Corrector

by Blink, Bob

  He would put these plates on his truck somewhere quiet later in the day. He wanted to fire a couple of rounds through the Glock as well. He needed a couple of spent brass cases. Back in the Silverado, Jake settled down for the long drive ahead. The road was now familiar to him, recalling having driven it twice before in the coming week. He reached Edwards without difficulty, and checked into the hotel shortly before dinnertime.

  Jake slept in Friday morning. There was little for him to do until this evening and the added sleep would help. He would wait until close to the two PM check-out time before leaving the hotel, then have lunch somewhere in town. Afterwards he’d slowly drive on toward Glenwood Springs. He had scouted the area before the back-track, so there was little he needed to see at this point. He knew when and where he wanted to act, so mostly he had only to stay out of sight until that time came. A few butterflies tickled at his gut, but he figured they would pass once things started. He would spend the afternoon “fishing” at a campground along the river between the two towns, pick up some Kentucky Chicken for dinner, and then move into place at dusk.

  The Chevy was stashed a hundred yards down the highway behind a stand of pine trees. The vehicle could be seen if one knew where to look, but in the dark and not expecting it, it would be virtually impossible to spot. Add to that, there were only two other homes within a couple of miles in either direction, both closed up for the winter, and virtually no traffic this time of night. Jake had waited in the vehicle until almost eleven, and then had walked back up the country road to the entrance of Bret Granger’s driveway. He had tied the rope securely around the gate, so that the motorized entrance would not work. Granger would have to get out of his vehicle to check when he arrived. It was now just after midnight. Hearing a car coming down the road and the flicker of lights through the trees, Jake settled back where he was out of sight.

  Last chance to back out.

  The cream colored Dodge with the gouged fender turned off the road into the short drive to the gate. Jake recognized the features of the famous actor behind the wheel. He could see him fumbling with a control.

  “Damn it all!” the familiar voice cursed through the open window.

  Another minute passed while Granger tried unsuccessfully to get the gate to open with the control. The motor driven entryway tried to open, but when resistance was encountered, the automatic systems tripped off the drive. Finally, Granger cursed again and stepped out of the truck, leaving the driver’s door ajar. Jake watched as the stocky, six foot-one actor walked toward the gate. Jake let him get halfway there before stepping out from behind the trees that hid him. The Glock was pointed in the general direction of the actor, but not at him.

  “Hold it right there,” Jake commanded. He wore the baseball cap, but had rejected the glasses as simply too dark. Even with the full moon that was already out tonight and clear skies, it was too hard to see clearly with them on. He’d have to hope Granger wouldn’t be able to see much and the cap would shield his face.

  “What the hell!” Granger said startled. Then he saw the gun.

  “What the hell. A robbery? Is that what this is?” He sounded more confident than Jake would have if the situation had been reversed.

  “I don’t want your money,” Jake said softly.

  “Then what the hell is this about?”

  “I want your cell phone,” Jake directed. “Place it on the ground in front of you and step back toward the gate.”

  “No way in hell I’m going to . . .”

  The shot from the Glock was sharp and sudden in the quiet of the night. The round went into the trees somewhere, the spent case tumbling off to the side into the underbrush. Jake had considered the use of the gun carefully, but given when and where they were, he was confident a single shot wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. The use of the Glock would mean he’d have to dump the pistol later. There was no way he could recover the brass, let alone the spent bullet.

  Granger jumped involuntarily at the shot. A hint of concern, maybe fear, crept into his face.

  Now wait a minute,” he said softly.

  “The phone. Now!” Jake commanded.

  Granger slowly pulled the phone from his jacket pocket and set it on the ground, then stepped back. Jake also wanted the keys to the Dodge, but they were in the ignition. The truck’s engine purred quietly behind them.

  Jake recovered the phone, and turned it off. He was happy to see it wasn’t an iPhone, but a model where one could get to the battery. He popped off the back of the case and stripped out the battery, which he dropped into his pocket. He closed up the case and tossed the phone back to Granger.

  Keeping the pistol pointed at the actor, Jake backed up to the gate and quickly released the rope that had prevented the mechanism from opening the entrance.

  “Into the passenger seat,” Jake directed

  Granger looked at him uncertainly, but he realized he had little choice. He walked slowly around the vehicle to the passenger side, opened the door, and sat down. Jake slid into the driver’s seat, recovered the small unit he’d seen Granger trying to use to open the gate, and pressed the button. The gate swung open clearing the way.

  “Hands on the console,” Jake directed. “I’m going to want to drive us inside. The gun will be in my lap. I don’t think you are fast enough to beat me to it.”

  Granger followed directions, and Jake drove the vehicle inside onto Granger’s property, moving some twenty yards inside the area before turning behind a group of trees that would hide them from the road. Once there, he stopped, set the brake, turned off the engine and pocketed the keys.

  “Now what?” Granger asked uncertainly. Jake could tell he was suddenly concerned where this was going.

