Redemption

by Ever N. Hayes

  The other plane was supposed to land at an old airfield in Aspen—150 miles from Cheyenne Mountain—but someone had changed that plan “on the fly,” too. Because we couldn’t afford to lose them, we followed them—on radar—all the way to where they landed, near the Catamount reservoirs—thirty miles from Cheyenne Mountain. When we knew they’d landed, we kept our eyes peeled for an isolated place—well south of them—where we could hide out. We found an old US Forest Service Smokejumper base slightly southwest of Cripple Creek—in an area called Long Hungry Gulch—with its own airstrip and hangar, and took advantage of that.

  According to our radar, we were 34.8 miles southwest of the other plane and 28.4 miles west of Knight’s Peak. I wasn’t yet sure why that was relevant, but Lazzo had asked me to check. Perhaps that’s where we’re supposed to meet Danny? From our hideout we’d be able to see if the rescue plane took off again or if anyone approached their area. It was stupid of them to land so close to both Denver and Colorado Springs. We at least had a mountain range between us and the Qi Jia bases. Someone had to have seen the rescue plane approach and would have combined their arrival with intel from Grand Junction. Apparently Baker was trying to reduce the overall extraction time—of General Niles and whoever else was left in the bunker—but that wouldn’t matter if the enemy saw them coming. And how can they not? If indeed it was Baker who’d made that decision, he had likely transformed their hopeful rescue mission into a certain suicide mission. Idiot. Idiots.

  I was keeping a close eye on the radar. Lazzo had informed me, “If we can see them, they can see us”—and “they” could be Qi Jia too. Therefore he’d suggested we unplug the radar if anything else showed up on the screen. I hated the idea of being blind, but I agreed it was probably the right move.

  I had also kept a very close eye on him the past three days. On Friday he’d left for about two hours. When he returned, he seemed almost happy yet also more nervous. He kept looking at the radar screen, but he wouldn’t tell me why. Eventually he admitted he’d left to make a call.

  “A two hour phone call? And you have a phone?” I was beside myself until he assured me the two calls he’d made had each been less than a minute.

  “There’s no way they tracked me,” he said.

  He wouldn’t tell me what he was doing the rest of the time, or give me any more details for that matter, but after Flynn fell asleep that night, I approached him and asked if everything was still a go. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded. I lay down and closed my eyes and then heard him say my name.

  “What?”

  His words gave me chills. “He’s coming.”

  I spun over and looked at him, but he had his back to me now, also lying down. “Who?” He had to mean Danny. “How do you—are you sure? Lazzo?”

  He never answered. I wasn’t sure why he told me that, but I didn’t care. I needed to hear it. Danny is coming.

  Sunday morning he went out again for roughly the same amount of time as he had Friday. This time Flynn and I followed him. Flynn was impressively fast and quiet in her tracking. She was light on her feet—it helped to be thin as a rail—and by the way she held the rifle and adjusted the scope she clearly knew her way around guns. We followed him for half an hour before turning back to the hangar. The precautions Lazzo was taking—distancing himself from our hangar for his call—suggested he didn’t trust the people he was contacting. It also explained why he was gone for two hours on Friday. He didn’t want them to know exactly where we were in case they could pin his call down. I appreciated that. Guess he hadn’t wasted those years in Libyan Intelligence with his brother.

  When he returned from his call this time, he was considerably less cheery.

  “Bad news?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.” His look suggested I let it go at that.

  That wasn’t going to happen. I looked at Flynn. “Hey, Flynn, would you go check the rabbit traps.” She nodded and headed off.

  I approached Lazzo. “What is it? You seem upset.” When he didn’t respond, I pushed him more. “Is it about your family? Are you worried about them not keep—”

  “No, it’s Danny.”

  I felt my pulse quicken and my skin get clammy in a quick second. “Wha—” The lump in my throat cut my question off. “What? What about him? What happened?”

