Suddenly, the neighbor across the street’s Miniature Bull Terrier came flying out of a slightly open front door, barking and snarling. He flew across the yard and attached himself to goon two’s leg. The goon howled and tried batting the dog off, spinning around in a circle.
Goon one came running over to help him.
The dog was clamped down tighter than a tick and would not let go. With an unusually large snout, the mini beast could get a clamp on anything that stepped in the yard and would not easily give up, snarling like a Tasmanian devil and making a huge scene. The goon picked up a two-by-four laying in the drive and swung it back just as goon two turned around.
Whack!
He hit him straight on the kneecap, totally missing the raving dog. He howled and fell down in a heap, the dog still firmly attached. You had to hand it to the little guy; he was a real honey badger. He wasn't going to let go, no matter what.
Just then the neighbor, an elderly Latino man in a robe, came hobbling out onto the porch.
“Whachu doin' ta my little Pakito!” He reached in his robe pocket and pulled out a revolver, waving it back and forth at them. “You get da hell out! I shoot you! Bot uh you!”
Goon one put his hands up and said, “We got no problem you, mister. Someone cut tires on our truck. We tryin' to find who. Call off you dog!”
“It not me or little Pakito! You get out now. I shoot you!” He shoved the gun at them.
“Ok, ok. Calm down. We go… we go!” Goon one said, his hands still up in the air.
He helped goon two to his feet, with the dog still attached.
The neighbor said something in Spanish and clicked his tongue, and the dog finally let go and came springing back up the steps, out of breath with his tongue hanging out, wagging his tail.
“Good little Paco. You good boy!” He cooed as he patted the demon's back.
The goons hobbled back down the street and got in the truck. They’d obviously decided to drive out on flat tires just to get the out of there, and started up the truck. They got part way down the block down and the truck popped loudly and died.
They ran the starter over and over. Nothing. They could hear a string of Russian obscenities coming from inside the cab.
The goons both got out and #1 lifted the hood and looked around. He slammed it back down, seeing nothing out of place, and they both hobbled down the street and around the corner, #2 shouting into his phone.
Jackson bolted out the door and ran down to his backyard. He reached into the hole in the cactus and felt for the drive. It was still there. He pulled it out, stuffed it into his pocket, and jumped in the BMW.
He pulled it down the street, around the other corner, and parked it in front of a rusty beater Mazda sitting up on blocks.
He jogged back to George's. “We have to get the kid to make a copy of this thing. No telling when it’ll get lost or stolen,” he told Brunell.
He walked into the bedroom. “Do you have an extra flash drive in your bag? I have something needs copying, ASAP.”
The kid rustled around in his backpack and pulled one out.
“I use this for my homework projects. There may be room on it.”
“There's a lot of data on here. See what you can get, and I'll go get a few more at the store. I can't risk this disappearing. Do it now. I need to go to Walmart again for stuff. Wait here.” He pulled out paper and pen and made a list of supplies.
He realized he hadn't checked his phone in a while and jogged back to his house. The battery was dead. Crap. No news was good news he said to himself as he plugged it in and hustled out and down to his car. He made a stop at the ATM and tried to stay over to the side, away from the camera in the machine.
As he pulled up, he reached in back and grabbed his golf hat and pulled it down on his head. Hopefully they hadn't installed face-on cams on the entry doors yet as they were doing around the country. He went in and bought camo hunting hats and face masks, jackets and pants. Four of each. Then he got some thin gorilla gloves for tool working. He went over to electronics and picked up 3 64 g flash drives and went and paid for everything.
As he was walking towards the exit, he saw a black and white roar up and pull in front of the door.
Shit! He replayed the entire scene from the day before and went back out the other door. He hustled out to the street and came around like before, then jumped in the car and peeled out.
23
George drove east on Cactus. There were no speed cams on this street. It would take longer, but it had to be done. Julia was finally snapping out of her fog, and the kids were being quiet little angels in back.
“So, what can you tell me about Juan?” Julia asked.
“Julia, it's probably best not to talk about it right now, if you know what I mean.” He nodded his head and eyes toward the kids.
She nodded and bit her lip. “Yes, I understand. So where are we going?”
“Fountain Hills. To my daughter’s place. She has a little girl. Your two kids will like her. Her name is Liza.”
“That's a sweet name,” she said, turning to look out the window, twisting a strand of her black hair around her finger. “I’ve told him for the last two years to stop doing the things he was doing. He’s a good man. He just got caught up with some very bad people. It was important to him to get the kids into the best school possible.”
“I understand. Good people get caught up in bad things. Saw it every day for the thirty years I was in law enforcement.” George replied.
“He just wouldn’t listen. I have an aunt and uncle in Idaho. They live in a nice small town with good schools. They wanted us to move up there. But he didn't want to leave here. He has a big family, and his mama is sick.”
“I understand. It's hard to leave your family.”
