by Bud Crawford
When David saw he was alone at the stop light, he turned and swung his bat down again against the bodies under the blanket, not as hard, but Geoff was glad he had thought to cover Ellen's mouth with his hand while they decelerated and bring his other arm over her to take some of the impact. "Just making sure you-all are doing okay," David said. "Be better if you weren't dead quite yet." He drove forward again as the light turned green. Geoff flexed and stretched his feet and his toes, turned his ankles in and out. He tried to unlock his knees without disturbing the blanket, he bunched up his chest muscles, his abs, his shoulders, opened and closed his hands, his elbows. Ellen, he could feel was doing something similar, but she had taken both blows with the bat, and her body was trembling with pain and rage.
chapter fifty-first
Shit, Ross said, as he heard the sound of the door closing, then silence. He ripped the headphones off and tossed them on the passenger seat. Shit. I've got to stop this, but I'm just in Flat Rock, and they left, probably fifteen minutes ago, real time. He opened his phone, set it for speaker and voice. He called in and explained what was going on, he asked for Sprague's home number or cell number. He asked for backup. All he had working here was the GPS sensor he'd stuck to the Fletcher's van when they'd come home from the hospital after taking Dwight to the ER. That was when he thought they might be participants, not just spectators. But they could track the van, his people could. He had to get Sprague to interface from a half-hour closer.
Ross dialed the number he'd been given for Sprague. "Detective Sprague?" he said when a man's voice answered. "This is Andy Ross, I need you to absorb some information quickly. I am an investigator with DHS, that's right, Homeland Security. Geoffrey and Ellen Fletcher are in imminent danger. David Ickes has kidnapped them and plans to kill them, he's being helped by Madison Markey. He's planning to set up an accident where their car goes off a cliff, crashes and blows up. He's driving them now to the site, and Markey is following in the Fletcher's van. I am just north of East Flat Rock, still twenty minutes from Asheville, and I think they've gone northwest. Yes, I can, indirectly. I affixed a GPS tracking transmitter to their van last week, I can put you in touch with my office, who are tracking them and they can direct you. I'll follow as quickly as I can. Yes, very likely, but let's leave that for later. Please, can you get moving?"
Sprague took the number, but dialed Apple first, and connected with Ross's office on his way to her house. She was waiting at the curb, not in uniform; as she got in the car he put his flasher on the roof and shot across the bridge to West Asheville, and out the Leicester Highway. The van was nearly fifteen miles ahead, already in Madison County. He had Apple call the Madison Sheriff's office, so there could be some kind of backup headed in the right direction, but they had nobody closer than he was. Ten minutes later, according to Ross's people, the van had stopped, ten miles ahead, near the top of Doggett Mountain. Nothing but cliffs up there, Sprague remembered.
~
"You do understand," Honoria had said to Alistair, "this is all guessing, on my part. I don't know anything with certainty. I would call Detective Sprague, or his Captain, if I had any real information or evidence, I'm just seeing a possibility that I think needs to be acted upon."
"Yes," Alistair had told her, "but if you are right, there's no time to talk it over. I've got to go now."
"We go, Alistair. We go." Honoria took his arm.
"Okay. But you're a crazy old lady, you do know that?" He took the car keys from his pocket and opened the door to the patio.
~
David pulled off the road, turned off his headlights, and drove the truck its own length along a dirt road, screened now by trees from the highway. Madison pulled in behind. Her lights went dark. He turned to look at the blanket, a little twitching, they weren't going anywhere. Get the van ready first, then he'd get these guys, knock 'em out, clean off the tape. Pile them in the van, drive to the next good drop off, set the brake at the edge, and strap them into the seats. Start the engine, reach over, pop it in gear, and jump clear. An explosion wasn't certain, but pretty likely, especially after he'd filled up their tank, and left the cap off. He stood still as a car passed, come up from behind them. Hope that's it for the night. Could be, up here, but we've got to be careful. And quick. He lifted the first gas can over the tailgate and set it on the ground, Madison hauled it to the rear of the van. He lifted the second can and carried it to the van's filler. He pulled out the gas can's spout and poured. It took all of the first can. "Damn cheap bastards," he said to Madison, "running around on empty." But he only needed half of the second can, and the tank was full. He wondered how long his latex gloves were good for, in gasoline. Well, just a few more minutes now. He left the filler door ajar and pulled the chain from the cap up and over the door flap, wedging it open. He put the cans back in his truck and opened the back door of the cab.
