by David Thurlo
“Drive, Medina,” DuPree growled. “We need to catch up to these bastards.”
“Copy!” Nancy hit the gas, spun the car around in the loose ground, then raced back toward the main highway.
“Dennis Myers is a licensed pilot. He leases a single-engine airplane parked at Coronado Airport just off tribal land, which is our next stop. Units are on their way now, and the airport staff has been instructed to delay any takeoff,” DuPree responded.
“Unless he puts a gun to their head,” Gordon replied.
“There’s that,” DuPree admitted. “He’s the one who got the drop on you two, right?”
“Yeah, that was my bad,” Charlie admitted. “I was complacent, just going through the motions. I never suspected he had a second house that close.”
“We found out that the Sandia Pueblo police car Myers drove through the checkpoint on Tramway was a fake. He was wearing a passable uniform as well, apparently. The officer just waved him through without a closer look,” Nancy said.
“He’d already changed into that outfit when he got the drop on us,” Charlie confirmed. “Even put on some boots.”
“The tech geeks downtown tracked your cell phones, boys,” DuPree said. “They were in the garage of the second house. Myers leased it under a corporate name. They’re in that evidence box on the floor—along with your handguns. Grab them, we might need the extra firepower.”
As Charlie and Gordon retrieved their stuff, a call came in over the vehicle’s radio from Dispatch. Charlie was used to radio calls, and since the cryptic style wasn’t too far from military jargon, he understood the message.
“Ray Geiger cut off his ankle bracelet, but it’s been tracked to Coronado Airport? That’s where we’re headed.”
DuPree looked his way, frowned, and began tapping his cell phone. He motioned for them to be silent as he worked with the device. Charlie looked anxiously toward the east, trying to gauge how many minutes it would take to get to the facility.
“You think the Geigers are trying to lure us there while they drive off in the opposite direction?” Gordon whispered to Charlie. “Why cut the tracking device off, then take it with him? Ray is no genius, but he can’t be that stupid.”
“Maybe he tried, but just couldn’t get it off completely without the right tools. What if they’re already airborne and we’re too late?” Charlie replied.
“Got it!” DuPree announced, still looking at his cell phone.
“What?” Gordon. “Not got them?”
“I think he’s uploaded the ankle bracelet frequency and code for Ray,” Nancy said, reaching the frontage road and turning a hard left, sending them all leaning to the side.
“Yeah, and the bracelet is moving again, this time away from the airport,” DuPree responded. “What the hell is going on?”
Just then another call came in from the police radio.
Nancy and DuPree cursed, almost in unison. She braked hard and pulled over to the shoulder.
“According to the airfield office, the staff there turned out the lights and locked up, so nobody boarded any airplane or took off. So what’s their twenty now?” she asked DuPree.
DuPree was studying the cell phone display. “Looks like they’re on I-25, heading … south! At least that’s where the tracker is going.”
“If it’s still with them, then they’re going to be jammed in with early evening traffic. Hang on!” she yelled, flipping on the emergency lights. “Our closest access to the freeway is Tramway.”
“No, turn around, then catch the Alameda ramp further south,” DuPree ordered. “Use the siren to clear the way.”
“First we’re kidnapped, now we’re in a car chase. What’s for dessert?” Gordon joked. “A shootout?”
Nobody laughed, though even DuPree smiled just a little.
“Where are they now?” Charlie asked.
DuPree checked the tracking app on his phone, then looked over at the vehicle’s GPS. “Hell, it looks like they’re almost even with us, over on the interstate.”
Charlie and Gordon looked automatically to their right toward the freeway, which was barely fifty yards away, parallel to their travel. It was pointless, of course; the southbound lanes were past the concrete median, and all they could see were the tall trucks and eighteen-wheelers.
“I guess it’s too much to hope for a traffic-stopping accident,” Gordon speculated.
“That’s cold,” Nancy said.
“Oh, not with anyone injured. Just enough to bring everything to a crawl. Like a jackknifed load of watermelons spread across four lanes,” Gordon responded.
