If they were curious, they didn't say a word and he found that very strange, very controlled. He did consider that maybe they were being sensitive to his predicament, waiting for him to bring it up... but that wasn't going to happen. So, a pair of old shoes, a baseball cap and a hundred dollars later, he got a smile, a blessing and a ride to the nearest truck stop on the interstate. He thanked them of course, waving as they pulled away; fully aware that they may just have been good people. Maybe.
“Time to get back in the game,” he breathed, watching the traffic flow in and out of the truck stop. He pulled the RFID from his pocket, “And time to put you, my little friend, to use.” He had checked his clothes, the hat and the newly acquired shoes for any signs of alteration or tampering but could find none. Hopefully this RFID was the only thing tracking him, they hadn't expected him to throw it up.
Chase went into the mini mart and bought a few things to nibble on and stay hydrated including a pack of bubble gum. I-75 went north and south, reaching from
Ft. Lauderdale all the way up to the top of Michigan. He needed to go south but he was searching for a vehicle going north. Way north.
The rain had stopped and slivers of afternoon sunlight were playing through the breaking clouds. Reddish-brown muddy puddles dotted the gravel truck lot which smelled like diesel, oil and gasoline. This would be a terribly dusty place without the rain, the red Georgia clay dust settling on everything.
Leaning against the outside wall of the mini mart, Chase did his best to be anonymous, watching the traffic, chewing a sizable wad of gum. And there it was, exiting the northbound ramp, a huge RV, a family motor coach the size of a tour bus, rolling up to the gas pumps with Ontario plates.
“Thank you,” he breathed, wrapping the RFID in the sticky bubble gum. He passed the family as they filed past him, heading into the mart, checking over his shoulder as he walked toward the RV. Most of the other patrons were busy pumping their gas, oblivious to the rest of the world as he rounded the back of the bus, pausing only momentarily to stick the wad of gum in behind the spare tire carrier. Protected in its cozy little spot, the RFID wasn't likely to fall off on its own and no one was going to find it unless they needed that spare tire. He grinned to himself as he headed for the southbound on-ramp, sliding on the cheap mini-mart sunglasses to hide his eyes, pulling the ball cap down over his forehead. “Time to find a ride home...”
■ ■ ■
Sheriff Naywood was stretched out on the couch at home with his wife watching the end of the ten o'clock news when his cell phone rang. His wife reached over picking it up off the coffee table and handed it to him. “You sure you want to answer it?”
He glanced at the number on the screen and recognized the number. “You know I have to...” He hit send with his thumb and placed it against his ear, “Talk to me, Detective.”
“We're headed over to a citizen-reported B & E with shots fired...”
Naywood could hear the police unit's siren in the background. “Where?”
“You're gonna love this, boss... our boy, Chase Holt's house. Thought you might like to attend.”
“Definitely. On my way.”
“Frank, do you really have to go?” pleaded his wife.
He rose from the couch, sliding the cell phone into his jeans pocket, “Sorry Honey, this one's kind of important...”
She watched him sling his duty belt over his jeans. “They're always important...” she waved.
“Sorry, Honey...” he grabbed a Sheriff's windbreaker off a chair in the dining room and slid it on over his t-shirt, meeting her at the door. “Don't wait up...” He held her chin and kissed her goodnight, swinging the door open with his free hand. They'd been married better than twenty years and he knew damn well, she'd be up watching television or reading a book when he got home, no matter what time it was. She was a peach.
“You be careful, Frank,” she called from the door. She watched him pull his unmarked cruiser out of the driveway, his headlight and tail light strobes coming on halfway down the block. She could tell when he made it to the main street, his siren coming on, fading away in the distance.
■ ■ ■
Cape Coral PD was already on the scene when the Sheriff's detectives got there and by the time Naywood arrived, his detectives were busy taping off the crime scene. The next door neighbor was sitting on her porch wrapped in a Sheriff's jacket and flanked by a German Shepherd.
“What do we have so far?”
A detective with a beard, looking more like a biker than a cop, guided Sheriff Naywood off to the side, out of earshot of the neighbors and Cape Coral policemen. “Karen, that's the neighbor girl,” he thumbed over his own shoulder, “saw a black SUV in our boy's driveway. Thinking he had returned, she went over to see how he was and return the guy's dog. Walking across the grass, she catches moving lights in the house through the window and the house is dark. She peeks through the window and there are three guys in black going through the house. They spot her and come running out, the dog attacks and nails one in the arm and leg. They Taze the girl and shoot at the dog but miss her in the dark. Get this, Karen said the guns didn't make much noise...”
“Suppressors...”
“Yeah. Now, they're wearing balaclavas so she can't see their faces - so I'm figuring they don't worry about not killing her. But she seems to think the dog recognized the one that got bit. She said the dog took a real dislike to that one.”
The Sheriff smirked, “And people say dogs are just stupid animals...”
“They tossed the house pretty good, made a hell of a mess but the big thing is the safe.”
Naywood winced. “Gun safe?”
The detective nodded. “Yep, he's an NRA instructor, remember?”
