The Standoff

by Scott Blade

  Abe realized the South Carolina Highway Patrol uniform belonged to the patrolman he’d met earlier with Adonis. He never saw the other agents. They were up in the helicopter. But he knew none of them were legit. Only Adonis was the real agent.

  Abe said, “What the hell is this?”

  Abel stepped up two long paces in front of the black guy, but behind Adonis.

  He said, “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Abe White.”

  “Abraham. What a great, Bibical name. Well, Mr. White, my name’s Joseph Abel.”

  “I know who you are!”

  “Oh, good. Then this can be easy. I prefer to do this the easy way and not the hard way. You know what the hard way is?”

  Abe raised his rifle and pointed it at Abel.

  “I don’t much care for any way that’s your way.”

  Brooks quickly raised his M4, pointed it at Abe, followed by the two guys dressed as ATF agents by Henry’s truck and the one from Abe’s right, standing at Walter’s truck.

  Abel said, “Mr. White, you don’t have a choice. Why not put down that peashooter, before someone gets hurt?”

  Abe stayed where he was. His cheeks slowly turned red in the snow and the cold.

  The snow fell rapidly, climbing in speed, showering a white, translucent curtain between all of them.

  Abel said, “Brooks.”

  Brooks nodded and slowly lowered the target of his M4 down to Adonis. He stepped closer to her and pointed the M4 right at the back of her head.

  She looked up at Abe, made eye contact. She shook her head slowly telling him no. Telling him to say no to whatever they demanded.

  “No! Wait!” Abe shouted.

  Brooks didn’t fire, but Abe saw his finger on the trigger.

  Abel said, “Do you want a dead ATF agent on your front lawn? On your conscience? Because it will be your fault.”

  Abe kept his rifle up.

  He said, “I’m not letting you in my house.”

  “Mr. White, things aren’t up to you.”

  Abe stayed where he was. From behind him, he heard footsteps slowly coming down the hall. It was Abby. She walked past the mudroom and the foyer and stopped in the doorway.

  He heard his wife’s voice.

  “Abe, what’s going on?”

  “Stay back, Abby!”

  “Is this the Missus?” Abel asked.

  Abe turned at the waist to look back at Abby. She stared at him. Her rifle dangled and shivered by her side in one hand.

  “Go back, Abby!”

  “Abby, it’s nice to meet you,” Abel said. “Why don’t you come out here and join us?”

  Abe turned back to Abel, rifle still pointed at him.

  “You leave her out of this!”

  Abel asked, “Abe, where’s Foster?”

  Abe stared at him in disbelief.

  “Where’s Maggie and Dylan and Lauren?”

  “What?”

  Abby said, “How do you know their names?”

  “Don’t be surprised,” Abel said. He raised his voice higher and shouted out at the house so the whole White family could hear him.

  “I know all your names,” he shouted. “I know everyone in your family. I know everyone in your house.”

  Both Abby and Abe stared at Abel in terror.

  Abel shouted, “Maggie, Lauren, Foster, and little Dylan, why not come on out here?”

  Abe’s eyes lingered on Abel a little longer. Then he turned his head and looked at Walter sitting in the truck, shame on his face.

  “Oh, don’t be hard on your son, Abe. No one resists me. He’s no military-trained, hardened combatant. He told me everything I asked in less than a minute. It only took a punch to the gut to get him to squeal like a pig.”

  The two guys at Henry’s truck snickered.

  Abel said, “Even the old man there.”

  He pointed at Henry.

  “That old sheriff took more abuse and he didn’t tell us nothing.”

  Abel shrugged and walked forward, passing Brooks, passing Adonis. He closed in on the rifle in Abe’s hands.

  He said, “No one’s ever resisted us. No one. The ones who try…”

  Abel stepped up the driveway, into the snow, his hands out and up like he was giving himself over as an offering. He walked up the steps, slowly, and lowered his hands, palm out in front of Abe like he was waiting for Abe to hand over his weapon.

  Abel said, “The ones who try, they die slow deaths.”

  He stared into Abe’s eyes.

  “You want your family to survive?”

