Blindsided

by Fern Michaels

  Pearl admitted to being nervous. Sparrow told her it was understandable. However, his words did not relieve the anxiety coursing through her. All she could think about were the women and children in a holding pattern as they waited for word it was time to be moved to safety.

  Pearl stared into the dark night. She was glad the rain had finally stopped, but even so, there was cloud cover. There would be no moon or stars tonight, and she was grateful. She’d been fighting the dark side, and, ironically, only felt safe on nights like this. She went over again in her mind what she was to do. At exactly 2:20, she was to use her personal cell phone and call a number that Sparrow had given her earlier in the day. He had written out an entire script for her, which she had memorized.

  Waiting at the depot would be thirty-three women and nine children waiting to be taken to safety. The children weren’t children at all but fully dressed manikins that could be picked up with ease. In the dark, her tails wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Everyone, including herself, would climb aboard a bus at a given signal, at which point the agents would close in and arrest everyone. Sparrow said that was why he wanted the agents to know the exact time it was going down so they could set up a perimeter. What the agents didn’t know was there was another perimeter set up by Sparrow and some of Avery Snowden’s operatives. “That’s when we get the drop on them.” The rest, Pearl knew, would mean she could return home, knowing that she was safe and that her privacy would never again be invaded by a rogue agent of the FBI.

  What no one knew, not even Sparrow, was that Charles had recalled Ted Robinson, Espinosa, and the new cub reporter from Baywater for the festivities. They, too, were waiting in the dark, and once more Ted would get his headline and his byline. Above the fold. Espinosa would be nominated for his photography, and Dennis West would be ecstatic to be included with the pros.

  It was all a go.

  Pearl shifted her position on the window seat and looked down at her watch. Almost time to get ready. She thought about eating something but didn’t know if all the butterflies in her stomach would appreciate food. Perhaps a power bar on the way to the old depot. Her eyes still on the numerals on her watch, Pearl waited.

  At the right moment, she hopped off the window seat and walked around the house per Sparrow’s instructions. First, she turned the downstairs bathroom light on, then off; next, she turned the kitchen light on for three minutes, then turned it off; next, she turned the upstairs bedroom light on and off, went downstairs, called a certain number on her regular cell phone, and said, “I’m on my way.” Finally, she went outside and got into a dark green Toyota SUV and left, not turning on any lights till she got out to the main road.

  Pearl’s heart kicked up an extra beat as she turned on the lights. She’d made the same kind of run a thousand times, and she always felt the same way—fearful yet exhilarated. Today was no different. The only difference was Sparrow’s dire warning that she wouldn’t do well in a federal prison. Like she didn’t know that already. Breaking the law, even for the betterment of innocent women and children, was still breaking the law. Long ago, she decided she didn’t care and would suffer the consequences if she was caught. Saving those women and children from lives of misery was all that mattered.

  She was on her way now. There was barely any traffic, and what was there was going the other way. If anyone was following her, they didn’t have their headlights on.

  Not that it would have mattered one way or another. There was no backing down now.

  Less than twelve miles away, Jack Sparrow used various birdcalls to communicate with his people. He always laughed to himself at how as a child he had perfected that little feat. With a name like Sparrow, how could it be otherwise. This place, he thought, as he looked around from his position in the tall grass, was just about as perfect as it could be. Birds nested everywhere. Yesterday, he’d seen some wild ducks that had clacked their own symphony.

  Sparrow looked to his right. He heard noises, but they weren’t being made by his people. His people were trained. Zander’s people were not into wildlife. He looked to his left. What he saw made him rear back: Bert Navarro, his boss! Harry Wong, the second-highest-ranking martial-arts expert in the world! Jack Emery, Zander’s nemesis, with a score of his own to settle with the section chief. Son of a bitch! The goddamn cavalry was now at his beck and call. He wished he could laugh out loud. He did manage a wicked grin and a one-finger salute the others acknowledged.

