Back AT You

by John W. Mefford

  Angel nodded.

  Ivy said, “You know I’m with you, Alex. But what if you flag down the wrong person?”

  “I have to believe there are more good people in this God-forsaken place than bad.”

  I then looked at Liv.

  “Trust isn’t a word I use very much.” She took in a shallow breath.

  My eyes went to that sick snake tattoo and then her shoulders and arms. She was cut like a wrestler. Oh, so many questions. But I also could sense that the answers were complex and cloaked in secrecy and fear. We’d have time for that later. I hoped so anyway.

  I told everyone to huddle together on the side of the building. I walked to the edge of the highway, and within a couple of minutes, I saw the headlights of a car. I moved closer to the edge of the pavement, and as the car closed to within a hundred yards, I started waving my arms. The car—it looked like Ferrari of some kind—zipped by without even slowing down. Probably for the better, since I knew we couldn’t fit the four of us in that vehicle. It was almost impossible to see what kind of car was approaching in the dark of the night.

  Another pair of headlights snagged my attention. These were higher off the road than that of the Ferrari. I knew I couldn’t waste time, but I also knew that if the wrong person was driving this vehicle, we could all end up dead, or at least captured. I glanced to the side of the building. I could see the three of them huddled together. Back to the road. The vehicle was fast approaching. I didn’t have the luxury of putting every driver through a screening process. I only saw one choice.

  I moved out into the middle of the lane and waved my arms. The driver veered across the yellow line. He or she was trying to get around me. “Fucker!” I yelled, shifting to my right.

  “What are you doing, Alex? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  That was Ivy. I ignored her and held my ground. A second later, the vehicle veered right. I was pretty sure it was an SUV. Without thinking, I pulled out my pistol, lowered my stance, and aimed it right at the windshield, toward the driver’s side.

  The driver hit the brakes. The SUV vibrated violently and came to a stop two feet in front of me. I walked over to the driver’s side, and the window slid down. I could hear a woman yelling from inside, but the driver was a man…with big ears.

  “What the hell, lady?” he asked as I walked up, the gun at my side.

  It was Officer Bruce Massey—the guy whom I’d dropped in the middle of nowhere with no clothes. His eyes locked on mine. I didn’t immediately respond.

  “Bruce, baby, is she going to hurt us?”

  I looked beyond Bruce and saw a woman who was reaching toward the back, where there was a baby in a car seat.

  “Me and my friends just need a ride.”

  He clenched his jaw, his eyes like saucers. He got out of the car and stood up.

  “What are you doing, Bruce?”

  “It’s going to be okay, dear,” he said, staring at me. Then, he seemed to notice the blood on my arms and neck. “You’re injured.”

  “Long story. But my friends and I need some help.”

  “We were just on our way to my wife’s parent’s house. They live only about thirty minutes down the road on a ranch.”

  Perfect. “Can we tag along? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  He cocked his head back, then muttered, “My wife and child are in the car, and you’re propositioning me?”

  “No, not that. I work for the FBI.”

  “Right. And I’m a showgirl who works at a casino.”

  He didn’t believe me. I got it.

  “Bruce, I know you have some doubt, but—”

  “I’d say it’s a bit more than doubt. I almost lost everything that night…my job, my life, my family. It completely changed my outlook on the future and what I was doing with it.”

  “Great, Bruce. I’m happy for you. I really am. But we’re in the middle of a critical situation. We could all end up dead if you don’t help us…and that includes a fifteen-year-old girl who had been kidnapped until one of us rescued her. We’re desperate. All we need is to make a phone call and then lie low for a few hours. The Bureau will do something to accommodate you for your help.”

  He turned his head, as if something had caught his eye. Something from behind the building?

  “My friend and I were kidnapped from a parking lot of a bar using this gun. It’s Russian. We crashed, and that’s why I’m all cut up. At least one of them is dead. The other two, I’m not sure. They might be part of some Russian crime outfit. I don’t know. But there are more of them.”

  “Okay, I’ll call the cops for you.” He started to turn around.

  I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Can’t do that. They might be in the back pocket of Cadillac.”

  “Travis Wild?”

  “So you know about him?”

  “I’ve heard…stories,” he said, moving his head left and then right.

  He looked back into the car, then turned and scratched the back of his head. “Okay. Get your friends in the back. I’ll talk to my wife. Your bosses at the FBI are going to have to be very convincing.”

  “They will be. Don’t worry.”

  I whistled for the others, and we jumped into the SUV. We were safe. For now.

  36

  Alex

  Just as I’d hoped, it took only one phone call. Jerry listened intently for ten minutes, and then he told me he was calling Assistant Director Barry Holt—the same man who’d once thought Jerry had committed treason and was behind a series of bombings. Of course, we learned that he’d been set up. Jerry didn’t hold any long-term grudges against Holt, at least nothing that would stop him from making the right decision. And he said calling Holt was the right decision. He told me to hold tight for an hour and he’d get back to me with a plan.

  It took him only thirty minutes. I hung up the phone and saw Ivy standing at the doorway of the screened-in porch.