  Abe nodded, said nothing.

  Abel said, “Give me the rifle. Hand over all your weapons and give us shelter through the storm. Then we’ll leave you and your family in peace.”

  Abe’s eyes flicked left to right, like he was searching for something or someone. He looked at the drive, past the last car. He looked at the forest of planted Christmas trees to the north. He looked for Widow.

  Abel said, “No one’s coming to help you. The ATF isn’t coming. This agent here...”

  Abel twisted at the waist and pointed back at Adonis.

  “She lied to you. She came alone. The ATF, the FBI, the local cops, none of them know where she is. There’s no backup.”

  Abe looked deflated.

  Abel said, “Give over the weapons and Walter can join us all in the house. We can be civil.”

  Abe asked a question. His voice shuddered under the weight of it.

  “No more bloodshed?”

  “No more bloodshed,” Abel said. He reached out and placed one hand on the rifle’s barrel in Abe’s hands. He pushed it down so that it no longer aimed at him.

  Abe didn’t fight back. He lowered the Winchester slowly.

  He knew in his heart that they would all die if they resisted. They couldn’t defend themselves against Abel and his guys. They were outgunned and out experienced.

  Through the open door behind him, Abby asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Put down your gun, Abigail. This is the only way to ensure our survival.”

  Abby lowered her rifle as well.

  Brooks signaled to the two guys standing at Henry’s truck to get moving. Both men walked up past Abel and Abe and took Abby’s rifle away from her.

  Abel took Abe’s Winchester and held it down by his side. He smiled.

  “You made the right decision, Mr. White. Now, let’s get in there and get any other guns you got. Mrs. White, would you be a dear and put on some coffee. Think you can scrounge together some lunch for my boys and me?”

  Abby said, “The power went out. We’re on a generator.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “The oven may not work.”

  “Of course, it’ll work. Don’t worry about it. Powering key appliances is what generators are for.”

  Abby said nothing.

  The two guys from Henry’s truck walked up to her. One pushed her aside and passed her and entered the house. The other jerked the rifle out of her hand and moved to stand directly behind her, towering over her.

  Abby stared past Abe at Abel.

  “I think so. What would you like to eat?”

  “Oh, surprise us. But something special. You know what? Go in the kitchen and look for your finest dish. The kind you save for when the president comes to visit and cook that up for us. Take your time now. I want it to be the best meal ever. Got it?”

  Abby nodded and turned. The big guy behind her was Tanis. He stayed there like a tree trunk.

  “I’ve got to go to the kitchen,” she pleaded.

  Tanis grinned and stepped aside. She went past him, past the mudroom, and off toward the kitchen

  He followed behind her, pairing his steps to match hers mockingly.

  Abel took the lever on the Winchester and racked it, over and over, quickly ejecting every bullet out the top until the gun ran empty. He took the rifle and walked back to Brooks, handed it to him.

  “Hide it behind t
he seat in the Tundra. Do the same with the rest after they collect them all. Make sure to lock it up. Do the same for the car and keep the keys handy.”

  Brooks nodded and looked down at Adonis. She was still on her knees in the snow.

  He asked, “What about her?”

  “Take her up to one of the bedrooms. The master bedroom. Handcuff her to the bed. I’ll check in on her later on. Maybe after lunch.”

  Abel cracked a grin.

  Adonis started to protest and shout. Abel reared his foot back and kicked her in the stomach with a heavy boot.

  “Shut up! You’re lucky to be alive.”

  He turned back to Brooks and gave him one more order.

  “Gag her. I don’t want to hear her voice again.”

  Brooks nodded. He went to the cruiser’s trunk to find an extra car rag. He found one that was in a pack of clean rags. He returned to Adonis and shoved it in her mouth, forcibly.

  He went to the Tundra and leaned the rear bench forward and laid out Abe’s rifle. He left the seat forward for Tanis and Cucci to return with any other weapons they found.

  Abel walked up to Abe and threw an arm around his neck as if they were grade school friends.

  “Come on, Abe. Show me around your house. I’m especially interested in how you became a Christmas tree farmer. Tell me about it.”

