled with more than a trace of anger in his voice.

  The fuel attendant removed the nozzle from the wing tank, but continued to hold the trigger tightly against the handle, spilling tens of gallons of highly combustible jet fuel under the fuselage of the airplane. Sally stepped out of the airplane and joined Tillis in the desert night just as the fuel attendant looked up, her green eyes shining with intensity.

  Sally and Ellen immediately recognized each other. Ellen smiled. Sally did not. Ellen pulled the cigarette away from her lips and studied it with a twinkle in her eye. Then held it out toward Tillis and Sally, and nodded at it.

  “These things will kill you. You know that don’t you.”

  CHAPTER 54

  “So how are we gonna do this?” Tillis asked in his typically imperturbable way.

  Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Finally. Somebody I can work with. Somebody willing to step into the breech. A take charge kind of guy. You can’t be a cop.”

  “I’m a cop.”

  “You sure as hell can’t be FBI.”

  “FDLE.”

  “Mmm.”

  Ellen studied Tillis from head to toe, and he reflexively returned the unstated compliment. Sally shook her head in disgust; the scene reminded her of a Discovery Channel nature special she’d seen. Ellen noted the reaction and nodded in her direction.

  “She work for you?”

  “She works with me. She’s my partner.” Tillis replied.

  “Mmm. No mandatory physical fitness program at the FDLE I see.”

  Tillis chose to ignore the comment.

  Ellen took a drag on the unfiltered Camel and nodded at Sally again. “Lard ass over there needs to hit the gym. My grandmother can run rings around that one.”

  “You can kiss my fat lard ass.” Sally spat the words out. Surprising not only Tillis, but herself as well.

  Ellen’s laugh contained equal parts amusement and derision. “It’s not that I’m opposed in principle to what you’re suggesting, but in your case I think I’ll pass.”

  Ellen waited for a response, but this time Sally held her tongue. Tillis was glad the exchange was over. After a few moments of silence, Ellen tossed the fuel nozzle and hose onto the pavement, and pulled a soft pack of unfiltered Camel shorts from the pocket of her Pizza Hut jacket. She lit a new cigarette from the remnants of the old, and flicked the lit butt well away from the fuel spill. Nevertheless, Tillis and Sally both cringed as the burning bit of tobacco flew thru the air.

  “Enough chit chat. Let’s get down to business shall we?” Although phrased as a question, Tillis and Sally both knew Ellen had issued a command. They knew she had the upper hand. Both nodded and Ellen continued. “Everybody off the plane. Front and center.”

  With only his eyes, Tillis told Sally to comply, and she stepped back into the jet. In a moment, Bubba, Sandi, and Sam followed her down the stairs and onto the tarmac. Ellen now stood on the wing of the plane looking down on the group of three, and then locked eyes with Tillis. “Search them.”

  Tillis patted down Sam and Sandi first, and then moved on to Bubba. Ellen didn’t bother to watch Tillis. She instinctively knew better. She kept her eyes on Bubba’s face, and as Tillis made his way down his left leg, she spotted the tell. “Bring it here. Lay it on the wing.” Then she took another drag on the cigarette. Until the end burned brightly.

  After removing a snub nose .38 from the ankle holster Bubba had strapped to his leg, an almost imperceptible grimace stole across Tillis’ features. A tell of his own acknowledging the perceptiveness of his adversary. Ellen caught the movement, but was modest in her reply. “He’s an open book. You’d think he’d have learned to play better poker after all that hurry up and wait in the military.”

  Tillis placed the gun on the wing of the aircraft, and returned to the group. Ellen tucked it into her waistband and pointed at Bubba, Sam, and Sandi. Singling out each person one at a time. Selecting them for something special. “You three. Back on the plane.”

  Bubba and Sam began to climb the stairs, but Sandi didn’t move. Sam stopped and looked back. And then Bubba did as well. Ellen was obviously becoming annoyed. “On the plane. Now.”

