by L T Ryan
After momentarily freeing herself of the weapons, Hatch pressed the palms of her hands against the burgundy wall, which upon touching it, she realized it was paint the color of rust and not rust itself. A second later, Hatch propelled herself out of the window like she'd been fired by a cannon, sailing over the broken bike. She turned her shoulder in before hitting the hard dirt, using the momentum from her launch to tuck into a roll just as she passed over the handlebars. Hatch righted herself and immediately grabbed both guns, scanning her surroundings for any potential threat. Finding none, she moved to the left and found cover by a tree.
In the dark gap between the crossing headlights of the two police vehicles stood the barely visible Lieutenant Eddie Munoz. Even now, he struck the same cocky pose, his muscular arms folded neatly across his chiseled chest. He continued to bark at the front door of Ernesto's house.
"You've gotten yourself into a whole mess of trouble with people that don't like trouble. I'm here to sort all of that out."
Hatch saw what he meant by “sort out”. She counted a total of four men, all outside of their vehicles. The driver of the vehicle closest to her was a fat man who she had never seen before, but he wore the uniform of the Nogales Police. Munoz was next, standing to the right of an opened passenger door shielding his torso and lower extremities. The driver of the far vehicle stood a few feet away from Munoz, leaving his door open. The two doors, Munoz’ and the other driver's, nearly touched ends. The fourth man was barely visible except for his hand reaching out into the light. In it, he held a pistol. They all did. All the policemen had their weapons drawn and pointed at the front door of Ernesto and Josefina Cruz’s house, except for Munoz. He remained still with his arms folded.
"You've taken something that belongs to us," Munoz continued as if he was on the podium pontificating a speech to the masses. "Did you not think we'd find out? First, you burned down one of Mr. Fuentes' favorite nightclubs and then you relieved him of his property."
Hatch understood why men like Munoz used words like property or package. Men like Munoz didn't see girls like Letty or Angela as human beings. These girls in their possession were commodities to be traded and sold, to be discarded when used up. Nothing more. From the looks of the way Letty was being treated or about to be treated in that room at Club Fire, she appeared to be heading toward the discard pile.
What bothered Hatch was how quickly Munoz and his goons had been able to track them down. Munoz did not seem like the brightest in the bunch when she’d encountered him in the police department lobby. Yet, here he was, standing outside with a smug look.
"Mr. Fuentes keeps tabs on all his property."
There was the word again. The gears shifted in Hatch's mind and now she had a better inkling as to why or possibly why. Maybe they had tracked the transponder to the mission where they dumped the van and picked their trail up from there, but it seemed doubtful. She'd kept watch the entire way and saw no tail. But he'd managed to show up, in spite of all that.
"The kindness of my offer will only last a very short period of time. The clock has started. I'm going to give you a minute to think about it. At the end of which, I will help you along with your decision.
“There's two ways this can go. In the end, it doesn't matter to me or my men which you choose. The result will be the same. You're coming with me, and the property taken from Mr. Fuentes will be returned to its rightful owner. When those two things happen, I will determine how I handle the three others who chose to help you. But hey, I'm a reasonable guy. And I'm sure I can work something out."
The fat cop to his left laughed. Munoz leaned over and said something in Spanish that even if she could hear, based on the speed at which Munoz spoke, it was doubtful she would have been able to comprehend. But the message was clear.
The heavyset police officer moved off into the darkness, stepping wide, careful to avoid the cone of light flooding the front porch. He began making his way around toward the back.
Hatch pulled her weapon tight to her chest and readied herself for the man who stalked toward the tree she pressed against.
Twenty-Four
The large Cypress painted her in its dark shadow, further masking Hatch's approach under the cloud covered moon above. The man positioned on the back corner of Ernesto's house had radioed to Munoz, letting him know there was no back door access. She heard Munoz's response and understood enough of it to know he told the fat policeman to hold the corner and wait.
He took an interest in the window she'd just escaped from and walked to it. Standing beside the bike she'd soared over, he looked up and lowered, but did not holster, the semi-automatic pistol in his right hand. He was shorter than the bottom lip of the windowsill by a few inches. He forced the balls of his feet to endure the brunt his weight as he pushed himself up on his tiptoes.
The large man wobbled on his stilted toes as he peered in the window. He holstered his weapon to pull out the radio positioned behind it on his patrol belt. The heavyset cop didn't have a lapel microphone attached and had to unclip his radio each time he needed to use it, which this time, he didn't get to do.
While the officer was engaged in a tug of war over his radio with impressive girth spilled out atop of it, Hatch struck the butt end of her pistol against the base of his skull. He fell to ground knocking over the bike she'd narrowly avoided. It clattered loudly in the silent countdown Munoz had given.
Hatch quickly used the man's two pair of cuffs to bind each wrist to his opposite ankle, the crisscrossed shackles rattled as the unconscious man now lay hogtied where he fell. She stuffed his wallet in his mouth and unholstered his pistol and tossed it in the bathroom window. Hatch hoped, should she not make it, the gun would provide Ayala and the others another option before submitting to the hitmen. Hatch hoped they never had to find it.