  “Where’s Angel?” I asked.

  Ivy walked in as some bug chirped and hissed in the darkness behind the house. I stole a glance over my shoulder. I could feel something spindly crawling up my spine. For a moment, I wondered if Dmitri or Travis, or both of them, had somehow found out we were at the Massey Ranch—I’d seen a stone sign by the front gate—and were about to light the place up with gunfire.

  “Did you hear me? I said Angel is tied at the hip with, uh…Liv,” Ivy said.

  “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “Whew. For a moment there, I thought you had lost your hearing, like Ozzie.”

  We held our gaze for an extra beat. “Ozzie,” I said, nodding. “I’m not sure what to do or where to begin with my questions for—”

  “Hey, ladies.”

  It was Bruce, who’d stuck his head into our space.

  “Hey, Bruce. What’s going on?”

  “Did you make your call?”

  I saw a clocked perched above the doorway. It was just after midnight. “You can tell your wife and in-laws that our ticket out of here should arrive within seven hours. Maybe sooner.”

  “Good.” He walked over to Ivy and me. “Because,” he said in a muted tone, “I hate lying to them.”

  I cocked my head—what was his point?

  “I told you, Alex, that I’ve changed. And one of the things I told myself was that I wouldn’t lie to my wife ever again.”

  I wanted to mock his lack of sincerity. But he sounded like a changed man, and for that, I felt guilty and happy for him at the same time. “Sorry we’re putting you and your family through this ordeal.”

  “It’s not like I really had a choice. You had a gun, and you had information that would have ruined my life. So…” He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and looked off for a moment. He had this pouting look. A picture formed of what Bruce with the big ears looked like as a little kid.

  I said, “For what it’s worth, I would have never used the gun.”

  Ivy snorted out a laugh. A few seconds passed, and t
hen Bruce’s lips finally turned up at the edges. “Funny, funny, ha-ha. The joke’s on Bruce,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “By the way, what story did you tell your in-laws?”

  He twisted his lips, shuffled his feet.

  “I really don’t care what you told them as long as they don’t call anyone and tell them we’re here. I don’t know who they know. From what I’ve heard, the people we’re dealing with are very connected…and protected by the establishment.”

  “No worries on that front,” he said. “My in-laws have a marijuana farm out back. They’re good people, but they’re also entrepreneurs. So, they keep a low profile, if you know what I mean. They don’t talk about their side business, though, not even to my wife and me.”

  “What did you tell them about us?” Ivy asked.

  “You’re going to laugh.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  “I said you were the daughter of a US senator from Texas and that you’d escaped from a state hospital.”

  “You told them I was a looney?”

  He nodded, though winced slightly, as if I might slap him.

  “I’m fine with that. But what about everyone else—Ivy, Angel, and, uh…?”

  “Liv. I just said you picked up this vagabond group on your trip across the country. Anyway, I told them it would only take until daybreak before I could get someone from a local hospital to come pick you up. And then I’d help the others find their way back to whatever home they came from.”

  “See? You’re going to come across as very noble when this is over,” I said.

  “Only if I keep up the lie. And that will be exposed when your FBI buddies show up, right?”

  “Good point.”

  He turned his palms to the ceiling. “So, like I said, I’m hoping that between you and your bosses, you guys can help me out, so I don’t have to explain how we really know each other.”

  “We’ll think of something that will make you look good. Don’t worry.”

  I could hear a baby crying in the distance.

  “Gotta run. Family first,” he said, holding up a finger.

  Bruce ran off. Before Ivy and I could speak further, Angel and Liv joined us on the porch. We munched on a few salty snacks that Bruce had brought us and drank bottles of Bai, a tasty, fruity drink. We talked some and rested some. A few times, I noticed Liv looking at me. It seemed like she had this urge to open up to me—I certainly had a longing to ask her a million questions. But I also saw a sadness in her eyes. I couldn’t understand her despondency, but I also hadn’t heard her story. I just knew she didn’t feel safe uttering a word with any other person around.

  I got up and paced, occasionally glancing at the still area behind the home. Again, I asked myself if there was any way Dmitri, Travis, and their presidential goon squad were about to launch an attack. But did they actually want all of us dead? Or were they more interested in the value of Angel and Liv?

  A few more hours passed, and no one attacked the ranch. Jerry, Holt, and a horde of agents arrived. The first order of business was explaining to Bruce’s family why six dark SUVs pulled up in front of their house. I took Jerry and Holt to the side.

  “Are these agents from the Vegas office?” I asked. “Because I know one agent who seemed like he’s mailed it in.”

  “This office has been on our red-team list for some time. So, Tanner, the agent you’re referring to, I believe, and a number of others will be brought in and charged this morning. Another team is handling that. This team with us, they’ve been handpicked.”

  “Good,” I said, releasing a deep breath. I then explained to them what needed to happen before we left the ranch. Holt told Jerry to speak to Bruce’s wife and in-laws—he said he’d tell them that Bruce was a hero and would be awarded an FBI medal for keeping these important people alive until the agents showed up.

