Ryan suddenly remembered what was next and got serious quickly.
George came out all spit-shined and looking like he was ready for WWIII. He was pumped and ready to rock. “This is it, boys! We’re gonna do us a jailbreak today!” He was hopping around like a bantamweight boxer.
“Calm down, George. We need to be focused and relaxed here. If we get too geeked up, bad stuff can happen.” Jackson said.
“Gee, can't a guy have any fun?” he said dejectedly and shuffled off with a cup of jet black coffee.
Brunell showed up at 4:30.
“Everything go OK?” Jackson asked.
“As well as can be expected, I guess. Are we ready?” Brunell asked nervously. “Kid? You’re the key to this whole deal. Let's go back over everything.”
They gathered in the bedroom and went through every last detail, including any contingencies, whatever they might be. They were flying by the seat of their pants and everyone knew it, none more than Jackson. He was getting a real bad feeling by all. It went unspoken, but they were this little ragtag vigilante gang against the world. Their odds of success were about the same as winning the Publisher’s Clearing House.
“Well, either this is going to work, or we all end up in Leavenworth,” Jackson sighed.
“Maybe they’ll put us in adjoining cells so we can share books and smokes,” George said.
Everyone rolled their eyes and chuckled. They checked their phone batteries, and Jackson had everyone call each other, just to make sure they could communicate.
George and Jackson slipped the camo gear over their clothes. They grabbed the two extra sets and headed out the door.
They pulled up around the corner of the county jail. Normally, the cops would have taken him to the Fed lockup, but nowadays if the State turned anyone over to ICE, they would simply turn them loose on orders from DC, so the locals kept them as long as they could.
They went over their checklist again and called the kid.
“What are you seeing?” Jackson asked.
“There is an officer at the front desk. He's reading the paper. There is another inside the first door. The mule is in cell B-231 straight down the hall from the entrance and to the right. Eight cells back. He is asleep.”
“Anyone else?” Jackson asked.
“There's another guard two halls down, checking cells. That's it.”
“OK. Let's go.” Jackson said.
Brunell got out and walked around the corner. They held their position in the Suburban until he got inside so as not to tip anyone off. They needed to stay off the camera facing out from the front door.
Brunell walked into the front and rapped on the glass showing his badge. The guard buzzed the door open. “I need to see a prisoner. He's in cell B-231. Juan Manuel Sanchez.”
The guard looked skeptical. “Uh… this is pretty unusual. We don't get detectives in here this time of day. I need to check with someone.”
He was looking around like a deer in the headlights.
“Listen, officer. This is a highly important intel issue. I am here this early for a reason. I know it is unusual, but it's for a purpose. I don't need you mucking up this interrogation with a bunch of bullshit red tape. So unless you want to get your ass reamed by the Governor's office and to spend the next week filling out paperwork, you'll let me in right now,” Brunell spat.
The guard looked around nervously and nodded. “I need your ID, but I guess I can do that.”
Brunell laid down his ID, knowing it was the last time he would ever use it, and the guard buzzed the door open. He walked past Guard Two and turned down his offer to go with him.
“Two down,” he said under his breath.
He walked back to the cell and the guard hit the switch to unlock it. The lights popped on, and the mule woke up in a stupor, looking around in panic.
Brunell pushed the door open and entered. As soon as he walked into the cell, Ryan was going to change the camera feed to thirty minutes earlier from back at the trailer. They didn’t want anyone in the front to have a live feed, only Ryan could still see it.
“Juan. I'm Detective Brunell. Remember me? I need you to come with me.” Adam said.
He shook his head trying to wake up and started to shake. “N… no. No cops.”
Brunell moved up next to him and spoke quietly into his ear. “We have Julia and Manuel and Marguerite. They’re safe. I’m going to take you to them. We aren’t going to hurt you or them. But if you make a stink in here, I can't guarantee anything. OK?”
He reluctantly nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly.
“I'm going to get you out of here under the pretense that I'm taking you into the interview room. As soon as you hear the first door buzz, we’re going to move through it fast. Got it?”
Juan nodded quickly, then hesitated. “Wait. Show me proof you have them and that they are safe.”
Brunell pulled out the picture that Lindsay had emailed them. Julia and the kids were sitting at her table eating snacks.
He sighed and nodded. “OK.”
“The main door will buzz open. I’ll take you out on the street and into a waiting Suburban. I don't want any shit from you, got it? And don't even think about running, or you'll never see them again. Comprende?”
He nodded again.
“Stand up and turn around. Let me cuff you. It looks more authentic.” Brunell slapped the cuffs on and pulled them tight.
“We’re going on the count of three. One. Two…”
Brunell brought the mule down the hall and the door buzzed open as soon as he got to it.
“Hey! Wait!” the guard behind the glass yelled. He was pounding buttons on the dashboard that controlled the locks to no effect.
They burst through the door and hustled across the waiting room, as the main desk guard hit the alarm. Nothing happened. He pushed the button over and over in a panic, shouting for them to stop.
