by Dawning, Dee
"Aren't you going to call for help?"
"Not yet. I don't want them to know we're on to them and other vehicles, especially marked patrol cars might spook them. Are they still on 9th Avenue?"
"Yeah, but they just edged over into a left lane. They may be…they did. They turned east on 42nd Street."
"Damn, they picked up ground on us. I'll bet they're heading for the tunnel."
"That would be my guess."
"They're supposed to be in a white limo, can you get an image of them?"
"I'll try. It's not easy in the middle of all these high rises."
"I know what you mean."
Jimmy jerked upward all of a sudden. "Shit! I lost them. They must be in the tunnel."
I punished the steering wheel with the pad of my right hand. "Damn! If they're in the tunnel already we're losing ground." I turned on the flashing lights and traffic moved out of our way as best as they could but it was slow at best.
"We need help." I picked and the handset of the radio and called dispatch. "Carla. I need an all points bulletin. We have a kidnapping in progress. Perpetrators unknown, suspected victims are two Caucasian women, Amber Lane and Ginger Allen. They are reportedly locked in white limousine traveling East on 42nd Street, south of Central Park. The women may be unconscious. If you see them, do not intercept, I repeat, do not intercept. Report their location to car 442 and follow from a distance. No lights, no sirens."
As I turned onto 42nd Street from 6th Avenue, Jimmy announced, "They're out." Which meant he picked them up again on the east side of the East River.
It also meant, since we were back to three miles behind them, the flashing lights were allowing us to pick up ground.
"I don't think our guys will be able to spot them on an interstate."
The flashing lights allowed us to pass unchallenged through the toll booths. "You're right. I need to update dispatch." I picked up the handset of the radio and called dispatch again. "Carla?"
"Yeah, Willie."
"I need to update you on our kidnappers."
"Go ahead."
"They passed through the East River Tunnel and are now heading east on Interstate 495."
"Thank you, I'll pass it on."
"And Carla, make sure the state troopers are on this."
"Of course!"
I hung up the handset. After a couple minutes, keeping an eye on the road, I turned to Jimmy. "Where are they?"
"They're still on the freeway."
"I need to update Brad."
"Who's Brad?"
"He's the one who reported the kidnapping. He's the business partner of both women and the boyfriend of one."
"You don't think…"
I laughed. "Sorry, no. I don't think he has anything to do with it. I'm pretty sure I know who's behind it."
"Who?"
Before I could answer Jimmy, my phone rang. "Sergeant Smith?
"Yeah."
This is State Trooper, Kevin Donnelly I have a white limousine, license plate TLC2417, heading east on Long Island expressway, in view."
"Great. Where are you?"
"We passed the 295 interchange about a mile ago."
I glanced at Jimmy. "295?"
He nodded
"That's our car alright. We have it on GPS too. I suppose you're in a patrol car."
"Unfortunately. You want me to back off?"
"Sort of. I might want you wherever we end up. Why don't you pass them and pull onto the median four or five miles up and act like you're checking for speeders."
"Will do. Are you aware your Limo has a car leading them?"
A chill ran up my back. "No, tell me more."
"A late model, black Beamer. One of the 600 series, I think. I'll get the license number when I pass them and get the details on the car while I playact with the radar gun."
"Good thinking. Let me know what you find out. My radio frequency is eleven if you want to call me on that."
"You got it. I'm on sixteen if you want me."
After we'd traveled another mile or so, Jimmy said, "I wonder where they're going."
"Me too. Long Island is a dead end. The only way off is fly or sail."
"So you think they have a boat or a plane stashed?"
"Ah-huh. Don't you?"
"I guess."
"Which is worst case for us?"
"Worst case for us and the ladies is a jet plane. A boat we could find. Coast Guard, helicopters, airplanes, but a fast plane could fly out over the ocean below the radar and never be heard from again. Darn, I forgot. I was going to call Brad."
I pulled my phone and hit last call.
"Willie?"