  The two men walked into the house together. Sounds of arguing and fighting and loud voices came from the upstairs, but no gunshots.

  A long minute went by. Then the rest of the White family came down the stairs and joined Abe and Abel in the living room near the fireplace.

  Abel saw the sofa against the sliders. He pointed at it and barked an order at Tanis and Cucci.

  “Now how did that get there? Do the Whites a favor, boys, and move that sofa back over here away from the slider.”

  Tanis and Cucci did as ordered.

  They all sat, trying to crowd onto the same couch. The children both sat on the floor at Maggie’s feet.

  None of them spoke. None of them dared to speak. They just all stared at Abel.

  Abe stayed standing and Abel sat at an armchair.

  “Got any cigars, Abe?”

  “I do.”

  “Bring out your best. Make it one for me and one for you.”

  Abel drew his Glock out and kept it in his hand, but resting on his knee. He stared at Abe, who walked to the mantle above the fireplace and opened a cigar box, took out a couple of Fuente cigars still in plastic wrappers. He also came out with a silver Zippo.

  He unwrapped the first cigar and tried to give it to Abel.

  Abel didn’t take it with his hand. Instead, he opened his mouth and leaned forward. Abe slid it into his mouth, like a slave from another time. He whipped out the Zippo and lit the cigar. Abel kept his eyes locked on Abe’s the whole time. It was some sort of twisted power trip.

  Abel smoked the cigar.

  He said, “Abe, my man, that one’s for you. Why don’t you take a seat there, near me?”

  Abe sat on one of the arms of a sofa just across from Abel.

  “What about my son?”

  “Oh, right,” Abel said. He looked back at the front door.

  Brooks was hauling Adonis in. She was kicking and mumbling against the car rag stuffed in her mouth. Brooks had her in a bear hug. His M4 was strapped across his back.

  Adonis’s feet were clear off the ground. Brooks didn’t seem to be phased by her kicks.

  Abel called over to him.

  “When you’re done with her, tell Flack to bring Walter and the sheriff in here. They can join us.”

  Brooks didn’t answer. He just nodded.

  Abel leaned back in the armchair.

  “You got a nice place here, Abe. Nice life. I bet you really enjoy it. It’ll be hard for me to leave later. But don’t worry. A deal is a deal. As long as your family cooperates.”

  Abel glanced over at Foster as he said it.

  He repeated, “As long as everyone cooperates. Does as I ask. We’ll have no problems.”

  Chapter 45

  W IDOW HEARD the lightning and thunder revving up. He saw the gray clouds sweep overhead, covering the sky. He waited till all the vehicles drove out of Pine Farms and stayed out of sight. He knew where they were going. They were going over to the Whites’ place. There wasn’t much other explanation for keeping Walter alive. They didn’t need him as a hostage. They had Adonis. She would make a more valuable bargaining chip than Walter. But they’d kept Walter alive, which indicated they were stopping at the Whites’ place next—probably to take cover until nightfall. They had cargo that Widow could only guess contained explosives or drugs or something of value. Explosives made the most sense. Why else package everything and stamp and address it all so meticulously, as well as stack it and transport it under armed guard?

  Widow compartmentalized this new information and focused on one thing at a time. He’d watched three ATF agents load up the cargo and counted one other guy, who was Joseph Abel. The three ATF agents were obviously not ATF agents. They had stolen the uniforms from Adonis’s crew. He knew that for sure. What he didn’t know was if the others were still alive or dead?

  This was his chance to find out. The other agents hadn’t left with Abel and his guys, but they had come over here with Adonis. They must still be there. Maybe he would get lucky and find them all tied up somewhere on the property, or maybe not. Maybe they were dead.

  The other opportunity that presented itself was that they’d left the sniper behind, probably for road cover, probably to watch the surrounding backroads and the skies for incoming law enforcement, in case Abe or his family had heard the shotgun blast from earlier and gotten through to the cops or FBI.

