by Gary Ponzo
“It’s Miguel,” Julie said, recognizing the truck. “He’s our landscaper.”
“He comes this late in the day?” Steele asked.
“Sometimes,” Julie said, adding another spoonful to her son’s open mouth.
Steele left the kitchen for the living room.
“Come here,” Steele said.
Julie frowned, but handed Thomas a plastic train from the table to keep him occupied. She turned off the alarm button and met Steele by the front window as the landscaping crew drove up. There were two men in the cab and two more in the back of the truck, jumping out as soon as the vehicle came to a stop.
“You see Miguel?” Steele asked.
“No,” Julie said, eyeing the truck closely. “But that’s his truck. He doesn’t come every time.”
Even as the words left her mouth, Julie felt her heart pound a little faster. The crew was pulling rakes and chainsaws from the back of the pickup, but they seemed fascinated with the front of her house.
“Get out,” Steele said. “Right now. Get Thomas and run out the back door. Go to a neighbor’s until I call you.”
Julie wanted to tell Steele to relax, that she was rushing to a wrong conclusion. But with every unfamiliar face Julie saw, she knew what she had to do. She ran to the kitchen and scooped Thomas from his highchair. He screamed and reached for his toy as it fell to the floor. Julie picked it up and handed it to him, her eyes on Steele as the FBI agent went into action.
Steele pulled the pistol from her holster while keeping her attention on the action out front.
“Go,” Steele urged with her back to Julie.
Julie crept out the kitchen door and trotted through her backyard with Thomas in her arms. She ducked down behind a patch of bushes on the outskirts of her property and waited. At first, there was no activity, while Thomas cooed at his toy train. Then, the back door opened and Jennifer Steele came out with her gun drawn, swinging it side-to-side as she inched toward Julie.
They came at her all at once, two from her left, two from her right. They dashed around each side of the house with controlled precision. One gunman came wide, the other remained close to the building. Steele fired off the first round to her left, then dove to the ground and let off another round. The shots echoed throughout the woods and startled Thomas into a loud shriek.
Steele put down one gunman, then rolled over and caught another one on the same side of the house, but the two behind her had too much time and they fired off successive rounds, relentlessly shooting as Steele desperately tried evasive maneuvers. Even as she was taking on bullets, she attempted to steer away from Julie and drag herself in a different direction. She returned fire until she’d emptied her magazine and struggled to get to her feet, but it was too late. The two gunmen were on top of her now firing direct hits while her body collapsed onto the ground.
Julie watched with blurry eyes as the two gunmen stood over Steele’s lifeless frame firing shots until they were obviously wasting bullets. As the firing ceased, the silence was filled with the sound of Thomas’s cries. With a frantic whisper, Julie attempted to hush her baby, but it was too late. The lead gunman had spotted her and he crouched low and headed straight for her. Julie backed away and began to run. Her mind raced with crazy thoughts of stopping and pleading for mercy. She pumped her legs as fast as they could go, but when she dared to look back, the gunman was gaining too quickly. With the remaining moments she had, Julie managed to pull her phone out, knowing she had to slow even further to push Nick’s contact button.
Thomas fought to get out of her grasp as she clutched him with all her might and heard the phone ring.
Chapter 8
Nick was sitting at Decker’s desk when his phone vibrated. He checked the number and saw it was from Julie.
“Hey, sweetie, I was just about to-”
“Jennifer’s dead,” Julie blurted. She was panting and Thomas was nearby crying. “They came in Miguel’s truck and shot her and now they’re coming for us.”
“Where-”
“Help!” she screamed. “Help, please help!”
Nick strangled the phone while scrambling for a way to help his wife and child.
“Stevie,” he called over to the techie who was sitting by himself, playing with his drone. “Call 911 and get some deputies over to my house in Payson. Now!”
Nick jumped to his feet. “Julie!” he shouted into the phone.