  “We are locked and loaded. Hoo rah!” Sparrow, an ex-Marine, muttered to himself. Suddenly, he felt infallible. With backup like he was seeing, Zander was dead in the water. Not that he had any doubts before, this was just the confirmation he needed.

  Sparrow was low to the ground, so he heard the vibrations of vehicles on the rough road long before he saw them. Overhead, birds started to squawk. To Sparrow, it was the sweet sound of victory.

  The big yellow bus rumbled in first. The engine died in a slow, struggling cough.

  The big yellow bus was followed by a variety of old trucks, clunky cars that made way too much noise at ten-minute intervals. Women, carrying make-believe children, scrambled from the assorted vehicles and clamored aboard the bus. Pearl Barnes was in the last vehicle to arrive, a dark green Toyota SUV. She hit the ground running.

  Sparrow looked over at Bert, Harry, Jack, Ted, Espinosa, and the young kid.

  Sparrow mouthed the word, Showtime. Still, he didn’t move. He held his breath as he waited for the gaggle of agents to tighten their perimeter and identify themselves. He mouthed the words, “FBI, freeze!” Ah, right on target.

  In a nanosecond, floodlights lit up the old depot like the Fourth of July. Still, he waited until all the agents were in place. He counted seven in total. Piece of cake. Still, he waited until all the women were herded into a circle, with Pearl cautioning everyone to say nothing.

  That’s when Sparrow and his people moved, quickly and stealthily from their own perimeter, until there was an operative behind each FBI agent. “I-don’t-think-so, boys! Your turn. Hands up, and the first one who doesn’t follow orders gets his kneecap blown out. Which one of you bastards wants to go first?” Sparrow singsonged.

  The curses and the expletives rang in the bright light. He had no volunteers.

  “You bastard!” Agents Barry and Landry said at the same time. “You fucking set us up!”

  “Ah, you recognize a setup. Is that what you’re saying?” Sparrow spit out. “How does it feel, you piece of shit? Tell me. I want to know. How does it feel?”

  “Eat shit, you crud! I’m not telling you anything,” Palance roared, the veins in his neck bulging with his rage.

  “Wanna bet?” Sparrow spit out the words a second time. The Taser in his hand sizzled. Palance dropped to the ground. The Taser sizzled a second time, and Barry fell forward.

  Ten minutes later, gasping for breath, Barry finally managed to clear his throat, his face a mask of pain, fear, and apprehension. “C’mon, Sparrow, this isn’t going to get you anywhere. They’ll lock you up and throw away the key. You did one stretch and lucked out. That won’t happen a second time.”

  “Is that what Luther Zander told you when you lied at my trial? I want you to call him right now. Tell him you ran into some trouble, and he needs to get here right away.”

  Barry did his best to sneer at Sparrow. He didn’t pull it off. He did manage to spit out, “Like I’m really going to do what you say.”

  Harry Wong stepped forward into the blinding white light. He looked questioningly at Sparrow, as much as to say, “How long do you want him out?”

  Sparrow grinned. “Ten minutes. Make sure when he wakes up he’s in a world of pain. I hate that son of a bitch.”

  Harry stepped forward and reached out. He squeezed the soft spot under Barry’s nose, then stepped back as the agent toppled to the ground. “That’ll be ten grand, Sparrow. Deposit it in my offshore account,” Harry said, an evil look on his face.

  Sparrow made a mental note neve
r to get on Harry Wong’s bad side.

  Bert Navarro burst out laughing. “Harry, you’re such a card sometimes. Card. Get it? Card, Vegas. You know, gambling cards. Aw, forget it. You need to develop a sense of humor, Harry.” Harry just looked disgusted as he stepped back to where Jack Emery was standing.

  Jack Emery looked over at Sparrow, and said, “Got all the cell phones, all the sleeve and collar mikes, all the guns. Tidy little pile, I’d say.”

  “Flex cuffs intact. Both wrists and ankles,” Bert said.

