Flight of the Scarlet Tanager

by Bevill, C. L.

  Gower made another noise. Enjoyment. Amusement. Tacit understanding. “I think that you’re right on some level. But you’ve shown yourself to be less than reliable yourself. Why don’t you...No, you don’t.” He moved swiftly and Teddy had a sudden image of the same man calmly and smoothly breaking the neck of a man she didn’t know, grasping him with large hands and firmly ending his life. While Gower had been concentrating on Teddy, Fitch had risen up and started directly for the mechanism that held the birdcages above in place.

  But one large hand drew back and yanked Fitch off his feet. Gower twisted as he wrestled the younger man down to the floor. Fitch grunted and brought up his fist into the area of the Gower’s genitals. The younger man was only an inch or two shorter and possessed a wealth of muscles he used in the extreme sports he enjoyed. Gower squirmed away from the shot, and brought his other arm up to hit Fitch.

  Teddy didn’t waste a moment. She rushed for the door, and threw her body against it just as someone started to open it. On another day it wouldn’t have worked, but one hundred and ten pounds at full flight slammed the door on whomever it had been coming in. She threw the bolt, and then engaged the deadbolt. Gower was actively struggling with Fitch, his face distorted into an anger-filled snarl. One of Fitch’s hands was on Gower’s weapon hand, the Glock pointed into the air. The other was on his other wrist. Two strong men were fighting for dominance. She knew who was going to win. Fitch didn’t have the experience that the older man had, or the twisted psychopathic mentality to do whatever it took to win, at any cost.

  She muttered a Chinese prayer for luck and yanked a chair out, shoving it under the handles of the oak door. There was rushed movement on the other side. Clearly, people heard what was going on and wanted into the library. She could hear a faint roar as her uncle yelled demands. She wedged the chair firmly with her foot, and looked back. Gower had his hand wrapped around Fitch’s neck and was choking him unconscious. The FBI agent couldn’t quite get the grip he needed to break the vertebrae of his neck.

  Fitch had his teeth gritted into a hard line, but his face turned red. Teddy burst across the library, nearly tripping over Bob in her flight. She wrapped her hands around the decorative, ceramic trashcan, and whirled to knock the agent out before he did Fitch irreparable harm. She raised the heavy piece over her head and Gower whipped back an arm and knocked her halfway across the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  August 18th

  A proverb asserts: If you want a bird to put in gilded cage to hang by the window, buy the cage first.

  The attractive face of John Gower was set into a series of merciless, slanting lines, the manifestation of sheer vehemence. With a loud grunt, he tossed Fitch away from him as if the other was some kind of rag doll. The young man landed heavily on one shoulder, slamming his arm into the flat of his own abdomen and fought desperately to maintain his consciousness. Gower took a menacing step toward Fitch and hesitated as he shifted his weapon in his hand, readying himself to take aim.

  The decorative ceramic trashcan flew out of Teddy’s hands and broke into a hundred pieces when it hit the floor. She hit the side of the desk hard, surging to her feet immediately. She ignored the red-hot lines of pain that reverberated down her sides where her ribs still ached and her body was bruised and battered. She shoved off the desk with one hand and launched herself onto Gower’s back, screaming with rage.

  Fitch turned over onto his side, making funny gasping noises, and then got to his knees as he heard Teddy’s despairing cry. He saw that she had hooked her arm around Gower’s neck and was systematically trying to claw his eyes out with her fingers. Her legs wrapped around his torso and he cursed fluidly as he attempted to dislodge her from his figure. For a moment Fitch could only watch helplessly as he tried to pull much needed oxygen into his starved lungs and dispel the black spots from the corners of his vision.

  Bringing her arm down forcibly on top of Gower’s arm, Teddy tried to get him to drop the automatic weapon in his hand. He held onto it and swore rawly at her. She saw another opportunity and bent her head and viciously bit the side of his neck

  Staggering to his feet, Fitch looked at the birdcage once more. Gower wasn’t under it anymore, and besides Teddy was in the way, firmly attached to his back. Then Gower shot a round that missed Fitch by about a foot, and he jerked his head down, dodging for cover.

