Rose City Kill Zone

by DL Barbur

  She pulled back and collected herself.

  “Can you guys help me pack this stuff up and drive it over to the truck?”

  The four of us packed up all the gear, along with some energy drink cans and PowerBar wrappers. Dale drove the ATV over to the truck and we loaded it into the back. Despite the rough road, Casey fell asleep in the back seat, wedged between Jack and Robert. I managed to stay awake until we hit the paved road, then the hum of the tires lulled me into a restless sleep fraught with dreams of explosions.

  I was out for about an hour and a half. The sun was rising just as we rolled into Ontario, Oregon. It was a small city, maybe 15,000 people, but compared to Lehigh Valley, it was a metropolis, so we hoped we could find some anonymity here. Even though it was small, it sat right on the interstate highway, and the town saw plenty of transient traffic.

  We stopped for gas, and fast food then journeyed on. We wanted to get out of these vehicles as quickly as possible. The rental home was a big ranch house several miles outside the city limits, right on the Snake River. The nearest neighbor was several hundred yards away. Perfect. The rental vehicles were already there, and when I entered the door code into the sedan, I found the keys to all four in the glove box.

  We all stood in the yard, basking in the early morning sunlight. If we hadn’t been dirty, bloody, and exhausted, I could have believed we were a group of friends vacationing together. Dale’s truck and the Charger fit in the garage, out of sight.

  Casey started digging through the shipping cases we piled in the living room.

  “First let’s get the antenna set up,” she said, her words slurred. “Then I can get us up and running.”

  I put a hand on her arm.

  “Uh uh,” I said. “Sleep first.”

  She shook her head. “But they’ve got Burke.”

  “If you go poking around in a computer system and fuck up because you’re tired, could that lead them straight to us?”

  She stared through the front window for a minute. Her face was swollen and puffy around her busted nose, and like the rest of us, she smelled like stale sweat, explosives residue, and dust.

  “I guess,” she said.

  “Sleep,” I repeated. “Eight hours. Then I’ll help you set up whatever you want.”

  She didn’t argue, didn’t even say anything else, just shuffled upstairs like a zombie.

  Alex grabbed my arm.

  “C’mon,” she said. “You need to take your own advice.”

  “Somebody has to be on watch,” I said.

  Fueled by giant cups of coffee, Dale volunteered to drive one of the new vehicles into town while Jack stayed on watch. I handed the pilot the case with my .308 rifle and followed Alex upstairs, where we squeezed into a tiny bedroom. We didn’t have a change of clothes or even a toothbrush between us, so we just stripped down to our underwear and climbed into bed.

  “I can’t keep watching you almost die,” she said, without preamble.

  “You almost got blown up yourself,” I said.

  “Somehow that doesn’t bother me as much,” she said. “Weird.”

  While I was trying to figure up a reply to that, I heard her breathing slow and she started to snore lightly.

  I guess I slept myself because when I woke up again, the sun was at a different angle. I found myself standing in the middle of the bedroom, pistol in hand, blinking. I realized I’d been woken up by the sound of an engine, and looked out the window to see Dale pulling up and climb out with sacks of groceries in his arms.

  I dressed quietly, so as not to wake Alex, and went downstairs. Casey was awake, and looking slightly less worse for wear as she hooked up cables to computers.

  “I slept four hours,” she said defensively.

  I gave her a thumbs up and walked into the kitchen, where Dale was unpacking a dozen pre-paid cellular phones.

  “I’ve been all over town buying these damn things,” he said. “Didn’t want to buy them all at one place.”

  I nodded. Dale wasn’t the most technically savvy of our little bunch, but he had a good head for tradecraft. He’d also picked up food, laundry detergent and a bunch of generic sweatpants and t-shirts in different sizes so we could clean our clothes without embarrassing each other.

  There was pizza on the counter. I grabbed a slice and started feeling like a human being again.