A car was driving down the mountain towards them. It pulled off at the same dirt road blocking the way back to the pavement. Headlights on bright aimed directly at the van and truck. The driver got out and walked towards Madison and David, who were standing with drawn guns looking at the empty back seat of the pickup. The blanket was gone, nothing there but wads of cut-through duct tape and plastic wrap.
"Good evening," Honoria said, hobbling towards them bent over her cane. "Mr. Ickes and Ms Markey, how odd to find you up here, at this time of night. And Geoffrey and Ellen, too, this is their van, I'm sure. Where are they? Geoffrey! Ellen! Yoohoo!"
"Cover her Maddy," David said. "Shut up old lady. I'll get a light and find them. We'll have a three passenger accident, that's all. They can't have gone far." He took a large flashlight from under the seat of the truck and followed the disturbed weeds and brush.
"Young lady are you holding a gun, pointing it at me?" Honoria tottered towards Madison. "What in Sam Hill is going on here?"
"Oh shut up, you stupid old bat, none of your fucking business, that's what's going on." Madison scanned the dark trees all around her anxiously. The barrel of her thirty-eight sweeping across the darkness, aligned with her gaze. "David, have you got them?"
There was a hard crack of wood against bone. Madison looked at her wrist where Honoria's cane had twirled and smashed down on it, she watched as her fingers opened and the gun dropped from her hand and fell to the grass with a soft thud. She looked incredulously at Honoria as she lifted her left hand to support her right wrist. The rubber tip of the cane pushed suddenly hard against her chest and she stumbled backwards, falling into the ditch beside the road. Honoria picked up the revolver, and walked behind Madison, and knelt on one knee behind her, her own back to the highway.
"You'll stay exactly where you are, and you will not make a sound, or you will be a dead woman as well as a nasty one." Madison held her broken wrist, felt the muzzle against her back, and did as she had been told, shivering in the cool mountain air.
"What the hell, Maddy?" David had come back to the road, at the edge of the glare of the headlights. "Granny got the drop on you? You dumb bitch, I told you to cover her."
"I know, Mr. Ickes, that it probably would not bother you to cause the death of your associate here, but I think it likely that your chief concern at the moment ought to be extracting yourself from this situation. Your pistol holds more shots and has a bigger caliber than mine, but shouldn't you be attending to what's happening behind you?"
"I guess there were already westerns when you were a little girl, granny, so we all know that trick." David raised his gun to point directly at her.
"Alistair!" Honoria shouted. "You said you were good at sneaking around in the dark."
"Same trick, still older than you are." Even so, David looked left, then right, then suddenly he was looking straight up in the air, his knees had been kicked forward, a huge fist was around his gun hand, a huge head was looking down at him. Alistair pried the pistol from David's hand, pushed on the safety and tossed it to land gently on the grass beside Honoria. She picked up the forty-five and p
ut it into the pocket of her walking skirt.
David rolled and righted himself and kicked at Alistair's knee. Alistair turned just enough to the side so the kick carried David towards him and slammed the point of his elbow into David's neck. David staggered and fell back, rolled and folded from the force of Alistair's blow. As he fell he reached towards his ankle. He froze as he felt sharp steel draw a little line of blood across his neck. Geoffrey was kneeling over him, left hand pressing his head down against the grass, right hand holding the knife to his throat.
"Back up gun, of course. Maybe even a third one, somewhere." Geoffrey said. Ellen was standing behind him. Alistair walked over, bent to strip holster and gun from David's ankle, not gently.