"Yeah."
"What'd you find? What's happening?"
"We're about two miles behind the limo on the Long Island Expressway. Thanks to Ginger's cell phone we're trailing her GPS signal."
"That's great. What can I do? Can I come out there?"
"It's going to be dark pretty soon."
"I don't care."
"I'd prefer you didn't, but if you do, stay out of our way."
"Sergeant Smith, are you there?"
The phone signaled another call coming in. "I gotta go. I'll keep you informed."
I ended my call with Brad and said, "Yes. Smith here."
"They just passed me. When you pass me, I'm going to tag along about four hundred yards behind you."
"That'd be fine and if you want to invite a couple State Trooper buddies that'd be fine too."
"I'll do that. Here's the scoop on the Beamer. It's a 2014 BMW 650 coupe. The registered owner is Milton Grimes."
"Bingo! I knew it. He's out on bail for the attempted murder of one of the kidnap victims. You've been a big help Kevin. Thanks."
"Just doing what I get paid for. I think you just passed by me. Are you in a dark green four door—"
"Yep. That's us."
"I'll stay a half mile behind you."
~ * * ~
Milt's cell phone rang. "Hello."
"It's me."
"Yes, Sis, what do you need?"
"Your captives are beginning to move around."
"Are they awake?"
"Not yet."
"Well, if they awake, give them another dose of gas."
"Are you sure the gas can't reach me up front."
"You worry too much. It didn't affect you last time. Did it?"
"I guess not. How much farther is it to the airport?"
Milt glanced at the driver—Ray. "She wants to know how much further?"
"Roughly, forty miles."
"Forty miles."
"Geez. How come so far? We already passed a couple airports."
"This one is less conspicuous and the Generalissimo likes to use it."
~ * * ~
Little by little, we caught up, and just before dusk I could see the limo with the naked eye. I worried about being spotted so I let the closest car get ahead of me and stayed close behind him.
My phone rang. Smith?"
"It's Brad. Lew and I caught a cab and we just came out of the tunnel on 495. Where are you?"
"About thirty or forty miles east of you."
"Are you still tracking them?"
"Ah-huh. In fact we're about a half mile behind them."
"You are? That’s' great. Why don't you stop them?"
I laughed. "Because they don't know we're on to them and we don't know what we're up against yet. Until we know the answer to those two things, we're not in a position to do anything."
"Gotcha. Where are they going?"
"That is the magic question. Got another call. Talk to you later."
"Willie here."
"Yeah, it's Donnelly. Two more associates have joined our convoy. Is that enough?
"If you can't get any more, it'll have to do."
"I'll see what I can do."
~ * * ~
"Yes, Grace?"
"Do you think anyone could be following us?"
"I doubt it. Why?"
"I think the same car has been behind me for awhile."
"How long?"
"I don't know. I noticed it seven or eight minutes ago."
"Probably nothing. We'll be at the airport in five minutes and when we leave we'll be ten million dollars richer."
~ * * ~
After driving seventy-five miles from our offices, Jimmy looked over at me, and said, "We're almost to the end of Long Island. There isn't much island left partner."
"I know, but at least they'll drive into Long Island Sound before we do."
"Some consolation."
Finally, the never-ending drive seemed about to end. "Oh, lookie, a turn signal."
"Thank God. I'm a crappy swimmer and I left my life jacket in my desk."
"Very funny." I zoomed past where the Beamer and limo exited.
"What the fuck!" Jimmy exclaimed as I drove past the turn off.
"You don't think our friends would get suspicious if we pulled off the freeway right behind them out here in no man's land?"
"Good point, but what are we going to do?"
"Hey, Willie, Donnelly, here. My friend Ramsey joined us too. What are we doing?"
"Well, the sign said Calverton Airfield so it's pretty obvious what they're doing. The only thing is, if even one of us followed them down the off ramp, it would have been like broadcasting that they'd been followed."
"I agree, but what do you want to do now?"
