The Alamo

by Roland Smith

  Dirk Peski motioned her toward him. Angela couldn’t believe it. Dirk Peski? The Paparazzi Prince? Angela knew he was an operative working with Ziv. He had been involved in their meeting with her mother at Independence Hall, and somehow he’d gotten himself into the White House. He was always snapping photos of celebrities and he’d been tracking them all across the country. So there must have been something to his story. She was also certain she didn’t like him. Not one bit. Really, Mr. President? Dirk Peski? She wanted to scream.

  Angela was about to turn away and return to the lobby, but as Croc darted toward the vehicle, Peski ran around and opened the door to the backseat. Croc hopped inside. Reluctantly Angela followed. She stood at the open door.

  Dirk was back around the car, climbing into the driver’s side.

  “Get in!” he shouted.

  Croc barked and Angela looked at him, sitting on his haunches in the backseat. Traitor, she thought to herself.

  Angela got into the front seat. Dirk put the Escalade in gear and sped out of the valet parking area and onto the street. She quickly buckled her seat belt as he maneuvered through traffic.

  “Whoa!” Angela hollered as he accelerated to pass a car, veering quickly back into the lane when a truck coming from the other direction nearly collided with them.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “To get Q. It’s a place called the Firebrand Ranch. J.R. sent the address to my onboard GPS. It’s going to take us about thirty minutes to get there. And we have to hook up with someone else nearby. But Q is there. At least his watch is.”

  “Somebody else?” Angela said, instantly alarmed. “Who?”

  Dirk explained to her about the sheriff and what had happened with Eben and Ziv.

  “J.R. checked his background. He is on the phone with him right now, explaining enough to get him to help us.”

  “How did somebody like you get a car like this?” she asked.

  “I’m NOC, just like Boone. Well, nobody’s like Boone. But I’ve been working in the trade for a long time. I also truly am the Paparazzi Prince. It’s a good cover and it pays pretty well.”

  Angela snorted. As far as she was concerned, NOC for Dirk meant Noxious Obnoxious Cretin. And he was right about one thing … he was nothing like Boone.

  “What?” Dirk asked.

  “Nothing.” She frowned and crossed her arms, biting her lower lip.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Paparazzi are bad. But let me tell you. I’ve been around long enough to know that famous people use the press as much as the press uses them.”

  He gave the Escalade more gas, swerving into the left lane and zooming around two cars before cutting back into the right-hand lane. Angela closed her eyes.

  “Just one thing, Dirk. You just want to use everybody. You don’t distinguish between people who are truly artists and could care less about the fame part. Like Blaze and my dad,” Angela snapped.

  “Everybody has their opinion. Roger and Blaze are talented artists. And they’re nice people and good parents. But they’re also musicians who make a lot of money and are in the public eye. A certain amount of privacy is given up for that. That’s just how it is.”

  “Hmm,” is all Angela said.

  “Whatever. Can we discuss the philosophy of a free press another time?”

  “I want you to know, I don’t trust you,” Angela said.

  “I know,” Dirk replied. “But J.R. does. And so does your grandfather.”

  “Hmm,” Angela said.

  Dirk just shrugged and kept driving. Angela looked out the window as the city faded behind them. Before too long they were in open country and Dirk put the gas pedal to the floor. Soon they were blazing down a black ribbon of highway.

  “You better not get stopped,” Angela warned.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got friends in high places,” he said.

  Thirty minutes later they reached the outskirts of a small town. Dirk pulled into the Valiant County sheriff’s station parking lot. Right near the entrance to the lot stood a large panel truck with Valiant County Animal Control on the side. A man in a Stetson and a tan uniform was leaning on the front fender of a sheriff’s patrol car.

  “How do we know we can trust him?” Angela said.

  “Because POTUS vouches for him. And when J.R. vets someone, you can take it to the bank,” Dirk said. “Let’s go meet our new partner.”

  As they exited the Escalade, the man walked over to them and shook their hands. Angela liked his no-nonsense demeanor.

