What Lies Beyond the Fence

by L C Hayden

  The pilot raised his hands. “No worries. That’s been taken care of. You apparently have an emergency to take care of. Good luck with that.”

  Bronson nodded, grabbed his suitcase, and stepped out of the plane.

  “Main entrance is that a way.” The pilot pointed to his right.

  Bronson waved his hand. He retrieved his badge just in case anyone stopped him. He trotted toward the building, his running shoes whispering on the pavement.

  Bronson headed to the designated area where he was supposed to wait for his ride. He didn’t have to wait long. Soon as Bronson stepped out the door, a cruiser with the lights on pulled up.

  Bronson approached it.

  “Harry Bronson?” the policeman who was driving asked.

  Bronson nodded.

  “I.D.?”

  Bronson took out his badge and his passport.

  The policeman looked at them and up at Bronson. “Get in.”

  Bronson did.

  The policeman grabbed the mike. “Got him. We’re on our way.” He turned on the siren and sped off.

  Immediately, Bronson’s cell went off.

  Bronson quietly listened as Duncan filled him in. When they disconnected, Bronson sat staring out the window, his mind not registering the images.

  Ellen and Mike.

  Shiiit. Shiiit. And double shiiit!

  Chapter 83

  The scene before Bronson’s eyes reminded him of the same scenes he had encountered several times before. Cars parked at odd angles, people both in uniforms and in civilian clothes everywhere. A table with papers that Bronson assumed contained the layout of the cabin were spread out. A man and a woman leaned on the table, studying the cabin’s floor plan.

  The cruiser came to a stop and Bronson got out. A woman, possibly in her mid to late thirties, built more like a model than a detective, disengaged herself from the group and approached Bronson. “I’m Detective Rory Duncan.” The signs of strain around her eyes told Bronson the entire story.

  Duncan offered Bronson her hand.

  “Bronson. Harry Bronson.” They shook hands.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Duncan asked.

  Bronson knew that he stood as much chance of survival as rare orchids on a football field. “Mike would do the same for me, and we both would do anything for Ellen.”

  Duncan nodded. “I understand.” He picked up the walkie talkie. “Are you carrying?”

  “Left my gun back in Alaska.”

  “Might as well. Can’t use it here unless you can get a clear shot, and then you’d have to worry about making sure the bullet didn’t exit the body.”

  “Like you said on the phone, bringin’ in a gun would be too risky. We don’t really know what we’re up against as far as the wires go. However, nothin’—nothing—tells us we can’t use a knife.”

  “And you just happen to have one.”

  “No, not really. It’s also still in Alaska.”

  “Of course, but you lucked out. We came prepared. I have a couple of knives for you to select from. I even have a ninja star. Follow me.” Duncan led him to a small table where three sheaths and their knives, varying in size and shape, awaited him. The ninja star along with its sheath rested among the knives.

  The walkie talkie burst out with a thunderous voice. “Just in case you’re not keeping track of time, you’ve got less than fifteen minutes,” Everett said.

  “We just got word that Bronson is on his way,” Duncan answered. “He should be here within minutes.”

  “That is good news, but I’ve already started the countdown just in case.”

  Chapter 84

  Bronson spent the next three minutes practicing retrieving the ninja star and throwing it. Half of the time, it failed to stick to the tree. He discarded it and checked out the knives. He scolded himself for wasting the time. He knew he was already familiar with the art of throwing knives correctly. He should have just stuck with that.

  He studied the knives Duncan had offered him. The one with the four inch blade would work just fine. He practiced using it until he felt he could throw the knife in one smooth move. But just to be sure, he threw it one more time and for the seventh time in a row, the blade stuck to the tree. Bronson removed it, cleaned it, and placed it back in its sheath. He raised it, telling Duncan that’s the one he wanted.

  Bronson slid the knife in its sheath tucked in the back of his pants.

  Duncan watched. “He made Mike strip down to his shorts.”

