The Light at the End of the Tunnel (10 page)

The front door wasn’t locked. Tyler got
inside quietly and laid his backpack down, then moved slowly down
the hall, hoping that Chloe would not already be home to maybe
screw everything up—how she adored that little bastard! He reached
the closed door to his room.

****

Les Paul was happily zipping the little
blipper around and around on the screen. He heard the doorknob
turn, but too late.
Tyler!
He screamed and jumped off the
stool as Tyler came in and said, “Little bastard! I
knew
it
was you!”

Tyler stood between Les Paul and the door.
Les Paul had always known that Tyler had never liked him from the
very first day he arrived. What he didn’t consider, and had
forgotten, was that also on the very first day he had made his
decision about which member of the family he would show his true
nature:
Tyler
.

The voice came to him,
As I have said time
and time again, this boy is trouble for you, and needs to be
dispatched. He is a heavy sleeper. Go to him tonight when all is
quiet. You don’t remember how you dispatched your twin brother in
the womb, but your hands do, and they will do it again. There is a
decorated leather rope that hangs on his bed. Now, say ‘I’m
sorry.’

Without even thinking, “I’m sorry.”

The anger on Tyler’s face left him. They both
heard the front door open and close. In just seconds Chloe
appeared, “What’s happening?” she cried, as she rushed into the
room, glanced first at Les Paul, then at her brother.

“Baby Boy was playing with my computer,”
Tyler said.

“Well, he didn’t
hurt
it, did he?”
Chloe then walked quickly to Les Paul and picked him up. The nearly
three-year-old child immediately began to cry, “Well?
Did
he?” she cried.

“No,” Tyler said, “He even said he was
sorry.”

“So there!” she cried, and hugged the child
even closer as she left the room.

Les Paul clung to her, the new word,
‘bastard,’
going through his mind.

Chapter 19 Talk With a Drug Pusher

The desert floor and Phoenix was new to both
the chaplain and Nicole. On the higher desert, where the training
facility was, there were more trees. They rode in the middle seat
of the van. Riley was driving, Tucker in shotgun. Two more men rode
in the back seat. Equipment and camping gear rode in the very end.
Sadie and Sheldon rode in a Denali four-wheel-drive pickup
following. The cook and mess cook remained behind at the facility.
Conversation during the trip was sparse. Riley had laid out the
plan entirely while still at the facility.

They reached what appeared to be a steakhouse
on the outskirts of the city. Riley looked back, “We’ll have coffee
here and discuss any last minute details,” he said, “Then Sheldon,
Tucker and Sadie will go in and find our quarry. When they have him
they’ll call, and we’ll meet about twenty miles from here at an
isolated ranch, where a friend of mine lives.”

Inside they sat at a table in the corner,
ordered their coffee, talked awhile, but no new plans were
discussed. They were ready. Ten minutes later the three operatives
left. The remaining five stayed at the table and discussed anything
but what they were there for.

An hour passed. The call came. Riley answered
and spoke for about 15 seconds, then hung up and glanced around the
table, “Party’s on, kids.”

The chaplain and Nicole glanced at each
other. Both nodded soberly and positively.

****

The Denali was waiting when they got
there.

Nicole strived to see their abductee. To her
knowledge she had never seen a drug dealer, and expected to see a
long-haired, bearded, Jesus Christ look-alike…that, or a
shady-looking and dark-haired Hispanic man, with maybe a knife held
in his teeth. She got neither. Dressed in a white shirt and beige
jeans, the grinning young man who stepped from the back door of the
Denali looked like the most studious of college freshman or
sophomore. “Hey, guys, I wasn’t exactly looking to go joyriding in
the country,” the young man said, then looked at Sadie who had just
stepped down from the shotgun position, “Miss, what’s up?”

“He’s just a boy,” Nicole whispered to the
chaplain, which brought a grin and quiet chuckle from Riley
Stokes.

