Gone Forever

by Scott Blade

  The new sound wasn’t a thunderclap. It was the sound of twin plane engines roaring.

  It was coming in low over my head. I saw the underbelly of a plane. It was painted black as the night like it had been designed for CIA stealth missions.

  It had no blinking lights on the bottom. It was too dark and the fog was too thick to tell if there was a tail number.

  The plane had no visible landing gear, but it flew low like it was coming in for a landing.

  The flying boat, I thought.

  It was Oskar Tega and the rest of his men. It had to be. He was arriving to get the rest of the girls and kill any of his employees who remained. That meant that Faye was probably still alive and she was probably still on the grounds in Black Rock.

  The plane flew in, passed overhead, and vanished in the fog ahead.

  Another lightning bolt crashed far in the distance and I got one last glimpse of the tail as the plane descended over the lake. The lightning vanished and the darkness returned. I lost sight of the plane. Then there were two things that I regretted.

  The first was that I reached into my pocket and pulled out that Corvette driver’s flip-style phone. I had stolen it, swiped it before I had gotten out of the car and I’d felt bad about it, but I needed it.

  I had wanted to ask if I could borrow it, but what would I have said?

  Can I borrow your phone for a day or so? I’ll mail it to you.

  It was a cheap phone and hopefully he wouldn’t be too bent out of shape about it.

  I flipped open the phone and started dialing Grady’s cell number. The phone rang and rang. I waited and walked at the same time. The phone rang some more and then it went to voicemail.

  I said, “Grady. It’s Reacher. Meet me at the rednecks’ compound. I’m going to save Faye Matlind. Call me back at this number.”

  I hung up and then I searched my memory banks. I found Sheldon’s number and dialed it. The phone rang once and she picked up like she had been waiting. Her voice sounded awake and alert. She must’ve been an early riser. Very early.

  “Hello? Who’s this?” she asked.

  “It’s Reacher.”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  “The road.”

  “Road?”

  I said, “Yes. I’m on my way back. I think I know what’s going on. A real bad guy is in town. His plane just flew over my head.”

  There was a pause.

  Then she asked, “Plane? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain later. Where’s Grady?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. Did you try calling him?”

  “Voicemail,” I said.

  “He must be on the other side of the lake. Out of reach.”

  “Come get me, okay? We’ll have to make a stand without him.”

  “Make a stand? What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here. Just come and get me. And Sheldon…”

  She paused a beat, then said, “Yes?”

  “Bring your gun.”

  I thought about that nice pump-action shotgun that she had pointed at me and Grady earlier.

  At that exact moment, the second thing that I regretted happened.

  It started raining.

  Chapter 43

  Ten or 15 minutes had passed. I wasn’t sure because the rain messed with the stopwatch in my head. It beat down hard. It came on like a flood. The sky dumped inches of it on top of me.

  I had had no time to prepare. Maybe the lack of sleep or the expenditure of energy was slowing me down, but I failed to get the flip phone into my pocket before it had gotten soaked. The screen shut down first and then it made a buzzing noise. It was ruined.

  I had heard that you could let a wet phone soak in rice overnight and that would fix it. I wasn’t sure how this would work and it didn’t matter. It wasn’t my phone and I was never going to be able to return it anyway. So I tossed it off to the side of the road. The rain came down so hard and thick that I couldn’t even make out individual drops.

  I pulled my shirt up over my head like a hood. It didn’t help much, but it was something. It slowed the water getting into my eyes by about 20 percent.

  The rain was cold this time, colder than the weather had been.

  I was in serious danger of catching hypothermia.

  I held a hand over my eyes like a visor. I tried to shield my eyes so that I could see, not that there was anything to see.

  The rain started to come down even harder. Now it was like a torrential downpour.

  I started shivering. My skin goosebumped over. My jaw started chattering. My shivers turned to a shake. I wanted to run to the trees and find cover, but I had to press on. Then I saw a pair of headlights coming toward me.

  A vehicle with bright high beams drove up, slow and safe.

  I waved my arms in big motions up in the air—the universal signal for flagging someone down. The vehicle drew nearer. It was an SUV. I couldn’t tell the make or model.

  It drove up slowly and came to a stop in the middle of the road. The brakes squealed from being wet, not from the speed.

  The high beams switched to low beams and I saw Sheldon behind the wheel. She looked dry and comfortable.

  I scrambled around to the passenger door. I didn’t check to make sure that it was unlocked. I just opened it and dumped myself into the seat. I slammed the door all in one fluid movement.

  I pulled my shirt down and smiled at her with a wide smile. Regardless of what was happening in her town, I’d never been more glad to see someone. And my smile told her exactly that.

  She said, “You’re soaked.”

  I shook my head and my hair like a wet dog. Water droplets sprayed across her dash and on the inside of the passenger window.

  “Towel?”

  She had a towel in her hand, outstretched to me.

  “Thanks.”

  I grabbed it and dried off in a flutter of hand movements. It was soaked by the time I’d finished. And I was still wet.

  She asked, “Where to?”

  “Redneck compound. And go as fast as possible.”