“Do we know what they got? I hate to think of more stuff on the street...”
“No, boss. I'm thinking these are probably the same guys that scooped him up.”
“The black hats? If they have him, why would they bother?”
“I don't know, but they cracked the safe without leaving a mark... It's completely intact.”
“What the hell could they be looking for?” Naywood folded his arms across his chest. “Are we sure our boy didn't just forget to lock it?”
The detective shook his head. “No, I thought of that. Karen said she went over and inspected his place after the raid, after the fire department and everybody left. She said she actually checked the safe. Then she had another neighbor come over to repair the door so she could lock up the house. She's got a key. The guys that visited tonight didn't force entry, they picked the locks. And in their haste they left some of their tools behind...”
“Thank God. We could use a clue...”
“Yeah... but I've never seen technology like this, boss. It's some real digital, James Bond, Sci-Fi shit...” They quietly angled over to the detective's unmarked cruiser and he unlocked the trunk, looking around nervously before lifting the lid to reveal the contents, “Check this out...”
Sheriff Naywood stared at it blankly. “That's definitely some government gear.”
“If it's not alien,” added the detective.
Naywood shot him a glance. “You guys like throwing that possibility around, don't you...”
“I was on the beach that night, boss. That thing wasn't from around here...”
“I saw the films...”
“As God as my witness,” said the detective raising his hand in oath, “it turned that Coast Guard chopper into flaming confetti with a goddamn lightning bolt.”
Naywood nodded, “I'm not debating you saw something extraordinary, Buck, but you have no idea what they're cooking up at places like Area 51. When I was with the Feds, I saw and heard all sorts of things. Most of them I still can't talk about. And that's one of the reasons I got out, I didn't want to become a nameless casualty of their top secret hush list. So, for now, let's try to focus on what we have at hand, shall we?”
“Sure, boss.”
The Sheriff closed th
e trunk, staring blankly at it for a moment. “Did you call CSI?”
“Yeah,” the detective checked his watch. “They should be here any minute.”
“Ok, let's not mention the gear,” Naywood tapped on the trunk, “to anyone but our team.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“And tell 'em all to keep their lips zipped...” He pointed to the trunk again, “Do not leave that in your car when you go home, take it in the house with you but don't let anyone see it. This doesn't go into evidence, understand?”
“Yes sir...”
■ ■ ■
When the eighteen-wheeler exited I-75 at Daniels Parkway, Chase felt relieved and nervous at the same time. All the while hoping that RFID was enjoying its ride to Ontario... and still holding the attention of the NSA. It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were. After all, they were the same ones responsible for the Steele's misery, the death of Dan Murphy's wife and the disappearance of Dan himself. He hadn't talked to Dan in a couple of months, now he knew why. He was either dead or hiding so deep they felt the need to focus on someone new to locate him. Parting ways with the trucker, Chase plodded west along Daniels Parkway, not in any particular hurry. It was midday and he couldn't go home in broad daylight. He'd wait till after dark and go knock on Karen's door, hopefully she still had a key to the house. He hoped his tools were still in his truck, he was pretty sure he was going to need to do a bug sweep. His truck... he hadn't even thought about that, would it still be there?
■ ■ ■
Chase purposely waited until well after dark to get back to his neighborhood. Walking down his street somehow felt foreign and he was fighting a stomach full of butterflies. He studied every parked car, spied every window, listened to every sound. Nothing but crickets and the smell of freshly mown grass.
Despite the yellow crime scene tape his house didn't look any different, but his truck was nowhere to be seen. Standing at Karen's door, he unscrewed the light bulb from the porch light before knocking on the door. He cringed, it sounded far too loud on the quiet street. He could hear Allie's bark and was relieved she was still alive. There was a moment he didn't think Karen was going to open the door when the light didn't come on. She peered through the window and there was finally a spark of recognition in her face.
■ ■ ■
Allie jumped all over Chase as he knelt on the floor, showering him with affection. “I missed you too, sweetie...” He looked up at Karen and Pam, “Thank you for taking care of her... just let me know what I owe you.”
Karen waved it off and Pam stood mute, “What happened to you, Chase? You've been gone a week... and you look terrible.”
“It might be better for you two if I didn't tell you... the less you know the better.”
“The Sheriff and the FBI are looking for you...”
“What did they do with my truck?” he interrupted.
“Nothing,” waved Pam, “we put it in your garage after everybody left...”
“Oh my God, thanks! Was there anything in the truck?”
“Your duffel and your laptop? Yes. We thought about leaving it in the truck but at the last minute we decided to bring it home with us. I'm not sure why...”
He grabbed them together and gave them a bear hug. “Oh you beautiful dolls, you are so awesome!”
“Whew,” Pam pushed him away, “and you are so stinky. No offense...”
“Sorry,” he chuckled, “it's been a rough road.”
“I can tell,” Karen replied with a crooked smile.
He stared down at his hands for a moment, not sure what to do with them, Allie's big brown eyes staring up at him. “What about Penny?” he asked, looking back up.