The front door buzzed, and they flew out onto the sidewalk. Brunell grabbed the mule’s head and shoved him in the Suburban, then scrambled in behind him.
The car peeled out. As they sped up the street, they wound around some downtown neighborhoods to avoid freeway cams. They knew there were stoplight cams everywhere, but hopefully the kid had made sure the outside jail cam was off.
When they got about a mile away from the jail and saw that no one was giving chase, George let out a big whoop.
“Hot damn, boys! I told you it would work!” He shouted, pounding the dashboard of the Suburban.
“We’ve got a lot of space to cover, and it's only just starting. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, George,” Jackson cautioned.
“Geeze, can't a senior citizen have a little fun once in a while? This beats Jeopardy all to hell.” He turned around to look at the mule.
Brunell was handing him the camo gear and pulling on his own.
“Hey there, son. Your kids and wife are fine, but you and I are going to have a little chat first,” George said.
“Who are you guys?” The mule asked.
“We’re some concerned citizens who need information. Other than that, none of your business.” George smiled engagingly.
“Where’s my family?”
“Safe and sound and in good hands. Now, how long it takes before we take you to them is up to you.”
The mule sat quietly.
“Juan, we have no interest in making things hard on you. As long as you’re straight up with us, we have no reason to harm you. Understand?” Brunell said.
He nodded. “What do you want from me? I already gave you everything.”
“Don't worry about that. We're just going to have us a little conversation.” George looked pleased with himself.
26
They continued to drive on residential streets in silence. The only sound was Barry Yant on 560 AM radio. He was reporting a jail break at the downtown jail and was asking how the police could have allowed that to happen with all the high security systems in place. No one was putting two
and two together yet. They listened all the way up to the airpark, arriving just before daybreak. They parked the Suburban behind a stack of wood pallets in back.
They hauled the mule out and went in the back door. His eyes got huge when he noticed the saws and stacks of wood everywhere, and started sweating profusely.
Good. Right where they wanted him.
They led him into a small room with a table and two plastic chairs, one on each side and sat him down.
Brunell uncuffed him. “You will not run. You will answer all of our questions. You will not hedge or lie. If we even remotely think you are not cooperating, we’ll send your wife and kids out of the state, and then we’ll make things very uncomfortable for you right here. Understand?”
The mule nodded. He swallowed hard and said, “Can I have some water?”
Adam grabbed him one out of the machine in the lobby and called the kid on Jackson's phone. “I need you to open the thumb drive and get ready for us. OK?”
“Sure. You guys look clean for now. No one followed you.”
“Open the first file and be ready.”
George sat down across from the mule and began while Jackson and Brunell stood behind him.
“First, Juan, where did you get the drive?” George asked.
He looked around nervously. “Um… all I… wanted to do was one more run. Then I was going to join my brother’s painting business. But I owed the school five grand and had to come up with another fifteen for next year. I swear I was only the van driver from the border. I don’t know anything.”
“That's fine, Son. You’re not telling us anything we don't already know. Where did you get the thumb drive?” George asked.
“I…I don't know anything. I gave you the drive. Isn't that enough?”
“No, son. We need to know where you got it and who is behind it.” George said.
Juan sat quietly with his head down for several minutes, obviously panicking.
“OK. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Let's go.” George stood up and came around the table.
“No! No! Wait. Look. These are some very bad people. Very, very bad. They don't mess around. Anything I say from here on is only between us, OK?”
“We'll decide that, Juan. What you need to do right now is spill it all out. None of us are restrained by any regulations,” Brunell added.
Over the next two hours, Jackson had Ryan on speaker, and they opened each folder and went through every last detail on the drive. It appeared that little innocent Juan knew quite a bit more than he let on.
First, the Moon God Warriors.
Juan started shaking at the exposure, sweating and tapping his legs. “So, we know they're going to attack a major event. It has to be the World Series, and Phoenix.”
“Holy crap, boys. These bastards are gonna blow us all up!” George said.
Jackson was worried about Sam and the kids. He asked the kid to go down to his trailer and look at his phone for any messages.
“Adam, you need to get a hold of your wife and get her the hell out of the valley,” Jackson said.
“Doing it now. I'll have her get ready to evac on a moment's notice.”
Ryan called Jackson back with the texts on his phone.
“It's not good, Jackson. Oh, my God,” The kid sounded frantic.
“Just read it!” Jackson shouted at him.
“Help. In Truck. Kids here. There’s more,” the kid said shakily. “Help us please!”
“Look at the time stamps. And find out what part of town those came from!” Jackson shouted into the phone.
“The first one was at 7:39 a.m. and the second one was at 7:42 a.m. Let me call you back with the rest. I have to get into the tower configuration sites. It will take a little time.”
“Well hurry the hell up!” Jackson shouted and hung the phone up. “I’ll kill those bastards! I’ll cut off every appendage they have!”
He was trying to push thoughts of what they may be doing to them out of his head.
“They must have missed her phone in the bra holster she wore when she was dressed casually. I’ll make them regret the moment they were conceived if they touch one hair on any of their heads.” Jackson shouted out.