  Lazzo raised his hands and put them on my shoulders. I didn’t even notice he had until he suddenly jerked them away. He stepped away from me. “His plane—”

  “What about his plane?” I interrupted, and he raised his hands back up again—though this time he didn’t touch me.

  “Hayley, their plane got shot”—he paused at my sharp gasp—“down.”

  “No.” I stepped toward him, and he backed away again, nodding. “Today? Did they—wait … if they wanted him to come here why did they shoot him down?”

  “No. I just found out it happened a couple days ago. They didn’t find anyone. But it wasn’t the Libyans that shot him down. It’s complicated.” He read my mind. “There was a heavy storm, and they say no one escaped the plane. The ships didn’t find anyone. They say no one survived. But…”

  It was too much information to process right away. I had more questions but couldn’t yet put them in words. “But you told me he was coming.”

  “I know. That’s what they told me.”

  The tears began to fall. They were running down my cheeks. I wiped them away as I continued to listen to Lazzo. “So … why did you—why did they?” I could see his face clouded with infinite emotions. I knew he didn’t know what this meant for him either.

  “Hayley … I don’t know what it means, but Danny’s tracker is still active…it’s still active today—and it’s still coming this way. He could still be—”

  “Wait, what?” I wiped my face again. “He’s being tracked? So he’s not dead?”

  It was obvious Lazzo felt like he was saying too much. He nodded and shook his head, almost simultaneously. “I don’t know. I do know we—they still have someone tracking him, yes.”

  “So he’s not dead?” Just answer my question.

  Lazzo shrugged. “It could be someone else with his tracker. But because of that tracker they haven’t written him off. The exchange is still a go—I still have the same deadline to get the information to the Libyan commander in Denver. His contacts in Los Angeles told him the plane was shot down and that two of the three people on the plane being tracked disappeared. And Boli’s Hawaiian source confirmed the only tracker still on is Danny’s.”

  Lazzo was waiting for me to interrupt him, but I didn’t. I listened. “Anyway, the Libyan commander knows I’m trying to get to him—he even knows I’m close—but he doesn’t know how or if I actually will. As long as Danny’s tracker keeps showing him coming this way, I think we’re okay. But if Danny’s beacon stops or disappears, I don’t know what he’ll do. Far as I know, the commander has kept his word. Far as I know, my family is still alive. The girls back at that house, too. He wants the book—all to himself—so he’s trying to be patient ... He doesn’t want to give up on this anymore than we do.”

  “But?”

  Lazzo held up his hand. “He is not a patient man. Before Danny’s plane went down, Danny communicated a message back to Hawaii urging them not to write him off. Danny knows he’s being watched—or at least monitored. It’s possible …”

  “It’s possible what?” Hope was surging through me.

  “I don’t know. I shouldn’t say anything else. Right now Commander Boli thinks the book is still coming. That’s all we need. For now—”

  “Lazzo.” I pointed at the radar screen. A bright red dot had moved onto the northeast corner of the screen and was quickly heading in our direction.

  “Shut it down.”

  I killed the power on the radar immediately. “Do you think they saw us?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know, but that is definitely a plane.”

  “Your phone call?”

  “Prob
ably. They must have tracked the direction. They couldn’t have had time to be more precise.”

  “Are you sure? How far away were you?”

  “Three … three and a half miles maybe. Maybe four … maybe less.” There was no confidence in his voice.

  We could hear the rumble of an airplane approaching. It didn’t pass directly overhead but close enough to where we could see the back door open and the sky fill with paratroopers. We counted twenty-eight soldiers falling through the sky. “Shit, shit, shit …” I mumbled.

  The door to the hangar swung open—scaring the crap out of me—and I turned to look at Flynn as she dropped a rabbit on the floor. “Did you see that?” There was panic in her voice. “Hayley, what do we do?”

  I looked at Lazzo. “Why are they searching for us if they think you’re still keeping your word?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  His stunned expression indicated he was being truthful. “Lazzo—”

  “I don’t know, Hayley.” There was panic in his voice now too. “Maybe they think I have the book already. Maybe they’re coming to get it … maybe they’re …”

  The arrival of the troops had thrown him way off. He looked terrified. This is not at all the composure I expect from a former Intelligence officer. “Lazzo, we can’t stay here. They’re going to find the hangar … and the plane.”

