Authors: Keith Domingue
“They’re not headed to Phoenix. They’re headed to the Gila River Indian Reservation.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.” Stephens replied.
“Yes it does.”
They all turned at the sound of Richard Brown’s voice, and watched the tall, barrel-chested soldier turned CEO approach them, taking off his jacket without breaking stride.
“Welcome, sir. How was your flight?” Stephens said as he held out his hand.
Brown responded by handing Stephens his jacket.
“The Gila River Indian Reservation is part of the Pima Indian Nation.” Brown continued, as he took a closer look at the satellite images.
“And that’s technically not American soil. Indians are not exactly open to having white men with guns and uniforms running around on their land.”
“So what do you want us to do?” Stephens asked.
“What you’ve been doing. You have night tracking capabilities. Just stay on the vehicles, and whoever is in them. They’re going to have to sleep at some point, and I want to know when and where.”
Brown pulled his cell phone, hit a number on the speed dial and held it to his ear. As it rang, he noticed that Stephens was still looking at him, confused.
“The next phase is what Special Ops are for.”
• • •
Stern slammed the rear doors of the Suburban shut just as Wolfe’s cell phone rang. Wolfe checked the caller ID, looked at Stern as he answered.
“Yes sir.”
He moved his hand in a rolling motion, indicating to his partner that they were on the move. Stern nodded, and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat. Wolfe scrambled into the passenger side of the SUV, his phone still against his ear.
“Yes sir.” He said again. “We’re on our way now. We’ll establish a perimeter, wait for your call.”
He hung up his phone. He looked at the device waiting for a text file. It pinged, indicating he had just received a GPS map of their destination.
“They’re headed to the Gila Indian Reservation.”
“We gotta get them before they reach there, I take it.”
“No.” Wolfe shook his head.
“The last thing Brown wants is any sort of incident in broad daylight.”
“So what’s the order?”
“Stay on the perimeter and watch. Wait for the call. Take them into custody in the middle of the night. And call Brown when we have them secured.”
“Bag’em and tag’em. Got it. Not a problem.” Stern replied, before firing up the Suburban, slipping it into drive, and pulling out of the hangar.
• • •
The only road that led into Snaketown became unpaved less than a mile beyond the freeway. Alex carefully navigated the rut and rock filled desert pass, going past occasional mud huts, car skeletons, and dilapidated structures, the van driven by Camila right behind him. It was just past five p.m. in the evening, and the deep orange colored sun hung low on the horizon. As the light faded the shadows grew, the desert seemingly coming alive as it turned towards the night.
Alex noticed a pick up truck ahead in the distance, the vehicle tilted at an angle as it sat parked just off the road, the front of the vehicle pointed in their direction. As Alex got close enough to see a human form behind the wheel, the pickup signaled with a flash of its headlights. Alex slowed to a crawl as he approached, pulling to a stop about five car lengths before the truck. He watched as the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat stepped from the cab. His large frame crossed in front of the headlight beams of his truck, revealing a shotgun in his hands.
“This place was on the list, right? Of safe havens?” Chris commented nervously as he watched the man approach the driver’s side of the Prelude.
“We’re fine.” Alex answered. “I hope.” He added.
Alex motored down his window as the man waited.
“This is private property. No tourists or campers allowed.” The man said to Alex, the shotgun barrel held visibly just below the window, a warning height, one that would be quick and easy to raise to a head level blast on both passengers in the Prelude, should he choose.
“My name is Alex Luthecker. Master Winn from Los Angeles said we would have safe harbor here. I was told to ask for William Hayes.”
The man looked at Alex a moment before looking inside the car, carefully examining both Chris and the back seat of the car.
Alex looked straight ahead, and noticed the shadow-figure of another man quickly sit up from the bed of the pickup truck, shotgun first, propping the weapon on the roof of the truck cab, the barrel pointing directly at the van with Camila and Yaw, parked behind the Prelude.
“Proof?” The man at his window asked.
Alex turned to Chris, and Chris reached into the back seat of the car.
“Slowly.” The man requested, his shotgun now trained on Alex’s head.
Chris pulled one of his Kali sticks from his backpack, one of the specially designed aluminum ones, and held it across Alex towards the open window.
The man with the shotgun took it from him, and carefully examined the intricate handcrafted markings. Satisfied, he looked to the man in the back of his truck and nodded. The other riflemen lifted his barrel.
“I’m William Hayes.” He stated. “The 3
rd
. You’re looking for my Grandfather. He’s been expecting you.” He said, as he handed the stick back to Alex. “Follow me.” He added, before turning back towards his pickup truck.
Alex and Chris watched as the man in the truck bed sat back down and out of view. William Hayes climbed back in the cab and kicked the truck in gear, spinning it around in a cloud of dust onto the Gila River Indian Reservation.
AN OFFER
“I
’m really craving pizza right now.” Ben Ellis said, his voice low and cracking from lack of use.
“I’ll see what I can do.” His sister replied with a smile, as she sat on the side of his bed, his right hand in both of hers.
He grabbed the bed remote with his free hand and motored the mattress a few degrees more upright. The bandage around his head was smaller than the initial wrap; the blackness around his eyes more purple and yellow than black, an indication that the contusions were healing.
“Doc says that if all is well, in another two days, I’m outta here.” He announced.
“But you still have to rest.”
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek, before his mood suddenly turned dark.
“What?” Nikki asked as she saw the change.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes there is. That whole night. It was all my idea. And Scott…” He trailed off, looking off towards the window. She was about to say something when he turned back.
“If you would have gotten in that car.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know.”
The question hung in the air, and Ben finally voiced it.
“That guy. The one who told you specifically not to get in Scott’s car. Who was he? How did he know?”
