Jumping into the pilot seat, I switched on the electrical system and inspected a few of the gages and indicators to see if we had enough fuel remaining. I tapped the fuel gauge and the needle jumped up. We had plenty of fuel, but since we were going to nearby Riverside we did not need much. As I examined the other gages, I heard a noise in the front of the hangar. I looked out and saw someone approaching us.
Out of the darkness, the image of Old Fish Eyes materialized out of nowhere. A bloodstained patch covered his left eye. Several deep scratches raked across his face, some wide and purple. It seemed that someone with sharp fingernails had clawed him like a wild cat. Blood trickled down from his mangled right ear, as if he had been bitten by a rabid dog. He was a mess.
In the background stood two armed soldiers decked out in stylish black uniforms. They barely moved a muscle, their bodies resembling marble statues in a museum. They aimed their assault rifles at me.
I climbed out of the plane and faced my nemesis, wishing I had taken Rant’s advice. Yes, she was right again. I was in desperate need of a strong defensive weapon.
“Going for supplies this late hour?” Jack gleamed with the delight of a father catching his child stealing from a forbidden cookie jar.
“I’m going for a quick cappuccino. Starbucks is fresh out.”
“Well, we cannot let that happen.” Jack moved closer, walking with a limb. “You know what I think? I think you’re planning to abandon ship.”
“First, there has to be a ship to abandon,” I retorted.
“Cute! But it doesn’t matter what you think. We need you here and…” Jack stopped in mid-sentence. He had spotted Big Al hiding behind the others.
The crowd parted as Jack sauntered through and stood in front of his former DED Director. “I see we have caught a much larger big-mouth traitor. My trophy wall will be complete. Believe me, the taxidermist will be hard put to fill my order.”
“They kidnapped me,” Big Al lied through his teeth as sweat beaded across his pale forehead.
“Odd! You’re not handcuffed.” Jack lifted Big Al’s sweaty, white shaking hands.
“I just broke free. And yes, you’re right. All of these miscreants are deserters. They plan to escape and never return. They’re turncoats.”
“One turncoat to another. Well, I see that my suspicions have been confirmed.” Jack turned around and walked back to me. “So, what is it? We didn’t pay you enough? Or is it the climate? Just too hot in Hemet?”
“Definitely, too hot. And a little too erratic,” I said.
“I’ve been watching you,” Jack said, as he fished around in his pocket. “Very closely. I understand that you’re a good friend of Nick Gillis.”
“So, you’re the one who’s been spying on us with cameras and sophisticated listening equipment.”
“You’re not that important. That’s why I enlisted the services of Brian. You picked an excellent supervisor. He has been very helpful.”
“Brian?” I felt betrayed.
“I know you had secret talks with Nick Gillis. I am sure it was delightful chitchat about literature and poetry. But now I find you with his plane and his ill-gotten supplies. By the way, smuggling is a crime punishable by death. I believe that is ordnance 21395.”
“It’s our stuff, man,” Tommy blurted out as he still held his bolt cutter. “We haven’t done anything criminal.”
“Really?” Jack paused and eyed the stacks of banana boxes next to the plane. “I may have only one good eye left, but I know incriminating evidence when I see it.”
“You have no right to tell us what to do,” I said. “Besides, I believe the vice mayor should be in charge. You know, what’s-his-name?” My real motive was to stall and distract Jack, giving someone time to pursue some harebrained scheme that might actually work. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Tommy inching closer to Jack. It seemed out of character. Tommy probably did not have the nerve to smack our city manager with his bolt cutter. Or did he?
“Poor Gene Holiday,” Jack replied. “Unfortunately, he was also caught up in Mayor’s Quinn’s elaborate conspiracy. Too bad. I still have him marked on my calendar to play poker next Tuesday night. Boy, Gene was a lousy card player. It’s too bad his cheating cards got revoked.”
“So… You’re now in charged?” I asked.
“Heavens no! The Committee for Homeland Security is in charge. I’m just the chairman.”
“So, you have not been spying on us?” I asked.