  Gower was roaring with anger now. Desperate to get Teddy away from his bleeding face and neck, he forgot the weapon and reached up with one clenched fist to punch at Teddy’s head. Fitch stumbled forward, gaining an awkward momentum, into a running jump and tackled both of them. One of the strong young man’s hands wrapped itself around Gower’s weapon hand as they tumbled to the ground, a mass of limbs and frantic movements. Teddy went flying again and skidded across the floor, coming to rest against the leather couch. Through a haze of pain she saw that someone from outside of the library was attempting to batter down the huge, thick doors, the door was shuddering and shaking with each blow, and that Fitch had gained the upper hand. He was pounding Gower’s head into the floor.

  After a moment, Gower’s body was tense as his hands and legs still moved, trying to get out from under the younger man. Fitch had him by his blonde hair and threw his head down onto the hardwood floor once again. Then Gower went still.

  “God, the man’s got a head like a rock,” Fitch exclaimed hoarsely. He stood up and poked the other man cautiously in the side with his foot. “You all right, Teddy?” He staggered himself as he asked the question and he caught himself before he went down on a knee.

  “I’m really, really pissed off,” she said. She crawled to her feet and hoped nothing was broken.

  “And we need to get out of this place. You know. Now.”

  “What about Bob?”

  Fitch didn’t hesitate. He went to the older man, and knelt beside him, taking his pulse with his index and middle fingers. “Wasn’t that a movie?” It was a joke that issued from his mouth, but his face was hardly amused.

  “Huh?”

  “You know, Richard Dreyfus. Bill Murray. Bill Murray was a mental case and Dreyfus was a shrink. Good movie. I love Richard Dreyfus. You ever see Moon Over Parador?”

  “What...about our Bob?”

  “Sorry.” Fitch leaned down and listened to Bob’s chest. A moment later, he raised his head. “Try the phone over there. Maybe they didn’t cut us off.” He glanced at the oak door. It was shaking with each strike. He didn’t know what they were using but it must have been like a battering ram from the middle ages. “That isn’t going to hold very long.”

  Teddy rapidly checked the phone. She threw the receiver away from her. “It’s dead.” She looked at Gower’s still shape and rushed to him, searching through his pockets. She found his cell phone and held it up triumphantly. Then her face fell as bits of the components fell away, rattling onto the floor in pieces. “Broken in the fight,” she muttered.

  “The windows. We’ll just...”

  “Bulletproof glass.” Teddy stared at the windows futilely. “All the exterior windows are bulletproof glass.”

  “Bulletproof. What kind of guy has bulletproof windows?”

  “A guy with enemies. You know, a billionaire with relatives like mine.” Teddy bared her teeth at Fitch. “Pull Bob over here. Behind the desk. No, wait, I have a better idea.”

  From outside they heard an abrupt silence. Then there was a rattle of an engine pull and then the roar of an engine.

  Fitch asked with amazement, “Goddamnit, where did they get a chainsaw?”

  •

  John Henry finished making the call to his deputy and signed off. He turned to Bishop and said, “Maybe an hour. Maybe two. You want to go get something to eat while we wait? There’s a restaurant that serves the best jambalaya in the whole parish not three miles from here.”

  “We wait here,” stated Bishop. He stared at the gate in front of him. If he’d had his way he would have been calling an old friend of his in t
he Army and maybe a brigade of Army Rangers to come and storm the castle. It wouldn’t be legal. He wouldn’t keep his day-job another week before Congress started issuing subpoenas concerning the issue of mishandling of government resources. But Fitch might come out safe and sound. “I’d like to think that I’m smarter than my son. Do you have children, Sheriff?”

  “A daughter,” John Henry said. “She’s tons smarter than I am. That’s what she tells me.”

