Edge of the Heat 5

by Lisa Ladew

  “No,” Hawk said, shaking his head. “Claymont Carruthers. Our other esteemed California senator. He and Thorpe go way back. Carruthers started the DCIA in 1974, 2 years after he was first elected. He’s held onto his seat this whole time. He appointed Thorpe head of the organization and it sounds like he and the president are the only people that Thorpe answers to.”

  Craig shook his head, trying to process what he was being told. Could it really be possible that Carruthers was in on everything they thought Oberlin had orchestrated? They knew Oberlin had probably had a partner somewhere, but that suspicion had never fallen on the only other Senator in their state.

  Hawk leaned in. “We think we know what she is going to do.”

  “What?”

  “We think she is going to confront one of them - Carruthers or Thorpe - and that’s why she wants to hijack the TV and cable signals. She wants the world to see it. She doesn’t want the possibility of it just being ignored.”

  “But why take Jerry with her?”

  Vivian and Hawk looked at each other. “We don’t know. Unless Jerry uncovered something that made Thorpe target him too. Unless Jerry’s in it just as deep as she is for some reason.”

  Craig rubbed his arms with both hands. “What if this is all bullshit though? Sara could have just made up this elaborate plan to save her ass. Maybe she’s the sociopath.”

  Hawk’s eyes bored into Craig’s. “I’ve been checking her reports against ours and I’m afraid she’s not making anything up. Names, dates, highways into the U.S. They all match up to stuff we’ve uncovered before. In fact, Oberlin may have been working with Thorpe and Carruthers.”

  Craig crossed his arms over his chest. His mouth worked but nothing came out. His fingers curled into fists against his arms. If Claymant Carruthers or Frank Thorpe had been in front of him, he would have had a hard time keeping those fingers off their necks.

  Emma broke in. “This guy Thorpe sounds dangerous. What if he sees her coming and just shoots her on sight? Or figures out a way to twist everything again and gets them thrown in jail?”

  Hawk nodded. “I was thinking that too. We have to find them. And stop them or help them. There’s got to be a better way than whatever they are planning. Too bad we couldn’t get a direct line to the president.”

  Craig looked thoughtful. “We could ask the Director of the FBI, but he’d want a day or two to review everything. Who knows if we have that. Sara and Jerry could be on the move right now.” He started pacing the room again, then turned quickly to Hawk. “Hawk, don’t you know anyone who might be able to get us in the door with the president? Someone who might slip him a report and tell him it’s important?”

  Hawk shook his head no. “I don’t think so. I could try, but I don’t know anyone high enough up that it would be a guarantee.”

  Vivian spoke up, softly. They all turned to stare at her. Hawk never forgot, but Craig and Emma sometimes did forget that her parents were supremely rich. “My dad knows the president. They went to college together and my dad gave him millions of dollars for his campaign. My dad has his cell number.”

  Chapter 37

  As Jerry drove the tiny hatchback down the highway from Las Vegas to California, his anxiety level seemed to increase with every passing mile. When they first started driving, he told himself that it would get better, that the road would lull him into a relaxed state, but it seemed just the opposite was happening.

  He thought back to that morning. Sara had insisted they buy him a car. She was driving the reinforced open cargo truck, and he was behind her on the 5 hour drive. She had said that she didn’t want him in the truck with her for most of the drive to the Senator’s house outside of Pacific Palisades in case they got pulled over. She said if she got pulled over with the truck full of guns she was going to jail for a very long time, no matter what her story was. He believed that much. She said she didn’t want him to have to go too and that’s why he needed to drive separately from her. He was scared that was a bald-faced lie.

  Since the moment they woke up that morning and made desperate love, he had sensed the truth in her eyes, in her every touch and word. She was going to ditch him again. Why, he didn’t know. When, he didn’t know. But he knew it was going to happen, and the thought terrified him. His heart ached with the thought of never touching her again, never watching her bite her lip to keep from laughing, never hearing her voice call his name, or never feeling the silken weight of her hair in his hands. If she left him he knew he would be a broken, useless shell. When she left him, he corrected himself.