Julie desperately screamed for help while Nick ran in circles around the office frantically thinking of answers. He pulled at his hair, groping for something. He felt completely useless. Julie’s screaming suddenly stopped, while Thomas kept crying. Nick thought he’d heard whimpering. It seemed like Julie wasn’t moving anymore. It seemed as if she was hiding.
Stevie moved into his path, nodding. “They’re on the way,” he said.
Nick didn’t want to yell into the phone and possibly give away her position. He wished he could jump outside and fly there. He knew, no doubt, it was one of Garza’s crew who was going after his family. Stevie looked anxious to help, standing in front of Nick with open hands, waiting for him to say something.
“Julie?” Nick whispered.
Nothing. Even Thomas had stopped crying and that gave him a shiver. He wanted to hear their voices. Something. Let him know they were alive.
A moment later he got what he wanted. Julie screamed, “No!” Thomas began crying again. Nick was getting lightheaded from the rush of adrenalin surging through his body. Just the sound their frightened voices made him seethe.
A man’s voice came on the line with a thick Mexican accent and said in a strong tone, “Adios.”
Then the line went dead.
For a moment Nick stared at the phone in disbelief. Then a thought occurred to him. He pointed to the computer. “Stevie, get on our site and get me the live satellite feed for Payson, Arizona.”
The door to the office opened and Decker walked in.
“What’s going on?” Decker asked.
“Get the fuck out,” Nick ordered.
Decker didn’t hesitate. The door closed behind him.
Nick furiously scoured his phone’s contact list before hitting a button. Two rings later a man’s voice answered.
“Gerry?” Nick said, loud and hurried. “They leave yet? We’ve got a hostage situation.”
“Nick? Yeah, they’re already in the air.”
“Patch me through to the pilot,” Nick blurted.
“Sure, hold on.”
Nick heard a sequence of keypads being tapped, then he heard static, followed by the roar of an engine and the piercing drone of helicopter blades cutting through the air.
“Hello?” Nick said.
The static persisted. Stevie was sitting behind the desk and pointing to the screen. Nick recognized the image. It was downtown Payson.
“South,” Nick said. “South and east. Look for a white truck with a large dent on the front hood.”
Nick couldn’t keep his eyes from the computer monitor, desperately searching for something. Stevie Gilpin had the most advanced knowledge of the FBI’s satellite images and how to get where he wanted.
“What’s up, Gerry?” came Dan Wells voice over the cacophony of engine and rotors.
“This is Nick Bracco,” he yelled into the phone. “Dan, we have a hostage situation. How far are you from Payson?”
“Less than five minutes,” Dan said. “Where’s the hostage?”
“In a white Ford pickup with a dented hood.” Nick spoke fast and loud. “It’s my wife and kid.”
Nick heard the helicopter’s engines rev up. “I’ll be there in one minute,” Dan said. “Where are they?”
Nick pointed at the computer monitor for Stevie to maneuver the cursor further east. “They’re close to my place, Dan. I’m scanning the area from the satellite. They can’t be far.”
Nick’s heart pounded as he scoured the streets for the white pickup. Every time they’d spot one, Stevie would zoom in and come
up empty. There was so much fury built up, Nick’s vision was blurring. He couldn’t focus properly. A thought ran through his mind about the pills he’d forgotten to take that morning.
“What’s this?” Stevie said, hovering the cursor over a small cloud of dirt which seemed to be moving south.
“Zoom in,” Nick said.
As Stevie closed in, the screen became temporarily distorted. When the image cleared up a white pickup truck came into view.
“Closer,” Nick urged.
Stevie tapped the keypad and the screen became distorted, then returned with a crystal clear picture. The image caused Stevie to let out a small gasp. The truck was speeding down a graded dirt road, bouncing and jostling enough to toss debris from the bed of the vehicle. Sitting among the landscaping machinery, up against the cab, was Julie and Thomas. Julie was gripping Thomas to her chest, while a man sat next to her with a pistol trained on her head.
“I’ve got them, Dan,” Nick shouted. “I’m using our satellite image. They’re on a dirt road east of town, heading due south.”
