by Peter Darley
“W-why, are you doing this to me? Fabian, you said I would be helping people. The poor.” Emily wept with terror, but the cold, heartless cruelty continued.
“Oh, you’ll be helping people, all right,” the woman said. “You’ll be helping many men along the road to whatever it is they wish from you. And they are poor men. Fabian was telling you the truth.” She reached out her hand and caressed Emily between her thighs. “Poor in spirit.”
Fabian stretched out Emily’s right arm as the woman took out a hypodermic needle from her jacket pocket. “This will help you to see the situation more favorably.” After removing the sheath, she expelled the air from the syringe.
Emily’s terrified gaze locked on the needle. She instinctively recoiled, but was held fast by Fabian.
The woman inserted the tip of the needle into a vein in the crook of Emily’s arm. Very quickly, her panic and terror became a feeling of floating.
Emily’s final thought before the drug completely clouded her mind was that she’d died. Her heart told her this terrible ordeal was the wrath of God being poured out upon her for abandoning her calling. She couldn’t justify pleading for mercy, for in her belief, all that was happening was so very just.
***
Brandon guzzled a bottle of water that Crane had in the glove compartment. “Damn,” he said. “My jeans are getting tighter by the minute.”
“Why’s that?” Crane said.
“Water retention, I guess. I’m dehydrated from the alcohol.”
“All right just hang in there.”
Crane had been following Wilmot, Kerwin, and Rhodes for forty-five minutes. Then something appeared in the distance. He noticed a long line of stationary vehicles on the narrow desert road leading to the town of Blair Creek, fifty miles south of Vegas. There had been a number of signs along the way advertising an evangelical revival in the town. With a number of cars behind him, Jed knew that if he was going to act, now was his chance.
But by doing so, his career would be over. He would become a fugitive. He would be hunted, just like Brandon, and for exactly the same reasons. His life would be in danger, and he would lose everything, including his relationship with his fiancée. He would have no choice but to simply disappear.
However, the alternative was something he couldn’t live with. He would be turning a freedom fighter over to his colleagues, whom he knew to be corrupt, merciless killers. He’d be compelled to serve under Wilmot, who was a traitor to his own country.
There was always the possibility of his remaining in SDT and doing whatever he could to expose them from within. But he knew there was very little likelihood of him surviving if he attempted something like that, singlehandedly.
His brow and palms became damp, his breathing was shallow, and he was stricken with an intense attack of anxiety. Intentionally slowing down, he created a distance between himself and Kerwin and Rhodes.
The driver behind sounded his horn, clearly impatient, but Crane remained frustratingly slow. Before long it overtook him, followed by another, and then another. Within moments, there was a line of cars between Crane, Kerwin and Rhodes.
“What are you doing?” Brandon said.
The line of cars came to a standstill as they hit the gridlock. The last car overtook Crane to join the queue, the primal instinct to be before the guy in front, always dominant.
“OK, what’s goin’ on? You gonna fill me in?” Brandon said.
Crane checked behind one last time. The road was clear, and there were several hundred yards between him and the queue.
He gunned the car forward, then stepped on the brakes and twisted the wheel. The car spun around, accompanied by the sound of screeching tires.
In response to Brandon’s question, he said, “I just quit Homeland Security.”
Wilmot watched Crane’s car speeding away in the rear view mirror and knew Crane had figured it all out. He realized that as long as they were blocked in the gridlock, they could do nothing to stop him. Overcome with rage and frustration, he punched his steering wheel. “Fuck!”
Twenty-Four
Relentless
“So, you’re telling me Treadwell altered your memories?” Crane said as he raced along the dusty highway.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Brandon replied. “Seems he wanted to use me for something, but my natural personality was too volatile for him to control. Apparently, they called me The Scorpion.”
“I see.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because it’s right,” Crane said with conviction.
“But don’t you realize what you’ve just done?”
“Only too well.” Crane pressed down on the accelerator, his instincts propelling him to get away from his colleagues as quickly as possible. “I joined SDT just over two years ago. I was introduced to scumbags like Ogilsby and Woodford and never liked them. I always knew something was wrong.”
“Who?”
“Ogilsby and Woodford. Those two agents you took down at the TV studio a couple of years back. They were with Payne.”
“Oh, yeah. Those guys. I never caught their names.”
“Just after I arrived at Langley, you put that video exposing Treadwell on the TV. Treadwell was in and out of Wolfe’s office all the time, and then he disappeared. With Payne, Ogilsby, and Woodford gone, we thought we were clear of Treadwell’s faction.”
“What do you think about that now?”
“Wilmot was trusted. Everyone believed he was just an innocent Wolfe had assigned to occasionally assist the senator. Like I said before, I believe he was Treadwell’s protégé all along. He’s been running this cell from within, and he thinks you know something.”
Brandon frowned. “But I don’t.”
“Wilmot doesn’t know that, so if I’m right, he sees you as a serious threat. He wants to put you away.”
“This is crazy. You’re saying he wants to kill me because he doesn’t know that I don’t know?”
