For God and Country: Leona Foxx Suspense Thriller #1

by Ted Peters

  With a large number of Chicago’s finest manning the president’s perimeter, police motorcycles were parked everywhere, some with keys in the ignition. Budenholzer hopped on a Harley and was soon speeding west on Pearson. Leona followed suit, stealing an idling motorcycle and following Budenholzer’s lead. The two swerved left onto North Michigan Avenue. They sped south toward the Loop. North Michigan Avenue became South Michigan Avenue.

  The bikes raced passed the Chicago Art Institute. Then, left onto Jackson. A right onto South Columbus. Budenholzer thought he could shake her at Buckingham Fountain. The fountain spray drifted over onto the pavement, leaving a thin damp slick. Budenholzer extended his left leg and circled the fountain, cautiously enough to avoid a skid. Leona followed, just as cautiously. Both sped. Neither skidded. Pedestrians screamed and scattered to make way for the speeders.

  A bright light picked them up at Buckingham Fountain, but lost them momentarily. Maybe a police chopper is tracking us, thought Leona. I bet the cops want their Harleys back.

  Budenholzer led the bike duo out to South Lakeshore Drive, turning right with Leona tight on his tail. The Harleys revved and whined and sped. South and west of Soldier Field, with Leona keeping her distance at less than fifty yards. The lead cycle turned left onto East 18th Drive, and then again onto Museum Campus Drive. The second cycle took the same two turns, both racing north. Budenholzer and his tail turned sharply to the right onto East Solidarity Drive, passing Shed Aquarium on their left. Tourists and picnickers and those exiting the museum complex watched the loud chase.

  As the two approached Adler Planetarium, Budenholzer skidded up onto the central mall, stopping short of the monument to Copernicus. With a jerk, he parked his bike sideways and pulled out his Glock. Hiding behind his motorcycle for the ambush, he watched Leona’s bike jump the curb and rocket toward him on the grassy mall. Budenholzer fired at the oncoming Harley. His bullet hit the front tire. It exploded and went flat. The quick-thinking Leona did a wheely and cut her engine. The front fell with a thud, throwing its rider over the handle bars and onto the planetarium lawn. While Leona was still rolling, Budenholzer mounted his Harley and sped off to the south of the Adler building. He disappeared from Leona’s sight.

  Where could he be going? she asked while picking herself up. Scrapes, but no broken bones. She listened carefully. The sound of Budenholzer’s bike quit short. Must be on the other side of Adler. Her Kimber lay in the grass where only seconds before her body was splayed. She picked it up, checked the ammo, and holstered it into her waistband.

  Leona decided to make her way toward the east side of the Adler via the north waterfront. The grassy apron led down to a series of concentric concrete rings from the lawn to water’s edge. At water’s edge the cement walkway was girded by steel supports, providing a ten-foot margin between the lake’s surface and that of the balustrade. If she could move stealthily along the concrete walkway at the foot of the lower wall, perhaps she would not be seen as the tall mercury yard lights flickered on. Leona headed east, glancing occasionally at the lapping of Lake Michigan against the rusted steel supports.

  Stooping and crawling for nearly a hundred yards, she passed the sundial. Leona heard the rumblings of an engine on the lake. She raised her head a few inches and spotted the arrival of a power boat, a Baja 35 Outlaw with two men, one standing at a steering wheel. Off to her right, Budenholzer was inching his way down the cement steps toward the arriving V-hulled craft. For balance, his arms were stretched out like a high-wire walker.

  Leona’s mind went to work. A prearranged rendezvous, eh. Can I pick off the boat driver with a single pistol shot? Perhaps, but not at this distance. Gotta be closer. Can I get closer without being discovered? Could I get closer soon enough to intercept the disembarkment?

  When the Outlaw docked at the steel support, one of the boat’s sailors hoisted a ladder. Its top hooked securely on the concrete balustrade. As Leona crept toward the landing site, she thought through the question: dead or alive? Maybe it would be best to take Budenholzer alive. He would know which contractors had joined the CUB union and which were either excluded or voluntarily remained clean. Like Santa Claus, Budenholzer knows who’s naughty and who’s nice. Questioning the mastermind would be easier than tracking down each contractor with an independent investigation. Regardless, the followers as well as the leader should be brought to justice.