  She made a U-turn and headed back in the opposite direction. Water splashed up and away from the tires.

  I asked, “Did you bring your gun?”

  “Glove box.”

  Not the shotgun, I thought.

  I reached forward and popped it open.

  The gun inside was a CZ 52, not a good gun. Suddenly I would’ve traded anything for the shotgun. This was barely better than no gun. It was one of the worst guns ever. Czech made. Terrible aim. Firing pin easy to remove.

  “This is your gun?”

  “Yes. I bought it for protection. Why?”

  “It’s a piece of crap. Terrible gun. What about the shotgun? Where is the Remington?”

  “I never had any shells for that. I was bluffing with it.”

  I scowled as I looked down at the piece-of-shit gun that she had brought me. I tilted it in my hand and studied it in the dim light from the dashboard lights.

  Guess that I can throw it at a bad guy, I thought.

  I asked, “Where the hell did you buy it? The Soviet Union thirty years ago?”

  “I bought it in an auction.”

  I sighed and then I asked, “Historical?”

  “It was part historical. Why? It’s a gun.”

  I said, “Unless you can manage to pull it on your attacker at pointblank range, it won’t do much good.”

  “The guy told me that it was a great deal.”

  “It is if you paid for it with pocket change.”

  She said, “Besides the shotgun with no bullets it’s all I’ve got. I’m not used to needing a gun.”

  I said, “The shotgun with no shells would’ve been better. At least we could bluff again.”

  She stayed quiet.

  Then I asked, “Does it fire?”

  “Yes. I’ve fired it before. Like I said, I wanted protection. So I took it out to the woods a
nd fired it.”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t be mad at her for it. I hoped that I wouldn’t need to fire it. It’d probably blow up in my hands.

  I checked it. The safety was switched to the on position. I turned the gun and examined the butt. On an old European-style gun the magazine ejector was on the bottom.

  I ejected the magazine and inspected it. It was loaded. I replaced the magazine back into the gun and pulled back the slide. A bullet chambered. Ready to fire, if it would fire.

  It was heavy in my hand. The frame was all steel parts. There was a bulky back end between my thumb and index knuckle.

  Despite being an old relic, it’d been well maintained. Clean. Oiled. Looked like Sheldon kept up with it. Guess I’d have to trust her.

  I asked, “So what about Grady?”

  “Something’s going on across the lake. And now they’ve got to deal with the weather.”

  I nodded and said, “We’re on our own.”

  She asked, “What’s going on? Exactly.”

  “You know the rednecks?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you know about Chris Matlind?”

  She nodded without taking her eyes off the road. She was glued to it like our lives depended on it, which they did. The rain wasn’t letting up.

  I said, “They’re the ones who abducted his wife. They’ve been taking women all over North Mississippi.”

  “Taking women? What? Why?”

  I paused a beat. Then I said, “This is a small town. There are no secrets in a small town.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I think you know something. You all have known something. No way have they been doing it in complete anonymity.”

  She said, “They’re a bunch of idiots who drink beer and shoot squirrels. No one knows anything about taken women.”

  “Come on, Sheldon. Tell me the truth. What’ve you heard?”

  “Only that they grow weed. Maybe cook meth. But no one says anything else.

  “They keep to themselves. It wasn’t until you blew into town that they started making a ruckus.”

  I said, “They do more than cook meth.”

  “Like what?”

  “Second night that I was here they tried to take Matlind. It’s deeper than meth. More than random abductions. They’re part of something.”

  Sheldon looked doubtful. She asked, “Like organized crime?”

  I nodded.

  I said, “More like an international crime syndicate. Has to be.”

  “Are you serious? Most of them barely passed high school. A couple of them can’t even read.”

  “Yeah. They aren’t rocket scientists. They’re walking redneck clichés, but they aren’t the brains behind the operation.”

  “Who is?”

  “Have you heard of Oskar Tega?”

  Her eyes flashed at me.

  She said, “Yeah. The guy from the news. He escaped capture in Costa Rica. But he’s hiding in Cuba?”

  I said, “That’s what the media was saying, but tonight I was on a bus and checked the news. Now they’re saying that he’s thought to have escaped on a seaplane.

  “And a compound in Texas was burned to the ground. It was his. The guards, equipment, even the immigrant workers were all burned. The drugs and any cash were the only things missing.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “The old man who’s staying on the lake. The day that I first saw you, I was with him.”

  She nodded.

  I said, “He’s an airplane mechanic. He was paid to drive here from Jackson. He said that he was coming here to refuel a special type of seaplane.”

  She asked, “A seaplane?”

  Then she veered the car to the middle of the road. She turned the wheel and let off the gas to fight a quick skid. She regained control, fast, and continued on.

  Then she asked, “So the seaplane is Oskar Tega’s and the rednecks are selling drugs for him?”

  “The rednecks are well-financed. I saw their compound when I first got here. They drive brand new F-150s. They have a new brick house and a brand new barn. I noticed that the barn has motion sensors hanging above it. Those sensors are attached to expensive-looking floodlights.