"Well, thanks, Geoffrey, for the rescue," Alistair said, not taking his eyes off David. He lay flat on his back, hands clutching spasmodically beside him. Alistair patted him down in front. "Roll him over." Geoff pulled David's shoulder and flipped him on his stomach, but the knife stayed against his throat. David's head arched sharply, awkwardly, back. No more weapons. Geoffrey flipped him again onto his back and stood, retracted his knife and sheathed it. So glad I strapped that sucker on this morning, he thought to himself. Never ignore your instincts.
"So, Davey, you're a wrassler, street-fighter?" Alistair looked down at David, squashed and deflated, eyes wide and flitting, hands clenching and unclenching, arms helpless at his sides. "I'm almost sorry we didn't get to play it out, little pop gun or no little pop gun. I was a DI, in the Corps. Drill Instructor. I trained marines to kill people by having them practice on me. Just think of the things I could have done to you. For Harold, for James, for Dwight, for Geoff and Ellen, for Juniper House, most of all for Marti. Yeah, she told me what you did. The thought of ripping you limb from limb, that's not a figure of speech, that's what's in my heart. Pretty extreme state for an aging pacifist pastry chef." Alistair leaned down and lifted David by the front of his shirt. "I'm making a promise to you, before all these people. I'm a pretty good citizen, I'm going to trust our system to prosecute you and convict you. But remember this, remember it for the rest of your life: I'm on standby. I'm the backup. If things don't work out as they should." There was spittle at the corner of David's mouth, it ran down his jaw, dripped off his chin and smeared the thin line of blood that was still drawn across his throat. Alistair let go, and David fell back against the ground. His lips blubbered, he closed his eyes.
~
Sprague stopped his car on the pavement, there was no room to pull off. He and Apple got out of the car, weapons drawn. He saw Vingood and Geoffrey Fletcher standing over Ickes' prostrate form. Ellen Fletcher and Honoria stood over Madison Markey, who was sitting in the ditch. David seemed to be bawling his eyes out, Markey was holding a wrist swollen to the size of a grapefruit. The Fletcher's Dodge van was parked behind a black Ford pickup pulled a little ways up the gravel road. Alistair's Audi was blocking those two vehicles, its headlights covering the turnoff and shoulder. Sprague looked at Apple. "Hooray for the cavalry," she said.
"Everybody alright?" Sprague asked generally.
Ellen answered. "David's not very happy, Madison's got a broken wrist, I must have some busted ribs. Geoff and I are drunk as skunks. Alistair is in an exalted state, and Honoria's suffering from post traumatic stress. Excuse me while I close up our gas tank." She walked around the van, lifted the cap by its chain, screwed it to the filler pipe, and closed the little metal door. "Everything else is pluperfect."
"Miss Staedtler," Sprague asked, "are you alright?"
"I could not be better. Ellen's silly." She followed Sprague's gaze to her hand. "Oh, I should probably give this to you." She clicked the safety, took the barrel in her left hand and offered the pistol to Sprague. "And this too, I expect," she pulled the forty-five from her skirt. Sprague holstered his own forty-five and took the two guns from her, his pen through the trigger guards. His mouth was open, as if he were about to speak. Honoria said, "Alistair has the other one."
Sprague walked over to Alistair and accepted the third gun. "Bag these, Apple," he said, unnecessarily, the bag was already in her gloved hands. She took the three guns to the trunk of the cruiser and locked them in the evidence box.
Before Sprague could begin to assemble a coherent story of what had happened, Ross arrived, almost rear-ending the cruiser. He jumped from his car, gun in hand, and looked very relieved to see who was standing and who was on the ground. He slid his gun back into the holster under his pullover and opened his mouth to ask Sprague what had happened. Flashing lights crested the mountain and the Madison deputies pulled in to join the row of cars that now completely blocked one lane of the highway. They got out and walked to the edge of the light.
Sprague held up both hands, took a deep breath, and spoke to the entire assembly. "Okay, people, shut it." When the talking and stirring stopped, he went on. "I'm going to lay claim here, this all was my case when it used to be a case. I'd like to request the cooperation of Agent Ross." He turned. "Is it Ross?"