“I don’t know.” She replied, “
but I’m going to find out.”
She added in her thoughts.
“His face has been stuck in my head. The whole time I was out. Like this weird dream.” Ben continued.
“That’s because it was one of the last things that happened to you before-”
“He saved your life.” He cut her off. “I’d really like to find him. And thank him.”
His last words stopped her. She hadn’t thought of it that way. She realized that her anger and guilt had framed his act as suspicious, making him an easy target to blame for what happened.
“All I know is that you’re going to get better bro, I’ll take care of you, and in no time, things will be back to normal.” She finally responded.
“No.” He replied. “Things will not go back to normal. Everything’s changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve changed. I’ve got to get my shit together. I’ve been given a second chance here, and I’m not going to waste it.” He looked her in the eye.
“I’ve got to be more like you.”
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea. Being me is not all that it’s cracked up to be.” She replied, smiling weakly, moved by his words and trying very hard not to cry.
“I didn’t say, “be” you. I don’t think I’m capable of that. I said be more “like” you.”
He squeezed her hand.
“I think we both can grow from this experience. What do you say?”
“Do I have to take a Yoga class?” She joked.
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Then it’s a deal.”
She leaned over to give her brother a hug, when a knock at the door interrupted. They both turned to look at the source and saw Michael Kittner standing in the doorframe.
Nikki immediately got to her feet.
“Michael.”
“Hi Nikki. I came straight from the airport.”
He entered the room and looked at Ben.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” Ben replied, the tone in his voice less than enthusiastic, making no attempt to hide his disdain for Kittner.
Nikki looked at her brother, unsure what to say, when he let her off the hook.
“I think I’m going to rest a bit. Why don’t you two grab lunch or something.”
“Okay.” She replied. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll come back in about an hour, check on you.”
“Sounds good,” He answered, before watching his sister and her ex-boss and ex-boyfriend leave his room.
• • •
Michael Kittner smiled at Nikki as they sat on a park bench just outside of the hospital entrance.
“Say what you have to say.” She told him, her arms crossed in front of her, her anger at Michael palpable in her voice.
“Nikki, don’t be like this.”
She didn’t reply.
Kittner gathered his thoughts before he spoke.
“Look, like I said on the phone, I’m sorry, I was wrong. You were right, I was mad at you for rejecting me, and I had just lost everything. But that’s no excuse. I still love you Nikki, and I want the best for you. And that’s what I think this opportunity is.”
She looked at him.
“Your brother is going to get better, and thank God, because that’s what matters most. But when he does, you have to go on living. I know you’re emotional right now, but eventually you’re going to have to look at this objectively. You’re going to have to get back to work.”
Nikki bit her tongue. She wanted to respond to his assumptions about her mental state, and what “she should do”, but knew she had to have patience. She would wait until after he made his offer.
“You have a gift, Nikki. Trading is in your blood. No one is better.”
“Is this about Phoebe?” She blurted out.
“No. This is about living your dreams. This is about taking care of your family. You could become a very wealthy woman. And as much as you may think I’m a mercenary for being open about it, we both know that without money, life is very hard. Just think of the good you could do, if you had the resources.”
He paused for a moment, to let that sink in.
“Now, the individual who put me in charge of this fund, has authorized me to offer you ten million dollars, up front, to sign on for just one year. It won’t count against your commissions and it’s win or lose. No one gets that kind of offer these days, Nikki.”
“Who is this individual?”
“I can only say if you take the offer.”
“Is that it? Are you finished?” She asked.
“It’s a second chance, Nikki. To have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Nikki mulled over her response.
“Ten million dollars is a lot of money.” She started. “And it’s a generous offer. But I realize now that one thing the events of the last two weeks have changed in me is that I’m no longer afraid of the world. Or lack of resources. Because after watching bodies burn, my boyfriend turn on me over lost profit, and how fragile life is, I can no longer pursue money for money’s sake. Yes, money is important. But like you say, I have gifts. And I have faith in those gifts, and I may not know the exact direction yet, but I’m going to use them to build something important. So I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pass.”
Kittner sat back, stunned, baffled, and unsure what to say.
“Are you serious?” He finally asked.
“Very.”
He steepled his hands in front of his face, wrapping his fingers together, trying to think of another angle. This wasn’t like her. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why she was turning down the offer and babbling such nonsense. It was such an obvious choice to him. He took a deep breath, trying not to get frustrated.
“I understand. It’s too soon. I apologize.” He said, slow and measured. “Just promise me…” He hesitated because the words he was saying echoed all too familiar.
“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“Go back to New York, Michael.”
The sound of her phone ringing interrupted them.
“Excuse me, I have to check this.” She said as she pulled the phone from her purse and glanced at the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number, and would normally let it go to voice mail. But right now, she was looking for anything to distract her from this conversation, so she decided to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Ellis?”
“Speaking.”
“It’s detective Miller, from the LAPD. I may have some good news for you regarding your brother’s case.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“I know it’s short notice, but maybe you could meet me for lunch to discuss?”
And there it is, she thought. If she needed any leverage to get close to Alex Luthecker, this would be the opportunity.
“Sure.” She answered.
“Really? Wow. Okay. Café Venice? One O’Clock?” He replied, notable surprise in his voice.
“Okay. I’ll meet you there.” She answered, before hanging up.
“Who was that?” Kittner asked, with more than a bit of curiosity.
“The police. They have information regarding my brother’s accident, and want to discuss it with me. I have to go.”
She stood up and he did with her. She kissed him on the cheek, and gave him a long hug.
“It was good to see you. And thank you, for everything you’ve done for me. I still love you, and I wish you nothing but the best.” She said, with the melancholy of finality in her voice.