“Only problem is we couldn’t move either, bro,” Charlie reminded him.
They quickly reached the on-ramp, and Nancy merged into traffic. Charlie, not behind the wheel, cringed every time it seemed like a collision was imminent. Gordon just chuckled. Vehicles were moving slowly, everyone on the way home mixing it up with long-haulers in semis, and Nancy had to cut speed, swerve, then accelerate time after time.
“Kill the sirens and the emergency lights,” DuPree ordered, watching his cell phone display. “The vehicle is less than a half mile away now, and we’re gaining on them, even doing fifty. We don’t know what vehicle they’re in—the airport staff only saw taillights—so I want to creep up on them until we know. If they spot a patrol unit in active pursuit outside the city limits, it’ll spook them.”
“I just hope they didn’t throw that ankle bracelet into the back of some airport mechanic’s pickup and we’re on a joyride to nowhere,” Gordon commented. “Not that the roller-coaster ride hasn’t been fun, Sergeant,” he added.
“We could have left you by the side of the road, Gordon,” Nancy retorted.
“You still have roadblocks in place, Detective?” Charlie asked.
“Those have been taken down, but the state police, both county sheriff’s departments, and the Rio Rancho cops have a BOLO out for Myers and the Geigers. All known residences, the dojo, and the train and bus stations are under observation, as well as the Sunport and private airstrips and TV station helicopters. After all the violence already, I don’t want to risk a shooting incident where other civilians might be injured or taken hostage. When we catch up to these perps, I want to take them down clean,” DuPree said.
“Who’s got jurisdiction?”
“We do this time. We’re in pursuit for crimes that began on our own turf,” Nancy said. “If we lose them, however, we might have to step back,” she added, glancing at DuPree.
“Which is why we’re tracking that ankle bracelet as long as we can,” DuPree said. “Now let me see what I can set up ahead of us. I doubt these guys are heading to Mexico, but they are going in that direction, and it’s a rural route most of the way. There are a lot of places to get lost if they leave the interstate, however. Los Lunas is the next town down the line, and if they get off I-25 before we have visual confirmation, they could go in any direction and it could be hard setting up a roadblock. Let’s try to ID the vehicle before that happens.” The detective picked up the radio mike.
After less than two minutes of conversation, DuPree had summarized the situation and arranged for aerial support from a state police helicopter. “Switch over to the state police frequency, Medina,” he ordered. “Once we know which vehicle’s the target, we can pass that along to the flight crew, and they should be able to follow.”
“Copy,” Nancy replied, reaching for the control on the vehicle radio.
Traffic began to thin as they left the Albuquerque metro area. DuPree, keeping close watch on the app on his cell phone, finally narrowed the likely vehicles to an older-model dark blue pickup and a white SUV that were apart from other vehicles heading south. Both were picking up speed and still in the left, passing lane of I-25, which was now down to two lanes southbound. The pickup was several car lengths behind the SUV. Nancy had closed the distance and remained in the right-hand, slower lane, not wanting to attract attention.
“Wish I had my binoculars,”
Charlie commented, watching the vehicles from the backseat. “If I could read the plate, we might be able to rule out that pickup. Ray owns a red truck, and Frank drives a silver one, but clearly they’ve switched vehicles. Hopefully one of them will take one of the Los Lunas exits and we’ll get a break.”
“I can almost make it out,” Nancy replied. “It’s a New Mexico plate, at least. The old yellow version.”
“Inch up a little closer, Nancy,” DuPree urged. “Then back off while we run a check.”
She picked up the pace, and they closed to about a hundred yards. “Got it! BDG-465.”
Nancy took her foot off the gas, and the following distance increased as she slowed to fifty-five miles per hour.
DuPree entered the tag information into the mobile data terminal to his left, beneath the dashboard and at the front of the center console.
“First Los Lunas exit coming up,” Gordon observed as they passed the big sign on the right. “Maybe we won’t need the ID.”
Suddenly the pickup accelerated, passed the SUV, then cut in front of the vehicle and hurtled to the right, down the exit ramp. To the east of the interstate lay most of the small city of Los Lunas.
