The Freeport Robbery

by Michael P. King

  “You okay?”

  “I’m never going to forget that you dragged me away from my wife.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I really am. But I didn’t make your wife sick, and I didn’t involve you in a crime. You got yourself involved, and this is the price you have to pay. Make the best of it. At least you aren’t going to jail.”

  The highway was hot, dusty, and marred by potholes. There were no rest stops or convenience stores on the two-hour stretch. Tribal members seldom went down to the casino city, and most of the tourists flew in. Mosley tried to steer onto the best part of the road as she sped along, but the contents of the trunk banged about whenever they bounced through a rut or worn-down patch on the road. Still, she didn’t slow down. She wanted to be in Camp Carson as soon as possible. She had no idea how long it would take Philips’s crew to get started after her, but she knew they weren’t going back to Philips empty-handed if they could avoid it. He wasn’t the kind of boss who forgave mistakes. About forty-five minutes out of Nohamay City, the Camry’s engine sputtered and died. The gas gauge indicated full. Mosley steered onto the shoulder. She put the Camry in park and turned the key. The starter clicked, but nothing happened. She pumped the gas and tried again. Nothing. “I can’t believe this.”

  Denison smiled grimly. “Can’t get where you need to go? Welcome to my world.”

  She popped the hood and got out of the Camry. There were no cars in sight—not even a dust cloud that might indicate a possible distant car. She lifted the hood. Everything was fine as far as she could tell. Maybe the starter was defective. Maybe if she banged on it a few times, it would reset. She went back to the trunk to look for a hammer or a heavy wrench. She turned the key in the lock and lifted the lid. Nicole lay on her side pointing her Glock at Mosley’s abdomen. “Hands up, one step back.”

  Mosley stepped back with her hands in the air. “How did you do it?”

  Nicole climbed out of the trunk, careful to keep her gun pointed at Mosley. “Remote car starter with a starter disconnect. I turned the car off and locked out the starter.”

  “What now?”

  “I don’t care about you. You can have the water and the money. I’m taking Denison and the car.”

  “Out here, without the car, Philips’s guys or NewTrust will just come and collect me.”

  “You can put on the handcuffs and ride back with us. Take your chances with NewTrust. Maybe they’ll put you on a plane.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Really? You think they’ll kill you?”

  “They’ve got no reason to protect me from Philips’s men.”

  “Then I guess you’re walking. Maybe someone will pick you up, take you to Camp Carson for a hundred dollars.”

  Denison yelled, “What’s going on back there?”

  Nicole glanced over her shoulder. “We’re going back to town.”

  Mosley crouched, quick-drew her pistol, and fired. The bullet grazed Nicole’s neck and went through the open trunk lid. Nicole fired as she turned back. The bullet pierced Mosley’s right shoulder. Her gun fell from her hand. “Jesus.” She stooped to snatch up her gun with her left hand, but Nicole hopped forward and kicked her in the face, knocking her onto her back.

  “Stop it,” Nicole yelled. She stood over Mosley with her gun pointed at Mosley’s chest. “Are you really that desperate? You got nothing to live for?”

  Mosley lay on her back, momentarily dazed, her right shoulder pounding. She put pressure on the wound with her left hand. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

  Nicole picked up Mosley’s gun and put it in her belt. She touched her neck wound and looked at the blood on her hand. “Where’s the other gun?”

  Mosley started to lie, but knew she’d be frisked anyway. “Right-hand pocket.”

  Nicole took the security officer’s pistol out of Mosley’s jacket pocket. “Stay still. I’ll see if I can find the first aid box.”

  She went around to the passenger’s side, opened Denison’s door, and uncuffed him. “Where did you come from?”

  “I was hiding in the trunk.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Did the others know?”

  “Only Ron.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. He didn’t have any reception. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Got to patch up Mosley first.”

  “She’ll make it back.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t want to have to explain a dead FBI agent. Chen would try to get on the right side of that problem by feeding me to the Feds. Help me find the first aid kit.”

  They dug around in the trunk until they found the first aid kit and a ragged gray blanket. They spread the blanket on the gravel shoulder in the shade of the car. “Mosley, can you get up?” Nicole asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come over here to the blanket. If you try anything, we’ll get in the car and leave you here.”

  “I’ll cooperate,” Mosley said. She rolled onto her side and crawled up off the ground.

  Nicole opened the first aid kid to see what she had to work with. It was out of date, but it was the full kit for a hunting or backpacking trip. Mosley lay down on the blanket. “Okay,” Nicole said. “I’m going to pull your jacket off and have a look. Turn on to your side.”

  Nicole peeled off Mosley’s jacket, and pulled her bloody shirt down her shoulder. The wound was just to the outside of her bra strap. It wasn’t bleeding too badly. Nicole swabbed the blood from the wound on the front and back and examined it. The bullet had gone all the way through. “Not too bad.” She turned to Denison. “Could you hand me a couple of gauze pads?”

