Revenge Story

by Julia Broussard

  “Why south?” said Karen.

  “Because they’re going to find this motorhome after we ditch it, and I want them to think we went south, back toward California. There’s an Auto Row strip down there in Auburn, with a ton of used car lots and dealerships. And it will take them a while to figure out which dealer we used.”

  “Oh.”

  “Better get your wig, Karen,” said Ben. “We’re sending you out for the car. Ray and I can’t show our faces in public.”

  “It’s in the duffel bag,” she said.

  “And you’re going to have to take a chance on something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want you to use your real name to buy the car. If you use your new ID, they’ll find out later and that new identity you have will be worthless.”

  “Don’t you think that’s asking a lot from her, Ben?” said Ray. “What if she gets caught?”

  “What do you think, Karen?” said Ben. “You want to try it or not. It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said. She looked up at Ray and nodded silently. I’m the only one who can do this, her eyes said.

  With the Interstate 90 bridge now closed in both directions and a Federal task force of more than a hundred officers surrounding the Woodburn home, Ryan McKenzie finally pulled up to the house. “All right. Give me an update,” he said, jumping from the car.

  One of the agents ran up to him. “We have boats out on the lake circling the island and a hard perimeter on the house. If they’re in there, they’re not going anywhere.”

  “I ran Woodburn’s name on the way here,” said McKenzie. “No record, but he’s been under suspicion for illegal weapons sales a couple of times. Maybe he was just going to help them get more guns.” He shouted to everyone, “All right, move in, and let’s take these guys down.”

  An FBI S.W.A.T. team made up of twenty officers with shields and body armor rushed to the front door. One of them used a battering ram to smash down the door. They hustled inside to search the house.

  Less than two minutes later, Special Agent Carson Gibbons walked out of the house the same way he had entered, stepping around the broken door. He pulled off his helmet. “They’re not here!” he shouted to the other officers surrounding the house. “But we have five bodies inside! It’s a fucking mess!”

  “Shit!” McKenzie said. He slammed a fist against the windshield of his car with such force that a network of spider cracks appeared. “Damn it all to hell!”

  Two hours later, all the crime scene pictures had been snapped, the Police Line Do Not Cross tapes had been posted, and five dead bodies were removed from the house. All five victims had been shot in the head, with very little signs of struggle. An empty safe lay on top of a crushed bed in the master bedroom. A room full of assault rifles and other weapons had been tossed around, and it was obvious that some of the weapons were missing. A white Toyota van registered to a woman in Goldendale was found abandoned in the garage with a smashed-up bumper. McKenzie discovered there was also one vehicle missing from the property, a large motorhome that had belonged to Woodburn.

  As he examined the empty boxes remaining in the room with all the weapons, his face tightened. Some of the boxes had contained hand grenades, C-4 plastic explosives, and detonation cord. Great, he thought.

  An all-points bulletin went out instantly on the motorhome. A report came back just minutes later. It had been found abandoned south of Seattle in the nearby city of Auburn. Local police and FBI agents immediately swarmed the local car dealerships, but it was late and most of them were already closed. A more thorough search was slated for the following morning.

  “Well, I think this is as safe as it gets for us,” said Ben as he headed north on Interstate 5 toward Blaine. “But not for long.”

  “What do you mean?” said Ray.

  “Those new ID’s. No one knows they exist. But by tomorrow, the cops are going to know Karen bought this van. We don’t have a lot of time here.”

  “Tell me you guys have a plan,” said Karen from the back seat.

  “We need to get a boat as quick as we can and head out through the Straits and into the Pacific. I picked Birch Bay Marina as our best bet to pick up a boat. It’s a quiet town and they won’t expect us to be there.” He rattled his fingers across the back of the passenger seat in the van, thinking. “We need new disguises somehow. We can use the new ID’s to buy the boat, but we can’t have anyone we buy a boat from identifying us later, otherwise the goddamn Coast Guard or the Navy will run us down eventually.”

