Outside the Wire

by Holly Copella

  The large barn door quietly opened. Bogart suddenly raced across the yard on the large black horse and headed for the woods. The lights on the jeep popped on as the jeep raced after him. Liam waited until they were just out of sight before sitting up and started the truck. He put the truck in gear and raced down the driveway with the horse trailer in tow.

  “What about Bogart?” Selena cried out.

  “Have faith in him, honey,” Liam proudly informed his daughter. “He’s one of your uncle’s men. He’s a highly trained, skilled fighter. He’ll be fine.” Unfortunately, that description didn’t technically apply to Bogart.

  Bogart rode the horse at a full gallop in the moonlight toward the woods with the jeep racing behind him. Men fired at him with automatic weapons, exploding the ground not far from the horse’s hooves.

  “This is nuts!” Bogart looked back at the pursuing jeep, revealing panic on his face. “This is insane, Othello,” he cried out in terror. “We’re going to die! Faster! We’re going to die!”

  The jeep was gaining on them as the tree line rapidly approached. Bogart cried out while keeping low on the horse as they headed for the barely visible path in the dark woods. They raced onto the trail with the jeep’s headlights upon them. The jeep suddenly skidded to a stop. Several rounds were fired then eventually ceased as Bogart vanished on the trail. The men couldn’t follow him into the woods with the jeep and were unable to keep up with a running horse on foot. When Bogart was sure they weren’t following him, he slowed the horse and patted his thick neck.

  “Othello, I owe you one.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A little after five o’clock in the morning Virginia time, Gil and Darth departed the private plane at the remote airfield. Gil carried his duffel bag and headed for his rental car parked not far from the first hangar. He opened the door for Darth then collapsed into the driver’s seat. It had been a long, exhausting day, despite having slept to nearly noon after their drunken night. He’d landed in three separate time zones and spent more hours in the air than he cared to count. He took a moment to sit in the driver’s seat and reflect upon the last few days. He finally turned on his cell phone then looked at Darth.

  “Should we stop for breakfast before heading home?” he asked the dog.

  Darth licked his muzzle as if understanding the words and agreeing with them. Gil chuckled softly and scratched Darth’s ears. His phone repeatedly dinged with missed messages, sounding like a choir. The strange amount of missed calls caught his attention. He looked at the times of the more recent calls along with their frequency and immediately became alarmed. There were calls from Beck, Monroe, Sal, and Jackie all in the last few hours while he was in the air after having dropped off Sal then Monroe. He didn’t bother listening to any of the messages and immediately pressed ‘call back’ to Beck’s last message. The phone was answered on the first ring.

  “Beck?” he announced into the phone with concern in his voice.

  “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot has gone dark,” came Beck’s urgent response. “We’ve been compromised. Meet at the rendezvous. Do you copy?”

  “Yeah, I copy,” Gil announced without further question.

  “Beck out.”

  The phone went dead immediately following Beck’s last words. Gil pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it a moment with horror clearly on his face. He took the cell phone and smashed it on the shifter. He started the car and burned out in the private airfield parking lot. Darth immediately dropped to the seat as if anticipating some high-speed driving.

  †

  The once charming ranch house nestled in the cozy, older neighborhood was engulfed in flames as it burned swiftly, lighting up the entire neighborhood. Gil’s black rental car pulled up behind several fire trucks. A crowd of neighbors collected on the sidewalk and watched the firemen attempt to put out the blaze that was once Ellie’s house. Gil slowly got out of the car and stared at the raging fire, which engulfed the tidy bushes and singed the weeping willow trees he and his wife planted when they first bought the house. Gil’s body trembled as he stared blankly almost a minute. He finally snapped out of his daze and looked at the nearby ambulances. He didn’t see Ellie anywhere. He approached one of the neighbors he’d never seen before and grabbed his arm with a little more vigor than he’d intended. The man in his bathrobe jumped with surprise and looked at Gil.

  “What happened to the woman who lives there?” he announced to the man while almost choking on his words. “Is she okay?”

  “We’ve been waiting,” the man replied, “but they haven’t pulled anyone out.”

  Gil stared at Ellie’s partially burned car in the driveway not far from the garage, indicating she’d been home at the time of the blaze. Her shift at the hospital ended at midnight, and she was expecting him in the early morning, so it was only natural that she was home when the fire happened. Gil continued to stare at the blaze with his mouth hanging open while his heart ached heavily in his chest. He knew they wouldn’t be pulling anyone out of the house alive. It was too late. He allowed his grief to consume him a moment and fought his tears. Beck’s warning echoed in his mind. This was no accident. Whoever came after the team went after his ex-wife, possibly thinking he was with her. If not, they were sending him a message. The message was received. Gil’s look hardened and his body stiffened. Sorrow was quickly replaced with rage and hatred. Gil jumped back into the car and drove away.