  The sound of keys clicking on a keyboard drew me back into the living room. Casey was hard at work on two different computers hooked up to four different screens she’d set up on the dining room table.

  “I found Burke’s cell phone,” she said. She pointed at a dot on a map of Ontario. It was right next to an interstate on-ramp.

  “What’s there?”

  “Holiday Inn Express,” she said.

  “That’s where her phone is. Is she with it?”

  Visions of Burke being shot in the head and dumped in the middle of the desert filled my head.

  “Let’s find out,” Casey said. She walked into the kitchen and returned with one of the burner phones. I looked over her shoulder as she started tapping a text message.

  Hi Anna! It’s Dr. Pace. You mentioned my fee from the consulting case. I’d like to get that resolved so I can start closing out my books for the year.

  We both stared at the phone as if we could will it to respond. Alex padded down the stairs barefoot. She picked up a slice of pizza, made a face, but ate it anyway.

  Finally, the phone buzzed.

  Good to hear from you, Alex! I’m all tied up right now and don’t have my laptop with me. Was that the Mendecker case or the Paisely case?

  “What’s she getting at?” I asked.

  Casey’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “The Mendecker case is probably a reference to an unsolved homicide from last year. A woman named Mendecker was found in the desert near here, bound and shot in the head. There’s a US vs Paisley case pending right now in Portland that is some sort of white-collar crime deal.”

  I let out a whistle. “She’s taking some chances here. Tell her Mendecker.”

  Again we had that long wait for a reply.

  That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t have all the details of the billing at my fingertips. My new assistant isn’t very helpful. Can I get back to you when I get back to Portland?

  Sure, Casey replied, and added a bunch of smiley faces.

  “There’s no way I would use that many smiley faces,” Alex said around a bite of pizza.

  Casey rolled her eyes. “I’m trying not to make them suspicious in case they are looking over her shoulder.”

  Casey and Alex had a sort of frenemy thing going on that I couldn’t quite understand, but I didn’t want it to derail the conversation, so I shifted the topic.

  “She’s pretty cagey,” I said. “Notice how she said ‘that’s what I’m afraid of’ I think she’s afraid of being murdered like that woman.”

  “Now what?” Casey asked.

  “We need a plan,” I said. “Then we’re going to bust her out.”

  Chapter 24

  Casey and I checked into the hotel, using clean identification, and a credit card that hopefully hadn’t been compromised. We’d stopped for new clothes on the way, and I kept itching. At the front desk, Casey asked for a room on the third floor, so she could have a view, and the woman behind the counter rolled her eyes, cracked her bubble gum, and gave us our room assignment.

  Inside our room, she cracked open her laptop and went to work, while I checked out the balcony. Each room had a sliding glass door that led out to a little patio that was only a few feet wide. We were on the top floor, facing the interstate. The sound of semi-trucks barreling their way to Idaho was almost deafening until I slid the door shut again.

  Casey was bent over her computer, making little humming noises. She’d tried and failed to find Burke’s name in the guest records. No surprise there, as the room was unlikely to be in her name. She told me she wanted to try a few other ideas. I fought the urge
to ask her how it was going and instead turned on the TV with the sound almost all the way down. I was halfway through an episode of Storage Wars when she leaned back and pumped her fist in the air.

  “They use an IP based wireless video system and didn’t even bother to change the default password.”

  “English please,” I said. I turned off the TV, disappointed because the last storage unit had revealed a bunch of guitar cases, but I was eager to hear what Casey had to say.

  “Instead of using wires to hook up their security cameras, they use wi-fi,” she said. On her screen, I saw a surveillance camera picture of the outside of the hotel.

  “So we can watch the cameras and see if she walks by?”

  She gave me a look like I was proposing we listen to a vinyl record or something.

  “Since I have the password, I can just look through the recordings and see if I see her.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Let’s do that.”