The gun landed softly on the towels Josefina had set out for Letty. Hatch rounded the other side of the small house, staying out of the light emanating from the patrol cars parked in front. She used the trees as cover while she snaked her way through the darkness, leading up to the other men holding the good people inside hostage.
When she heard Munoz speak again, she realized he hadn't heard the crash of the bicycle, or at least made no mention of it when he spoke next.
"You have offended the courtesy of my offer by not accepting it." He sounded genuinely disappointed. Maybe this tactic had worked in times' past. But to lay one's self at the feet of their killer is what sheep do. And she was no sheep. Rachel Hatch was a wolf. And wolves don't lay in wait. They hunt.
"Sadly, Miss Nighthawk, we must do it the hard way. I take no comfort in saying this, but you have chosen a painful death, one that will go on hours longer than it should, and one that you could have avoided for the innocent people inside." Munoz signaled silently with his hands, directing the two remaining men to enter the front door.
The man closest to her, the one Hatch had intended on taking as her own hostage, rounded the front of the vehicle he'd been standing beside. He walked through the headlights and met up with the other officer. The two formed side by side and moved in step toward the front door.
Hatch changed plans on the fly when she saw Munoz was intently focused on his two henchmen going forward at his command to do his dirty work. The intersecting paths of headlights was a tactical move used in felony stops conducted by law enforcement officers. The cones of light from the use of high-beams, spotlights, and takedown lights work to blind those on the other end. That part was apparent. The why was less apparent. And Hatch, having spent fifteen years in her capacity as an MP, knew the answer. In that answer came her next move.
The overlapping light between the two vehicles in a felony takedown serve a very important purpose. It created a black hole. Officers used the void to place cuffs on suspects. It is done in that dark space for one important reason. Nobody on the other side of the light can see what happens. It keeps the bad guys from knowing what's happening. For most, seeing their thug friends disapp
ear is scary as hell. Or so she'd heard from the numerous criminals she'd done it to. And though the man only a few feet in front of her wore the uniform of her brothers and sisters in blue, he did not honor it. He was a criminal. And the criminal was standing directly in the black hole.
Before he had a chance to even unfold his arms, she had kicked hard at the back of his legs, buckling the man. Hatch caught him mid-fall and just before he struck the ground, she spun him to the side to keep him off-balance while she threaded her arm under his right armpit.
A fraction of a second passed before Hatch had Munoz locked against her body. His right shoulder pressed firmly against his neck was countered by Hatch's forearm squeezing the other side. She locked the choke hold in place using just her right arm, the palm of which was pressed flat against the right of her own neck.
This maneuver did many things at once. By controlling Munoz' right arm, he was unable to access his gun. Leaning him back against her body kept him off-balance enough that she could maintain effective control while enabling her to keep him in front of her as a human shield with her Glock pressed against his left temple.
"Tell your men to come out and drop their weapons. Do it now." The stink of his cologne tickled her nose as she whispered into Munoz's ear.
"I would, but they won't listen."
"You're their Lieutenant, of course they'll listen. Now tell them to stand down."
"They'll kill me just to get to you. Nobody fails Mr. Fuentes." The macho bravado she'd seen in him before at the police department lobby was all but gone. Strangely, it wasn't fear replacing it now. It was peace. Munoz surrendered to the acceptance of his death with an almost enviable serenity. The road he'd taken in life to bring himself to this point had finally reached its ultimate and expected trade-off, as deals made with the devil typically do. Maybe when Munoz signed his soul away, he had also resigned himself to this outcome long ago.
The two officers Munoz had sent inside now stood on the front porch with the door opened behind them, their guns pointed out into the light, blinded by their devices, and momentarily frozen by the invisible adversary who hid behind their lieutenant holding him hostage. "Nobody inside boss," one of them said.
"Take the shot," Munoz yelled in Spanish.
The two men, suddenly aware of the shift in power, widened their stance and took aim but did not fire. Not yet at least.
"Kill her," he hissed. The words never getting past his lips as Hatch constricted.
The men on the porch had yet to move. Instead, they peered out into the light and shifted their weapons in several different directions. They didn't know where she was.
Hatch made herself as small as possible behind Munoz who was of similar height and size. She prepared for the eventuality that once the rounds started firing, she would move Munoz forward and try to flank around to one of the vehicles. It wasn't a perfect plan. Lots of variables. Lots of places for Murphy's Law to insert itself.
Coiled. Ready. Hatch breathed in the muggy air tainted with the cologne of her hostage.
The first bang came, followed immediately by another. And neither came from a gun.
Both armed men were now face-down on Ernesto's yellow porch. Standing behind them, or more appropriately above them, Hatch saw Miguel Ayala and Ernesto Cruz holding up heavy cast iron pans like baseball players, celebrating an over-the-fence home run. The two men broke into a bit of a jig.
Munoz cursed at the sight of his two men being handcuffed together by the two older gentlemen.
Munoz, realizing his fate was back in Hatch's hands, made a last-ditch effort to break free by bucking hard.