  Espinosa could have doubled as a monkey as he hopped about taking the pictures that would bring him fame and fortune.

  Ted Robinson kept waving his recorder to make sure he was getting every last sound of dialogue. Dennis West was so wide-eyed he looked like he was going to black out. “Who are these guys?” he managed to gasp as he jerked his head in the direction of Bert, Harry, and Jack.

  “The good guys. No one you need to know. Now or ever. Now zip it up, kid, and stay out of the way,” Ted growled.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I got it. I’m way over here. I’m outta your way. See, I’m way out of your way. Way out. Oh, Jeezus!”

  The agents started muttering among themselves. Sparrow and the others listened to the comments. Their grins were just as evil as Harry’s.

  “Who is that guy?”

  “Who set him up? Barry, Palance, Mahoney, and Landry?”

  “If that’s true, I can’t say I blame the poor bastard.”

  “Yeah, well, I always wondered how Zander got moved up so fast in the ranks. It never computed to me.”

  “This is the end of our careers with tomorrow’s headlines. You know who that guy Robinson is, right? And that dude snapping all the pictures! Christ on a raft!”

  “Is this where we grovel?”

  “FBI agents do not grovel.”

  “Bullshit! This agent will grovel if he has to. The only thing I did was follow that asshole’s orders. I’m not taking heat for something I didn’t do.”

  “Shut the hell up. We go down, you go down. There is no in-between.”

  “You should listen to that guy,” Jack Sparrow said cheerily. “He’s so on the money, you can take it to the bank.”

  Sparrow’s foot nudged Agent Barry none too gently; Barry only twitched. He kicked again with a little more force, and Barry twitched again. “Hey, Harry, I said ten minutes. How come this slug isn’t waking up?”

  “Sometimes I don’t know my own powers. Blow up his nose, he’ll be on his feet in a second.”

  “I’m not blowing in that guy’s nose. Oh, who gives a shit. Palance, get your ass over here and you make the call. Chop-chop.”

  Palance looked around, saw Harry take a step forward. He hustled and reached for the phone Sparrow had in his hand. “I’m going to tell you exactly what to say. You try anything smart, and Mr. Wong here will see that you go to sleep for a very long time. You’ll be brain-dead when you wake up.” Sparrow laughed at the silliness of his own statement. “That is your phone, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s mine. It’s 3:40 in the morning. What if Zander doesn’t answer?”

  “You better hope he does or it’s nighty-night for you, pal. In other words, you keep calling until the bastard answers. Now, this is what you say. ‘Things got out of hand. You need to come here right now. And you need to come alone. We got blindsided. They want you.’ Then you hang up, and if the phone rings again, you let it ring. Okay, repeat what I said.” Palance repeated Sparrow’s words verbatim. “I got it, Sparrow.”

  “Tone of voice is crucial. I’ll be right next to you. You slide off-key, a bad nuance, and my pal Harry here will make you wish you’d listened. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand, you bastard. What you need to understand is I don’t have Zander’s home telephone number. None of us have it.”

  “Surprise! Surprise! Here it is.” Sparrow rattled off the numbers to Palance’s dismay. He tapped in the numbers, aware that Sparrow had pressed the button that activated the speakerphone.

  The moment the phone was picked up after eight rings, Palance went into his spiel. “Boss, things got out of hand. You need to come here right now. And you need to come alone. We got blindsided. They want you.” Palance broke the connection, sweat dripping down his face. “Satisfied?” he snarled.

  “Only if the son of a bitch shows up. One more thing. Where’s the money?”

  “What money?” Palance tried to bluff. Harry took a step forward. “Okay, okay, it’s in the back of the justice’s SUV.”

  “How much? Where did it come from?”

  “Ten million. As to where it came from, you’ll have to ask Zander. All I know is that it’s clean, unmarked money. You can’t trace it anywhere. At least that’s what he told us.”

  “Justice Barnes, can your little organization use five million dollars?”

  “Yes, sir, we can, and my people will be forever in your debt,” Pearl said smartly.