Brunell slapped the cuffs back on Juan and threw him the back of the Suburban. No one was in any mood to reward him with anything after the world of hell he’d helped facilitate.
Brunell came out and said he told his wife that things were bad and to standby for instructions. She said that a team had been to the house looking for him, but she had told them she had no idea where he was. She thought he was at work.
He stood there looking very labored. He removed the battery out of the phone and smashed the burner on the ground, stomping on it hard. Then he stomped on it again for good measure.
“They said they would be back and she was to call them if I got a hold of her. It was that dickhead Fed, Baldwin, they put in there to spy on us. That rat bastard,” Adam spit out. “If he does anything to her, I’ll…” And he walked off, kicking the gravel, cursing.
George called Lindsay and told her to get everyone gathered up to head out of town. She was going to take them all up to Payson, to the summer cabin her ex-husband's family had. She was still on good terms with them, and they never went up after August, so Lindsay knew it would be empty. They would not mind if she and Liza were there.
“With everyone gone from Lindsay's, we can stage up from there. No one will think of going out there,” George said.
They headed out towards Fountain Hills, driving on side streets and wearing their camo to stay off cameras.
Jackson’s phone rang; the kid had an update.
“The tower places your ex-wife at the Super Pumper on Chaparral and Hayden. I tracked it north up to Shea, then East. I followed it all the way up Highway 87 about forty miles. Since then, it has stayed in one place.”
“Damn! She was probably taking Jackie and Payton to a game at Chaparral Park this morning. She must have stopped for gas when those rat- bastard goons grabbed them. Damn!” Jackson spit out.
He started reeling inside. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. He felt a huge wave of nausea come over him and had to steady himself against the hood of the Suburban. Cortisol and Adrenaline began surging through his veins. He could barely breathe.
Then the obsessive guessing started. What if they killed them and threw them over the side of the road? What if they escaped? What if they were lost in the desert? What if they are in some rat hole full of snakes and Javelina? His brain was running at warp speed and he could barely control himself.
“Stop it!” he said to himself. “I have to think clearly. Use your brain. No time for panic. Calm down!” He forced himself to slow his breathing, slowly blowing out and focusing on a small pebble at his feet. The technique had worked numerous times when he’d been faced with horrific crime scenes in the past. When he’d had to stay in control for his team.
By the time they got to Fountain Hills, Lindsay, Julia, and the kids had already gone up to the cabin, thankfully.
Jackson was all ready to leave again. “I’m heading North to look for Sam and the kids. I need you two to keep eyes on the mule and make sure he’s not withholding anything else. I’ll check in soon.”
He jumped in the Suburban and took off. He pulled on his camo face mask to make sure he wouldn't get recognized at the stoplight before turning North on to the 87. He picked up his phone and dialed Ryan at the trailer.
“Any movement on the ping?”
“No. It is still about forty miles north of the Shea turnoff. East side of the road.”
Knowing how death defying many of the turns, drop offs, and hairpin changes were on that road, that could mean anything. It could either mean it was way down, hundreds of feet in a canyon, or just off the side of the road. The highway rose from sea level to over five thousand feet in elevation in only seventy miles and had more sharp turns than a roller coaster.
“O
k. I need you to send an email for me immediately. Get a pen. It is to [email protected]. Here's what I want it to say:
“'Sarah, JackAttack has an urgent emergency. Then, ask Tracey Army member, TomBart, to get a hold of me. Put my phone number in the email. Tell her it is life and death.
“Sarah is Tracey Brent's producer, and TomBart is one of her subscribers that lives near Payson. He is a deputy Sheriff and also a volunteer firefighter. I've talked to him before on her Online Chat feature during her show. That’s how I know he lives up there.”
“OK. Done and gone.”
“Pull up the cams at the Super Pumper and see if you can spot what kind of vehicle took them. I'll stay on the line.” Jackson said.
“Hold on, this will take a second.” Ryan said.
Jackson was starting to sweat bullets. He thought he might be having a full-on panic attack. His could be near crippling, and now was not the time.
“Calm… Calm… Calm,” he kept telling himself. “Breathe.”
It didn't help that he was terrified of heights and the road was one giant carnival ride of huge rises and drops, with thousand foot canyons just over the shoulder.
“OK. Got it. It’s a Ryder Truck rental. Looks like a big one. A forty footer. Let me check the plate and see where it’s registered.”
Jackson flew around bends, going straight up and down while trying to maintain his calm without coming totally unglued.
“It came from the downtown Phoenix location. Let me see if I can hack into their system. Hang on.”
He typed away as Jackson wiped his forehead with his shoulder and hung on for dear life. He was worried his sweaty palms would slip on the wheel.
“Here! It was rented by Aslan Ramzan yesterday. Hang on, here’s a copy of the ID. He’s a Federal government employee!”
“Wait a minute! That guy has the same last name as the Chechens.” He’d never paid much attention to the name and signature on his paychecks, but this could not be coincidence. He didn't know if it was their brother or a cousin, but there couldn't be too many with that name. “Do a search for everything you can find on the dude and get back to me.”
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 13