  She put the pads over the entry and exit wounds and taped them into place. “That should hold you until you can get to a hospital.” She helped her sit up. “Are you coming back with us?”

  “Let’s go,” Denison said. “We’re wasting time.”

  “I can’t go back there,” Mosley said. “Leave me with the money and the water.”

  Nicole shook her head. “You forfeited the money when you shot me. Happy to leave the water.”

  “You’d leave me here shot, without the money?”

  “You tried to kill me. Sorry, your choices suck.”

  “Leave the water. Please.”

  Denison pulled the five-gallon jug from the backseat and placed it beside Mosley. “I’m going to make it out of here,” she said.

  “I hope so,” Nicole said. “I have James as my witness that I patched you up and offered to take you with us.”

  “You’re a bitch.”

  “Come on,” Denison said.

  Nicole used the remote to reconnect the starter. She made a wide U-turn and started back toward Nohamay City.

  Mosley sat in the gravel beside the road watching them drive away. Her shoulder was pounding. She’d lost the casket and the money. She was on foot in the middle of nowhere. It no longer mattered if she could put together definitive proof that Philips had Rickover killed; she couldn’t afford to quit him now—not if she wanted to keep Kelly at Clear Skies. She tugged her bloody shirt up over the bandages on her shoulder. She needed water. She uncapped the water jug, lay down next to it, and tipped the opening to her mouth. Water sloshed down the side of her face, but she drank and drank until she felt too full. She sat up and capped the jug. The water that had run down her face had immediately disappeared into the gravel. The sun seemed powerfully hot. She pulled her jacket over her head to protect her face. There was a leathery shrub nearby, creating a small pocket of shade. She dragged the water jug to it, and lay down with her face in the shade. She needed to rest for just a few minutes—just long enough to get her strength back—and then she would have another drink and try to walk to the next shady spot. She had to keep trying. She couldn’t give up. Kelly was depending on her.

  Nicole sped down the highway, weaving through the potholes, pushing the old car past its limit, the rpms in the red zone. As long as she
didn’t blow it up or wreck it, it was worth the gamble to get back as soon as possible. Denison had his phone out, trying to call the Nohamay Alternative Medicine Hospital. This was his third try, and he still didn’t have any reception. They had the windows down. The hot wind roared through the car, roiling bits of grass, miscellaneous wrappers, and grit into the air. Nicole glanced at him for a second. “Let me get a little closer.”

  He set his phone in his lap. “It’s been over two hours since I’ve seen her.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “I’ve got to know how she is.”

  “I know.”

  He looked at his phone. One bar. Maybe it was enough. He raised his window and dialed again. “Hello? Wert-Denison’s room, please.” He waited to be connected. “Dr. O’Brian? Yeah, this is James Denison. I’m on my way back now. Maybe,” he glanced at Nicole, “thirty minutes. What? I’m sorry; the reception is bad. Say again.” He held the phone tight against his ear. His voice dropped. “No. It can’t be. I’m almost there.” He set his phone in his lap and leaned against the window. “She’s gone.”

  Nicole slowed down and pulled over on the gravel. She put the car in park. Denison was quietly crying, tears running down his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine how bad you feel.”

  “I never should have brought her here.”

  “You were trying to do the best that you could with a hopeless situation.”

  He took out his handkerchief and dried his eyes. “I need to call the kids.”

  “Wait until we get to town. It’s not much longer. You’ll have good reception there. Your call won’t be interrupted.”

  He put his hands on the dash, dropped his head between his arms, and started crying again. “I’ve got to think of what to tell them.”

  “Just tell them the truth. You did everything you could.”

  “She was the best wife, the best companion, the best lover.”

  Nicole reached over and rubbed his back. The words just fell into her mind. Very softly, she said, “You’re making me jealous. Nobody ever loved me that much.”

  He turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and a tear trickled down her cheek. She sniffed, smiled with embarrassment, and put her hands in her lap. He sat back, wiped his face, and blew his nose. “How do you do that? How do you make such a blunt observation seem so supportive?”

  She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Ready to go?”

  He nodded. She pulled back onto the road, driving a little more carefully than before. There was no rush now. Neither of them spoke until they passed the city limits sign. “Do you have the casket?”

  “I know where it is.”

  “So you are stealing it.”

  She shook her head. “It has to go back to the museum. We can’t be connected with a missing art object. It’s like I’ve been telling you all along—we can’t live with that kind of exposure.”

  “Well, you rescued me, so on that basis I’m willing to trust you.”

  “Take you back to the hospital?”

  He nodded.

  “I am so sorry about your wife. The way you’ve cared for her; I know she was a very special person.”

  They pulled up to the curb in front of the hospital. The mobile command truck, the yellow tape, the security officers were all gone. All that was left of the morning excitement was a bruised lawn. “Well,” Denison said, “I guess this is good-bye.”

  “I have to get out and look for Ron.”