“Ever since Quinn’s demise, you’ve been on my minor shit list as a possible co-conspirator. Sure, we monitored your pathetic and meaningless activities. They did not warrant much attention. We only assigned a handful of undercover agents and installed six tapped phone lines. It was mostly a big waste of money, except for recapturing Big Al.”
For some reason, I believed in Jack’s assessment. He had always been stingy with the city budget and would never spend lavishly for something he could get on the cheap. Still, that begged the question—who was also spying on Tommy and me?
“You need to come with us,” Jack smiled and pulled out his pistol. “Nobody is allowed to leave. Especially conspirators and smugglers.”
“We’re not guilty of any conspiracy,” I said.
“The tribunal council will decide that. They love a challenge.”
Then Sarah made her move. She sashayed up to Jack and pleaded with him. “Spencer is ill. He needs to see a specialist in Riverside. That’s why we’re leaving.”
“We have doctors here,” Jack said peering down Sarah’s revealing décolletage.
Sarah made no effort to cover up her almost naked bosom. “But Jack…” Her sweet voice conveyed sensual warmth that would have put Marilyn Monroe to shame. “Most of the doctors here are unfamiliar with my husband’s disease.” She moved in front of Jack and fingered his blood-stained tie with her graceful left hand. “He might not recover if he remains in Hemet.”
“What’s the disease?” Jack leaned toward Sarah, fascinated by her advancing erotic prowess.
“Why, it’s an ancient disorder—Tyrantitis!” Sarah whipped out a handgun and shoved it at Jack’s chest. “Now, hand over your weapon you little tyrannical shithead!”
Jack looked down at Sarah’s small pistol. He laughed with a wide sarcastic grin. “Why my dear, a little lower and you will be directly over my heart. That’s a much better target.”
“I know,” Sarah said with a serious face, “but since you don’t have one, there’s no reason to aim there.”
“Touché, my dear Madame.” Jack appeared delighted by her response. He slightly bowed his head slightly as if to pay reverence. “Sadly, a little slug of humor will not save you.”
“Oh... We’ll see.” Rand cocked her pistol and instantly rushed closer, right next to Sarah. With a quick snap, she slammed her barrel against Jack’s forehead. “Is this better? Two bullets for the price of one.”
“Immensely. I do appreciate a bargain, but you will still never escape. We have you targeted. Believe me when I say there are no places where you can escape. And I mean nowhere.”
“I don’t care,” Sarah huffed. “Disarm and tell your goons to drop their weapons.
With a stupid smile, Jack lifted his gun up high in the air, dangling it like a cat’s toy. He appeared cool and calm, but soon affirmed his surrender with a nodding gesture to the two gunmen. The two soldiers immediately came to life and dropped their weapons. They raised their arms and backed away a few feet. It was too easy. It almost appeared that his surrender had been rehearsed. I motioned for Lenny and Rant to gather the soldiers’ weapons.
I stepped forward and relieved Jack of his pistol. I backed away and prepared to leave, but something caught my eye. Upon closer study of the weapon, a silly grin rippled across my face. The handgun had a distinct similarity to the Mayor’s German Lugar. I suspected that Jack had to pry it from Quinn’s cold, dead fingers. There is justice in the world, in a sort of twisted and bizarre way.
Th
is was what I was trying to avoid. Our plan was to secretly escape during the dead of night and avoid complications. We were not revolting; we were retreating, but that had all changed. We were actively involved in an unplanned political coup. We had disarmed and captured Hemet’s supreme authority. We had arrested the tyrant-in-chief. What were we thinking?
I turned my attention to Sarah and stared at her with a gaze of endless incredulity. Apparently, I was wrong about her meek and timid personality. Right before my eyes, she had changed into a female Rambo with an arsenal of trickery and pretense, not unlike her audacious sister.
“Where did you get the gun?” I asked Sarah as the shock started to fade.
Sarah just smiled with a look of extreme satisfaction.