  “Now we wait,” Jake said. “In a couple of hours we can each go our own way.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” grumbled Granger, but Jake could heard a sense of relief in his voice. “We’re just going to sit here and then you are going to let me go? For a minute there I thought you might be planning on shooting me, but I’ll be damned if I can think of a reason why you would want to do something like that. I don’t think I’ve ever met you before and I can’t think of anyone who would have that kind of grudge against me.”

  “No shooting,” Jake reassured him. “If that’s what I had in mind wouldn’t it have been easier to simply do it when I stopped you and be on my way. The gun is to ensure you don’t try and leave or climb across the console and pound the crap out of me.”

  Jake didn’t know if Granger could do it or not. In the movies he was often a tough guy. He was solidly built, and while he was more than likely a soft actor, he did do most of his own stunts so he had to be in some kind of shape.

  Granger let out a breath he’d been holding. “I sort of thought you didn’t have that in mind, but couldn’t be certain. With that phony beard and hat to hide your face, I assumed you didn’t want me to be able to recognize you. That suggested you intended to let me go later.”

  “Beard’s not phony,” Jake objected.

  “Died then,” Granger corrected. “I’m an actor. I’m used to makeup. I can tell something that’s not normal pretty easily.”

  Jake said nothing, but was unhappy that Granger had detected the disguise even in the dark.

  “What if I tried to leave?” Granger asked suddenly.

  “Then I’d probably have to shoot you in the leg or something,” Jake warned him. “I’m serious about you staying put for a while. We both know that no one is going to be coming out this way tonight.”

  “So what are we going to do here? Are you waiting for someone?”

  “How about we talk about your movies?” Jake asked, avoiding answering the question.

  “Movies? You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “There’s nothing else to do, and it’s a safe topic,” Jake said. “How about the Sam Logan follow-ups? I’ve read you rejected doing another movie.”

  Granger looked at Jake oddly for a moment, then shrugged.
“The character has been too much trouble for me personally. I won’t be doing any more.”

  “What happened with the series?” After two years the TV series had been canceled and a pair of movies had been released later.

  “The director and I disagreed on too many things. What he wanted to do was too far out for me.”

  “I’d expect you’d be able to call the shots on what you wanted to be in the movie.”

  “Probably so, but there is too much bad history there. Contract had been tied to the first two, but now it’s up to me.”

  “Fans like the character. He is a bit off the norm, and is fun. I’ll bet your fan base would tell you as much if you polled them.”

  Granger shook his head. “This can’t be about your wanting me to make some movie. What is going on?”

  “I don’t want you going into your house for a while.”

  “My house? Why? Is someone robbing it? You’re wasting your time, I can tell you that. If you have friends in there, you’re not going to find anything of significant value.”

  Jake shook his head. “No robbery. No one’s in there. It’ll make more sense later.”

  They spent the next two hours mostly silent, with occasional bursts of conversation. Granger was clearly uncomfortable, and Jake didn’t know a good way to put the man at ease. Finally there was a deep rumble back up the hill in the direction of the house and a small shaking of the vehicle.

  “Shit, an earthquake,” Granger said. “I’ve never felt one out here.”

  “Not an earthquake,” Jake said, relieved. Now they could bring this to an end.

  “Come on,” he told Granger. “I want to show you something.”

  Granger looked suddenly nervous.

  “No worries,” Jake assured him. He put the gun in his coat pocket and climbed out of the vehicle, taking the keys to the vehicle with him. Reluctantly, Granger followed him. They walked out onto the gravel roadway that led to the house. Jake pointed. Even in the moonlight the change was obvious.

  “Where’s the goddamn house?” Granger asked realizing what Jake was showing him.

  “Down the hill about two hundred yards.”

  “What happened?”

  “Mud slide. A big one. Carried the whole house away.”

  Granger stared at the hillside. He looked where Jake was pointing, but it was impossible to make out any detail in the dark.

  “That’s why you didn’t want me in the house? You somehow knew this was going to happen? How would that be possible?”

  “I can’t explain that, but let’s just say I knew.”

  Granger was still realizing the implications. “I’d have been killed if I’d gone home like I planned. I’d have been asleep.”

  “That’s what happened . . . what would have happened,” Jake said, quickly correcting himself.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me if you knew somehow?”

  Jake smiled. “What would you have done if I’d stopped you at the gate and told you it wasn’t safe to go home? That this would happen?”

  Granger considered. “I would have probably thought you were some kind of a nut. I’d most likely have called my friend Martin at the police station and had him send a patrol to chase you away. Then I’d have gone home.” He paused. “Shit! I see what you mean. But did you need a gun and to scare the crap out of me?”