  Holt then asked me to follow him to speak to the others. The three young ladies were sitting on the porch. I introduced the assistant director.

  “So, you’re, like, really important. You get to talk to the president?” Angel asked, clearly in awe of his position.

  “Sometimes. It’s not very glamorous, I assure you, Angel.”

  He then told Angel that she, Ivy, and an agent would soon be leaving for San Antonio where she would be reunited with her family. Angel was so happy that she hugged the assistant director. He seemed a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t fight it. Which was good. Angel needed to be able to trust that more people in this world had her back. Every kid needed that, regardless of their age.

  The female agent who was going to accompany Angel and Ivy walked into the porch area. She and Angel started talking, and they walked out of our space, leaving Ivy and me there with Holt and Liv. They stared at each other for longer than normal. Something wasn’t right. It was as though Holt knew Liv, which, based upon the pieces I’d put together, made sense. But he seemed hesitant, nervous even, in sharing information with her.

  He rubbed his palms on his thighs and then asked her to take a seat. He proceeded to tell her a piece of news that made my knees buckle. She cried for a minute, but then she said she wasn’t surprised. When she calmed, he said, “So, as a result of what I just shared, after we pick up Wild and Dmitri, there’s no reason you can’t resume your old life. That is, if you want it. If not, we’ll place you somewhere else and let you start all over again. It’s your choice.”

  Then she unloaded everything that she’d experienced in the last few days to Ivy and me. By the time she finished, we were all in tears. Everyone except Holt, who checked his watch more than once. We three ladies then decided on the next steps.

  Holt said, “We’re headed out to Dmitri’s new compound. We think Wild is onsite as well.”

  “You’re not leaving without me,” I said.

  He held up a finger.

  “I’m going, so don’t fight me on this…sir.”

  He shrugged, extended a hand to the doorway.

  It was time to catch some snakes, both Russian and American.

  37

  Alex

  The sex-drug trafficking compound in the rocky hills was near the border of Lincoln County. Wearing bullet-resistant vests and armed with submachine guns, thirty agents raided the two-story building that looked more like a prison. I saw iron bars on the windows and doors.

  By the time I made it inside, agents had seven men lying face down on the floor with their hands cuffed behind their backs. I heard someone call for an ambulance; one of the girls was unconscious, apparently from taking one too many pills. A line of “customers” was escorted outside. They were being questioned by a set of agents. I stayed inside until I could figure out which one was Dmitri. When I pointed him out—I could tell by his upscale attire—Jerry singlehandedly picked him up, dragged him into the kitchen, and threw him into a chair.

  “Alex Troutt, how nice of you to join your little FBI raid.”

  I could see his smug face for the first time. His light-brown hair was parted on one side. He had a two-day beard, as if he were going for that rugged look. But I could tell he’d never really worked a day in his life—with his coifed attire and hoity-toity cologne and manicured nails and buttery smooth skin. It was all of those things, but mostly his smug look that told me he actually thought he was a different, better species than the rest of us. I could feel my insides harden into a pit.

  “Jerry, leave us alone for a minute.”

  Jerry ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “No can do. You know that. Let me just take him away.”

  “It doesn’t really matter what you do,” Dmitri spat. “My embassy will have me out of your American jail in a matter of hours.” He tried to move his arms, but he couldn’t. “Diplomatic immunity, you know,” he said with a smile, his teeth looking like they’d been painted white.

  I guessed this maggot was connected to the official Russian ambassador’s contingent.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about your claim about diplomatic
immunity,” Jerry said. “Our lawyers might take a very different viewpoint.”

  Dmitri looked at Jerry as though he had no clue what he was talking about.

  “I just want to know one thing, Carter,” I said.

  He winked. “I knew you liked that presidential theme.”

  I just stared at him and somehow withheld the urge to strangle him.

  “Okay, you can stop with the devil eyes now, Alex Troutt. Ask your question or return me to the other room. You are…what Americans would say…creeping me out.”

  I lowered my body until we were eye to eye. “How did you know that by kidnapping my daughter you would have access to a mother who would have the skills to survive that drug run?” I despised this man.

  He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll tell you. Maybe I’ll just let you wonder.”

  I asked Jerry to shut the kitchen door. As he walked over, I took a step back and then hurled a fist into Dmitri’s face. He cried out as blood spewed.

  “Oh crap, Alex,” Jerry said, getting in between us.

  “Get out of my way, Jerry.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Jerry…”

  “No more punching.” He moved to the side.

  “You going to tell me?” I asked Dmitri.

  “Screw. You,” he said.

  I moved around Jerry, grabbed Dmitri’s nose, and twisted like it was the handle of a wine-bottle opener. He squealed even more. “Okay, okay, okay. Stop, please!”

  I did, and then he told me what I wanted to know.

  I washed my hands at the sink and walked out of the kitchen. On the way through the living room, I saw Wild sitting up against the wall, handcuffed. No one was paying him much attention, so I kicked him in the face, then leaned down and said, “You will rot in hell for what you’ve done.”

  That created a stir. But I was done with them. I walked out the door.