  The rental car drove a little faster on the way back to the airfield. Gil attempted to mind his speed since being pulled over by the police wasn’t advisable under the circumstances. He kept his eyes glued to the rearview mirror and noticed a dark colored, newer model car following from a distance with its headlights off. His jaw clenched at the sight of the car following him. They’d been waiting for him to show up at Ellie’s house, even if he didn’t know who they were. The people following him weren’t in a hurry to catch him, which meant they intended to ambush him at the airfield. That suited Gil just fine. He had a few things he’d like to discuss with them as well. Gil reached into the back seat and unzipped his duffel bag. He removed a rather nasty looking double-barrel, pump action shotgun, which held thirteen shells. One of the assault rifles would be more efficient, but Gil wasn’t looking for efficiency; he was looking to make a mess.

  †

  The dark car followed Gil’s rental car through the gates into the private airfield while maintaining its distance. Gil passed an unfamiliar parked car that wasn’t there when he left just half an hour ago. Instead of parking the car alongside the hangar, he drove through the open hangar doors into the darkened building. His headlights immediately went out. The dark sedan that had been following him stopped momentarily then crept closer to the hangar while two men from the second car got out. They hurried toward the hangar with assault rifles in their hands and joined the other two men from the first car.

  The first two men flattened themselves against the door near the opening then motioned for the second pair of men. The second team moved in with their assault rifles ready for action and slipped inside the dark hangar, immediately switching on lights affixed to their weapons. As they disappeared into the dark opening, there was a brief moment of silence. The sound of shotgun blasts and assault rifle fire echoed from the hangar, resembling a shooting gallery. The first team charged in after the others. More rifle fire and shotgun blasts echoed through the metal building.

  A few minutes passed in complete silence and without signs of life. Gil left the hangar with his shotgun slung over his shoulder and his bag in his hand while showing no emotion. Darth trotted alongside him as they headed for the plane. As Gil’s private plane taxied away from the hangar and headed for the runway, the hangar suddenly exploded into a fiery inferno.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The abandoned airfield in Virginia was home to a large aircraft boneyard. Considered an eyesore, the boneyard was located in a secluded area of mostly junk land far from anywhere. Barely considered an airfiel
d and its seclusion made it the perfect rendezvous for the team. They could land their planes or helicopters undetected by locals, and even if a neighboring community saw a plane going overhead, they knew it was possibly being retired to the boneyard. Gil arrived an hour after Sal and Monroe, who had been there since six o’clock that Thursday morning. Both men had secured private transport to a predetermined meeting point in Virginia and then drove together to the rendezvous. They were lightly arguing over the flat tire on their borrowed car, which conveniently came without a spare, when Gil arrived in his private plane.

  Even though Gil got a later start than the others did, he was closer to the rendezvous since he was already in Virginia. Sal and Monroe greeted him, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. It seemed best to let him go until he was ready to open up. Neither had a clue what had happened at his wife’s house, and he was unwilling to share the painful event. Gil sat on an old plane bench in the middle of the mess and stared at nothing in particular. Darth lay on the bench with him while resting his head on his lap. Gil subconsciously petted the dog but didn’t say a word.

  The three remained waiting at the aircraft boneyard for several hours before receiving word on the rest of the team. Monroe leaned against an old, rotting twisted piece of metal that was formally a plane and watched Gil in silence. Sal approached Monroe and held up his newly acquired burner phone.

  “The guys from the lodge will be here in an hour,” Sal informed him. “Bogart dropped Ross’s family off at some ranch outside of Colorado Springs. He didn’t elaborate, but I think he might mean those girls with the horses.”

  “The wild horse girls,” Monroe remarked. “That’s Holden’s boss’s daughter.”

  “Oh, I remember them now,” Sal replied with a spark of interest. “That’s the mission where you nearly destroyed my hotel and casino.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Monroe remarked with a dreary sigh. “We tore that place down to the ground.”

  “I was being polite,” Sal added. “Anyway, he hopped a train and won’t be here until late afternoon Saturday.”

  “The day after tomorrow? That’s over two days away. We’ll need to pull out the emergency rations,” Monroe informed Sal. “We have MREs, bottled water, weapons, and additional provisions stockpiled for such an occasion.”

  “I’m glad you’ve come prepared,” Sal replied and even managed a smile.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Monroe remarked with limited enthusiasm. “They’ve been here a few years.”

  “Anyone know who they were?” Gil finally asked without looking up.

  They hadn’t realized he’d even been paying attention to their conversation.

  “I’m afraid I shot first and skipped the Q and A portion of the evening,” Sal replied.

  “Same here,” Monroe muttered then eyed Gil. “I’m guessing you didn’t have a long conversation with them either.”

  Gil didn’t bother looking up. “They torched Ellie’s house,” he muttered somewhat sedate. “The neighbors said they didn’t pull anyone from the house.”

  Monroe’s expression shattered by the news of Gil’s ex-wife. “Ellie?” he gasped then fought his tears as he looked away. “Jesus, Gil. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ellie?” Sal asked only loud enough for Monroe to hear. “You mean his--?”

  Monroe nodded then looked at Gil. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, Gil,” he announced firmly. “We’ll find them and make them pay one drop of blood at a time.”

  Gil didn’t respond or bother looking up. Monroe and Sal exchanged looks of shared concern.

  “That’s not good,” Monroe muttered to Sal. “Gil’s one of our most level-headed guys. The thought of him losing control is a little scary.”