  It was quiet in the van as everyone tried to think. Finally, Ray spoke up. “I think I know a way,” he said.

  “How?” said Ben.

  “I’ll shave my head and wear sunglasses,” he said.

  “Might work. You’ll look a lot different without that big bushy head of black hair,” said Karen.

  “No it won’t,” said Ben. “You’ll get made in a heartbeat. We still have the redhead wig and no one’s seen Karen with that. She goes. She wears the sunglasses and buys the boat. Think you can handle a boat buy, Karen? You know how to pick one that will work for us?”

  “Sure I do. I’m as good a blue water sailor as Ray. Almost, anyway. I can do it.”

  The sun was setting as they approached the exit for Blaine, Washington. Ben took the exit and drove around until he saw a McDonald’s. He pulled the van into the back of the parking lot and parked.

  “Why are we stopping?” said Ray.

  “We need food. But that’s in a minute. First we need a good plan for tomorrow,” said Ben. “This ain’t going to be easy you know. But I think I know how we can pull it off.”

  “How?” said Karen. She peeked out from behind the window curtain and into the parking lot. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  “First, we have to find a boat. And that means a computer at the library and a smart phone. There are online listings we can access on the computer,” Ben said. “And we can’t pick up anything too expensive otherwise it will attract attention when we pay in cash. We just need something seaworthy for under fifteen grand or so.”

  “Well,” said Karen, “that probably puts you in the sloop category and less than thirty feet long.”

  “So?”

  “Sailing something that small out into the open ocean can be done, but it’s risky.”

  “Yeah, well if you whip out fifty grand in cash for the best boat, someone’s going to remember later you did that. We’ll take our chances. You two are supposed to be expert sailors, right?”

  Karen glanced over at Ray with a questioning look.

  “Haven’t been out on the water in more than a year,” said Ray. “We can handle it, though. As long as we don’t run into any typhoons out there. What about supplies?”

  “We take the bare minimum,” said Karen. “Then we stop for provisions somewhere in British Columbia. After that, we can head down the coast to Mexico and maybe pick up a larger boat there. But I’m warning you Ben, it won’t be easy getting even that far in a smaller boat like that. You want to go further; like that guy said in Jaws, you’re going to need a bigger boat.”

  “As long as we can make it to Mexico, that’s all I care about for now,” said Ben.

  “We’ll need good weather and some luck,” she said.

  Karen went into the McDonalds to buy the food. She returned a few minutes later carrying two large bags and came in through the side doors of the van.

  “Think anybody made you?” asked Ray.

  “No. I hardly got a look from anyone.”

  They sat and ate in nervous silence. Ben was like a cat, constantly glancing out the windows as if he expected a dozen police cars to come screaming into the parking lot any second. “The library opens at 9AM,” he said. “You’re going to take the van. Make sure you lock it when you park it.”

  “What are you guys going to do?” Karen asked.

  “You’re going to take me to a car lot here in town. We’ll pick up another vehicle qu
ick. Then Ray and I are heading to the Safeway for supplies. We can meet you down at the docks later.”

  “What do I do meantime?” said Karen.

  “You go into the library,” said Ben. “Don’t park the van in their lot. Find a better spot where it won’t be seen. Then use one of their computers to check out boat sale listings at the Birch Bay marina. When you find a good one, contact the owner, and have him meet you at the marina. It’s a couple of miles from the library to the marina, though. If you feel safe about it when you come out of the library, go ahead, take the van, and ditch it a few blocks from the marina. Not too close, though. The cops have to be looking for it by now. And don’t rush the buy with your seller, he’ll get suspicious.” Ben got out of the drivers’ seat and went to the back. “Then after you close the sale, you wait for us on the boat and we’ll show up with the supplies.”

  “What about the fucking money bag, Ben?” said Ray. “She can’t carry that. It weighs almost a hundred pounds.”

  Ben tried to think. “You’re right. Okay...change of plan. Take the van into the marina and drop off the bag somewhere near the boat you’re planning to buy. You can drag it that far maybe, right? You can get it on board after the owner leaves?”