  As they got out of the car, three men dressed in dark suits, with the look of ex-military about them, hurried over. The one in the middle took off his sunglasses when they reached Nicole and Denison. “Mr. Denison? I’m Joel Fredricks with Manifold Security.” He took his ID out of his suit coat and handed it to Denison.

  “I wish you had been here a little earlier.”

  “Yes sir. I’m sorry for your loss. There’s two men upstairs. And a Dr. O’Brian wants to speak with you.”

  Denison handed the ID back to Fredricks.

  “Have you seen Ron Carter here?” Nicole asked.

  “Ron Carter?” Fredricks paused. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get up to speed here. I believe he left with a group of guys right after Mr. Denison drove away with Agent Mosley. Where is she, by the way?”

  “Last we saw of her,” Denison said, “she was sitting by the highway. She didn’t want to come back with us.” He turned to Nicole. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got to see if I can help Ron.”

  “You three go with her. I’m going to see my wife.”

  He started up the sidewalk. “Wait a minute, James.” Nicole climbed into the backseat of the Camry and came out with a black canvas bag. “You forgot this.”

  “What’s that?” Denison said.

  She handed him the black bag. “It’s the two hundred thousand.”

  He looked at her and then at the bag and then at her again. “You certainly are full of surprises. But it’s not mine. NewTrust provided it. I’ll see they get it back.”

  Ron sat on a straight-backed wooden chair in the Crenshaw Industries airplane hangar. He knew most of the names of Philips’s men now, which wasn’t a good sign. Gary, Jacob, and Charles were loading weapons and tactical gear onto the plane. “How much longer do I have to sit here?” he asked.

  Gary looked up after he finished tacking the lid on a wooden crate. “When we get a call back from the boss, we’ll either leave you here or bring you with us.”

  Mitch and the big black guy with the glasses came into the hangar. “Couldn’t find her anywhere,” Mitch said. “And the security cops were dogging us every step of the way.”

  Gary turned back to Ron. “Where’s your wife, Carter? You’re not worried about her, so you must know where she is.”

  Ron looked at the men in the room. Were they going to let him go, kill him, or take him with them and make a decision later? It was always easier to transport an ambulatory person if you could get their cooperation. You could take them right to the place where you wanted to dump them. No heavy lifting, no leaking fluids, no smell. And a dead man is a lot harder to explain at a roadblock. For now there was nothing he could do. He was outnumbered, and if he ran, he’d just be forcing them to kill him to be on the safe side.

  Gary’s phone rang. “Yeah?” He listened for a moment. “Right, boss.” He paused. “That’s the situation. We’ve been ordered out. You’ll have to send somebody else.”

  The hangar side door opened. Fredricks and his two associates, Kevlar vests over their shirts and ties, spread out into the hangar with their pistols drawn, Nicole right behind them. Philips’s men drew their pistols. “Hold on, boss,” Gary said.

  Nicole spoke. “Ron’s coming with us.”

  Gary told Philips what was happening; then he handed the phone to Ron. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Ron took the phone. “Yeah?”

  “Have we met before?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you know who I am?”

  “I do now, Mr. Philips.”

  “You stepped all over my business there. That’s not something I forget. Staying out of my way is your best health-care decision.”

  Ron handed the phone back to Gary. “It’s me, boss,” Gary said. He listened for a moment and then put his phone back in his pocket. “You can go.”

  Ron and Nicole backed out of the hangar, covered by Fredricks and his associates. “These are Denison’s guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s all broken up. His wife passed while he was gone.”

  “And you’re the hero.”

  They all climbed into a white Suburban. Ron and Nicole sat in the back with Fredricks. She explained what happened.

  “How’s the car?”

  “Needs some gas.”

  Ron turned to Fredricks. “Thanks for the save there.”

  “Just doing what Mr. Denison aske
d me to do.”

  “Thanks, anyway.”

  Fredricks dropped Ron and Nicole off next to their car in front of the hospital. They got in the Camry, Ron in the driver’s seat. “There’s only an hour of daylight left. Do we still have the casket and Rickover’s ninety thousand?”

  “They’re still in the trunk.”

  “What about the two hundred thousand?”

  “I thought it was Denison’s.”

  “That’s okay, honey. Chen wasn’t going to let us keep it.” He put the car in drive. “Mosley was alive when you left her?”

  “Alive and moving around.”

  “Let’s get some gas and get out of here before anybody changes their mind.”

  They drove down Trade Memorial Highway. The sun was falling in the west, casting a red glow behind the low, brush-covered mountains. Long shadows fell across the chaparral. The heat reflecting off the road created a watery mirage that stayed in the far distance directly in front of them. “It was just around here somewhere that we stopped,” Nicole said.

  Ron slowed down. They were both looking at the right side of the road. “There’s the water jug,” Nicole said. She pointed at the five-gallon jug lying on its side near a small leathery bush. “Up ahead. That dark-colored lump.”

  Ron pulled over. Mosley lay on the side of the road, face down, her good arm flailed out like she had collapsed while crawling. Nicole jumped out of the car and ran to her. She put two fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. “She’s still alive.”