"These highways are you troopers bailiwick. Are any of you familiar with this area?"
"I am." Came a solo answer. "I'm Jenkins and you did exactly the perfect thing. The expressway ends in a cloverleaf about a half mile up. From there bearing left we can take Middle Country Road to Burman Blvd, which runs north and south through the airfield. Coming in from the top, we can douse our lights and sneak right up on them, before they know we're there."
"That sounds like a great plan. Why don't you lead the way?"
"My pleasure."
One of the state trooper patrol cars flashed his lights and dashed in front of our car. From there our police convoy surreptitiously circled the airfield. When we got to the top of the airfield, I saw a good sized private jet on the runway approach. Parked next to the jet with their head and interior lights on was the limousine and the Beamer. As our convoy pulled within shouting distance of them, they fired a series of covering rounds while two men carried what looked to be one and then the other unconscious women up the steps into the jet. When the women were safely ensconced in the plane, approximately six men scampered into the plane and the engines started.
Things were looking pretty bleak when the plane began to move. "Shoot out the tires." Bullets rained from the good guys, but tires which were partially covered appeared unaffected and then the engines stopped and so did the plane.
~ * * ~
"What the fuck!" Milton Grimes shouted. "Why did you cut the engines you idiots." Milton rushed up to the cockpit door and opened it. "Jesus, what happened here?" The pilots were out cold, and that wasn't all. The instrument panel was all shot up and wires dangled from ripped out opening. Milton glanced out at the patrol cars and policemen. How the hell had they managed this.
Suddenly, Milton heard gunshots. He peeked around the open cockpit door and almost fainted. Gunfire filled the cabin. Ray and the dozen or so of Generalissimo's guards were in a concerted gun battle with a Uzi submachine gun that seemed to be suspended in mid-air and fired with uncanny accuracy at the armed guards.
However, each time the floating gun fired, for a micro-instant Milton saw a blonde haired girl with a pixie cut, wearing white, firing the deadly weapon. He also noticed in the instant with each shot a long haired middle aged woman, also in white, covering his captives in a protective position.
Milton grabbed his sister's hand, locked eyes with Ray and hitched his head toward the cabin door. "Let's get out of this madhouse."
They ran out the door and down the stairs with their hands in the air. "We surrender. Take us to jail, please," Milton begged.
A minute later, the Generalissimo ran out, with his hands also up. "Me too. I give. Take me in. Plane is possessed!"
~ * * ~
We flex-cuffed the arrestees and locked them in the back of two of the state trooper's cars. Then calling for medics, CSIs and a paddy wagon, I glanced toward the plane and an exhilarating thrill of relief surged through me. Standing arm in arm in the doorway of the plane, apparently unharmed were Ginger and Amber.
I hung up the radio handset and rushed up to them. "Are you all right?"
Crying, they gave me a huge hug. Something I'll remember for the rest of my life. Ginger managed to stop crying long enough to thank me through her sniffles, "Oh, Willie thank you sniff so much. You sniff saved us from a fate sniff, worse than death."
"Yes, I…I…sniff I…sniff…"
Amber was too emotive to thank me.
"You're not hurt in any way?"
They both shook their heads "Sniff, No, we're unharmed sniff thanks to you and your men." She pointed inside the plane. "Can't say the same sniff for the others."
I led Amber and Ginger to our car and tucked them safely in the back seat. Then as the first ambulance pulled up, I headed for the plane where I expected a bloody, gory mess. "Who's hurt?" the medic at the head of a gurney asked.
Truthfully, I didn't know how to answer, because there was no blood, no gore. The guards, while shaken, did not appear injured seriously, if at all.
"Try the cockpit," I told the medics. As they hustled into the cockpit, I picked up one of the many submachine guns strewn about the floor. The barrel had been peeled back as if it had exploded. "What happened here?" I asked the most alert looking of the guards, hoping he spoke English. "Who know? It magic?"