The girls shared a glance then looked back at him, Karen shifting uneasily, “We don't know. Nobody will say. We called around to the hospitals and we couldn't find her anywhere. We didn't know what else to do... None of this was on the news or anything. It's like it never happened. When they came back last night...”
“When who came back?” interrupted Chase.
“The guys in black armor. They were in your house. They made a real mess...”
“What did they take?”
Pam shook her head, “We don't know. They Tazered Karen and shot at Allie while I was calling 911...”
Chase was pacing like a caged animal. “They Tazed you... son of a bitch. And what's with these assholes shooting at dogs?”
“She bit one pretty good...”
He looked down at Allie who wagged her tail slowly, “Good girl.”
“And when the police showed up they were already gone. The Sheriff showed up and then the FBI. They were here till three in the morning.”
“I had to give them the key to lock up the house,” volunteered Karen, “they didn't want me to go near it. Their forensics van came back again this morning for a couple of hours.”
Chase stopped pacing. “Did you get the key back?”
“No...”
“Dammit,” he bit his lip out of reflex and winced. Too soon. “I'm gonna have to break in.”
“How?”
“As quietly as possible. Got a big screwdriver..?”
■ ■ ■
Approaching his house from the patio facing the water, Chase used the oversized screwdriver as a lever and the head of a carpenter's hammer underneath as a fulcrum to get the sliding glass door to his kitchen to jump it's track. Lifting it carefully, he moved it far enough to squeeze past. “Stay out here and keep Allie with you...” he whispered. “Is Pam watching?”
“Yes,” whispered Karen, “she can see the whole street. Why are you cutting off the power?”
Chase opened the breaker panel on the patio side of the house. I have automatic sensors in some of the rooms that'll turn the lights on, I want it to stay dark. I'm also hoping I'm cutting power to any video they might have... video usually needs a power feed.”
Leaving Karen and Allie outside, Chase squeezed his bulk through the sliding glass door, picking up the mini flashlight he left on the kitchen counter for walking the dog at night. Making his way silently through the house, the only illumination coming in from the streetlights outside, he was appalled at the condition of his home. Fucking son of a bitch... What they didn't open or rummage through, they smashed or destroyed. The house still smelled like smoke from the flash-bang that burned the carpet in the center of the living room.
He gnashed his teeth, his sixty-inch flat screen TV lay face down on the living room floor, a set of boot-prints in the middle of its back. In his office, there were two 9mm bullet holes in the side of the case of his computer tower, another through the monitor. With the mini flashlight in his mouth, he knelt down and unscrewed the twist knobs, removing the side of the computer case. The CPU and motherboard were destroyed but the hard drive was still intact. He unlatched the quick lock and pulled the drive out, unplugging it and heading to his bedroom. He passed the open gun safe in the hall closet without looking or even pausing. He knew it was going to be empty.
Tossing the hard drive on the bed, he hastily stripped naked and redressed with fresh clothes and running shoes. He would have liked to take a shower but he seriously doubted he had the luxury of time for that.
Popping open an air conditioning vent on the wall along the floor, Chase reached inside and by feel, punched numbers into a keypad hidden inside, silently closing the vent again. The back wall of his bedroom closet unlocked with a clank and rolled backward, a battery system operating the door motor. With the mini flashlight back in his mouth, he pushed his hanging clothes aside, stepping into the tiny room, grabbing two backpacks; prepacked emergency go-bags, commonly referred to as bugout bags. He eyed the pair of AR-15 carbines on the wall. It would be nice to take a long gun but he worried about concealment, deciding to leave them behind. He was hoping that wouldn't be a mistake. He tossed the bags on the bedroom floor behind him and cleared the extra cash off the safe-room's shelf to add to the money already in the bags, snagging a dog harness wit
h packed pouches off the wall. He palmed the door button inside the room, backing out as it motored closed and rearranged all the hanging clothes to make the closet look undisturbed. The safe-room door latched with a quiet clank as he gathered the bags and headed for the kitchen, his running shoes squeaking on the tile floor. He paused, stuffing the extra cash and hard drive into his bag.
Chase was trying to decide if he should stay on foot or take the truck, knowing he could cover a lot of ground quickly by vehicle. But the decision had been made for him, three of his tires flat. “Dammit!” he slammed the garage door.
“Chase! Chase!” Karen's voice was whispered but strained.
“What?” he asked, running through the house back into the kitchen.
“Someone's coming!”
“Where?” He passed the bags one by one through the open door.
Pam ran around the corner from between the houses, sliding to a stop on the patio. “Two SUVs blocking the street at the end of the block and it's hard to tell, but I think there's four men from each car coming...”
Hmm, they blocked the street. “Doesn't matter, my truck is trashed.” He hung the harness over Allie and fastened it around her, the pouches hanging on either side of her body. He stood up slinging his backpack over his shoulder, moving over to snap the house's electrical breakers back on, the house still dark. “We gotta go,” he said pointing down the dock and handing Karen the other backpack, “now.”
“We?”
“You really think it would be a good idea to stay?” he hissed.
Wings of Steele: Revenge and Retribution Page 9