  Was she going to slip away from him somewhere on the highway between here and there? Or was she going to wait until after the culmination of all their planning after the Senator’s house? Would she say goodbye first? Or just slip away? Would she finally tell him she loved him? He knew she did. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes, and feel it in her every touch. But she was keeping those three little words from him. Was she keeping them from herself too?

  He had seen her plan to ditch him first thing that morning. But he had also seen something else. A forlorn, unspoken plea that he not confront her with it. I can’t take it, her eyes said. And he loved her. So he didn’t confront her. But he would. He swore to himself a hundred times on that long drive that if they made it out of this alive, he would confront her. He would do anything to have a fighting chance to keep her. Anything.

  ***

  In front of him, Sara’s truck pulled onto the side of the small country road, just like they had agreed. Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. This was where he got in with her. She wasn’t taking off yet. He got out of his car and ran to the passenger seat of the cargo truck in the darkness. He hoisted himself up into the seat next to her and gave her a smile. She smiled back then averted her eyes quickly.

  “We have a 20 minute ride till we get there. Let’s go over the plan one more time,” she said.

  “OK.” Fingers of panic began to beat on Jerry’s chest. They were really going to do this. Suddenly worrying about Sara ditching him seemed foolhardy. There was no way the two of them were going to make it out of this with their freedom and their lives intact.

  Jerry stole a glance at Sara. Do or die, he thought, and he started to put on his gear while she talked.

  ***

  Sara pulled over again at the gate of the huge, sprawling community that Carruthers lived in. Without a word she turned to her phone and pressed a few buttons. Jerry watched her, his heart strangely calm. Satisfied, she put it aside and pulled out the rectangle piece of hardware they had picked up at Radio Shack. To Jerry, it looked like a tiny cassette recorder with two red wires coming out of the bottom and nine pushbuttons on the side. She hopped out of the truck and plugged the wires into the bottom of the gate key card system. Jerry couldn’t see what she did next, but the gate swung open. He shook his head. Was there nothing she didn’t know how to do? I’ll bet she can’t cook a lick, he thought. He laughed, nervous laughter, but laughter all the same.

  “Let’s switch,” She said. Jerry climbed over the middle console and she ran around to the passenger side, her mouth pressed in a thin line.

  “Kiss for good luck?” he asked. She looked at him, that ghost of a smile playing around her lips again. Then she leaned over the console that was between them. He cupped her face gently, and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips felt strangely cold to him. Like he’d never kissed her before. She pulled away, but before she did he saw the tear track down her cheek. Fear of loss gripped him once more.

  He wrestled the truck into gear and took off with a lurching start, pushing the truck to go faster so he wouldn’t have to think about anything but staying out of the ditch. They passed huge estates with mile long driveways on both sides of the road. Sara put on a helmet beside him, obscuring her face.

  Sara pointed to a driveway coming up fast on their right. “It’s that one.” Jerry twisted the wheel hard and slammed the brakes in front of the small guardhouse. The guard heaved to hi
s feet, clipboard in hand. He took one look at the two people in the huge truck, both dressed in black tactical gear and one wearing a Kevlar helmet with a face guard, and grabbed for the phone.

  “We have the shipment the Senator ordered,” Jerry yelled, his heart pounding now.

  The man on the phone faltered, said a few more words, and put the handset down. He opened his small window slightly. “You have what?”

  “The shipment he wanted from Mexico. I have the report right here that says he authorized it and wanted it delivered here.” Jerry waved some papers around.

  “No shipments come through here. You’re mistaken. Take it back,” the guard said.

  “Take it back to where? The Senator ordered this! Your ass is going to be on the line if you turn us away. You better get him on the phone,” Jerry said. Sara sat still, watching the exchange. She checked the image on her phone. It showed the guard from the Jerry’s vantage point. Perfect. The tiny camera hidden on Jerry’s collar was one of 5. The other 4 images showed in the upper right hand corner. Her phone image was too small to allow her to see them well, but as far as she could tell they looked perfect. All four cameras were capturing audio, but only the image selected was playing audio over the channels they had hijacked.