  “You must be Mr. Peski and Ms. Tucker,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Tom Hackett. I have everything ready to go.”

  A few minutes later, Angela was in the front seat of the cruiser with Sheriff Hackett while Dirk drove the Animal Control truck behind them.

  The sheriff was trying to get information out of her. And it was a real struggle. “I have to say, there’re probably ten thousand sheriffs in the entire country who don’t ever get a personal call from the president of the United States, and here I am in little Valiant County, Texas, and I get two in the same day. You ever heard of such a thing?” he asked.

  Angela could tell the man was nervous. By her count, in the short drive from town to the gate of the Firebrand Ranch he asked her seventeen questions, all of them rhetorical. She knew that law-enforcement personnel were trained to ask questions during interrogations. Asking questions disarmed people. It got them to give up information they might not otherwise reveal. But the sheriff did not know that Angela was wise to this tactic and wasn’t going to spill. Still, she wanted him on their side. So far he’d seemed somewhat reluctant.

  “Hmm. That is pretty unusual, I guess,” she said noncommittally.

  “And then for the president to tell me the most prominent citizen in my county is involved in a kidnapping! That’s so hard to believe. I mean, if it was a kidnapping I sure can’t figure out why the president is sending me, you, and a single CIA guy—who doesn’t look anything like a CIA agent, I gotta say—and not the FBI.”

  “I don’t know, Sheriff. I’m sure the president has his reasons,” she said.

  Angela was saved from further questions by their arrival at the ranch. The cruiser stopped in the driveway a good fifty yards from the house. It was finally dark. The lights from the house and the headlights from the vehicles gave off a kind of spooky glow. As the sheriff approached the mansion, he shone his big flashlight around the ground and trees and bushes along the way as if he were looking for something. Dirk had relayed their cover story to them at the station. A rabid dog was reportedly seen in the area. As sheriff, he had come to personally check it out, to make sure Miss Ruby and her staff were safe. Loyal public servant and all that.

  Angela opened her door and crept into the back of the panel van. Dirk had changed into a dark blue jumpsuit that said Valiant County Animal Control on the pocket. He held a catchpole with a loop of rope on the end of it. Croc was ready and waiting. Angela took out a note she had written for Q and stuck it in Croc’s collar. Croc shot out the back door and started barking and growling and Dirk followed him out.

  “Hey, dog!” he shouted. “Hey!”

  At first the sheriff had doubted their rescue plan. Dirk was going to pretend to be an animal-control officer and they were going to turn Croc loose. The sheriff was going to try to distract the people in the house and see if Croc could get inside and get Q out.

  The sheriff stopped and returned to the van. He had been dubious about relying on the smelly old dog. But Dirk was insistent.

  “Sheriff, we don’t have a lot of time or options. We can’t go in with guns blazing. They’ll kill the boy. You’re going to have to trust us. And Angela may be fifteen but she’s been in the thick of things for a while now. I’m sure J.R. told you all about her. Now we have to get moving.”

  The sheriff frowned and looked up toward the house. Angela chimed in, trying to reassure and win him over. “I know what it looks like, Sheriff. But that old dog just took dow
n a bad guy holding me at gunpoint. He’s a lot more … resourceful … than he looks,” Angela said.

  “What if it don’t work?” the sheriff asked.

  “If that happens, we’ll have to come up with another plan,” Dirk said.

  “I don’t like it,” the sheriff said.

  “You’ll have to get in line,” Angela said. “Because no one likes it.”

  When the sheriff reached the front door, a light came on and Miss Ruby opened it. Dirk slipped away in the darkness. He had quickly briefed everyone on their role at the station. When the door opened, Angela could see them talking, and the sheriff was gesturing and holding his hat in his hands and doing a good job of selling their cover story. If he was following the script, the sheriff was telling Miss Ruby that some of her neighbors had been calling the office about a rabid-dog sighting all day and now they had tracked it back to her ranch. He came out to assist and make sure nothing bad happened. Wanted to let her know he was here in person. Making sure everything was okay, like a good local law-enforcement officer would.