  The hotel was in the shape of a capital “L,” with the short end running east-west, and the long end north-south. There were cameras in the ends of the hallways, and in the middle. Casey scrolled through them, getting a feel for what camera covered what part of the hotel, then started watching the feeds in fast replay. People appeared to run up and down the hallways.

  “There!” we both said at once. Burke popped out of an elevator, flanked by the two guys we had seen at the hospital. Burke and one of the guards walked into one room, the other guard walked into the door right next door.

  “That was nine this morning,” Casey said. “Those are adjoining rooms.”

  Burke didn’t reappear. Around lunchtime, one of the guards left and came back a short while later with bags of food.

  “Which room is that?” I asked.

  “315.”

  There was an emergency evacuation placard on the back of the door with a floor plan. We were on the east end of the short arm of the L. Burke’s room was on the southern end of the long arm. We were both on the third floor, which made one of our potential plans much easier.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening watching the cameras. Everyone else was in various vehicles, circulating from restaurant to restaurant and store to store in the immediate area, trying to keep a low profile. As long as Burke was in the hotel, she was probably safe. It was extremely unlikely they would kill her here. I didn’t know what they were waiting for, but apparently for the moment at least, she was supposed to remain alive.

  Our problems would begin if they tried to move her. That’s why everybody else in our group was in or near a vehicle. They would pick up the tail while Casey and I scrambled to follow.

  It turned out they were settled in for the night. Around six o’clock one of the guards left. We all debated making a move then, but the odds of getting into the hotel room without attracting attention were low, and the odds of getting Burke shot were high. So we all gritted our teeth and watched as the guard came back with more food, hoping we’d made the right call.

  Casey and I took turns napping and watching the purloined video feed. It was boring duty, sitting there watching a hotel room hallway on the screen, but we had to stay focused. They could be out the door and into the elevator or stairwell in a few short seconds. We couldn’t even go to the bathroom unless the other person was watching the screen.

  Finally, at two in the morning, we decided it was time. I opened a back entrance, and Dale and Robert slipped in, carrying duffel bags. Dale and I stepped out on the balcony.

  This was the part I’d been dreading. I stood on the balcony rail, then turned so I was facing the building. The overhang of the roof was behind me, and I tested the gutter, hoping it wouldn’t tear away. The fall was just high enough to make me a paraplegic, but probably not kill me. I grunted and pulled up, hearing the creak of the gutter as it took my full weight.

  I was grateful for all the time I’d spent in the gym. I managed to pull myself up and over the lip of the roof, just as the gutter gave an alarming groan. I went prone and hung my arm over the side. Dale reached up and put the handles of a duffle bag in my hand.

  The roof was shingled and had a mild pitch here. I had little trouble walking up to the central, flat part, and found a hefty looking air handler to use as an anchor for the rope. I tied it off and lowered it to Dale. He used the knots we’d tied in it to shinny up like a man half his age.

  We were effectively invisible. Nobody in the parking lot would be able to see much over the edge of the roof. It was possible somebody whizzing by on the interstate would see us, but by the time they could do anything about it, this would be over, one way or another. We walked across the roof until we were over the balcony of room 315.

  In our gear back at Rudder’s ranch, we’d left all sorts of hi-tech cameras and other equipment. The stuff Casey had saved had been a godsend, but she hadn’t been able to grab everything, so we were improvising.

  Out of my jacket pocket, I pulled a length of parachute cord. Duct taped to the end was a cell phone. I turned the video function on, made sure it was recording and lowered it over the side for about thirty seconds. I pulled it up and checked the playback. I had to do it a couple more times before I got the view I wanted.

  The room was lit by the glow of the TV screen, and the light in the bathroom, near the doorway. Burke was sleeping on the bed, fully clothed with her shoes off. That would make this easier. One of the guards sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, awake and watching TV. The connecting door to the room next door was open, and I guessed the other guard was sleeping in there.