  Budenholzer was now within fifteen feet of the boat landing. The boat’s engine had been silenced for boarding. It would be only seconds and the CUB chief would be aboard. Then gone. If she was going to act, now would be the time. The huntress spread herself out on the ground at water’s edge. Her stomach pressed into the concrete. Leona lifted her Kimber in both hands, with elbows anchored on the concrete. She sighted the man standing at the steering wheel. A trigger squeeze. Through the smoke in front of her Leona watched the body lurch and then fall to the far side and splash in the water.

  Instantly the second man bolted to his feet to fire his automatic weapon at Leona. He sprayed the area where he had seen Leona’s gun smoke. Leona heard bullets ricocheting off the cement wall behind her and the steel girders below her. She remained unscathed. Once again taking aim, the prone sharpshooter squeezed the trigger. The second man catapulted overboard. The boat was now unmanned, yet still secured.

  Budenholzer was close enough to grab the ladder’s top rung. He tried to maneuver himself for boarding. In a flash Leona was bounding down the balustrade like a lion chasing a wildebeest. She dropped the Kimber. Airborne, she aimed her body like a rocket at Budenholzer. Both flew into the water with a splash. The Lake Michigan water at fifty-two degrees felt like ice. Under the surface they struggled, pulling and tugging. They rolled. Water prevented punches from hurting. At first neither gained advantage. Then, Budenholzer smashed Leona’s head on a subsurface rock. His hands felt the smack of flesh on stone. Leona’s body went limp. She lost her grip and lost her consciousness. The once attacking tigress had become defenseless. She floated listlessly, face down.

  Might Leona be dead? If not, she certainly would be out for a while. No longer a threat, thought the relieved Budenholzer.

  60 Saturday, Chicago, 9:44 pm

  The surviving Budenholzer pulled himself into the boat, exhausted and panting. He breathed deeply to steady himself. He assessed the situation. Believing that Leona was no longer the huntress, the game thought himself free to return peacefully to his lair. With one foot on the ladder, he kicked the boat away. He climbed. When again on terra firma, he looked toward the boat. It had drifted beyond reach and looked like it was already on its way to Milwaukee. Budenholzer turned toward the Adler and stumbled his way up the concrete steps toward the motorcycle, still parked on the lawn just above the top cement ring.

  While standing on the top concrete level, the bike’s wheels met him chest high. He searched through a saddlebag. He removed a .40 caliber Beretta, police issue. After checking it for ammo, he put the pistol in his large wet sweatshirt pocket. Then, to his surprise, Budenholzer heard a voice.

  “Leave it in your pocket and turn around slowly,” he heard. It was the voice of Leona, coming from behind. He turned slowly. After 180 degrees, he could see his wet adversary, lying on the concrete right in front of the ladder. Her fiery eyes were looking straight at him. Propped up on her elbows, her two hands were aiming the Kimber at his chest. His right hand still touched the Beretta in his sweatshirt pocket. Could he shoot through the sweatshirt? No. He could not aim at this distance. He would have to have his hand free. Could he beat Leona to the trigger pull? This would be his gamble.

  Budenholzer whipped out the gun and began firing repeats. Leona squeezed the trigger once. A three bullet burst. All three hit the same place: Budenholzer’s chest. His body whirled. His left hand gripped the top of the stone wall. He steadied himself momentarily. Then, he fell. He fell in such a way that he was sitting when his backside dropped on to the concrete.

  Leona stood up. She walked toward Budenhol
zer, aiming her pistol at his head as a precaution. Budenholzer was not moving. After kicking away the wounded CUB leader’s weapon, Leona knelt down on his left side.

  “You’re badly wounded,” she said softly in his left ear.

  His eyes turned toward her. “Very badly,” he said, choking.

  “You told Andrew Dodge to let me die in Tehran,” didn’t you?’