“His brother has a successful painting business. He wanted to bring him in as a partner. He said he would go work with him, but that he had one more thing to finish. He was going to get paid a lot of money to do it. It would pay for two years of the kids' school. But he wouldn't tell me what it was.” Julia said. “I begged him not to, I told him that I would get another job, do whatever. But he said he didn’t have a choice. He couldn't get out of it. Why would someone say something like that? This is America. That's why his family came here forty years ago - to escape the dictators and crime down south.”
“I'm sure he has only your family's best interest at heart, Julia. But he's in a lot of trouble right now, and he knows about things that we must find out. That's why we have to get you away. So we can help him.”
She was quiet the rest of the way. She seemed to be starting to trust the old codger.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into Lindsay's garage.
Little Liza came running out. “Grampy!” She jumped up into his arms. “Did you bring me some treats?”
“Yes, honey. And I brought you a couple friends to play with too!” George said lovingly.
Her eyes got big as George opened the back door and Manuel and Marguerite sat up, blinking their eyes.
“Liza, this is Manuel and Marguerite. They’re going to be staying here for a couple of days with you!”
“Goody!” she said, and wriggled down from his arms and walked up to the truck. Come on! I have some new puzzles we can play!” And they all ran into the house.
“Hi. I'm Lindsey.” She put out her hand. “I'm sure you must be exhausted from everything. Let me get you something to drink. Please, come in!” She led Julia into the house.
“This might be a great fit,” George thought to himself.
Once they got inside and settled, Julia turned to George. “So, are you going to tell me what is going on now?”
“It's better that you know very little right now. I will tell you that it has very serious implications for everyone. That's all I can say.” George replied.
“How serious? Were there drugs involved?” She asked.
“No, Julia. It is much more serious. Again, I am not at liberty t
o discuss this right now. Once we get him out and he knows you all are safe, we can find out more.”
“Get him out? Of where? And what could be more serious than drugs? That was all I thought he was doing!”
“It's nothing you are thinking, Julia. I don't think Juan even knows most of it. He just happened to be involved with the wrong people at the wrong place and time.” George said.
“Damn him! I told him to stop… so many times. I was beginning to think he really liked doing it. Like he was some sort of outlaw, getting away with something. That it had started to become more important than the kids. It was scaring me. A lot. I… I was getting ready to leave him over it.” She started crying.
“That is understandable, Julia. Those two little angels are more precious than anything. I’m sure you would go to the ends of the world to protect them.” George answered sympathetically.
She bit her lip and wiped a tear.
“Now, I need to go. Lindsay, I will call you as soon as I know something. Until then, please make sure Julia and the kids stay inside. And I mean inside. It is very important. If you need anything, only you can get it. They stay here. Understand?” George demanded.
They both nodded.
“Ok. I'll call as soon as I know something.”
24
Back at George's, the kid had copied the documents on the thumb drive onto four other drives. He had a million questions, but they didn't tell him anything yet.
He was busy looking at security camera footage outside of the store where they had grabbed Julia.
They were looking at the backdoor cam at Einstein’s, the Albertson’s supermarket parking lot cams, the red light camera on the corner, and the footage from in front of the school. They were on all the cameras.
“Shit! I gotta get us the new cars right now. We are all over this video.” Jackson took off in the BMW and wound around on residential streets and ended up in back of the office, coming in from the alley. He rapped his knuckles softly on the back door, and he heard Paul coughing and wheezing as he came back and looked out the peephole. He opened the door and Jackson waved him out.
“Paul, I'm sorry to bother you. You look like terrible. You must feel twice as bad.”
“Yeah.” He hacked a few times. “Lower than whale feces.”
“I won't bother you, but I need a huge favor right now. I need two wholesale rigs for a couple of days. I am bringing back the Bimmer. I also need to park a pickup back here for a bit. What do you have?”
“That line back there. Take a look. I don't know when the Chechens are sending their guys around, but you can give it a shot. If anyone asks, I'll tell them I took them to the DMV to get them smogged.”
“I owe you big time, Paul. Remind me to tell you about those goons someday. Here's the keys to the BMW. I'll be right back.”
He walked up and down the line and picked out an old Audi and a Ghetto Whip Suburban with low profiles, chopped five inches and fully blacked out. It had LED running lights and the full treatment. They needed the room, and it was the only thing big enough for all of them.
Both of the rigs had well over two hundred thousand miles on the odometers and were rough, but they ran and that was all they needed.
He had Paul get the keys and called George and directed him to drive to the back of the lot to pick up the new ride.
“Paul, care if I grab a couple of covers out of the back closet? I can’t tell you why, but I don’t want anyone seeing these two rigs for a few days.”
“What is going on, dude? Did you knock off a bank or something?”
“I wish it were only that, Paul. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything. You’ll have to trust me for a few days.”
“Ok... I’ll keep things zipped.” Paul croaked.
Jackson went out back and covered up the BMW as George pulled in. He had him park on the same end and they covered the truck up. He got two In-Transit plates from Paul and put them on the new rigs. He thanked him and they both drove out the back alley.
They got back to George's, and he pulled in to his carport with the Audi. Jackson pulled up a block away on the street. If and when the goons came back, he didn't want them seeing a car at his place.