“Basically, yes. There would also have been a revenge element to it too.”
“Revenge for what?”
“Two years ago you beat the crap out of him in Wyoming.”
Brandon shook his head, confused. “In Wyoming?”
“Yes, didn’t you recognize him?”
“There was something vaguely familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite place him.”
“It happened in the woods, apparently. He was trying to take your girlfriend in, and you went wild. You really did a number on him. I remember when he came back to Langley. I’d never seen him look so good.” Crane chuckled.
“Oh, my God, it was him,” Brandon said with wide-eyed realization. “He was accosting Belinda, and I just lost it completely.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Whatever, we’ve got to get back to Crispin Rock. We’ve got to find Belinda and Tyler. With what’s happened to my sister, I can’t afford to lose them too.”
“I’m going as fast as I can. We’ll be there in about thirty minutes, hopefully sooner.”
Weakened by withdrawal, Brandon sat back enduring his plight as they sped along the highway.
***
“You two look like you could use a couple of really stiff drinks.”
Tyler looked at Bill from his seat at the bar. “Tempting, but no thanks. Coffee will be fine. We need to keep our wits about us while we figure this out.”
Bill went over to the percolator and returned with two coffees. “I’m so sorry for you people, I really am. I swear to you, if it were up to me I would’ve intervened. But I’ve got my family and the families of every man who was in here to consider.”
Tyler tried to appear sympathetic but it was difficult. “Is there anything else you can tell us about this guy, Fabian Rodriguez? I mean, how often does he come in here?”
“Hard to say. Sometimes we’ve seen him in here twice in one week. Other times it’s a couple of months between visits. The bastard patrols desert towns looking for vul
nerable girls. This ain’t the only state he trolls around in, I can assure you.”
Tyler lowered his head despairingly. It was just him and Belinda now. How were they going to go after Emily without Brandon? He was the fighter. The soldier. He was the one with wartime experience and knowledge of battle strategy. But now he was gone and desperately sick. What was going to happen to him?
Tyler noticed the same empty sense of hopelessness overwhelming Belinda as she sat in silence beside him. She gazed aimlessly into her coffee.
“I pleaded with him not to go ahead with this,” she said. “We had our freedom and happiness in our hands, but he just couldn’t let go of the idea of restoring himself to a family.”
Tyler couldn’t offer any response. He’d been just as eager for them to be reunited with Emily as Brandon had.
“So, who was it that took your brother in?” Bill said. “Police? FBI?”
Tyler glanced up at him again, not feeling particularly sociable. “I’m not sure. Homeland Security, I think they said.”
“When he came in here, I had no idea he was Brandon Drake. He looked so different. On the night he broke out of Leavenworth, we had one hell of a bash in here. Busiest night I’ve had in years.” Bill chortled, but stopped the moment he saw the humorless glare in Tyler’s eyes.
“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler said. “You said this guy . . . Sapphire, is it?”
“That’s his nickname,” Bill said. “I have no idea what his real name is. Nobody does.”
“You said they operate from the Avenue Nineteen area—”
“No, no. They control all of the prostitutes around that area. It’s not where they’d be located. For that, I supposed you’d be lookin’ closer to Beverly Hills.”
“OK, have—?”
“No idea. Honestly.”
“OK, but I think I have a way of finding out.”
Belinda’s head shot up. “You do?”
“Yeah. Alex.”
“Alex?”
“He used to live in L.A., and he’s been around.” Tyler turned back to Bill. “You said this Sapphire sells these girls to the highest bidder.”
“That’s right.”
“What kind of people are these buyers?”
Bill shrugged. “Rich ones, I guess. Business guys. Foreigners.”
Calculation filled Tyler’s mind. Perhaps he didn’t need Brandon’s brawn after all.
Bill placed his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Please. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”
“Too late.” Tyler finished his coffee and stood. “Belinda, we should get moving.” He turned to Bill again. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.” Bill said despondently.
“Thanks.”
Tyler made his way out the bar with Belinda. On the steps outside they paused for a moment, concerned they were going to run into the authorities again. However, the road was clear. Hurriedly, they continued on.
Belinda struggled to keep up with the stride of Tyler’s considerably longer legs. “Tyler, slow down.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just really anxious.”
They stepped onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the van.
“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve got planned?” she said breathlessly.
“I’m gonna get Alex to talk to some of his buddies in L.A. to see what information they can pick up off the street about this Sapphire character. Then I’m gonna see if I can infiltrate the organization.”
“And do what?”
He stopped in his stride and turned to her with undeniable conviction in his eyes. “I’m gonna buy my sister.”
Belinda looked at him in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”
“Can you think of a safer way to get her out of there?”
She didn’t answer.
“Now, come on. Let’s go.”
They continued along the walkway and two side streets. Before long, they saw the van parked in the distance along the desert roadside.
Belinda’s mind was still on Brandon. The fear of what the authorities were going to do to him continued to eat away at her. The ‘not knowing’ was the worst part. Everything about his being taken was immersed in the excruciating unknown.