  He was standing there nodding. “I know that.”

  “Lazzo, we—”

  “Hayley, I don’t know what to do!”

  Okay. Stay calm. You’ve got to refocus him. “Lazzo, you’re the military guy. Calm down and think.” I turned from Lazzo to Flynn. “At best they landed, what, two miles from us maybe?”

  “Maybe …”

  “Okay.” I turned back to Flynn. “Pack whatever we brought in a bag. Don’t leave anything behind.” I looked at the map we’d taped to the wall. “Lazzo, you made the call about three or four miles west of here … right?”

  “Right,” he mumbled.

  “Okay. Do you have any idea where Danny might try to meet us?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” He clearly didn’t want to tell me.

  “Knights Peak. We gave him coordinates for Knights Peak.”

  Okay, so I was right. “What’s at Knights Peak?”

  “It’s four miles from the back door to Cheyenne Mountain.”

  “How would you know—”

  “It’s in the book. Everything is in the book.”

  TWENTY-NINE – Misdirection (Hayley)

  ---------- (Sunday. August 7, 2022.) ----------

  I looked around the hanger. There was an old pickup truck, a small plane, a US Forest Service fire truck, some farm equipment, and an office. We’d moved most everything out of the way to fit our C-130H in the back. Now we needed to move it all back and somehow hide the plane. We had to make it look like no one had been here since the attacks. We managed to pack the front of the hangar with the big equipment. We broke all the windows to allow airflow through the hangar, and to give anyone who searched the area an alternative to going inside. Hopefully they’d just look in the windows—not see or hear anything—and move on. We backed a Bobcat up against the back door—so no one could come in that way—and maladjusted the rollers on the giant sliding doors at the front of the hangar. That might convince them to not look inside for a plane.

  We figured if the troops had landed two miles west of us, they’d continue west toward where the radio signal had come from before regrouping and sweeping back. This terrain was anything but flat. They’d cover those five to six miles in three hours or so—four at the most. We uncovered the jeep from our plane—having parked it outside under the trees—and loaded our gear into the back. We drove slowly out to the road, careful not to stir up dust or leave noticeable tire marks.

  At five miles per hour, it took us almost ten minutes to reach the blacktop road. I hopped out quickly and tore down the US Forest Service Smokejumpers sign then got back in and turned us south on Shelf Road. We raced alongside the canyon containing Fourmile Creek as fast as I dared. The goal was to get the engine as hot as possible as quickly as possible now. I needed whoever was monitoring the area to pick up our heat signal—to notice us somehow. I needed them to see us away from the hangar—to hopefully keep anyone from searching Long Hungry Gulch and the base where we’d been hiding.

  Shelf Road came to a T intersection where Fourmile Creek met Cripple Creek and I turned left—north—following Cripple Creek towards the town of the same name. As we passed a sign for Grouse Mountain, we saw another plane pass overhead, and more paratroopers filled the sky ahead of us. They found us.

  Lazzo insisted they’d have radioed our location in for sure now. Drones would be on the way shortly. We followed a trail off Shelf Road for a mile or so and dumped the truck at the base of Grouse Mountain, continuing east on foot. The sun was setting as we crossed Wilson Creek and hurried across the rocky terrain south of Straub Mountain. We made it to the base of Brind Mountain just before the first of three drones flew overhead. We were too exposed. There’s no way they missed us. A whole lot more troops would be on the way soon. By morning, this whole area would be swarming.

  We could only assume they’d been tracking Lazzo’s radio call and didn’t trust him to turn himself in. Not sure what else he has to do to prove his loyalty. The Libyan commander seemed intent on not giving him any other options. This was an unexpected and unwelcome tweak to Lazzo’s plans, and he wasn’t handling it well. He had to be thinking about his family. If the Libyan commander doesn’t trust Lazzo to deliver, can Lazzo trust his word? Or is Lazzo’s family already dead too?