  “I’m praying right now that Fitch is tons smarter than I am.” Bishop stared at the exterior most wall of the Howe estate and gave it his most fearsome glare. It was the same glare that had cowered Congressmen and made newspaper reporters cringe. That caused him to have a thought. “So where are they, anyway?”

  “Who?”

  “This heiress has suddenly popped into the news by virtue of being a genuine heroine and oh by the way, an heiress with a shady past who disappeared mysteriously three years ago, and now there’s a story, so where are all the journalists?”

  “I had a deputy chase them off yesterday,” John Henry said, thoughtfully. “They even came by the Parish office to see if they could drum up a story over there. Why, are you planning on making a statement?”

  “If Deputy Director Theron won’t talk to us,” Bishop said. “Maybe he’ll listen to the news. What does he have to gain if they’re inside and he kills them all?”

  John Henry frowned. “One side of the story.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, General Lee, that if Deputy Director Theron is telling a story to the police and the FBI and to the NSA, then if the rest of the people in the story are all dead, then he’s the only one spinning the yarn. He can say anything he wants. Your son and Ms. Howe broke in.”

  “It’s her home, so how can she break into it?” Bishop couldn’t help snarling.

  “They snuck into the estate and threatened to kill Theron. They decided he was at fault. Or it was all the actions of two perverse FBI agents, Gower and what was the name of the one that was killed by Teddy over in Oregon?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Gower killed the reporter. He killed the security guard. He went after Teddy and Fitch. He covered up the stolen explosives out of...Dallas, was it?”

  Bishop stared harder at the gate. “Theron could say anything. Anything at all, no one could dispute him.”

  John Henry nodded. “Just so.”

  “Unless my son, Robert Wren and Teddy managed to do what they set out to do.”

  John Henry frowned again. “Let’s face it, sir. They’re not Scooby Doo and the gang.”

  “ ‘If it wasn’t for those meddling kids,’ ” quoted Bishop reluctantly. “I have a thought. I rather hope that you would turn your head as I climb my fifty-year-old ass over that barrier. Or you would turn your head as I drive one of those Army sedans behind us through the gate, not bothering to wait until it’s actually open.” He used his index finger to illustrate the crux of the matter by pointing at the gate and the oversized walls.

  “Are you asking me, sir?” John Henry said. He didn’t want to see a three star general mount a wall any more than he wanted to mount the walls himself. Nor did he want to see the same man batter down the gate with a government vehicle.

  “Not exactly. I’m presuming upon our brief acquaintance to suggest that if your daughter was inside that place, in questionable circumstances, that you might be willing to do the same thing, given that the law’s hands are almost virtually tied.”

  John Henry sighed heavily. “Whereas your Teddy and your Fitch are technically not trespassing upon the estate, you would be, and in rural Louisiana it has been known that a fella can pull out his shotgun and shoot a trespasser without fearing prosecution.” He considered briefly. “But if you’re right, then no one is going to prosecute you for trespassing. On the other hand, they might be shooting you before you ever make it to a court.”

  “You must have studied law at West Point,” muttered Bishop irritably.

  “Sorry, engineering. And I promptly forgot every bit of it as soon as I went on active duty, two days after I graduated.”

  “Fine. You can promptly forget that you saw me.” Bishop stepped out of the vehicle and looked at the camera again. He gauged the distance that it could rotate around and walked over to the two Army lieutenants who were accompanying him and the military police officers assigned to his detail. He gave one of the lieutenants his jacket and saucer cap and said, “The sheriff has informed me that he has a forgetful nature. Perhaps you could be so inclined. And sergeant,” he said to one of the MP’s, “Why don’t you let me have that Beretta you have there.”

  The MP groaned and handed the weapon over, knowing he was going to hear about this later. The other MP shrugged. A short, African-American corporal with career aspirations, her name was Hannah Rose, and she didn’t mind a little action. “I’ll go with you, sir.”

  Bishop shrugged. “I can’t ask you to do that, Corporal.”