  “Yes.”

  “Did you want all thirty of us dead?”

  “Yes. Nothing personal, Leona.”

  “It was personal to me.” Then her eyes turned glassy. “But why? Why did you do this?”

  “Important...(wheeze)...feared public opinion...(cough)...nice people like you might ask our nation to clean its hands...(cough)...to cut out the dirty work. I like dirty work, don’t you know?”

  “What did you say to the president?”

  “I told him the best strategy...(cough)...told him not to negotiate with terrorists such as Golshani...(pause)....Hang tough, I said. Everyone who volunteered for this kind of dangerous work knew the risks. That applied to you too...(cough)...You knew the risks. The president was not required to wipe your nose with a tissue just because the operation caught a cold...(cough).”

  “Twenty-eight people died because of this White House decision. You’re responsible for it. How could you?”

  “It’s my job. It’s my work. In the long run, it was best for the country.” Budenholzer coughed up some blood. He spat it out. It created a small red pool on the concrete.

  “Again I ask: how could you?”

  Budenholzer looked up at Leona’s face. His open eyes met hers. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes closed. His head dropped onto his left shoulder.

  61 Saturday, Chicago, 10:11 pm

  Leona leaned against the cement wall to ponder what had happened. Her gun hung listlessly at the end of her relaxed arm. On the edge of consciousness she realized that she was no longer alone. Human voices in the distance were growing louder, approaching. A crowd was gathering.

  A voice shouted, “drop that weapon!”

  Leona turned in the direction of the voice. She spied a police officer approaching with gun drawn. It was Brad Kuhn.

  “Brad!” she said loudly.

  “Pastor Lee, is that you?”

  “Yes, Brad.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “He’s dead. Nothing’s happening now.”

  Brad bent over to study the corpse.

  From above a noise demanded their attention, the drone of an engine becoming increasingly louder. Then, an intense blue-white light shone down upon her, Brad, and Budenholzer’s corpse. A helicopter was descending rapidly. The light was so bright that at first she could not discern whether or not it was a Long Ranger IV. It was.

  Once the blue chopper had landed on the lawn near the sundial and the rotors slowed to a stop. The door opened. Out stepped the president, Andrew Dodge. Dodge ran to Leona and embraced her. She put her arms around his neck. Their cheeks brushed each other. The expression on Dodge’s face indicated he wanted frantically to kiss her; but realizing they were being watched he hesitated. At this hesitation, Leona withdrew her arms. He continued to hold her shoulders in his two hands, almost defying his growing audience. Dodge spoke with glassy eyes, “Oh, Lee, I’m so glad you lived through all of this.

  “Thank God you’re alive,” she exclaimed.

  “That helicopter came so near to wiping out the 85th floor of the John Hancock!” he said. “It could’ve been my end! My life is now a gift. And I’ve got you to thank for it.”

  “It’s your moment of grace, Andy. I had mine in a Tehran prison. Both were rescues. But look at Budenholzer there. Look at his blood leaking onto the concrete. It seems that grace for us means death for others. That’s the part that will grieve me until I finally go to my grave.”

  Despite being in public, they hugged one another and shared another fragment of eternity. Within seconds Leona continued. “What happened?”

  “Holthusen’s tech team finally took control of the flying torpedo at the last second. Two radio teams fought to control the same drone. We won. The CIA had sites both on the ship and on top of the John Hancock. We redirected the helicopter back to the ship’s heliport. It landed safely. When Holthusen opened the doors he discovered containers of wired explosives.”

  “Potent?”

  “You can say that again! Once the copter hit the Hancock, fire would’ve spread everywhere. In the seats were the two kidnapped Golshani boys. Their IDs were on them. They were unconscious and strapped in. They had been drugged. My White House physician on the ship is attending to them now. His prognosis is positive. I plan to phone Akbar Golshani in Tehran and tell him what’s happened. He should know, I think.”

  “Lasers!” said Leona in a whispered shout, arching backward.

  “What?”