  Bronson placed it between his skin and his underwear. It felt awkward, but he had no choice. “Ready.”

  Duncan picked up the walkie talkie. “Bronson just arrived.”

  “Good to hear. Hand Bronson the walkie talkie.”

  Duncan did.

  “Can you hear me, Bronson?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “In that case, do exactly as I say and no one will get hurt.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Walk up to the cabin. You’ll find that the door is unlocked. Let yourself in.”

  Bronson set the walkie talkie down and retrieved the knife in its sheath. He placed it on his right-hand side between his belt and his pants. He untucked his shirt to cover the knife. Now the knife was more accessible. “What happens next?”

  “You’ll find that answer when you get here. Now move. If I don’t see your ugly mug in a few seconds, Ellen dies first.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Duncan gave him the thumbs up as he walked past her. In spite of her apparent self-control, Bronson could see the doubt swim in the edges of her eyes.

  Bronson acknowledged her with a small nod. Without further hesitation, he headed toward the cabin at a steady pace. When he reached it, he took a deep breath and turned the door knob. It easily opened.

  He was in.

  Chapter 85

  As soon as Bronson stepped in, he memorized every detail in the room. Directly in front of him, Ellen was tied to a chair. Her eyes shined with a spark that was fear and eagerness to fight. Beside her, Mike was tied to another chair, his eyes alert and questioning. What can I do to help?

  Leaning against the door frame separating the living room from the kitchen, a man Bronson didn’t recognize stood with his arms folded, intently watching the events unfold before him. A few feet behind Ellen, Everett stood, the gun in his hand directly pointed at the back of Ellen’s head. Everett looked strangely detached from his surroundings, and that, more than anything, scared the hell out of Bronson.

  Everett nodded a hello. “Bronson, good to see you again. Can’t imagine how much I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  Bronson shrugged.

  “Do you have any idea what you have cost me? I’ve lost everything, my home, my money, my dream. I’ve even lost my reason for living.” Everett stepped around Mike and Ellen so that now he stood in front of them and about ten to fifteen feet away from Bronson. His gun pointed at Bronson’s gut.

  Move a little bit closer so I can throw this knife. “You were selling little girls to dirty old men. Somehow I can’t feel sorry for you,” Bronson answered.

  Everett remained still. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to feel the same pain you have caused me.”

  He’s not going to move. I need a distraction. Bronson opened his mouth and with his thumb and middle finger, he rubbed the edge of his lips. “What do you have planned for me?”

  “I want you to know that your friends are going to die because of what you did. You—not me—brought on their deaths.” His eyes narrowed, becoming pinpoints of anger. “Look into their eyes. Feel their pain. Know their fear. Before they die, I want to hear you acknowledge that you and you alone caused their deaths. Then I want you to watch them die.”

  “Cut the bull and just kill us!” Mike’s wails came out like those of a man on the verge of madness. He moved his body back and forth so that his chair rocked.

  Ellen looked at him through huge, unblinking eyes. “Noooo! Shut up
. Ahhhh!” Hideous, snarling, howling screams came from deep within Ellen’s throat.

  Everett’s attention shifted toward the screaming couple. “Shut up, both of you!” He made a move toward them.

  That was all Bronson needed. He retrieved the knife and threw it with all his force. It landed in the middle of Everett’s chest. He gasped and dropped the gun, but he did not tumble down. Mike extended his legs, knocking him down. Ellen, no longer screaming, flashed Mike a triumph smile.

  Even before Everett landed on the floor, Bronson jumped on top of him. Bronson folded and cupped his hands and landed them hard on the back of Everett’s head. The impact was good, and Everett stayed down, unmoving.

  Bronson’s gaze searched for the gun Everett had dropped. Too late he noticed that Everett’s servant had picked it up and was pointing it at him.

  “Everett gave me specific instructions in case anything went wrong,” Nate said. His voice was calm, too calm. “He told me to shoot the window, any window. It will blow up the cabin.” His aim moved away from Bronson and toward the window.