  A web of roads converged at the Skaguay Reservoir a mile or so ahead of us. Our goal was to get past the reservoir and up into the canyons before stopping for the night—or before they could cut us off.

  THIRTY – Lost

  ---------- (Saturday. August 6, 2022.) ----------

  Commander Boli returned to Puerto Rico on August 6. The helicopter landed on the roof. The tiny red light went off on the camera in the corner of Eddie’s cell. The commander came alone—no squad of men with him. He wasn’t in a good mood, but this time there was no venom in his voice—no hatred in his eyes. He spoke calmly. “Your brother…he tells me that you don’t read the note. He tells me you don’t know what he’s doing.”

  Eddie resisted a sarcastic retort. Instead he just listened.

  “If that’s true, then you don’t lie to me. You don’t know my plan, do you?”

  “I don’t,” Eddie finally answered. “I don’t know anything.” It was the commander’s turn to listen. “If this is about the note—if the note had the information on it that you thought I knew—well, General Roja told me not to read it. I gave it to Lazzo. I did not read it. Next thing I know I’m being shot over and over again, but not by real bullets. Rubber bullets. Next thing I know I’m knocked out. Next thing I know I’m here. I don’t know why I’m alive. I don’t know why you don’t kill me. You beat my wife. You—”

  “We had a plan—Lazzo and me. I thought you knew everything. Your brother he says he tell you the truth, but he don’t tell you what I think he tell you.”

  What the hell? “What? What truth?”

  “It don’t matter now.” The commander waved his hand casually around in the air. “I know now you don’t know. I keep you alive for your brother. I meet with him before you go Buena Vista. He and I talk. He tell me Americans have information on bunkers, on missiles—important things. Powerful things. He says he will get that information for me. Then he don’t do it. He and you … you blow up Roja’s men. He gets in a boat with you to escape. I send your wife to trap you. Roja gives your brother the note. Your brother leaves for Hawaii with Americans, and I think he played me for fool. He’s not coming back. I was going to kill you then. But Lazzo calls me and tells me he has the note from you … from General Roja. He tells me he will get what I want, but he must continue with the Americans to Hawaii. He tells me
of a man named Danny who has the book with codes, with American hideouts, with all I need for Hawaii and Colorado and everything. I must have that information at all cost.” The commander paused to see if Eddie was still with him. “So I promise him … you know? I offer him his family and your family if he bring me this book.”

  “Wait, you and General Roja—”

  “It don’t matter.”

  “But—you two hate each other.”

  Boli’s glare silenced Eddie. “Sometimes. But it don’t matter. Now I think your brother is dead. I think he died two day ago. He kidnapped Danny’s sister and brings her to America, but his plane gets shot down. But he is not dead. It is not his plane that gets shot down. It is the American’s.”

  “So Lazzo is alive,” Eddie asked, bewildered—trying hard to follow the commander’s story. “But the American is dead?”

  “I speak to him yesterday, yes. Lazzo is alive.”

  “But Danny is dead?”

  “No. Maybe. I hope not. His plane, it was shot down. But maybe he not dead. If he is dead, you are also dead. So I wait and see.”

  Eddie understood that much. His life hinged on Danny getting Commander Boli the book. Everyone’s seemed to. “So why did you come here—to Puerto Rico?”

  The question caught the commander off guard. “Consider it apology. I was wrong about you. Maybe both of you.”

  There had to be more to it. He wouldn’t come here to explain himself—and definitely not to apologize. He was here for something else. “What do you want from me? You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

  Commander Boli shook his head. “No. But I promise you brother I don’t kill you until he bring me the book … if he bring me the book. I need you for—how do you say—the proof of the life. That is all. But I bring you bread and wine. My apology.”

  He left the cell without another word. Eddie tried in vain to get him to come back, to get a few more answers, but the commander disappeared, and an hour later Eddie heard the helicopter lift off. What did he actually come here for?