  Widow knew that they didn’t. He knew that when he saw the telephone pole’s transformer explode earlier, which meant that there was another guy in Abel’s crew. That must’ve been the black guy that came by earlier and took Walter with him on a lie about a vehicle breakdown. Widow figured that guy was sent over to recon the family and took the truck, which meant Walter was along for the ride. But now, he was a liability, along with Abe and his family.

  Right now, Widow couldn’t risk following the crew over to the Whites’ farm, not while the sniper was perched in his nest. If he wanted to get back over there in time to stop anything bad from happening to the Whites, he would have to take out the sniper first. If he snuck back the way he had come, it would take too long. He would have to go slow, so the sniper wouldn’t notice him. It wasn’t fast enough.

  The only way forward was to take down the sniper first.

  Widow waited for the last of the vehicles to roll out, when he was sure that he was alone with the sniper. He wasn’t sure how long they would keep the guy up there, so he wanted to move fast.

  He walked out to the front of the farmhouse, staying low, hugging the exterior walls where he could. He kept one eye on the view from the barn loft to make sure that the sniper couldn’t see him.

  He saw the suppressor on the end of the rifle turn slowly. He froze and waited. The rifle stopped facing northeast, his direction. It was facing way over his head at the road.

  Widow turned and came to the farmhouse front window. He glanced in and saw nothing but darkness. He leaned over and put an ear to the glass. He listened but heard nothing but the farmhouse’s old creaking bones.

  He wasn’t one hundred percent sure the farmhouse was empty, not without clearing it. But he was satisfied enough. He didn’t want to go farther and risk the sniper catching him. However, he hadn’t seen any of Adonis’s men when Abel’s guys left. He only saw Abel’s guys in stolen uniforms. Therefore, Adonis’s agents were still there somewhere. Widow would’ve put them in the house if he were Abel. Probably locked them in the basement. He would have to come back to see if he could find them after he took out the sniper.

  Widow turned and faced the barn. He raised the Winchester, pointed it at the loft.

  He crept back along the farmhouse wall to the
corner, until he was back in the sniper’s blind spot. Then he slow-scrambled the twenty-plus yards to the barn, keeping his steps big and long. He put all his weight on each without stomping down on the snow.

  At the barn, he backed off the wall and pointed the rifle at the doors. He sidestepped left and covered the doors. No movement. No sign that the sniper knew he was there.

  Widow reached out and grabbed one of the door handles. He pulled it and stepped back with the turn to keep the door between him and any bullets that might come his way.

  The door raked up gravel and snow. The scrape on the ground shoveled out a loud scratching sound. He pulled the door halfway open, big enough for him to squeeze through. Then he paused and listened. He looked up at the bottom of the loft window.

  The sniper rifle didn’t move. He heard creaking, low enough to be dismissed as a wind. Then the rifle barrel and suppressor rotated again, slowly to the southwest. He watched it stop there. Then he heard coughing. A second later, he heard shuffling, light, not like the sniper had jumped up to see what the noise from the barn door was. They were just slow, non-threatening shuffles on wooden planks, like the sniper slid himself into a better sitting position. But Widow wasn’t born yesterday, so he stayed where he was, Winchester pointed at the wall just under the window, where he pictured the sniper to be seated.

  He waited, keeping his aim up, ready to flick his wrist up and lean back and fire at the open window if the guy stuck his head out. But he didn’t. Instead, Widow heard a sound known all over the globe, except for people of remote parts of the world who still hunted by bow and arrow and just discovered fire.

  He heard the Psshhhhhhh of a beer can being popped open, followed by the sound of a man taking a swig from it. He even burped after.

  The sniper had no idea Widow was there, which was good.

  Widow lowered his rifle and moved through the half-open barn door. He didn’t linger in the doorway. He stepped through and rotated and pointed the Winchester to where the sniper was seated. He slowly moved to the center of the barn. He was forced to stop when he nearly walked into a parked van. It was all black. The rear doors were closed and the engine was cold.

  Widow took cover behind it as a precaution. He scanned the first floor of the barn. There were numerous horse stalls and old bales of hay—so dusted over they looked ancient. The barn’s woodwork was old but looked stable. There were no tools anywhere in sight. The previous owners had taken everything that mattered.