  Chapter 86

  Seconds after Duncan watched Bronson enter the cabin, she told her men to gather around her. “I’m assuming Everett’s full attention is focused on Bronson. That means he’s bound to let his guard down. If so, we can storm in through the front door. You two—” Duncan pointed at two officers who had originally been stationed at the side of the cabin. “I want you both to creep up to the windows. Just make sure you don’t touch anything. I don’t want to accidentally set off the explosives. If you see that we have an opportunity to move in, signal and we’ll rush in. Officer Gunny, you check the view from the right hand side of the cabin. Officer Avery, you take the left hand side. The rest of you, I want you to be ready to rush in as soon as we get the signal. Questions?”

  All remained quiet. “Let’s do this,” Duncan said.

  She watched as Gunny and Avery crept toward the cabin.

  * * *

  Nate’s hand shook as he pointed the gun to the window.

  “You’ll kill us all. There’s no need to do that,” Bronson said. “Everett is gone. You’re free to make your own decisions. Put the gun down.”

  Nate’s face hardened as he continued to point the gun toward the window.

  “Nate.” Ellen voice came out smooth and even. “You have shown me the gentle side of you. This isn’t you. I know there’s a good man deep in that heart of yours. Do as Bronson says. Put that gun down.”

  Nate’s hand shook more violently. He didn’t put the gun down.

  Bronson inched his way forward.

  Nate noticed it, and he moved his aim from the window to Bronson.

  Bronson stopped but continued to scoot an inch or two at a time.

  “Look at me,” Ellen said. “I know you don’t want to do this. Save us. Save me.”

  Nate’s gaze traveled to meet Ellen’s. “Save you?”

  “You wanted to all along. I could tell.” Ellen continued to use her sugar-coated voice. “Now’s your chance. Please. Please, save me.”

  Nate looked down. His face remained impassive, but his eyebrows knit slightly in puzzlement.

  “Nate, look at me. Please don’t let me die.”

  Soon as Nate focused on Ellen, Bronson rushed him, thrusting his weight on Nate. The man expelled his breath in an extra loud hiss. Bronson stepped back and hit him as hard as he could just below the breast bone. The impact caused Nate’s legs to bend at right angles at the knees. His body didn’t know whether to straighten up or fall down.

  He dropped the gun, and this time Bronson retrieved it.

  The front door burst open and Duncan, followed by Southerland and the other men, stormed in. The ordeal was over, and Bronson’s burden lifted. His glimpse caught Duncan’s and for the first time, Bronson noticed the attractive dimples on either side of her smile. He smiled back and allowed Duncan to take control of the situation.

  Someone was untying Ellen, and someone else worked on Mike. It was taking longer than normal because they had to use knives because Nate had done such a good job with the knots. Ellen was the first one to be freed. She rushed to Bronson and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “You did such a wonderful job.” He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. “I received all of your messages that led us to you. Your performance here with Nate was worthy of an Academy Award.”

  “He said he recognized Mike’s voice. How?” When she spoke, her vocal chords trembled. “He also seemed to know everything about me. He knew about Mike’s and my relationship. He knew about the cruise. He knew I wouldn’t be contacting anyone for three months. How did he know that? I never told anyone. It was just something between us.”

  Bronson mentally slapped himself. He remembered when he first met Everett and he had walked away, a young man had bumped into him. At that time, Bronson had checked for his watch and his wallet, making sure the youth hadn’t stolen from him. Instead, he had planted a bug on him. Bronson had fallen for it and now Ellen had suffered. “It’s my fault,” he said. “Everett had a bug planted on me. I didn’t realize it until now. I’m so sorry.”

  Ellen looked at him and smiled. He knew she had forgiven him.

  By now, Mike was untied. Ellen disengaged herself from Bronson’s embrace and ran to Mike. He threw open his arms and they hugged. Both wept.

  Bronson gave them their space while he watched Southerland handcuff Nate and lead him out the door. Nate dragged his feet and kept his head hanging low.