  “It’s the only way I could think of to control the situation. As for the gun,” Jake brought out the Glock and pointed it skyward and pulled the trigger. The firing pin make a snap as it struck the spent primer on the empty brass case that was in the chamber. “Only the first round was real. The only thing in the gun now are a couple of spent cases in the magazine to make the action cycle and look real. Sorry about the ruse, but I had to keep you out of the house.”

  “I still don’t understand how you could know.”

  “I can’t explain that. You’ll just have to accept that I did. Tomorrow you can get some people out here and they will verify what I’ve told you. But now, I need to go. I’m sorry to put you through any more inconvenience, but I need time to get away. You’ll have to get a new battery for your phone. I’ll leave your keys on that large rock a hundred yards down the road. By the time you get them and get back, I’ll be on my way.

  Granger looked at him. “That’s it?”

  Jake nodded. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you. I wish the circumstances had been different, but at least I know now there’ll be more movies to look forward to.”

  “I think I owe you a big one,” Granger said, and held out his hand. Jake considered a moment, then extended his own. It wasn’t a smart move. Granger could be considering something knowing he was unarmed, but Jake didn’t think so.

  As they shook, he said. “If you feel you owe me anything, you might consider that I was never here and you arrived late, after this happened.”

  Chapter 14

  Jake looked back down the road toward where he had left Granger’s keys on the large rock as promised. So far there was no sign of the actor. He appeared to be waiting back in his own vehicle the full fifteen minutes he promised. Jake walked around the curve in the country road that hid the rest of his way from the entrance to Granger’s property, then walked off the road behind the trees to where his Chevy was parked. A few minutes later he had worked the big vehicle back onto the road and was driving away. Granger had never seen the car, nor would he have any realistic chance of catching up with Jake if he were inclined to try.

  Five miles up the road Jake came to an intersection he’d scouted when he’d been in the area before driving back to South Dakota and back-tracking. He turned onto it. He followed the new road as it twisted and turned through the trees and was soon back on Highway 70 headed west toward Rifle, Colorado. As he drove he stripped the slide from the frame of the Glock, then separated the barrel. These he dumped in the river at two separate locations along with the magazine and the spent brass he had on hand. The frame was safe enough to keep. Back home in Sparks he had the factory original barrel and slide as well as the threaded Wolfe barrel and what he thought of as the silencer slide. That was a specially built slide with extremely high sights that one could use to see over the tube of the installed silencer.

  The thirty-mile drive to Rifle went smoothly enough. Jake drove at a moderate pace, all the while keeping his eyes on the mirror for any sign of headlights coming up behind him. He was a little tense, but given the reaction Granger had shown to the situation, he was confident the man wasn’t going to turn him in. He didn’t see another vehicle during the entire drive. The moonlit highway stretched out from him in both directions. The town of Rifle was quiet and dark as he passed by. Two-thirds of the way through town he turned north on the much smaller Highway 13, and drove the four miles to the entrance to the small group of cottages where he had made reservations. Like the town itself, the campground was dark and quiet. He saw no other cars as he drove slowly past the owner’s home and made his way to the most remote of the six cottages. Once there, he stepped out and checked the door. It was unlocked as promised.

  Quickly Jake unloaded the few items he would need immediately, then went inside and locked the door behind him. Everything he was wearing went into a large black plastic bag, with the gloves he was still wearing the last to go. Then he wrapped it closed and sealed it with a twist tie provided for that purpose and then headed for the bathroom.

  The beard went next, all of the hair going into another bag that Jake had spread over the sink to capture it as he cut it away. Once he had removed the majority of the beard, he closed up the bag and stepped into the shower where he washed the removable coloring from his head and shaved to complete the removal of all facial hair. After weeks with the beard, his face felt unnaturally sensitive, and the slightly breeze felt like a caress. When he stepped out of the shower, he looked like the Jake of old. The most important thing was the owner of the cottages would see a very different person than the one who had visited Bret Granger the night before.

&nb
sp; Hopefully there would be nothing to connect the two people. The only thing to link Jake with the person he’d been pretending to be was the name and the license plates on the Chevy. He was using the name he’d used in Edwards, and still had the bogus plates on the car. He would change the plates after leaving here. No one had seen them thus far, and the only record was the poorly written number that Jake had put on the hotel form in Edwards.

  Ten o’clock the next morning, Jake walked over to the house and paid a visit to the owner. The man looked the same as Jake recalled, and was in a bit of a hurry to get somewhere, which suited Jake just fine. After going over the rules, the man accepted cash from Jake for the bill. That would almost certainly mean no filed record of the credit card that Jake had used to make the reservation. Worrying about it was probably overkill, but Jake reminded himself it was time to set up the new identity. He’d over used this one.

  Over the next three days, Jake scanned the Internet for any indication that a search was underway for someone who had accosted the actor. He found nothing along those lines. There were several stories about how Granger had been out late and returned home to discover the slide that had taken his home. The articles pointed out how fortunate he’d been to be out when it happened. It appeared that Granger had been truthful when he’d said he would keep Jake out of events.