“I’m going up to get a better view,” Dan said.
Nick heard the helicopter’s rotors whirl softer as the chopper lifted away from the ground diminishing the echoes. The truck was in a clearing but would get to the tree line within the next mile or two.
Julie seemed frightened, but she was no amateur hostage. She’d been an FBI agent wife for fifteen years and knew to search for ways out. She wasn’t going to go easily. It was probably why they threw her in the bed. The driver was the only one visible in the cab.
“Got ’em,” Dan said.
Nick felt a rush of anxiety. He was grateful to see his family still alive, but knew these gunmen would not give up and he forced himself to stay focused.
“Listen, Dan,” Nick said. “These are drug-running experts. They’ve been chased by choppers before. They know where to shoot. Keep your tail away from them.”
“Roger that,” Dan said.
By the reaction of the gunman in the back of the truck, the helicopter must’ve come into their view. The gunman in the bed of the truck pulled Julie into a choke hold and held the muzzle of the gun to her head. A threat to back off.
“Dan, who’s with you?” Nick asked.
“Parker and Jenson.”
“Have them put on their headsets.”
“You got it.”
Nick thought it through. Both men were adroit sharpshooters. Julie was alive because the gunmen needed her for protection, but the sun was setting fast. Once they had the cover of darkness they’d ditch the truck and go it on foot. In that terrain, they had a solid chance of escaping. He needed to give them hope. He needed them in that truck as long as possible.
“Okay, Dan, get out of there,” Nick said. “Move west. Stay low to the ground, just over the treetops.”
The helicopter’s engine whined again, changing speed and direction.
“We can’t afford to lose them, Nick,” Dan said. “It’s pretty dark up here.”
“I know,” Nick said. “When you’re out of viewing distance I want you to double back, go even further south. The road they’re taking makes a sharp turn to the east into the trees. I’ll guide you there.”
“Back it up more,” Nick said to Stevie. They watched the helicopter move away from the truck. “Stay with the chopper.”
Stevie’s fingers glided over the keypad with the agility of a stenographer.
Nick pointed to the screen. “There,” he said. “Mark that spot.”
A red X popped onto the screen right next to the road, ahead of the speeding truck.
“Dan,” Nick said. “You’re too far east. Head northwest from your location.”
“What are we doing?” Dan asked.
“You’re going to drop off Jenson and Parker on that dirt road ahead of the truck. Have them roll a spike strip on the path. Then have them ready to make a nest up in the trees ten yards apart. When the truck hits those spikes, I want Parker to take a shot at the gunman in the truck bed. Then have Jenson take out the driver.”
There was a pause on the line while Nick and Stevie watched the helicopter follow a northwestern flight path.
“Nick,” Dan said. “That’s pretty risky for the hostages.”
Nick understood the behavior of terrorists; once those gunmen realized the hostages were simply cargo-they were dead. They could see the truck in the distance, flying over potholes, a trail of leaves floating in its wake. Nick’s chest tightened. “Dan, they killed Jennifer Steele. I trust Greg to take the shot.”
There was another long pause, until Greg Parker’s voice came over the phone. “I’ll get him, Nick.”
Of course it wasn’t the gunman Nick was worried about taking a bullet and Parker knew that. The helicopter was following the dirt path now, low to the ground, approaching the red X.
“Slow down, Dan,” Nick said. A moment later, he announced, “Right there. Drop them off right there.”
The chopper hovered for a moment while the two men scrambled out and rolled a spike strip across the narrow dirt path. The helicopter’s nose came down and moved along the road directly at the truck which was coming around a corner a hundred yards away.
Nick knew what the pilot was doing; he was attempting to distract the driver so he wouldn’t spot the snipers waiting for them.
“Don’t get cute, Dan,” Nick ordered. “You’ve got their attention, now get up high and out of range.”
A pool of sweat gathered around Nick’s ear where the phone had been fastened. He switched ears and wiped the damp one with his shoulder.