  Bronson’s attention shifted to the paramedic who attended to Everett. When he fell, the knife had embedded itself deeper into his chest. In spite of the paramedic’s efforts, Everett’s face resembled a death mask. He opened his eyes, eyes that were bleak, dark and haunted. They were also filled with hate as they zoned in on Bronson. Without uttering a word, he took his last breath.

  Bronson walked away. He approached Mike, who had his arm wrapped around Ellen. “I like your fashion statement.”

  “Yeah? Well, buddy, even with me mostly naked, my fashion statement is still better than yours.”

  “Ouch.” Bronson smiled, and they stared at each other, both wanting a hug. Neither made the move.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Ellen said. She pushed Mike toward Bronson.

  They hugged.

  Chapter 87

  At the motel room, Bronson called Carol and filled her in on most of the details. Bottom line was Ellen and Mike were both okay, and that was the news he wanted to share with his wife.

  “Thank God,” Carol said. “Thank God,” she repeated. “What about you? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Very sure. I’ll probably spend maybe two, three days here in Morro Bay. I doubt I’ll be seein’—seeing—I’m trying to improve my pronunciation. I’ll explain later. Anyway, what I was saying is that I doubt that I’ll be seeing much of Mike and Carol. They’ve locked themselves up in the motel room next to mine.”

  Carol laughed, and Bronson smiled. He’d forgotten how much Carol’s laughter filled him with warmth.

  “What are you going to be doing in Morro Bay?” Carol asked.

  “I need to answer any questions Duncan may have.”

  Carol’s voice brightened. “Then you’ll come home?”

  Bronson let out a sigh. “No, I’m afraid that from here, I’ll have to head back to Alaska. But as soon as I get things straightened out over there, I’ll rush home, and honey, I promise I won’t leave you again.”

  Carol let out a small, sad laugh. “I’ve heard that one before, so I won’t hold you to your promise.” She paused for a second. “In fact, I won’t even scold you for the cup of coffee you’re holding in your hands. I understand you’re celebrating and you loaded it with all of that sugar.”

  Bronson looked at the steaming cup of coffee resting on the night stand. How did she know? “I love you,” he said. They chatted for over an hour. When they disconnected, Bronson felt the pang of emptiness. How he missed his wife.<
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  Bronson lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His cell rested next to him, and his fingertips drummed its screen. He pushed the phone away and closed his eyes. He snapped them open. He sat up and reached for the phone. He shook his head and set the phone to the side. He stared at it as though any minute now it would grow fangs.

  Nothing wrong if he called to say thank you. He should call for that and for that only.

  Bronson made the call.

  “Senator Eileen Garland’s office. How can I help you?” the perky voice at the other end of the line said.

  “This is Harry Bronson. I’d like to speak to the senator on a personal matter.”

  “Just a minute please.”

  This time the call went directly to the senator. “Bronson, good to hear from you. Did you make it to California in time to save your friend?”

  “I did.” Bronson proceeded to briefly explain the events. When he finished, he said, “Mainly, I’m calling to thank you for all the strings you pulled to get that done.”

  “Anytime. Glad I could help.”

  “You sure did.” Bronson’s voice trailed off.

  The senator immediately picked up on it. “But there’s something else you’d like for me to do.”

  Bronson remained quiet. Then, “No, not really.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “There is, but I’m not sure I should ask.”

  “You should. I can always say no.”

  Bronson asked.

  Chapter 88

  Two days later, Bronson found himself on a commercial flight headed to Fairbanks, Alaska. Just as he had expected, the Alaska State Police’s reception was a bit cool, but Bronson couldn’t blame them. He hung around, answering all of their questions and addressing their concerns.

  Two weeks had already dragged by, and he wished Detective Jackson Brandt would dismiss him. Bronson imagined that they kept him there, not because they needed him, but because they wanted to show him that he simply couldn’t walk out any time he wanted to.