  Sara watched the image shake. Wait, was it her hand that was shaking? Sara felt her thoughts slip into overdrive a little bit as Jerry continued his argument with the gate guard. It caught her off guard. Normally, her cold mission persona never slipped until the job was done. Anxious thoughts, feelings, and behaviors were fine before or after, but during? That could get her killed. But then she knew the difference. It wasn’t just her life on the line now. It was Jerry’s too. What had she been thinking getting him involved in this? Sara looked up slowly. She reached out and touched Jerry’s arm. Her mouth tried to form the words ‘forget it, let’s go back, this is crazy,’ but before she could, Jerry demanded to see the Senator, just as they had planned.

  In the darkness of the cab, Sara plucked at Jerry’s sleeve. Her throat felt frozen closed. She watched the house at the end of the long driveway. The front door was opening. More guards. How long till the ones with the guns on their hips showed up? It would be a miracle if they weren’t shot here at the end of the driveway.

  “I have to see the Senator. You tell him I have his shipment here. You’ll see. He wants it!” Jerry yelled. He slammed the truck into first gear, never feeling Sara’s hand on his arm or sensing her sudden distress. He released the clutch and the truck bucked forward. He pressed the gas, driving right into the gate and pushing the two halves open. Sara heard metal screech against metal. They were through. Sara’s mission persona tried to take over. She didn’t know what to do.

  “Here we go baby, it’s gonna work,” Jerry said through gritted teeth. He shifted and shifted again and they drew close to the house. Sara saw a tall man with white hair standing at the door of the immense house, framed by the light spilling out from inside. He didn’t look scared or unsure. He looked pissed. Maybe they did have a chance, she thought. Do or die, she told herself, one of Jerry’s favorite expressions. If someone was going to die tonight, she would do her best to make sure it was her, and not Jerry.

  Jerry slammed the brakes and the big truck shuddered to a stop. She knew they had 7 minutes - 10 at the most, before the cops showed up. She hopped out of the truck and climbed up the back to the cargo area. Her gear was bulky and confining. She had to fight it to climb. She threw back the tarp covering the guns and began to throw them over the side of the truck.

  “Your guns, Senator Carruthers,” Jerry bellowed. “This is the first shipment. The second one will be here soon.”

  Sara stopped pitching guns over the side and stood, being sure to train her camera on the senator’s face. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and switched the main camera to hers. She climbed down the side of the truck and picked up a short-barreled, machine gun. She held it up by the stock, making sure not to point it at anyone. She sensed the guard from the gate house running up the driveway. Another guard was standing next to the senator, dressed in a security uniform. No one had produced any guns yet but them.

  Sara saw confusion, then fear on the Senator’s face. “What do you mean the second shipment?”

  “The second shipment. We have 4 trucks coming total. That’s the only way we could carry 50,000 assault weapons.”

  “50,000 assault weapons? What are you talking about? Why are they coming to my house?”

  “Didn’t you order the weapons to be brought in from Mexico?” Jerry yelled from the cab of the truck. Sara made him agree to stay in there no matter what, although she doubted he would just drive out if things got bad.

  Sara was gratified to see a new flurry of emotions cross Carruther’s face. Calculating emotions. He knew he was caught, and he was trying to think of a way out of it.

  A new face showed up at the doorway. The bottom dropped out of Sara’s planning. They were dead. TV feed or not, they were dead. Oh, Jerry, I’m so sorry, she thought.

  Frank Thorpe was standing in the doorway.

  He walked slowly down the cobbled path straight for Sara. “Agent Medina, how nice of you to come by. I’ve been looking for you. And how considerate of you to bring your friend. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Thorpe smiled a broad, genuine smile. Hate filled Sara with silent, black fury. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You killed my mother.”

  He looked surprised, then his smile reappeared. This time it was 100% predatory. “I did kill your mother, Melissa. She gave me no other choice. She tried to have my program shut down. She petitioned an audience with my boss and asked him to go to the president. What else could I do?”

  Sara felt sick. She wanted to slice Thorpe’s face open with her fingernails. Her teeth. Anything.

  “Hey!” she heard Jerry call out of the passenger window of the truck. Jerry!