Stevie and Nick watched the truck take the final turn too fast. They watched it almost tip over, coming up on two wheels before recovering and slamming back down on all four. The sweat continued to drip down the side of Nick’s face as the vehicle approached the spike strip lying across the road.
Stevie put his hand on his forehead as if waiting for a head-on collision between two passenger trains.
“Lord, be with them,” Nick murmured, the tightness in his chest growing stronger.
As the driver spotted the spike strip, he did what every criminal has ever done in that situation. He slammed on the accelerator. Something about the brain which creates the belief that a vehicle going fast enough can fly over the spikes with impunity.
Nick’s lunch worked its way up his esophagus as the truck plowed over the spikes. A puff of dust emerged as the wheels scraped against the ground. The truck hobbled forward, leaning right and struggling ahead with a maniacal demand from the driver.
Watching from the satellite gave the images a creepy feel. The absence of sound gave the scene more gravity.
Julie was still holding Thomas to her chest when the gunman’s head next to her lurched back. A blotch of red instantly appeared on the back window. Julie and Thomas went down too. The driver must’ve heard the gunshot and immediately skidded the truck to a stop. Nick’s first thought was, he’s going to kill them. If they’re not already dead. There was no telling where the bullet came from and where it went after penetrating the gunman’s head.
The gunman in the truck bed lay slumped, his head unnaturally drooped to his right.
The driver jumped out of the truck and placed his hands on his head, turning in a circle, looking for the snipers. Nick didn’t trust him; he hoped Parker and Jenson didn’t either.
Julie and Thomas were still down, with no sign of movement. Nick had his hand over his mouth, while Stevie craned his neck closer to the screen.
Parker emerged from his nest, his rifle out in attack mode. He approached from the rear of the truck.
On the wireless headset, Nick heard Parker say, “You got the driver, Bill?”
From the opposite side of the road, and the front of the vehicle, Bill Jenson crept out of the woods, knees bent, rifle ready.
“I’ve got him,” Jenson announced.
It was over. But Julie and Thomas weren’t moving. Nick was paralyzed with fear. What had he don
e? Parker dropped his rifle and pulled himself over the tailgate. Nick could hear him breathing hard as he maneuvered around a lawnmower and got to his knees. First he examined the dead gunman, then shoved his corpse aside. He bent over Julie. Silent. Nothing. Nick’s knees were giving out. He leaned against the desk for support.
Parker placed a hand on Julie’s back. It was dark and hard to see, but there seemed to be some subtle movement.
“Are you okay?” Parker said.
Then Nick saw the most glorious sight he’d ever seen. Parker leaned back and held his thumb up to the satellite image.
“They’re fine,” Parker said into the headset.
Nick gripped Stevie’s shoulders, while Stevie clapped his hands in celebration. Nick had to wipe his eyes while he caught his breath.
The door to the office opened and Matt walked in carrying a cardboard container with three coffees as Nick and Stevie finished off a high five.
“What’d I miss?” Matt asked, with an innocent grin on his face.
Chapter 9
Garza rubbed Julio’s back while the boy lay in bed next to him taking deep, meaningful breaths. He lowered his head and gave his son a gentle kiss on the back of the boy’s neck.
“Sleep tight, Nino,” Garza said, lifting off the bed and softly backing out of the room.
Once in the kitchen, Garza found Victor sitting at the wooden table looking over his laptop computer.
“Any word?” Garza said, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and opening the freezer.
“Not yet,” Victor said. He nodded to a brown paper bag sitting on the counter next to the refrigerator. “Emelio has paid us for the month.”
“Good,” Garza said, scooping some vanilla ice cream from a container into his bowl. “What about Hector?”
“He paid last week. He is frightened of being late.”
Garza grinned. He appreciated the power of his reputation. He sat down across from Victor and enjoyed his ice cream. A nightly ritual.
Victor’s phone quietly chirped. He picked it up from the table and read from the screen. On his face was a mixture of displeasure and approval.