  “I’m not going,” Sandi replied. “I have a child.”

  “You should have thought about that before you shoved that needle into my chest.” Ellen reached into the pocket of the jacket she wore, thumbed the sliding bar to the distance setting, and fired the Taser at Sandi. The twin barbs buried themselves in her chest and she collapsed onto the ground in a spasm of pain.

  After placing the Taser in one pocket, and retrieving the softpack of cigarettes from the other, Ellen lit a third cigarette and flicked another spent butt away from the scene. Ellen looked hard at Tillis. “Either you get these three on the airplane right now, or I turn this place into hell on earth. It’s up to you. Personally, I’m ambivalent.”

  Tillis knew Ellen meant every word she said. He turned to Bubba and nodded. Bubba nudged Sam and then picked up Sandi by the arms. It took Sam an extra moment to understand what was expected of him, but he finally picked Sandi up by the legs, and the two began to awkwardly make their way up the stairs of the jet as Sandi’s dead weight dangled between them.

  “Sam,” Ellen called out as they were about to reenter the aircraft. Sam turned just as she nodded down at Sandi. “Penalties and interest, Sam. Penalties and interest.” Sam looked away and swallowed hard. Bubba pulled on Sandi as he took another step backwards, and Sam followed. Carrying Sandi and a heavy burden of guilt into the jet.

  Ellen nimbly jumped off the wing, quickly strode across the tarmac to the stairs, and turned to face Tillis. Still holding the smoldering cigarette between her index finger and thumb - still ready to ignite the fumes that hovered over the asphalt. “Cap that tank. It’s full. Fill the other wing tank and get the hell away.” Then she turned to Sally. “There’s a Motel 6 about a mile down the road. Room 113.”

  Ellen kept her eyes on Tillis and Sally as she moved sideways up the stairs. When the door was near, she removed Bubba’s snub nose .38 from her waistband, pulled back the hammer, and yelled into the plane. “Bubba and Sam. I want you two strapped in now. I have a lit cigarette hanging out the door, so don’t do anything you won’t live to regret.”

  After edging her way partially into the Citation, Ellen finally disappeared into the shadowy int
erior and the hydraulic steps retracted and melded into the sleek fuselage. Tillis turned to Sally. His set jaw and snapping eyes made it completely clear who was in charge even before he began to speak.

  “Call Sante Fe and tell them to stand down. Call local law enforcement and tell them to get to that motel room now. Wake somebody up in Wichita and get their second best Ten instructor pilot on an open line. I want the best on site within an hour. Then check with the general aviation people inside. I want a damn good Ten pilot sitting beside me asap. Then let Ron know what’s gone down.”

  Tillis capped the filled wing tank, and began dragging the fuel hose toward the opposite side of the aircraft. Sally called after him. “Ten?”

  “Cessna Citation X.”

  “Wichita?”

  “Cessna headquarters.”

  Sally stood unmoving for a moment, thinking through everything. “Right. Why?” She questioned Tillis tentatively; hoping her need to know didn’t piss him off.

  “I have a pretty good idea where this thing is going.”

  “Okay. Where will you be?”

  Tillis didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just looked up.

  “The tower. Dumb question.” Sally spoke out loud, but only to herself. Tillis was already filling the opposite wing tank.

  After capping the other wing tank of the Citation X and retracting the fuel hose, Tillis drove the big truck up to the front door of the general aviation terminal and leapt out. Leaving the driver’s door hanging open. The only access to the tower appeared to be thru the terminal building, and he shoved the double glass doors open.

  He found himself looking at a startled young man in his mid-twenties with three days beard growth. Tillis laid his identification on the front desk. “Florida Department of Law Enforcement. I need to go to the tower.”

  The man studied the ID for a moment. “This is New Mexico.”

  “It’s a long story. Buzz me in.”

  “Can’t. Big circle jerk today. New security regulations. No entry without the correct password.”