Hatch felt his movement in his muscles before he made it. She began her counter before he attempted his attack. With the forward threat neutralized, Hatch stowed her gun and used her left arm to lock in the back of Munoz' neck. The interruption of the blood and oxygen to the brain caused the corrupt lieutenant to drop to the ground.
When consciousness returned, Munoz was cuffed to the open door of the police cruiser he'd arrived in.
"You might as well kill me." He spat blood into the dirt.
Hatch felt the cold steel of the Glock against her back and seriously considered taking the dirty cop up on his offer.
"They'll never stop. You know that," he continued through ragged breaths. "After I'm gone more will come."
"How did you find us?" She had other ways of extracting the information, but time was of the essence.
"I told you, Mr. Fuentes tracks his packages." He smiled. It was the same smile he'd given her when he first saw her walk in through the doors of the Nogales Police Department. The glaring difference this go round, his bright white teeth were now painted with his blood.
"The girls, like the one in that house and everything else the Fuentes family claims as their own, are monitored. It didn't matter that you ditched the van at that mission parking lot, though it would have been a lot easier had you not. It would have saved us a lot of time. We were tracking the van, not the package. Once we realized what'd you done, we activated a different tracker."
"Where is it?"
Munoz shrugged. "I don't know. Some doctor puts them in."
"Then a doctor will take them out," Ernesto said walking up on the man with his frying pan weapon still at the ready. The seventy-seven-year-old looked ready for another round.
"What are you going to do with me now?"
"Don't worry. If what you said is true, and Mr. Fuentes tracks his packages, then I'm sure someone will be along to find you soon enough." Hatch walked away, back towards Ernesto's house.
"You're already a dead woman! Do you hear me? A DEAD WOMAN!" Munoz called out.
The black hole swallowed Munoz as Hatch walked into the light. She thought about the words. There was more truth to that statement than he’d ever know.
Twenty-Five
They filled up Ayala's yellow Nissan, just as it started to sputter its final protest. Hatch gave an uneasy smile, still unnerved from the gun battle they'd narrowly avoided at the hand of the pan-wielding hero in the driver's seat. A man who, by his own admission, was accustomed to covering the violence of the world but unaccustomed to experiencing it firsthand.
"See, I told you we'd make it." His voice still quivering as the adrenaline dump he'd received during his moment of triumph had begun to recede within his system. Homeostasis would be reached again, but only after he'd crashed. The trick in combat was to keep the crash from happening before the battle was fully won. And they were still far from done. After filling up, they set off toward the Solarus Juice plant.
Ernesto and his wife Josephina had loaded their small Jeep with supplies, as much as they could comfortably fit and still leave enough room for Letty. The trio headed off in the opposite direction of Hatch and Ayala. It hadn't taken Ernesto long to find a doctor in his inner circle willing and able to find and remove whatever tracking device was implanted in Letty. And hopefully keep the cartel's henchmen at bay.
It was as good a plan as they could muster in the time they had to create it. With Letty's information, Hatch knew this next stop might be their last chance to recover the abducted teen.
With two hours to go until they reached their destination, Hatch realized she’d lit a fuse when she started the fire that burned down the aptly named club. And once lit, she feared it wouldn't end until the cartel had their pound of flesh. She felt the bright sparkle tail of the fuse chasing her now, and as she looked in the rearview mirror for headlights, Hatch half expected to see glowing embers chasing close behind them.
"You look worried," Ayala said.
"I am. This might be my last chance to save her."
"Our last chance," Ayala corrected with a smile.
"You know that I couldn't have gotten this far without you."
"If this is going to be one of those 'I can go it alone' speeches, you can just save it. I'm in this until the end. Whatever that means. And trust me when I say this, I understand what's at stake when I say this to you.
" His face warmed. "Daphne, you can get it out of your head that you're doing me a favor by leaving me behind. Because you're not. This is my home. I may not be as tough or skilled as you, but I am damn well not going to sit down and let the cartel, or anybody else for that matter, sell a little girl into slavery if I can help it. And without question, this is something I am willing to give my life for, just as readily as you."
"Partners it is."
"I just wish I'd brought Josefina's pan with me."
"You were really brave back there. The way you and Ernesto took out those two guys was nothing short of amazing. It's going down in my book as one of the coolest endings to a hostage standoff that I've witnessed in a long time. Plus, you saved my life."
"Seemed like you had things well in hand. Ernesto and I just sped it along. I'm just glad it didn't end in a shootout. I think even those men we hit with the frying pan would agree with that one."
"Not when the cartel learns of their failure. All we really did was prolong the inevitable. I'm just holding out hope that we can put a little bit of time between us and whoever else they send."
Her last statement ended their conversation as both occupants of the little yellow Nissan hummed along the darkened roadway.
"You know, you never really answered my question back there." Hatch broke the silence with a change in topic.
"Which one?"
"At your cafe, when I asked you why you did this, why you help people and put yourself out there with so much at risk."
"I did answer you."
"You told me that wonderful story your father told you about the seed and the boulder. That's true. But you never really answered."
"This is true. Let me see if I can remedy that for you as best I can. Maybe you could rephrase your question?"
"What specific moment in your life put you on the path you're on now, one where you're willing to risk everything, including your life, to save people you don't know?"