  “Behind every level-headed man is a good woman,” Sal remarked then raised his brows. “Take away that good woman, and you’ve got a man with nothing to lose.”

  Monroe considered the comment.

  “Honestly, Monroe,” Sal announced and stared at him with a concerned look. “If I were you, I’d keep a close eye on Jackie. She may look like she’s holding it together, but that’s a woman on the edge.”

  “I’m not worried about Jackie,” Monroe responded without hesitation. “Jackie’s always held her shit together.”

  Sal slowly shook his head in disagreement. “You think you know that woman?” he asked with a curious look. “She’s a volcano waiting to erupt. Trust me, Monroe. When she goes, she’s taking out everything in her path.”

  “Be realistic,” Monroe scoffed. “You make her out to sound like Zack.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  Monroe stared at Sal and seemed to consider the comment a brief moment then shook it off. Sal shrugged conceding for the sake of ending the conversation.

  †

  A little after eleven o’clock that morning, an unfamiliar plane circled the aircraft boneyard. All three looked up. They knew it had to be Jackie, but none could figure out where she’d gotten that sort of plane on short notice. The plane landed with a little less grace than they’d come to expect from Jackie’s piloting skills. The landing was almost aggressive and came close to clipping Gil’s plane parked off to the side. The plane door opened, lowering into steps. Monroe, Gil, and Sal approached cautiously with their weapons securely in their hands just in case they were mistaken about Jackie piloting the plane. Beck and Pinto hurried off the plane while looking back and shaking their heads.

  “I’ve had better crash landings,” Beck scoffed while hurrying Pinto away from the plane.

  Kirk followed them down the steps while showing little emotion. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” he scoffed. “The girl’s just blowing off steam.”

  Jackie was last to disembark the plane. Her look hadn’t softened any, and there was something oddly unsettling about her demeanor.

  “I’m going on twenty-four hours without sleep,” she snapped while glaring at Beck. “If you’ve got a problem with the way I fly, choose another airline.”

  Monroe stared at Jackie with surprise. Sal eyed Monroe and gave him a knowing look. Sal then joined his daughter and gave her a long, loving embrace. Pinto eagerly returned the hug, happy to see her father alive and well.

  Kirk walked past Monroe and noted his odd expression. “Jackie’s in a bad mood,” Kirk casually informed him.

  Monroe drew a deep breath then approached Jackie and lent a sympathetic smile. “Are you okay?”

  She suddenly glared at him as if she were about to take off his head for even asking. “Of course I’m okay,” she lashed out with a venomous look in her eyes. “Five men tried to kill me in my own home last night. I’m fucking fantastic!”

  Monroe took a step back and watched Jackie storm away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Later that afternoon, Beck and Monroe unsealed a vault hidden underground beneath an old plane wing. The vault contained their stored emergency provisions. They left the ammo and weapons, being they’d brought enough with them after the attack. Jackie had several weapons in her duffel bag, and the guys from the lodge brought another duffel bag loaded with weapons and ammo, including the grenade launcher. Beck attempted to talk Kirk out of bringing it, but Kirk was tired of being told not to bring things then always wishing he’d brought them. Jackie passed on MREs. She wasn’t hungry to begin with, and the thought of pre-packaged, flavorless military rations turned her stomach. Gil wasn’t hungry either and refused to socialize with the team. Darth turned his nose up to the MREs as well. Although the water was still good, the bottle of wine was more of a hit than the preserved water.

  Jackie made use of the large, stocked first aid kit to clean the massive scrapes on her knuckles. It was a grim reminder of the brutal assault she’d put on the man who tried to kill her. She didn’t like the images flashing through her head. She didn’t like her uncontrolled rage. Unfortunately, if she had to do it again, she knew the assault would be one hundred times more brutal. She’d overheard the guys discussing
what happened to Gil’s ex-wife and some part of her compassion returned. She approached Gil where he now leaned against an old airplane several yards away from the rest of the team. He didn’t bother making eye contact with her. She didn’t speak to him. Instead, she leaned against the plane a few feet from him and stared where he stared in silence.

  Gil finally drew a deep breath and spoke in a moderately sedate tone without looking at her. “I tore apart four men with a shotgun,” he remarked, matter-of-fact. “Then I torched their bodies and the hangar.”

  “I beat a man to death with my bare hands,” she countered with little emotion. “Then I sent pictures of his dead body to everyone on the contact list in his cell phone.”

  Gil uncertainly turned his head and looked at her, a little surprised by her confession. She cast a quick glance at him then resumed staring straight ahead. He looked away as well. They were operating on the same level of hostility, which was moderately frightening.

  “They killed Ellie,” he scoffed with some emotion finally surfacing. “Why would they do that? We’ve been divorced a while now. It’s as if they knew.”

  “There are too many coincidences,” she replied and fidgeted slightly. “Everything that happened on Giovanni’s island? Holden? Ross? And now us?” She straightened and inhaled deeply while drifting into her own world. She quickly snapped back into reality. “Beck thinks it could be related. What happened to us on the island may have just been the beginning.”