  Dale and I looked at each other, and we both nodded. We retrieved the rope and tied it off on this end of the roof, but didn’t throw it down onto the balcony just yet. During our shopping spree today, we’d both bought heavy canvas work jackets. We zipped them up to our throats and donned clear safety glasses and thin work gloves. Then we each put on a baseball hat and turned it backwards so the bill covered the back of our necks.

  I gave Dale a thumbs up and he whispered into the radio microphone clipped to his jacket.

  “Ready.”

  We received two clicks in reply. Then we waited. Robert would be walking down the hallway from the room I’d booked with Casey. Dale and I perched on the edge of the roof, the coiled rope between us.

  “Knocking.” Robert’s voice said in our earpieces.

  I flipped the rope over the edge and slid down onto the balcony. I drew one of the dart guns in my left hand, and my pistol in my right, reminding myself not to get the two confused. There was a chance these guys were actual Federal agents, and shooting in the head wasn’t likely to further our cause.

  The guard was standing facing the door, hand on his gun. I didn’t see any sign of movement from the door to the other room.

  Dale slid down the rope and pulled a spring loaded center punch from each pocket. He jammed them both against the glass door, and it crazed and shattered, leaving big pieces clinging to the frame. I simply pushed forward, trusting the heavy canvas to protect me from getting cut.

  The guard started to turn, his mouth an “o” of surprise, and in that a peculiar slow motion that happened at times like these, I saw the gun starting to come out of the holster just as I put the sights of the dart gun on his chest and pulled the trigger. He crumpled to the ground.

  Behind me, I heard the cough of Dale’s dart gun from the other I cuffed up the guard, then opened the door. Daniel slipped in, saw I had my man well in hand and ran to the other room to help his dad. I heard a couple of muffled thumps then all was quiet.

  “Hello, Dent,” Burke said as she sat up in bed. “That went well.”

  I grunted by way of reply and wrapped some duct tape around the guard’s mouth. His jaw was already swelling. His eyes were open but they were glassy and unfocused.

  Dale and Robert came in, dragging the other guard trussed up like a turkey. They dropped him on the floor, away from most of the broken glass. I finished wrapping some tape around my guys legs and
searched him. I came up with a wallet, pistol magazine, knife and cell phone. I stuffed it all in my pockets and stood up.

  “You search your guy?” I asked Dale. He looked up from where he was busy cutting the cord to the room telephone and nodded.

  “They each had a black bag,” Burke said. She dumped the glass out of her shoes and pulled them on.

  I unzipped the black bag on the floor by the chair and saw a silenced Heckler and Koch machine pistol on top of some other gear. Very James Bond. I decided to keep it. Robert went next door for a second and came back with an identical bag.

  “Ready to roll?” I asked Burke.

  “Please.”

  Dale and I turned our caps the right way, and took off the glasses and gloves before we stepped out into the hallway. A woman’s head poked out of a doorway down the hall.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I tripped and broke a mirror. Seven years bad luck for me I guess.” I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile.

  Casey walked up, her laptop bag over her shoulder, and we took the stairwell down to the first floor, then went out the back exit. Jack was waiting with the van. We’d taken the seats out so we could all just jump in quickly. Jack pulled away before the door was even shut.

  Alex was waiting with her medical bag.

  “How are you?” she asked Burke.

  “Fine. Thank you.” In the dim light from the street lamps, I could barely see her hands shake and her lip quiver. I looked out the back window. Aside from Dalton in the bland rental sedan, there was no one behind us.

  “Please tell me you were actually being held against your will, and we didn’t just dart and assault two actual feds,” I said.

  Burke took a sip from the bottle of water Alex offered her and shook her head.

  “They weren’t federal agents. They were hired guns. The one in the bedroom was professional, nothing personal. The one in the chair scared me.”

  She shuddered, and I didn’t feel so bad about breaking the guy’s jaw.

  “Do you know who hired them?”

  “I’m guessing the people that helped Marshall steal all that money. I think Hubbard is deeper into this than any of us realize.”