“I gave it to her!” Rant stepped forward and admitted her assistance. “Self-defense is a right. Even an obligation. Besides, a gun is a girl’s best friend. I’ve been training her. I was happy to. Rather odd though. She has always hated guns.”
Sarah moved next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder and stared straight into my eyes. “I sought out Rant’s help. I didn’t want to feel defenseless anymore. Understand?”
I nodded.
“I’m over here,” Jack uttered with a deep rumbling in his throat. “I’m supposed to be the center of attraction here. You simply can’t leave me out of the conversation. I’m more important than any of you.”
Tommy faced Jack and aimed the bolt cutter at his chest. “Hey, man, we’ve just dimmed your limelight. So, stop yakking like a big loser. You’re the preening cocks who keep stepping all over us. We just want out. We don’t want to remain behind enemy lines. We’re done!”
Tommy was correct. We were trapped behind enemy lines, in a foreign-like land we still did not fully understand. The worst part was that the borderline to the other side was undefined. We had no idea how far we had to flee to escape its firm grip.
I searched the hangar for rope or something to tie our captives’ hands but could not find anything. The hangar was crammed with boxes of produce and packaged food, and not much else. It was designed as a storage unit, not an aircraft hangar. The ceiling was rather low. I called for more of Tommy’s duct tape, but he informed me that he had used the last piece of tape on the gate guard.
“You know, we will get you in the end,” Jack said haughtily. “We will never give up. We will track you down wherever you go. I have special operatives on the outside. You cannot hide. Someone will find you one morning swimming in your own pool of blood.”
“We should just shoot them,” Big Al said matter-of-factly, displaying a sour, miserable frown on his face.
That horrible thought had crossed my mind. But we were not killers. We were not like them. We had principles. I did not have to confer with the others. They knew that Big Al’s sentiments were off the table discussions.
“We’ve got to go,” Tommy tugged my arm. “Someone will discover the gagged sentry. And boy, will the crapola really hit the fan!”
“Listen up!” I shouted. “We need to drag the plane clear of the hangar.”
“Not me!” Big Al boomed and folded his arms.
“You can come along if you help us.” I offered amnesty to Big Al despite my distrust.
“You’re mad!” Rant pulled her Glock and aimed it at Big Al’s big head. “He’s one of THEM.”
I had to think fast. “Big Al might be useful to people on the other side. You know, intelligence about the Hemet’s ruling hierarchy and future plans.”
“Give me a break!” Jack almost laughed. “Big Al is brain dead. Any neurologist could prove that in two seconds.”
Rant lowered her gun. “Maybe the fat man could be helpful. Just maybe.”
“I will behave,” Big Al said. “You would have done what I did to save your skins.”
“No! I wouldn’t!” Rant walked up to Big Al and sneered. “I don’t wrestle in the mud with pigs.”
“We need him,” I argued with the others. “He can help us to move the plane outside. Like I said before, we can hand him over to authorities on the other side.” I stepped in front of Big Al and tried to get his undivided attention. “I am sure you will provide useful information to policing agencies. Correct?”
Big Al hesitated at first, mumbled something inaudible, and then grunted out an affirmation: “Sure.”
Rant slowly lowered her gun, a skeptical look on her face.
Along with Big Al’s minor help, everyone started to move the aircraft out of the low-ceilinged hangar. I remained as the lone guard, with my gun sight focused on our uninvited guests. I realized that if I could not constrain them, I would have to stay behind. Tommy knew how to fly a plane. Somewhat. I had taken him on many airborne excursions and allowed him to occasionally take off and fly to Palmdale and back. He was quite good. Of course, neither of us had much training for night flying. Still, anything was better than living in this hostile terrain.
I walked slowly behind the plane as everyone pushed and pulled. I noticed Jack eyeing the telephone on the wall. Finally, outside the hangar, I ordered everyone inside the airplane. I did not want Sarah to know what I intended to do. She would never leave me behind. I told everyone to get inside.
Before Tommy could climbed inside, I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to me. “Take control of the cockpit! You must be our pilot.”
Tommy looked confused. “What?”
I lowered my voice, whispering. “I cannot come.”