  “It’s yours,” Sparrow said. “Okay, guys, squat and form a circle. On your knees. Someone knock those damn lights out. Leave one set burning. Everyone else, get into position. Zander should be arriving momentarily, depending on how fast he drives.”

  Fourteen minutes later, a low-slung sports car roared up the rough road, rocks and debris spitting in all directions. Gun in hand, Luther Zander approached his men, his face a mask of fury as he cursed in several different languages. “Answer me, goddamn it. What the hell happened here?” When none of his agents responded, Zander turned around and set off a deafening volley of shots high in the air.

  “Well, that certainly got my attention, Zander,” Jack Sparrow said, coming up behind him. Bert swooped in from the left and kicked the gun out of the assistant director’s hand. Sparrow grabbed his arms and jerked them backward. The assistant director howled in pain and outrage. Sparrow drove him to the ground, then hauled him to the middle of the circle, his legs straight out in front of him. “Now, I’m going to tell you once, and once only. Tell these fine agents how you railroaded me for your own purposes. Those that don’t know, that is. Three by my count. All the rest lied the way you did. And tell these same fine agents how you planned on doing the same thing to Justice Barnes so you could step into the director’s chair.”

  “You’re insane. A court of law found you guilty. I demand that you release me and my men immediately. Do you hear me, Sparrow?”

  Sparrow’s gun spit; he hit Zander’s left kneecap straight on. Zander screamed. “One more chance.” When there was no response, Sparrow’s gun spit a second time and blew out the assistant director’s right kneecap. The agents in the circle stared, mesmerized at the pain they knew their boss was going through, wondering if their own kneecaps would be blown out. “The next shot is going to go through your foot—they’ll have to amputate it, and you’ll have a stump to walk around on. Talk, you son of a bitch! And make sure it’s loud and clear so we can all hear what you’re saying. Robinson, front and center. Make sure you get his permission to tape what he says.”

  Ted obliged.

  The agents listened, their eyes as wide as saucers. Barry and Palance couldn’t believe that their boss was throwing them to the wolves. Then the cursing started all over again.

  Sparrow reached into his hip pocket and yanked out a piece of paper that he’d typed up earlier with Zander’s, Barry’s, and Palance’s confessions. He handed out five more and told the agents to fill in their own names on the blank affidavits. “Sign it, boys!”

  “Like hell!” Barry blustered.

  “Don’t be like that, Agent Barry.” Sparrow brought his gun up, and said, “Center mass, and you’re dead. No one will grieve for you. Sign the damn paper.” Whatever the agent saw reflected in Sparrow’s eyes made him rethink his words. He nodded that he would sign the paper. Jack Emery removed the flex cuffs, and all three men signed their names. The remaining five followed suit.

  “Now what?” Bert asked.

  “Now we load all these guys in that big old ye
llow bus. I do believe that a man named Avery Snowden is waiting down the road to . . . ah . . . take his passengers somewhere that I am not privy to. Think of it as a relocation service.”

  “My people are on the way,” Pearl said, hugging the man she thought of as her savior. “What will you do now?”

  “My boss,” Sparrow said, jerking his head in Bert’s direction, “said I can take a week’s vacation. I’m thinking Monte Carlo sounds good. Give me some insight I can take back to Bert. You’re good, Justice Barnes. Call me if you even think you have any problems, and I’ll be there. You know, like the song says, call my name, and I’ll be here.”

  “Harry, Jack, nice seeing you again. Bert . . .” He shrugged, not sure what to say.

  “By the time you get to the airport,” Bert said, “there will be a private jet waiting to take you wherever you and your friends want to go. By the way, Barry lied to you; there was twelve million dollars in the SUV. I liberated some for you. After the justice takes her five, I thought we’d use the rest to provide for these schmucks’ families. Anonymously, of course.” Bert tossed Sparrow a canvas bag and turned to leave.

  Bert, Harry, Sparrow, and Jack Emery moved off to the side.