  Angela closed her eyes and let out a breath. Thank heavens J.R. had been right. The sheriff and Dirk were up to the task.

  Now the rest was up to Croc.

  Waiting on the Cavalry

  Sean, still dressed like a room-service waiter, was rooted to his spot by the window, like he was waiting for a delivery or something. It made me wonder if someone was on the way here. Someone important. Both of them were acting a little skittish, the way you do when you’re expecting trouble or you get sent to the principal’s office. Not that I had any personal knowledge of that.

  Miss Ruby was bad enough, and the thought of someone higher up than her suddenly appearing was really making me squirm. Malak told Boone that Miss Ruby was number three in importance in the cell. That left only two people higher up the ladder.

  I had managed to gather up all the cards and had sat back down at the desk, my head bobbing onto my chest. The library was a big room and Miss Ruby paced a lot and spoke in a low voice. Something about ashes and martyrs, which sounded like a bunch of terrorist mumbo jumbo, and then talk about cents and graphs, which made me think they might be working on an expense account or something.

  I tried really hard to concentrate on what they were discussing because I knew it could be important. But I wasn’t as smart as Angela about this stuff. A few seconds later their conversation grew a little more animated and they began to argue.

  “If you think you’ve got a better idea, why don’t you call and ask him?” she said. “In fact, I’ll call him right now and you can ask him yourself. Then we’ll see how Number One likes being bothered by one of his foot soldiers.”

  I sat up straighter and tensed. She’d said call him. Now I knew that Number One was a man.

  Miss Ruby patted all of her pockets. Like someone does when they are trying to find their lighter or their phone. The phone that was currently in my pocket. Everything slowed down and I got tunnel vision as Miss Ruby marched toward the desk. I had been caught off-guard and had no time to switch the phone back. This wasn’t going to end well. For me.

  Miss Ruby stomped across the floor in her fancy cowboy boots. Her eyes roamed over the desk and she spotted “her” phone. As her hand reached for it, I felt like time froze in place.

  Outside a dog started barking.

  Rescue Dog

  Miss Ruby turned around and went back to the window. Sean was peering out into the darkness. Neither of them appeared overly concerned. Robert stood still in the middle of the room, watching me. Very still. Like a statue. I really wanted to stand up and get ready to run, but was afraid Sean and his itchy trigger finger would not appreciate it. Besides, Robert also looked like he could squish me like a bug. Croc was here. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Angela was, but I preferred not to think about that. I doubted Croc would have left Angela alone with a gunman. Most of the drug had worn off. I just had to remember to make them think I was still under the influence of it. But now I had a pounding headache and my mouth was really dry.

  “You two check this out,” Miss Ruby said. “We had that rabid dog here earlier today, maybe it’s back.”

  A rabid dog? I remember Boone saying something about Croc acting like a mad dog while he got inside the house. I just wondered what I was supposed to do, seeing that I was still sitting in a room full of terrorists.

  Sean and Robert left the room. Miss Ruby stayed at the window. I eyed my phone that was lying on the desk in place of hers and toyed with the idea of switching it back. But if I could get out of here, there could be a ton of intelligence on her phone. Even direct contacts to the highest leadership of the ghost cell. I had to find a way to hang on to it.

  There was a lot of shouting and noise going on outside. The barking, growling, and snapping grew louder. It sounded like a mini riot.

  Sean and Robert had left the library door open. And now somebody was knocking on the front door.

  Miss Ruby cursed. Apparently there was no one else in the house to answer the door. The knocking continued.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” she muttered. She headed for the door but not before turning to give me a warning. “You best …” She stopped, because I was slumped back in the chair, my eyes closed and my body limp. I wanted her to think I’d been fighting the drug as hard as I could, but finally couldn’t hold out any more.