Chapter Twenty-six
With Milton Grimes, our nemesis, and Ray Lancaster, his henchman, safely ensconced in jail and bail revoked, we could finally relax. Grimes' secretary, Grace Wadsworth, who drove the limousine on the night of the foiled kidnap attempt, was also in jail. Grace, it seems, was more than Grimes' secretary—she was his half-sister and common-law wife. That's right, Grimes' was in an incestuous relationship with his half-sister, which, if you think about it, is not that surprising for a man who would pimp his way up the corporate ladder.
Regarding our rescue, the three of us realized we'd dodged a major bullet—pun intended—at that Long Island airport. Our guardians, for lack of a better term, intervened once again and kept me and my friend Amber from being sold into slavery to work in some third world bordello.
If she had any doubts before, Amber was now a solid believer in our guardians. However, she wanted to bring her fiancé, Lew in on the secret. Not the body switching part. That would always be our secret. She wanted to tell Lew about our protectors.
I couldn't blame her. I wouldn't want to keep a secret like that from Brad. Explaining our guardians, would forestall most of the questions Amber was having to answer, so Brad and I discussed it and decided it would cause no harm. Lew would believe, pretend he believed or think the three of us were crazy, so Amber told him. Whether he meant it or not, Lew told her, "After what happened, that's the only explanation that makes sense," so theoretically, Amber's future husband was on board.
Speaking of Amber, she practically insisted that we throw a small engagement party. Brad and I talked about it and it sounded like fun so we agreed. What could it hurt?
However, a certain phone call a few days later changed everything, and the small engagement party morphed the ball of the year with every who's who worth mentioning in attendance. I have to admit with mega marketing, genius Amber Lane in charge the party became a lavish extravaganza at a cost of one point five million. "Don't worry," she said, "The publicity on the internet, in magazines and in the social pages of newspapers from our party will be the equivalent of ten million in actual advertising. Besides it's Bayside that's paying for it."
I better explain. Two weeks after our ordeal, Brad received a phone cal
l which rocked our world.
~ * * ~
I was talking to Amber about the engagement party, when my intercom buzzed.
"Hang on Amber, my secretary is buzzing me."
"Okay."
I put Amber on hold and hit the intercom button. "Yes Holly?"
"Bella Landers is holding for you on line two. She says it's important."
After telling Amber I'd call her back, I hit line two. "Hi Bella, How are you?"
"I'm great and so are you."
"What do you mean?"
"Bayside Securities, just held the board meeting we've been waiting for and all I can say it's been well worth the wait."
"Great. What did they decide?"
"They made an offer, but I can't tell you over the phone."
"You can't?"
"Not really. I'd like the three of you to come to my office. Can you be here at two?"
"I think so. I'll let you know if we can't."
The three of us waltzed into the Law Office's of Crag, Shiffman & Landers at two o'clock sharp. The receptionist called Bella, who came out and led us straight to an empty conference room. Sitting around an oval, mahogany table, which had two pitchers of ice water and four glasses sitting on it, Bella asked, "Before we get started, would anyone like something besides water—coffee, tea, soda?"
We said we were fine and Bella opened a folder she'd brought. She seemed to take a breath, then shaking her head, she said, "There's so much to tell, I don't know where to start."
"Start with the lawsuit," Ginger suggested.
"Okay. The board of Bayside Securities wants the lawsuit to go away."
Ginger, poured water into her glass and just before taking a sip asked, "I'll bet they do. What did you tell them?"
"That I would speak with you."
I cocked my head to the side and pursed my lips. "About what? Get to the point."
Bella picked up and held the folder just above the desk. "Okay, I think a little background is in order. Bayside is not the big strong company everyone thinks they are. Sure they are a multi-billion dollar corporation, but that's mostly investor's money."
I shook my head. "We know that. We're in the same business."
"Yes, but you haven't had Milton Grimes, trashing your reputation. Bayside has lost a quarter of their clients and they continue to lose them faster than they can replace them."