“Crap!” DuPree exclaimed, then looked down at the cell phone. “There they go!”
“Hang on, boys,” Nancy announced, flipping on the emergency lights and siren as she accelerated toward the exit.
Chapter Twenty-three
They raced down the freeway ramp. Ahead at the intersection, the traffic light was red. The pickup braked hard, then skidded into a left-hand turn, intending to run the light and pass under the interstate into the city of Los Lunas.
“Oh crap!” Nancy yelled, slamming on the brakes.
A green sedan coming from Los Lunas suddenly appeared, heading straight for the fleeing pickup. Both vehicles braked and swerved, trying to avoid the collision. The car clipped the pickup’s driver’s-side front bumper, then went into a sideways slide to the west, nearly rolling as it laid down an inch of tire rubber onto the pavement with a horrible screech. The pickup spun around in a complete one-eighty, coming to a stop facing west, straddling the center line.
“Gotcha!” DuPree yelled as Nancy slid to a stop barely five feet from the passenger side of the pickup.
Ray Geiger was staring right at them, his expression a perfect human imitation of a deer caught in the headlights. He was still cringing, his eyes now shut, when he was slammed back against the seat as the pickup suddenly accelerated west.
Nancy cussed loudly, glanced left, then cut sharply to the right as she raced into the intersection, making such a tight turn that she barely missed sideswiping the car that had clipped the pickup and was now facing east. As they whipped past the vehicle, the woman driver’s eyes seemed twice normal size.
Nancy raced west down the road after the pickup.
“Yahoo!” Gordon yelled. “Do it again.”
“Shut up!” DuPree grumbled, his hands pressed tightly against the passenger-side dash.
“Okay,” Charlie observed, reading a sign as they flew past it. “We’re now on Highway 9. Where does this go?”
Nancy took a deep breath, then looked over at the GPS. “Eventually, Laguna Pueblo.”
“Yeah, but by then the highway connects with I-40. That won’t happen for thirty miles, give or take,” DuPree added, relaxing just a little.
“That’s mostly empty desert, right?” Charlie observed.
“Their escape plan is shot to hell now. Looks like they’ve been forced into an unplanned direction,” Gordon said. “We should be able to box them in.”
DuPree grabbed the radio mike and contacted the state police dispatcher, passing along the new information to the helicopter crew. In exchange, he learned that the chopper had already picked up the signal from the ankle bracelet and, when they reached the area, would coordinate with DuPree and Laguna Pueblo officers, who would block access to I-40.
“Myers and company will be cut off,” DuPree announced as he racked the mike.
“There’s something that’s still got me puzzled, though,” Charlie said.
“Yeah. Why hang on to the ankle bracelet?” Nancy asked. “Even if they think it’s been disabled.”
“You think Frank and Myers now have no choice but to set up a Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid dying-with-your-boots-on shootout?” Gordon offered. “Or maybe suck us into an ambush. He left that sniper rifle behind, but we don’t know what other weapons Dennis Myers has with him.”
“If you’re trying to get me riled up about this, Sweeney, you’re not helping. Myers was a mob soldier, reportedly a hit man,” DuPree reminded him. “I’m not looking forward to what’s coming.”
“But he could have killed us earlier and passed up the chance,” Charlie countered, “and before, getting rid of me was near the top of their agenda. This time, Myers got cold feet. He doesn’t need more heat to come down. He wants to survive, to escape one more time.”
“But what if Gordon is right? Now they know they’ll either have to give up or take us on,” Nancy countered. “Their airplane flight to Mexico or wherever didn’t quite work out.”
“None of this makes any sense now,” Charlie admitted. “That monitor is still with them, and they can’t get away as long as it’s sending a signal.”
“Let’s think way outside the box for a moment. What if Ray wants us to catch up to them so he can surrender?” Gordon suggested. “I’m guessing it was his dad who pressured him into the home invasion that started all this, intending on kidnapping Sam and forcing him to give up the money. With that bum leg, Frank knew he couldn’t pull it off himself, and maybe he’s getting low on cash. Believe me, I know how controlling an old man can be.”