“Hey, man, you’re not going all suicidal on me?”
“Of course not. I’ll explain later.” I turned and walked back to the hangar.
Unfortunately, Sarah saw me heading back to the hangar.
Sarah ran back to the plane’s rear door and shouted, “What are you doing?”
I could not lie. I stopped, turned and stared back at Sarah. “Listen, Tommy must take off if I can’t find a way to keep these mad dogs leashed. They will call the tower and who knows what will happen next?”
“I won’t go!” Sarah cried out.
“Lenny, keep her inside. That’s an order.”
“This is all very touching,” Jack said from a distance. “Sacrificing yourself for the common good. Why, that’s my duty.”
“Yeah, but you sacrifice citizens’ lives instead.”
“Well, that’s expected. We all know our expected duties. The authorities don’t protect citizens, citizens protect us. It has always been that way. Nothing earthshattering.” Jack walked to the phone leisurely as if he was out for his morning walk.
“Tommy, start up the engine!” I ordered.
Tommy cranked the starter. The engine roared to life.
I turned back to Jack, still pointing my pistol at him, “Move away from the phone!”
“How come I get the feeling you were never one of us?” Jack stood in front of the phone.
“You’re right, I never wanted to be one of THEM.”
“But you never did anything to stop us. Not only were you a traitor, but you also couldn’t even do it right!” Jack smirked.
That was a hard pill to swallow. I could not help but feel guilty as charged.
“You’re worse than a traitor,” Jack said. “You’re a coward.”
I just shook my head. Few people liked Jack’s caustic sense of humor or anything else about him. He had lived in bad sections of Chicago and now wanted to transplant that misery to our little city. I was sure he was going to get an award for his extraordinary misconduct. These people always did.
Jack turned and grabbed the phone.
I lifted my gun as Jack reached for the phone. It was a scene right out of Casablanca. Rick shot and killed the arrogant Nazi officer. Like Rick, I could not allow Jack to alarm the airport tower; otherwise, we risked imminent capture. I was on the horns of a dilemma. Was I willing to kill a man over a phone call? And yet Jack and his coterie were doing the same, injuring and shooting innocent citizens over silly moving violations. In fact, this whole travesty was all about the ends justifyi
ng the means. They believed that they could do anything so long as it might produce good results. Of course, they were the ones who defined goodness.
As Jack started to dial, his other hand reached towards his back. “And don’t give me any of your crap about liberty. Most of those fallacies were taken away years ago. Remember, driving is a privilege, not a right. All your so-called ‘rights’ originate from us, not from some nebulous Almighty. We have the right to determine where and when people will drive. We own the roads. In fact, we own you.”
“Put down the phone,” I ordered as I walked closer to Jack, tightly gripping my gun in my hand. My hand was shaking, my heart beating fast. It seemed that everything around me had stopped.
“You won’t shoot me, Spencer. The meek never do. So why object to the loss of a few more antiquated privileges? They have no meaning anymore. You know that. You’re smarter than that.”
But if he was so smart, then why was I the one holding the handgun?
Jack began to slowly dial the tower number.
I released the safety, aimed, and fired one shot near his face.
Jack jerked away to one side. He touched his ear with his thumb, studied it. He smiled when he noticed a few drops of blood. “Just a minor graze. I’ll consider it a miss. You know what your problem is, Spencer?”
I shook my head.
“You’re not a cold-blooded killer. Well, bully for you. But you cannot have significant change without breaking a few eggs. In fact, I bet you voted for me in the last election. I won by a landslide.”
Of course, I had, but I was not going to tell him that. “Well, we can always recall a bad egg.”
“So, you think society can thrive without us?”
“No. Nothing so grandiose. Just you.”
Jack ignored me and put the phone up to his ear. “Hello, this is Jack Bellamy and…”
“Stop!” I fired again, hitting the wall just above his pointy little head. He must really thought he was dealing with as a spineless wuss. I just wish I could convince myself that shooting an unarmed man was self-defense.
We Are Them Page 23