As they came upon the van, Tyler took the keys out of his pocket.
The driver’s side door came open.
Tyler and Belinda came to a halt. They recognized old Earl instantly, with his shotgun trained on them.
“I knew I’d find you assholes sooner or later,” Earl said. “Nice to see you left my rifle under the seat. Looks like we hit ourselves the jackpot this time.”
The passenger’s side door opened and his son, Bobby, stepped out.
Tyler instinctively went for his pistol, but he’d left it in the van.
“You lookin’ for this?” Bobby held up the Super Carry Ultra HD. “It’s amazing what you can find under other folks’ seats. A gun like this looks mighty expensive.”
Earl shot them a gloating grimace. “You guys picked the wrong boys to mess with. This time we brought along some reinforcements.”
The rear doors of the van sprung open and four heavies with shotguns leaped out.
Tyler and Belinda stepped back fearfully.
Earl made his way around to the back of the van to join his cohorts, and gestured inside at the Turbo Swan. “Now, what’n the hell is that thing? I’m willin’ to bet it’s worth an arm and a leg.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Tyler said. “This is relentless.”
Twenty-Five
Separate Ways
“It’s just around here. Next left,” Brandon said as Crane sped the car into Crispin Rock.
“OK, just hang in there.”
Brandon gripped the back of Crane’s seat anxiously. During the time they’d been away, there was every chance Tyler and Belinda had left the area. If so, he had no idea how he would locate them again.
With another screech of the tires, Crane turned onto the desert road just before the main town area. Brandon exhaled with relief at the sight of the van.
And then his heart sank again just as quickly.
“Something’s going down,” Crane said.
Brandon immediately processed the scene: Tyler and Belinda at gunpoint facing Earl, Bobby, and four heavies. “I remember now. The young guy and the older one tried to steal the van from us yesterday. Looks like they came back with help.”
Crane lowered the electric side window and drew his pistol. He aimed at two of the henchmen and took them down with two clean shots.
Tyler and Belinda snapped their heads to the left. Bobby aimed at the oncoming vehicle, but Crane gunned the car into him, knocking him into his father. Both men were hurled across the gravel, and Tyler’s .45 flew from Bobby’s hand.
Belinda threw herself to the ground and grasped the pistol. The remaining two thugs were almost upon her. Darting back, she scrambled to her feet, firing aimlessly at the feet of the two assailants. A geyser of sand and stone exploded before them, forcing them to turn and run.
Tyler seized Earl’s rifle and trained it on him and Bobby. “If I were you I’d stay put, assholes.”
Crane switched off the engine and exited the car with Brandon.
Belinda hurried over to Brandon and threw her arms around him. “Oh, baby. I’ve been so worried about you. What happened?”
“It’s complicated.”
Crane approached the two guys he’d shot. One had taken a bullet in the stomach, and the other a shot to his chest, just below the heart. Crane walked briskly over to Earl and Bobby. “I’d get your two friends to the hospital.”
Earl nodded in defeat. Both he and Bobby appeared to be severely bruised. Earl had also sustained a fractured leg, as was clear from the fact that he couldn’t bend it. Bobby took out his cell phone and called for an ambulance.
Tyler turned to Crane finally. “What’s going on, man? You just took off with my brother, and now you come back with him, racing to the rescue.”
“I’m not your enemy, Mr. Faraday,” Crane said. “I am so sorry for everything you people have been through.”
Brandon and Belinda joined them. “He’s telling the truth, Ty,” Brandon said. “This is Jed, by the way. He may have just saved my life.”
Tyler shook Crane’s hand. “Good to meet you, Jed. What happens now?”
“Now, you three need to get as far away from this town as you can.”
“What are you gonna do?”
Crane hesitated for a moment, and then replied, “Whatever I can to stay alive.”
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Brandon said.
Crane shook his head. “The best thing we can do now is split up and go our separate ways. I’ll have to lay low until I can figure this out. Chances are Wilmot will have Garrett on my tail by tonight, and that’s not likely to end well.”
“Who’s Garrett?”
“One of SDT’s finest trackers. An assassin with a zero-percent failure rate.”
Brandon, Tyler, and Belinda glanced at one another with concern.
Brandon extended his hand to Crane. “Thank you for everything, Jed. I really hope we can get together again someday, under better circumstances.”
Jed had doubt in his eyes, along with a hint of sadness. “I hope so too.” He broke the handshake and made his way back to his car.
“Come on, let’s get outta here,” Tyler said.
Brandon and Tyler closed the back doors of the van. Belinda climbed in the front.
From his driver’s seat, Jed Crane held Brandon’s gaze for an ominous moment. He then turned the car around and headed back out, away from the town.
Belinda realized she was still holding Tyler’s pistol. Although firing it had been a disturbing experience, she couldn’t deny the sense of security it gave her. Almost unconsciously, she slipped it inside the rim of her jeans, and sat back in preparation for another long journey.
Tyler took the driver’s seat, and Brandon climbed in next to Belinda.