The other two men from the pickup closed
their doors and came around to stand at each end of the pickup. The
young man looked from one person to the other, “Don’t you guys…I
mean, weren’t you planning…,” he swallowed, maybe finally realizing
his possible predicament, “A buy?” He finally got out.

Riley then stepped out of the van, closed the
door, and leaned against it.

“Oh, I see,” the young man said, “We were
waiting for the big boss…howdy!” He waved to Riley, who made no
return gesture.

Then the rest got out of the van. The other
two men, who Nicole didn’t remember the names of, moved to the two
ends of the pickup only farther away, and folded their arms.

“Guys,” the young man said, “I don’t really
understand what’s going on.” No more grin remained on the young
man’s face. He now acted pretty sure that he might be in
trouble.

The chaplain and Nicole waited for their
entry. Nicole felt calm, yet her heart was beating at a rate she
didn’t remember ever feeling. She hoped the chaplain was also under
control. He appeared to be calm, and ready.

From the rear Tucker started to walk toward
the young man. Sheldon started from the front. The young man
realized both were moving toward him. He began looking first one
way, then the other, and finally focused on Riley, “Sir!” he cried.
“What the hell is going on? Who are these two goons?”

Probably the wrong thing to say. Nicole felt
herself bristling. She was
so
ready to do her part!

The young man took two steps away from the
pickup, and continued looking in all directions. The four men
closing in on him continued moving slowly toward him. Nicole
noticed Sadie move to slightly behind Sheldon, where there was the
widest spot opening. The young man noticed the opening too, and
sprang toward it, then through it, but Sadie was ready, and tripped
him.

He sprawled and rolled a couple times. The
four men closed in again.

“Get’im up!” Riley said.

Two of the men jerked the young man to his
feet, then released him.

Riley turned to the chaplain and said just
his name, but very quietly, “Radford….” The orders were discretion
on names spoken out loud, nothing for this drug dealer to remember
and charge them with.

Upon reaching the isolated ranch the chaplain
had installed his Colt .45 shoulder holster, then checked his gun’s
magazine, then inserted it into the handle but did not pull the
slide back. Nicole had basically done the same with her Walther,
only had put it in her purse.

Go, my man!
Nicole watched the
chaplain step away from the van, draw his gun, advance to within
ten feet of the young man, pull the slide back and grip the bottom
of the handle with his left hand, then point it at the young man’s
face. He held it there for at least fifteen seconds. Then he pulled
up slightly and fired twice past the young man’s left ear, twice
past his right ear, then emptied the magazine into the ground
between his feet.

On about the fifth shot Nicole felt sure she
saw something dripping from the young man’s pants leg. A second or
two later she saw the front of his beige jeans getting wet. She
brought her hand quickly up to cover her mouth. She wanted in the
worst way to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. Here was this big
bad drug dealer pissing his pants. She wondered what he’d do when
it was her turn.

When the chaplain’s gun ejected its last
round he pulled it up and started to return, but then looked back
as the young man’s eyes rolled and he collapsed upon himself.

“Get’im up again!” Riley said, then advanced
to where two of the men were holding the young man up. “Let’im
stand alone!” Riley said, “And if you fall down again, buster, I’ll
shoot your ass myself! No, we are not out here to set up a big drug
deal for you. We are here to stop you. Now I’d like to introduce
you to the mother of that young girl who died of a drug overdose
last week—“

“No! I—I—didn’t have anything to do—“

“Shut the fuck up!” Riley said, “And don’t
you dare fall down again!” Riley turned but didn’t say her name,
“Your turn, ma’am.”

“No!” the young man cried, “I didn’t do
anything! Please!”

With her purse hung from her right shoulder
and resting against her left hip, Nicole stepped forward, opened
her purse, pulled her Walther out, held it to the sky and advanced
to within eight feet of the young man. She looked into his eyes.
Nothing but fear there. No remorse for anything he had done. She
cocked her gun, placed her left hand on the bottom of the handle
and slowly brought it to aim at the young man’s face, just as the
chaplain had done.