  “Jerry this is Thorpe,” she yelled, not taking her eyes off Thorpe. “Abandon the plan. Just get out of here. Tell your friends what happened. Go!”

  “Hey, no, no way. You get in the truck Sara, and then I’ll go,” Jerry said.

  Thorpe laughed lightly. “You know I can’t let that happen, right? You two aren’t going anywhere.” He produced a large, heavy-looking handgun from a holster under his jacket and pointed it at Sara’s stomach.

  “You hop on down here Mr. Mansko, or I’ll gut shoot your girlfriend.”

  Sara heard the door scrape open and her heart burst. “No Jerry! Just go! You have to or he wins!”

  “I can’t do it Sara.” Sara heard tears in his voice. He knew the stakes. He knew she was going to die and he was going to die beside her.

  Before he could climb down the sound of a helicopter filled the air. First Carruthers, then the guard, then Jerry looked up. Thorpe kept his eyes on Sara. A spotlight skimmed up the driveway, then over the truck. Sara squinted against the light but didn’t look up. She watched Thorpe for an opening.

  As the helicopter circled the driveway, coming in to land, Thorpe grabbed Sara by the arm and pulled her around the other side of the truck. “I’m sorry to lose you Sara, but you’ve become just as bad as your mother.”

  He fired 4 bullets into her chest. Sara thudded to the ground.

  Quickly, Thorpe shoved his gun into his holster, then pulled a tissue out of his pocket, then bent and pulled a gun out of his boot. He pressed it to the outside of his arm and without thinking fired a shot. He screamed at the pain for just a moment, then knelt again and pressed the gun into Sara’s palm.

  He stood up in time to see Jerry sprinting around the side of the truck towards him. Jerry saw Sara and skidded to a stop. “No, no, no,” he moaned.

  Thorpe pulled his gun out of his holster, saying “She shot me, what other choice did I have but to kill her?” His face contorted grotesquely into what might have been a smile or a grimace.

  Jerry saw the gun coming for him and he dropped to the ground and rolled under the truck. Thorpe fired
shot after shot at his retreating body.

  Jerry saw Thorpe’s boots coming for him. He crawled frantically to the far side of the truck but knew he wouldn’t make it in time.

  The sounds of men yelling split the air. “Put your hands up! Drop the gun!” Jerry heard bodies connect and a thud. He kept crawling and somehow made it out the other side alive.

  Shakily, he got to his feet and pressed against the side of the truck. The helicopter’s rotors caught his eye, but all his mind could think was ‘Sara! Sara!’

  A man ran around the truck and Jerry turned his head away, waiting for a bullet to rip through him.

  “Jerry, thank God man, you’re OK.” Jerry knew that voice. He turned his head back, and saw Craig.

  “Thorpe is in handcuffs, Jerry. We got him.”

  Surreality washed over Jerry. Craig was here? How? And Thorpe was in handcuffs? But was it too late?

  He ran past Craig, a single word on his lips. “Sara!”

  As he rounded the truck he saw her, on her back, perfectly still, 4 holes in her shirt. Her face was still covered by the helmet and he couldn’t see it. His vision blurred and blackened at the edges. He fell to his knees next to her. “Sara, baby, talk to me,” he whispered, his voice low. Gently, he pulled her helmet off.

  She opened her eyes. “Jerry,” her lips said, but nothing came out of her mouth. Her face contorted in pain.

  He grabbed a hole in her shirt and ripped it down the center, letting the two sides fall to the ground, revealing heavy body armor with 4 charred holes. As gently as he could, he pulled the Velcro straps apart and lifted the armor to look under it. Craig came to his side. “What can I do?” he asked.

  “We have to get this over her head without hurting her,” Jerry said through his tears. Craig nodded and knelt at Sara’s head. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned. They maneuvered the bulletproof vest over her head. Jerry gently lifted the black shirt she wore underneath it. Her chest was a massive purple bruise, covering her abdomen, her ribs, and even her breasts. As gently as he could, he ran his fingers over her ribs. He looked at Craig, his eyes pleading. “Her ribs are broken, maybe her sternum, we have to get her to a hospital now.”