  When we were in Kitty Hawk, Malak had told us Bethany had pretended to be unconscious using something called yoga breath. I didn’t know how to do that, but I tried to make my breathing deep and slow. I willed my heart to beat slower but wasn’t sure that would happen.

  She was getting closer and I forced myself to stay still. A few moments later her fingertips touched my neck, checking my pulse. She snapped her fingers next to my face a couple of times and I managed not to flinch. After that she shook me by the arm. I let out the best fake snore of my life.

  Miss Ruby seemed satisfied because I heard her striding across the library floor and the door creaked slightly as she pushed it farther open. I waited another three seconds before I cracked open an eye. She was gone. I counted to ten to make sure she didn’t pop back in to try and catch me faking her out, but she didn’t. Still, there was very little time.

  I stood up. I jammed all my stuff into my pockets and hustled over to the window. It was locked and with no way to open it that I could see. It was dark outside. The library was off to the side of the house and from the angle of this window I couldn’t see the front door, just part of the side yard and the faint outline of the road and fence off in the distance. Though my field of vision was limited, I could hear the noise and commotion outside. Miss Ruby had gone to the front door, but maybe there was a back entrance. But Sean and Robert were who knows where—outside or inside—and I didn’t especially want to run into them. It was a huge house and it had to have more than a couple of ways in and out.

  I envied Boone. I’d been trying his little illusion but I still hadn’t figured it out. Now would have been the perfect time to use it.

  Poof! There He Is

  I was almost to the library door when I nearly tripped over Croc who had just poofed into the room. Though it startled me, I couldn’t believe how happy I was to see that old smelly dog.

  “Croc!” I whispered.

  Miss Ruby was talking to somebody at the front door. Now I wasn’t sure what to do. Croc bent his head around at the neck and I spied a piece of paper stuffed into his collar.

  Q,

  Croc is going to create a diversion. Get out of the house somehow and head for the van parked behind the sheriff’s cruiser. Try not to let anyone see you. The sheriff is on our side.

  Angela

  “Get out of the house somehow?” I whispered to myself. “Thanks for the specific instructions, sis!”

  “Okay,” I said quietly, “let’s figure a way out of here.” I looked down, but Croc was gone.

  Not more than three seconds later, barking and growling and shouting c
ame from outside. When I peered out the door of the library, I could see Miss Ruby down the hall, standing at the front door. She was talking to the sheriff, who Angela insisted was on our side. All I had seen of the house when they first brought me here was the front door, foyer, hallway, and the library. If there was another way out, I didn’t have much time to find it.

  The sheriff was looking over Miss Ruby’s shoulder and must have seen me, but he didn’t let his face betray anything. Instead he said, “It sounds like that mutt is a little hard to handle. I better see if they need some help. I just wanted you to know I was taking care of this personally, Miss Ruby.”

  I had no idea what she would do next. So I darted silently out of the library and into the bathroom across the hall. I kept the door open slightly so I could see the front door. My unconscious act must have convinced her because she walked past the library toward the back of the house. When she was out of sight I hustled down the hall to the front door and opened it a crack.

  The lights by the front door cut into the darkness a little. I heard more barking and shouting coming from the rear of the house. Croc had led everyone, including Miss Ruby, to the back so I could make it to the van. What a dog. As I ran, someone shouted, “There it is!” followed by “Grab it, you idiot!” They didn’t know they had very little chance of catching Croc if he didn’t want to be caught.

  The van was parked right behind the sheriff’s car. It wasn’t that far, but it seemed like miles. I ran as fast as I could to the rear door and threw it open. When I jumped in, there was Angela, waiting. I was never so glad to see someone in my entire life.

  “Oh, wow!” we both said at the same time.

  “Thank God you’re okay, I thought …” I started to say but couldn’t finish. Angela just nodded, a little teary-eyed. I gave her a huge hug.

  “If you hadn’t come out in another minute, we figured you might be unconscious or too drugged to escape,” Angela said. “I was going to try to sneak in and find you.”