  “And that giant Confederate flag. The flag itself might’ve cost a few thousand dollars, but that steel flagpole had to cost a fortune. It’s huge. I’ve never seen anything like it. Where else are they getting the money? Not from selling weed to the tourists. No way.

  “And I doubt that it’s from cooking meth. I believe that they are cooking meth, but that’s not where they make their money.”

  She said, “So you think that they’re cooking meth, but they’re making their money from kidnapping women? Like for a ransom? But no one has gotten a ransom for all of the missing girls.”

  I shook my head and said, “They aren’t selling drugs. Not to Tega. And they aren’t kidnapping the women for ransom money. They’re taking the women for him because that’s his real business. They aren’t drug dealers. They’re human traffickers.

  “Tega isn’t a drug dealer. He’s a human trafficker.

  “And he’s been paying the rednecks a percentage like a finder’s fee. That’s where they make their money.”

  She looked over at me; an incredulous look crossed her face.

  I said, “We have to get there before they do.”

  She asked, “They?”

  I said, “The old guy said that his client was flying in with a group of guys. Plural. Tega’s coming and he’s not coming alone. The old guy said that the plane seats eight on the rear bench. So Tega probably has five guys with him, depending on how much cargo he had.”

  “Cargo? You mean the women?”

  I nodded.

  She paused a beat and then she said, “This sounds crazy. Are you sure about this?”

  I said, “Sheldon, Oskar Tega escaped in a flying boat. It’s a huge seaplane.”

  She nodded.

  I said, “Just before I called you, I saw a flying boat. It flew just over my head and it was headed to the lake. It was landing. Oskar Tega is already here. My bet is that he’s headed to the rednecks by now and he plans to take what is his and kill everyone else.”

  She turned her head, took her foot off the gas, and stared at me with shock in her eyes.

  I nodded.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  I said, “Whatever is necessary.”

  She stayed quiet. She pressed her foot harder on the gas and accelerated the SUV.

  Ten minutes later we were at the fork. One slow minute after that we were parked.

  Chapter 44

  We parked on the side of the road down from the compound. A patch of trees hid her SUV.

  The rain slowed and I scanned the compound as best I could from the SUV.

  Sheldon squeezed the steering wheel. She killed the headlights and left the engine running.

  The windshield wipers swept rain off the glass. The sound echoed through the cabin like a slow, loud clock.

  Sheldon broke the silence. I heard the nervousness in her voice.

  She said, “Oh. Take this.”

  She reached into her center console and pulled out a hands-free set.

  She said, “It has Bluetooth. It’s already paired to this phone.”

  She handed me a smartphone.

  I stared at it.

  She said, “I have two for work.”

  I placed the set in my right ear.

  She pulled out a second phone and called me.

  I clicked the tiny button on the back of the Bluetooth.

  I said, “Hey.”

  She said, “Okay. I can hear you.”

  I looked back out over the compound. The rain had slowed more, but the fog was still thick.

  I saw the rednecks’ pickups. A couple other vehicles were parked near them. I couldn’t make them out. More trucks, probably.

  Sheldon asked, “What’s the plan?”

  �
�I have no idea.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  I looked at her and smiled and then I held the gun and got out. The door opened smooth, but a rush of cold air blew in some rainwater. It misted across the seat behind me.

  I reached to shut the door and the wind pushed it out of my grip. A wind tunnel sucked it closed. The door slammed. The wind outside howled and the trees waved. A huge bolt of lightning crashed across the sky and over the direction of the lake.

  The storm was loud enough to camouflage any door-slamming noise.

  The fog lit up with that quick color of all-consuming white. It was like a giant flashbang across the sky. Even though it was bright and thick, it camouflaged my movements like a blizzard in a snow-ridden climate.

  Sheldon’s voice came over my earpiece and said, “I’ll stay here and try to contact Grady again. I’ll keep you on conference calling.”

  “Good idea. If you get him, tell him to bring everything he’s got. I’m sure that these rednecks are armed to the teeth. If I don’t come back out or this goes sideways, drive to the other side of the lake and find him.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to sneak in, grab the women, and sneak out.”

  “What about Tega? What if he’s there?"

  “He’s not. Remember, his plane just landed. In this weather, they’ll still be trying to find their car. Besides, the cops can deal with Tega. All I want to do is keep my promise to Matlind.”

  She stayed quiet.

  I said, “Sheldon, if a firefight starts, you drive away.”

  “Okay.”

  She said nothing else.

  I said, “Forget about the conference calling. Radio silence for now. I need to be able to concentrate. I’ll call you if I need to.”

  I clicked off the Bluetooth.

  Chapter 45

  The rain hammered down in one huge rush like an invading force. Then it slowed suddenly.

  A minute later, it stopped.

  I was left in the cold, damp night with only the fog as cover. It was enough.

  I snuck through the trees and made my way to the edge of the compound’s erratic circle of buildings. I ran up to the closest one while the sounds of my footsteps were muffled by the storm and I pressed my back along the edge of the building. It was wood. It smelled of wet boards and had the odor of animals inside. There was no sound.