They all gathered back in the living room, and Ryan emerged with a SitRep.
“You guys were seen on multiple stop lights in the area and the cameras at the school. Not to mention all over the strip mall.”
In future, they would only wear the camouflage gear when out and about from now on. If anyone asked, they were going up to Payson on a hunting trip. This time of year, it wasn’t unusual to see people around the valley in hunting gear heading north.
“By the way, I think I have figured out a way to get the mule out of there. It's a little complicated and will have to be timed perfectly, but I think it can work,” Ryan replied, scratching his chin.
They decided it needed to be done very early in the morning when the night shift changed.
The jailers would be getting tired, and the mule would be asleep, hopefully. Brunell would go in under the pretenses of a surprise interview and bring him straight out. George and Jackson would be waiting in the pimp rig, and the kid would stay back to run the cameras and locks.
“So, I say we hit him at 5:30 a.m. on Saturday. Early weekends mean the roads won’t be busy. Jackson, get a hold of your guy in the air park now, and we'll take him straight up there.” Brunell said. “George, you make sure the rig is gassed up and ready to go. Ryan, you stay here and run the IT and comms, and I'll go in like it is a normal questioning. You guys will wear the camo face masks in the Suburban and we'll have mine and the mule's ready in the rig to ward off any facial recognition on traffic cams on the way to the landing place.”
“Adam, you realize that once we do this, your cover is blown and you’re done working at the Unit - forever. That means no pension and no more career. Are you prepared for that?” Jackson asked.
“That is a given, but at this point, what choice do we have? Unless we go in, guns blazing, there's no other way. Besides, I am so sick of the PC crap in there now. I can't do the work anymore. They won't let us operate. I loved my job, but they ruined it.” Brunell lamented. “Besides, after this week, none of it will probably matter anyway. I decided it the day I called you and we met. My wife will support me. She knows how miserable I've been in there. I'm no good for anyone in that condition.”
“I respect your decision, Adam. I know this can’t be easy. But in that case, welcome to the ex-cop club. You won't believe how liberating it can be. It’ll all work out. You'll see.” Jackson patted him on the back and gave him a little fist bump.
The kid got busy formulating the plan for the cams in the jail and the door locks he would need to open to get the mule out.
“If he thinks we are taking him to see his wife and kids, he'll do whatever we tell him. Hopefully, he'll trust us enough to go willingly,” Jackson said.
“He should. I'll mention things to let him know we have them. Better yet, we show him a picture. George, call Lindsay and have her take a picture of them and email it to Ryan. We can put it on a thumb drive and we can take it to CVS and print it off on paper.”
“Then we are set. Kid, you think you'll have any issues?” Jackson asked.
“Looks pretty straightforward. There may be some minor glitches, but I think it's cool.”
“We’re counting on you. Remember what we are doing and who we are doing it for. You will go down as a hero someday. Many people will be forever grateful. In the meantime, we will all be wanted criminals. Are you sure you’re prepared for all this?” George asked.
“Yeah, it's cool. Actually, I kinda like it. This is the kind of stuff I always wanted to do. I was always way smarter than any of my teachers. It was like going to kindergarten when you already have your Ph.D.”
“OK, that's good. George, we will need you to be your most convincing when questioning him. We don't have time to dick around. Are you ready for this?” Brunell asked.
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“Of course! I got my old ‘conversation kit’ out of the closet and ready. If anyone can get him to talk, I can.”
“Hopefully we won't need to go that far, but just in case, are you sure you can still handle things?” Jackson asked.
“Son, I've been waiting twenty-five years for this day. I just might take out all the frustrations I’ve been shouting at my TV on this dude. Of course I'm ready.” George lookd indignant.
“That's what I'm afraid of, George. We don't need you going all Terminator on the dude's head. We want him to talk willingly… Maybe this is a bad idea.” Jackson looked over at Brunell.
“Oh hell, son. I'm a pro! You have nothing to worry about. I'll be a kindly old gentleman - unless I need to go a little further. No worries! No worries at all.”
“OK, we need him upright and breathing. He'll be no good if he’s in a bloody heap on the floor. Just remember that. Plus, we promised Julia we'd be careful with him,” Jackson said reluctantly.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it already.” George waved them off.
“So we’re good for 5:30 am? Everyone needs to get some rest tonight. Once the wheels start turning on this thing, no telling when we'll get any again.” Brunell asked.
They all nodded.
Jackson, George and the kid stayed at the trailer and ordered Chinese takeout.
Brunell headed home to tell his wife he was going to be out of the loop for a few days and to try and get some sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to it.
25
At 4:00 a.m., Jackson was up and making coffee. The kid shuffled out of the bedroom looking like a used brillo pad.
“Geeze, I'm usually coming home about this time on weekends.” He said groggily as he rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah kid. I remember those days. I used to play gigs and party this late all time when I was your age. Wait until you get a little older. Your internal clock will switch around.”
The kid yawned and grabbed a cup.
“You need to wake up. Right now. We have a lot to do real soon.” Jackson admonished him.
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 12