Charlie nodded. Gordon had hated his late father, who’d been abusive to his entire family, especially to Gordon’s mom. The man met his demise when one night he had fallen down some stairs and broken his neck.
“Whatever the case, we have to operate under the possibility that we’ll be confronting three potentially well-armed men—at least two of them very familiar with firearms,” DuPree said. “You two need to stay under cover and defend yourself only if attacked. The responsibility for taking these perps down belongs to Sergeant Medina and myself, plus whatever law enforcement is on scene when it goes down. Got that?”
“Wayne, you know by now that Charlie and Gordon are going to react to the situation and take action whether we want them to or not,” Nancy observed, not taking her eyes off the road. They were traveling close to ninety miles an hour.
“Okay, but just for the record, I advised otherwise.”
“This started with us, guys, and I’m in it till the end,” Charlie stated, not bothering to remind the officers that he and Gordon had been trained to maneuver and fight at night, and had much more experience with firefights than either of the cops
“I’m with Charlie on this,” Gordon added.
“We take all of them alive, if possible,” DuPree replied.
Charlie nodded, knowing that such an outcome was in the hands of their targets. Five minutes later, in the middle of nowhere, the speeding pickup suddenly slowed, braked hard, then slid off the road, nearly tipping as it entered a dirt road leading toward a closed gate and cattle guard in the fence line. A cloud of dust erupted, hiding the pickup.
“Now what?” DuPree exclaimed. “I didn’t see any signs of life at all around here.”
Nancy braked, slowed, then made the turn at a much more reasonable pace, fishtailing only slightly. Ahead, the metal gate had been smashed open and part of the wire fence thrown aside. A trail of dust churned up by the fleeing pickup quickly revealed its general direction of travel, though its running lights had been turned off.
Nancy drove the squad car slowly over the raised cattle guard with a rumble of tires. “Where are they going now? Some abandoned ranch house?” She continued slowly down the primitive road, following the one set of tire tracks.
“Who knows? The only fresh track
s leading in right now are from the pickup, so it’s not like there’s any regular traffic. Follow, but whatever you do, don’t get stuck in the sand. Everyone keep watch,” DuPree said, reaching for the radio mike. “I’m calling this in.”
“We’re being set up for an ambush,” Gordon suggested, looking at Charlie. “They turned off their lights and probably believe this is the only road back out to the highway.”
“I agree. They want to catch us in a trap before help arrives. With this squad car in their hands they still might have a chance to make their escape back through Los Lunas,” Charlie replied, trying to see beyond the headlights. “It’s what I’d do.”
Nancy turned her head toward Charlie. “Then I’m turning out our headlights. We’ll become invisible, like them.” There was no moon out at this hour, and at this location, away from city lights, it was very dark.
“Yeah,” DuPree agreed, putting back the radio mike. “Let’s stop, get out, and take cover while we develop a plan. It might be better just to set up a roadblock and wait for backup. Time is on our side, and once the helicopter is here they can drop a flare or two and light up the desert for miles.”
They climbed out of the car in a hurry, dome light off, and Nancy grabbed a shotgun from the rack between the seats. DuPree took a flashlight before Nancy locked the doors. Charlie motioned for them to meet behind the car; then they remained silent for a while.
Except for the sound of crickets and the ticking of the cooling car engine, it was very quiet. After several seconds, DuPree spoke. “No engine noise, which means they’ve stopped as well, or gotten stuck in the sand. If that’s happened, they’ll have to take this car to get out. You may be right about an ambush, Gordon.”
“They can’t afford to wait,” Nancy whispered. “They’re either going to launch a quick attack on us, or they’ve already headed for the highway on foot.”
“They can bypass us and try to hijack some vehicle along the road—which would be risky, considering they have to know backup is headed this direction. They might, however, make a move on us,” Gordon said. “I doubt that Ray could see all four of us in the headlight glare a while ago. They might not know they’re already outnumbered.”