She continued looking into his eyes. She
wanted to see some emotion there, some…humanity. She saw nothing
but greed and indifference. She felt her finger tighten on the
trigger. She placed the sights on the top of his nose. She
so
wanted to end this worthless life…

She pulled up slightly and peeled off the
four rounds just as the chaplain had done. But then she stepped out
of their set plan. She brought her little gun to bear on the young
man’s face again, and held it there, staring at his face and
thinking of all the pain she had seen and heard about caused by
drugs and its pushers. The young man’s eyes looked like they would
soon explode—then she jerked her gun down and emptied it into the
ground between his legs. The young man collapsed on himself and a
huge stink erupted from him. Everybody knew what it was and stepped
back. They all knew that human emotion could stand just so much
before losing that bodily function. All the men there were
ex-military. Some had been interrogated and tortured as prisoners,
and had brought their learned skills back to teach to others.

After the last shell ejected from her gun,
Nicole kept her cool and did what was necessary for the gun, then
returned to the van and laid it on the carpeted floor, and brought
both her hands to her face. She could barely believe what she had
just done, and could barely believe even more what she had
wanted
to do. A few tears formed. She gasped, and leaned
against the side of the van, then felt welcome arms around her, “My
god, Radford. I wanted to kill him, and I enjoyed doing that.”

“I did too, my dear.”

Sadie arrived next, and put her hand on
Nicole’s shoulder, “You did good, Nicole, it’s something we all
have had to do at some point in our training.” She patted Nicole’s
shoulder, “And there’s more. Just come and watch and listen to
Riley.”

Nicole gave a quick and extra hug to both her
man and Sadie, then wiped her eyes, picked up her gun, released the
slide, lowered the hammer gently, and put it back in her purse,
then glanced at Sadie.

“Come on,” Sadie said.

The three approached to where the continuing
stink began to intrude on their senses again.

“Throw the water on’im!” Riley said.

Two men used a three-gallon pail each. The
young man, now not classy-looking at all threw his arms up, opened
his eyes and looked around.

“Get your ass up, buster,” Riley said. The
young man stood, then looked at the eight people all around him,
but at a distance away. “We are finished with you, for now, but if
we ever get word again that you—and we have your name, address,
phone number—what your first car was and where it is today—a whole
pedigree on you, sonny—if we ever hear of your name again involved
with drugs of any kind, well, you can ingest as much as you want
yourself, but don’t ever sell again.” Riley hesitated, “If your
name comes up again, we will be back, and next time we won’t miss.
Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” No arrogance or even a bit of
class remained.

“Good.” Riley pointed, “Over there about a
half mile is a pond. You can wash out your slacks there—I wouldn’t
drink the water, though—well, go ahead and drink it if you want to,
as you’ll probably be thirsty about then—and, in about three miles
in the same direction—or maybe it’s five—is the highway back to
Phoenix.”

The young man, his eyes wide, said, “You
don’t know how far?”

The innocent question caused Riley to laugh.
Then, without answering, he turned, “That’s it. Let’s go.”

Chapter 20 Baby Boy-Doe9

After their self-improvement changes the
first thing the chaplain and Nicole did was return to the hospital
in Nebraska where Nicole had worked when the abandoned baby first
arrived. The small hospital, St. Winston, in the small city of
Wayne Ridge, had not received that many abandoned children, so it
was easy to narrow down their search. And, thankfully, nobody at
the hospital remembered the young nurse, Ms. Waters. Also, she
identified herself only as the chaplain’s assistant and did not
have to give her name.

The important thing they discovered was that
the baby, of course, was abandoned with no name attached to his
basket, so was given the name, Baby Boy-Doe9. And then, as the
child shifted from foster home to foster home, where no attachments
were ever formed, no family gave him a name, either, or if they
did, they returned the child to the system without sharing it.

So, the name
‘Baby Boy-Doe9’
became
attached to their quarry and was fairly easy to track. What
surprised the two sleuths was the sheer number of foster homes the
child had already been to and rejected from, an absolute guarantee
that the child—like most any child bounced around in foster
care—would grow up literally fighting the system that had failed
him.