  “Lasers. Think: lasers. When you phone Golshani, tell him you want to end the tensions. Our planet's time is running out, Andy.”

  “What're you talking about?”

  Leona stood silent for a moment. She fell toward the president, and he wrapped his arms around her once again. “Is it over? ” she asked with eyes closed.

  “Holthusen assures me that it’s over. Leona’s army seems to have totally defeated the enemy. Now, I want the heroine to come back to the ship with me. It’s a short helicopter ride. I want you to be where you belong, Lee, with me. At least for tonight. I’ll have my doctor examine your injuries.”

  Leona paused. She looked up at the president. “Will Mildred be aboard?” She hesitated again. Before he could speak, she added with emphasis, “No, Andy, don’t answer that. It doesn’t make any difference.” She thought for a moment while she hugged him. “I need a cliché. Here it is: no, Andy, I can’t come. I’ve got a sermon to write. You know how it is for a pastor on Saturday nights. A preacher’s in hell until the sermon’s done. I haven’t even started. I’m going home. Thanks anyway for the invitation.”

  “But you look scraped and bruised, and your skull is bleeding a little.”

  “I’ve got a first aid kit at home. Actually, I’m feeling fine. A long warm bath is all I need. Thanks just the same, Andy. I’ll miss you desperately, but you’ve got your work and I’ve got mine.”

  Leona withdrew completely from his shoulder grip. Then she realized that the two of them were being watched by a large number of people arrayed on the Adler Planetarium lawn. They had gathered when the commotion had begun. The onlookers were curious about the police chopper and now the landed presidential helicopter. They were buzzing about what might be happening. Police were examining the debris from the battle. Leona said to Andrew, “I think I’ve got to escape before any questioning begins. Can you cover for me?”

  “Certainly,” said the president. “I’m really going to miss you tonight. Do you have to go?”

  “Yes. I must. But don’t think I won’t be missing you.”

  Leona turned to leave while the president motioned for Brad Kuhn to come and confer. The bright lights of the helicopter shone on the crowd. The pilot remained in the craft. The president did the talking.

  Leona picked out Graham and Hillar in the crowd who were being joined by Shmoo, Everett, Quint, and Wade. “What happened?” is a phrase that could be heard repeatedly above the buzz of the crowd’s conversation.

  Leona paused in front of Shmoo. “That’s what I want to know. What happened to Scorp and Hammer?”

  “They took a little lead,” said Shmoo. “Only leg wounds. They’ll heal.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Ambulance taking ‘m to Cook County as we speak,” said Shmoo.

  “Cook County? Shmoo, why are you not going there to be with them. You gotta go.”

  “Nah. They’ll be OK. Just flesh wounds.”

  “Shmoo, no. You get your ass over to Cook County. Hold their hands. Comfort them. They need you right now. They need you like any little boy needs a father.”

  “For
God’s sake, Leona!” stammered Shmoo, stomping his left foot. He paused. His eyes watered slightly. “I feel like I’m your father, Lee. And I’m so proud of you and so thankful you’re all right.”

  “You heard me, Shmoo,” Leona said while hugging the graying man. She kissed him on the cheek. Her tender body language did not match the sternness of her commanding voice. “Now, get out of here.”

  Shmoo left immediately. Leona cocked her head and said plaintively, “Graham, please take me home.” Turning to her assembled army she said, “You’re all given an honorable discharge. You’re dismissed.”

  Before any of them could take a step, the crackling of a loud speaker drew the attention of the crowd. From the helicopter a megaphoned voice trumpeted: “Attention, please. This is your president speaking, Andrew Dodge.”

  A hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned to the brightly lit craft on the Adler lawn. The president’s voice continued. “This is an extraordinary moment,” he said. “You have witnessed the thwarting of a horrendous terrorist attack. Had our enemies been successful, they would have taken my life, traumatized the city of Chicago, shattered the confidence of our nation, and placed the world once again into a state of nuclear fear. Like David standing up to Goliath, one woman stood up and felled a giant. This courageous and brave woman along with her friends are responsible for preventing a disaster of untold consequences.”