  “I think so,” said Karen. “I’ll manage it somehow.”

  “Good girl.”

  “There’s something else, guys,” said Karen.

  “What?” Ray said.

  “Don’t buy anything at Safeway except food and bottled water. If you buy anything marine-related and we get made later, they will figure out we left by boat. Then they’ll start sending out the Coast Guard to find us. Just food and water, that’s all,” she said. “Don’t even buy a coil of rope.”

  One at a time, the three of them entered the McDonalds very casually and went into the restrooms. Ray used scissors, a disposable razor, and some soap to clean-shave his head. He couldn’t do it at the sink without being noticed, so he sat in one of the stalls and used the cold water from the toilet. He put on a Washington Cougars baseball hat when he was finished to cover up the nicks and small cuts.

  Ben went in and simply washed his face and brushed his teeth before returning to the van.

  Karen took a sponge bath in the sink, stopping only when another customer would come into the bathroom, but only one person did. When she was finished, she put on the red wig and joined the others.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Ben said, starting up the engine.

  Chapter 15

  By midnight, the owners of every new and used car lot in Auburn, Washington, had been identified, called on the phone, or ordered out of bed and told to appear at their respective lots for questioning by FBI agents.

  Ryan McKenzie, bleary-eyed and exhausted, pulled into parking area of one particular used car lot. A dozen vehicles from the FBI already waited. He left the motor running and put it in park, jumping out and running toward the sales office. At least twenty agents were already in the office and questioning a nervous little man in the center of the sales floor. “What have we got?” McKenzie shouted.

  “The Morris woman bought a van here yesterday,” said Special Agent Carlos Rodriguez.

  McKenzie had not met the agent, who was assigned to the Seattle office. He shook Rodriguez’ hand. “Good work. What do we know?”

  “Well, they sure like Fords. This time it was a 2002 Econoline van. White, too. Same color as the Toyota van they ditched at the Woodburn house. And if you can believe this...she bought it under her real name.”

  “Well, that was either very stupid or very smart,” said McKenzie. “I wonder why she did that. We have an APB out on it, yet?

  “Yes, sir. Just went out a few minutes ago.”

  McKenzie nodded. “We’ll have them in custody soon. Or dead. Their choice. And I don’t care much which way they choose.”

  “Everyone feels the same way sir,” said Rodriguez. “One of those Eureka cops they killed in the bank robbery? He was my brother-in-law.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said McKenzie. He patted Rodriguez on the back. “Don’t worry. We’ll get them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The three fugitives had spent the night parked in a dark alley in a residential neighborhood, taking turns keeping a nervous watch. But no one noticed them, since several other cars were also parked in the same alley. At 8AM sharp, Ben drove them to a used car lot they had seen earlier after leaving the McDonalds. He parked about two blocks away and put on a pair of sunglasses and the blonde wig. “I won’t be long,” he said.

  A half-hour later, he drove up in a blue Toyota Camry and parked behind the van. He walked up to the drivers’ side window of the van and Karen rolled down the window.

  “How did it go?” she said.

  “No problem.” He handed her a piece of paper. “I got the directions to the library, too. The address is on there. Just go straight ahead about ten blocks and turn left at the big intersection. Can’t miss it. You know what to do, right?”

  “I’ve got it.”

  He looked over at Ray in the passenger seat. “All right, big guy. Time to go. Bring two of those rifles with some ammo. Leave everything else.”

  “You think we’ll need them?” said Ray.

  “It’s just in case we run into trouble. Come on. I’ll help you.”

  “What about money for Safeway?”

  “I got enough for that. Let’s go.”

  Ray leaned over and kissed Karen on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” she said. “Just don’t take too long.”