"Yessir, real name." Ross flipped open an ID for Sprague, then held it as Apple entered the numbers into her notebook.
Sprague turned to the deputies. "And I'd like the Madison Sheriff's Department to help us with the scene here, since we're in the middle of your county. Technically, if we need something technical, we came in hot pursuit. That's our claim for jurisdiction."
The older deputy looked up at his partner, then nodded. "Sheriff has the final word for us, Detective Sprague. I'll call him soon as I get where there's signal. But 'hot pursuit' sounds like a perfect ten-foot pole for him not to touch this mess with. If you're asking us to keep custody of the scene here overnight, we could probably do that. I'd have to ask."
"No," Sprague said. "If you can throw some lights on the area, and help us do a quick search I think we can get what we need tonight. We'll interview our witnesses, see if there's anything we need to be looking for. I have a backup coming soon, with forensics. Another vehicle for bringing people down."
He looked slowly around from left to right. "Apple, cuff Ickes. Miss Staedtler, would you take a look at Markey's wrist? Do we need ambulance or an air-lift? Are there other medical issues? Ickes? Mrs. Fletcher, ribs you said?"
Ellen said, "Anybody got a breathalyzer? I'd like to know how soused I am, Geoffrey, too. It's evidence, I guess, as well as curiosity."
The tall rangy Madison deputy brought a breathalyzer from his car. Sprague nodded, yes, and the deputy held the mouthpiece for Ellen. "One-nine, for the record," he told Ellen, as Apple wrote in her book. He fit a new mouthpiece and went over to Geoffrey, "Breathe, sir. One-six, twice the limit."
Honoria stood up from her examination of Madison's wrist. "Radius snapped, skin unbroken. If anybody's got a board it should be splinted. She's in shock." She swept off her crocheted wool shawl and draped it over Madison's shoulders. Apple noted her comments and took pictures of Madison's wrist. "Ellen, come here into the headlights. Take your shirt off."
Ellen walked out of the shadows behind the van, stepping with exaggerated care, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. She shrugged it off and lifted her arms for Honoria's examination. She yelped when fingers brushed the lower and larger of the two bruises on her left side. She turned slowly in the light. Apple's flash fired a dozen times.
Honoria said, "Gentlemen, look in another direction for a moment, please." She turned Ellen directly into the headlights and gently lifted her bra up to her chin. She stepped aside so that Apple could have a clear shot, then gently pulled the bra back into place, pulled Ellen's arms down and helped her back into her shirt. She lifted her hands to Ellen's cheeks and looked up directly into the wide green eyes.
Ellen smiled. "One point nine, Honoria, I hardly feel a thing. And when the vodka winds down, I'll still have fury. Don't worry about me. And you already took care of her." She looked at Madison, still sitting on the ground, leaning over her lap, cradling her wrist, moaning and sobbing softly. The younger deputy was standing beside her ho
lding an oval board, some velcro straps and a plastic bag of chemical ice.
"Your ribs maybe cracked but they're not broken, that's my best guess. They'll hurt like hell. If I were an ER doc, I'd order x-rays. Meanwhile take a couple of these, naproxen, they'll dull the pain and reduce the swelling a little. I'll go see to her." Honoria left Ellen as Geoffrey came up and wrapped his arms softly around her shoulders from behind, she sank back against him.
There was sharp squeal. Everyone turned towards Honoria, Madison and the deputy. "That's good, dear," Honoria said, "we were losing you to shock. Of course it will hurt more now you're awake again. Let me just get you strapped to the board, so we stabilize the joint." She stood and asked the deputy how many ice packs he had. He said, just one. She looked over to Ellen. Ellen pointed to Madison. Honoria took the pack and popped the seal between the two halves. The deputy produced a towel and they strapped the icepack to Madison's wrist. Honoria stood and looked again at Ellen, who nodded, yes. The deputy twisted off the seal on a pint of bottled water and handed it to Honoria, who slipped two blue pills into Madison's mouth and held the bottle while she sucked greedily.