  “Our orders are very specific, sir,” Rose snapped back. “Where the general goes, we go. Orders from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff himself. Apparently, General Breaux didn’t think it was appropriate that the NSA Director had been unsecured in the state of Oregon yesterday and the day before. And well, sir, he has more stars on his shoulder than you.”

  Bishop checked the weapon he held. He chambered a round and clicked the safety to the off position. “This has the maximum number of rounds in it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine. Just remember this isn’t a game and there are several people you cannot shoot. Me. The sheriff over there. An older man in his sixties with a gray beard and long hair, who looks like the epitome of a hippie. My son. Tall, early twenties, hell in his eyes. And a young woman with scarlet-colored hair.”

  “Scarlet?” repeated the corporal.

  “Yes, scarlet. She is decidedly on the good side.” Bishop tucked the weapon in his belt and picked a spot where the camera couldn’t see and began climbing the tall, rock wall that surrounded the Howe estate. “As for anyone else, we should consider them hostile.”

  John Henry tried his best to look at the scenery in the opposite direction but the sight of a lieutenant general scaling a rock wall was too much to miss, and he stared anyway. Then he decided to call his deputy once more and try to hurry up the search for a judge.

  •

  Lapeaux and a security guard battered at the large oak door with a solid mahogany chair from the formal dining room. Both men had tried to kick the door in as well, until Lapeaux paused. “This diable is not going to break, non? Bill, there is a chainsaw in the gardeners hut. Go get it, we will cut through the door. The windows are bulletproof. There are no other doors in the room. There isn’t any place for them to go, c’est vrai.”

  Addressing Theron, Lapeaux said, “M’su, it will only take a few minutes.”

  “They will have Gower’s gun! His cell phone!” exclaimed Theron, enraged that all his well-laden plans could go so wrong in a matter of moments. And it’s all her fault. That damned Theodora. “And the papers are still on Thomas’ desk. The papers I need that little bitch to sign.”

  The man named Bill was back with the chainsaw in less than three minutes. He adjusted the mixture of gasoline on the side and turned the choke on. Then he yanked the pull cord once and the engine sputtered. He gave it another powerful yank and it roared into life.

  “Hurry!” yelled Theron, pointing furiously at the oak door. “We have to hurry!”

  The chainsaw made mincemeat of the door and sawdust flew through the air. They were careful as they cut around the handles of the doors, fearing that the girl would begin firing at them with Gower’s weapon, but there was no gunfire, and the door began to come apart. They had to cut around the hinges and Lapeaux was the one who warily pulled one side of the pair of doors open while the rest of Theron’s men pointed their weapons inside. But there wasn’t anyone there except Gower lying unconscious on the floor.

  •
<
br />   “Behind that row of cabinets,” Teddy pointed as the chainsaw engine clamored outside the door. She got behind Bob and lifted him under his shoulders, yanking him across the polished wooden floor, groaning with the effort. “Open them up.”

  The chainsaw bit into the door with a yowl and Fitch opened the oak cabinet doors that stored coats like an armoire. “You know, they’re going to look in here for us.”

  “Take him,” she called, and stood up. She pushed a rack of light business jackets aside and studied the wall. Then she pulled out a section of the back of the cabinet and Fitch made an admiring noise. It was like the section from the attic, a piece that had been reinforced. She reached through and pushed a shelf out of the way.

  “No wonder you were so impressed with Gramps’ secret door.”

  “His worked a lot better than any of the ones I ever made.” She indicated the darkened room beyond. “This is the pantry to the kitchen. And it took me six months to get it right, so I could come in here and listen to Uncle Jack make dirty deals on the phone, until I realized I could tap into the internal security monitors instead. It’s either this way or we could hide in the birdcages.” She bared her teeth again and pointed upward.

  Fitch grimaced. “Dropping a giant birdcage on someone’s head isn’t the worst idea I ever had.” He stepped through the small hole, and pulled Bob through to the other side, bumping his head on the side. “Sorry about that, Bob.” Then he peeked his head back inside the library to see that the chainsaw was working its way around one of the hinges on the sides of the great door.