  They wrapped the rifles in a blanket and threw them into the back seat of the Camry. Ben climbed into the back of the van and grabbed a half-dozen grenades from the wooden box, while Ray took a metal ammo case containing two hundred rounds for the M-16’s. He dropped two full magazines into his pocket for each rifle and placed the ammo container behind the front seat. As an afterthought, he saw the two .45 pistols with the double shoulder harness they had stolen from Woodburn’s house. He took off his jacket and slipped into the harness, then put his jacket back on to cover them. “Just in case,” he told Karen when she noticed what he was doing. As a final measure, he tucked both the MP-5 submachine gun and the small Beretta pistol into the moneybag. “I put two guns in the bag here,” he told her. “Just in case. Hope you can even move this son of a bitch. I know it’s pretty heavy.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle it as long as I don’t have to carry it very far.”

  Ben pulled four bricks of the C-4 from their storage box and a roll of the detonation cord, sticking them into the trunk. As they pulled away in the Camry, Ray glanced in the rear view mirror. Karen was already driving away in the opposite direction.

  They pulled into the Safeway parking lot. It was still early and the lot was only about a quarter full. Ben found a parking spot not too far from the main entrance and shut off the motor. “Well, we can’t go in there together, Ray. We stand a bigger chance of being recognized. I’ll go in alone. You keep watch out here.”

  “Okay.”

  “If anything happens, pull up right outside the doors and start honking. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “When you see me come out with the shopping carts, you pull up at the door. We’ll load up quick and get the hell out of here.”

  “Whatever you say, Ben. Just hurry your ass up in there. Get plenty of liquids and make all the food canned.”

  Ben pulled off his wig and flung it to the rear of the van. “Don’t need that. It’s too weird for Safeway,” he explained. He slipped two pistols into his pockets and opened the door. “Wish me luck.”

  Down at the Birch Bay Marina, Karen waited quietly on the dock beside a thirty-six foot sloop with a For Sale sign posted at the port railing. She recognized it as an old Columbia Yachts model, probably late 60’s or early 70’s. From the outside, it looked in fair shape. It was a ‘masthead’ sloop and the paint looked recent. She looked up and saw a short, balding man
about fifty years old approaching down the dock. He was dressed in a polo shirt, jeans, and a light jacket. He waved.

  She waved back and smiled.

  “Hi,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Bill.”

  “I’m Stephanie,” said Karen, using the name on her new passport. She returned the handshake. “Glad you could meet me on such short notice.”

  Bill laughed. “Well, I won’t lie to you ma’am. I have to get rid of this boat and I haven’t had too many calls about it.”

  “Something wrong with it?” she asked.

  “No, no. Nothing like that. My brother left it to me,” Bill said. “He died a few months ago, and I don’t know the first thing about sailboats. You want to go aboard and have a look?”

  “Sure. I’m sorry about your brother. Did he sail a lot?”

  “Sometimes,” said Bill. “He practically lived on this boat for the last year before his heart attack.”

  Karen followed him onto the deck and began checking the sails, the rigging, and the general condition of the sloop. She spotted a mainsail and three foresails. Dual anchors as well, one was a Bruce, the other a Danforth. There was a windlass for the anchor. Not bad, she thought. A heavily built old cruiser for sure. “Mind if I check down below?”

  “Go ahead. I’ll wait up here. I wouldn’t be much use for questions,” Bill said.

  She ducked below and made some quick mental notes. She saw a Tasco three-burner stove, a transducer and speedo log, a VHF marine radio, as well as ‘Ray Jefferson’ wind speed and direction indicators. A little old school, she thought, but solid. She checked for rot, mold, or other damage and found none. Pulling up an access panel, she checked the bilges and found them dry. She switched the radio on, listened to the static for a moment, and then switched it off. She turned on the water pump for the sink and let some of the water spill onto her hand. It smelled fresh enough. On one wall were some other gauges showing the level of fresh water and the battery condition. Both were good. She could smell the diesel from the auxiliary engine. She checked the fuel level and saw it was full. After a few more checks of the boat, she climbed out of the salon and back onto the deck. “Looks solid,” she said. “Someone sure kept up the maintenance. How much are you asking?”