Chapter Thirty-Six

Eric

I'm thankful to have survived the plane ride from California to Wyoming – especially the landing. Wanting to avoid the authorities, Mike's pilot had put us down on a long, rough strip of dirt in the middle of cow country.

“Is that a legal runway?” I ask as we gather near an old dilapidated barn.

“Depends on your definition of legal,” he says. “I don't think the FAA would approve, no.”

“Why in the hell is there a runway out here anyway?”

Mike shrugs. “It's used by smugglers and other unsavory types.”

“And yet, here we are,” I say. “I guess that makes us the unsavory types?”

“Depends on who you ask,” he says and laughs.

His team consists of three others aside from him – all ex-Special Forces. They do private contracting work, which is a euphemism for privately contracted black ops – assassinations and the like. But I'm not picky. These men are hard, tough, and know what they're doing. And, they are willing to do the morally ambiguous things for a paycheck. In other words, they're just the kind of guys I need.

“We have a man in position outside the compound running surveillance already,” Mike tells me. “He's keeping tabs on things and says your girl was taken into a small outbuilding and locked inside. He's listening on a parabolic mike and they're apparently set to kill her tonight at midnight. That's the good news.”

“That's good news?” I say.

He shrugs. “Better than having to tell you they killed her already.”

“Good point.”

The day is warm and I can feel the sweat rolling down my back, conjuring memories of my time over in the Shit. We're wearing plain black fatigues, flak jackets, and standard issue boots. Just like the uniform I had to wear in-country.

“The bad news is that they know – or at least think – we're coming,” he says. “So, they're amped up and ready for us. According to my man outside, they've got at least a dozen heavily armed men inside the walls. The trouble is, because we don't have the time to run a proper recon, we don't know they're capabilities, so we're essentially going in blind.”

“But that's what makes it kind of fun,” says one of his guys named Manny.

Mike shrugs. “Definitely ups the adrenaline factor,” he smiles. “Not necessarily a bad thing.”

“So, what can we do to even the odds?” I ask.

Mike runs a hand through his short, salt and pepper colored hair. “Ideally? Get him to let his guard down,” he says. “If they relax a bit, it makes the target softer. The softer the target, the harder we can hit, the more damage we can do.”

I think about it, try to find some way to get Raymond to let his guard down. I rack my brain as my stomach continues to do flip-flops inside of me. I feel every second of the clock passing and know that with each second that passes, Calee comes one second closer to her death.

“Wait,” I say. “I think I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Mike asks.

“I've got Raymond's number,” I say. “He called Calee on her phone just before he took her. She dropped the phone and I've got it. Maybe I can call him. Make him think I'm still in California and that I'm letting the FBI handle things.”

Mike looks into the distance as if weighing the option in his mind and then he nods. “That might work,” he says. “At the very least, it's not going to do any harm.”

I pull Calee's cell phone out of my pocket and punch the button for her recent calls. Hitting the button, I dial the number and hold my breath until I hear the other end of the line ringing. My tension grows with each passing moment, waiting for him to answer – which he does, on the fourth ring.

“I'm guessing since Calee is with me, back where she belongs,” Raymond says, his voice colored by a slight Midwestern accent, “that this is her ex-boyfriend, Eric Galloway. Let me just say, you were a hard man to track down. Took me a little while, but we finally got there, didn't we?”

“You're in a world of shit, asshole,” I say.

“Is that so?” he asks. “Seems like it's Calee who's in the world of shit. Oh, really nice house by the way. I really especially liked the view of the ocean. Very peaceful.”

“I've contacted the FBI,” I spit. “You kidnapped her and took her across state lines, Raymond. You're looking at federal charges, asshole.”

There's laughter on the other end of the line. “You're actually trusting the FBI to come rescue Calee?” he asks. “If anything, even if they show up here in time, we're just going to have another Waco or Ruby Ridge – and can you guess how many people survived those things?”

“And that's what you really want, isn't it?” I say. “You want to be immortalized as the next David Koresh.”

“Well, people are still talking about him years after the fact,” he says. “Being a part of history isn't necessarily a bad thing.”

“You're one twisted prick,” I say.

“So I've been told,” he says. “But you didn't call me just to threaten or insult me, did you? What is it you want, Dr. Galloway?”

“I want you to set Calee free,” I say. “Set her free before the FBI shows up and maybe you walk away without a prison sentence. I can convince her to not name you as her abductor.”

“Well, that's the wrong tactic to take, doctor,” he says, amusement in his voice. “You should open up the negotiations by offering payment. You always lead with the money, Eric. I can call you Eric, can't I?”

I look up at Mike who nods for me to keep going. “How much do you want?”

“Ten million dollars,” he says. “That number has a nice ring to it. What do you think?”

“I – I can get that for you,” I say. “It might take me a day or so, but I can get that to you. No problem.”

“No problem, huh?” Raymond says. “What if I want one hundred million? Could you get that for me too?”

I feel my anger growing inside of me. He thinks he's screwing with me. Enjoying my torment. I can't wait to put a bullet in this asshole.

“You're not interested in money,” I say.

“Oh, on the contrary, I'm very interested in money,” he says. “It costs quite a bit to keep our little community here afloat. And I happen to know you have a lot of it. So, how about it, Doc? One hundred million sound like a fair price to get your lady fair back?”

“It will take me a little time to get it together,” I say. “But I'll go down to the bank right now and get the process started.”

“How much time?”

“Probably a couple of days,” I say. “I don't know for sure. I have people who handle the money for me.”

“You have until midnight tonight,” he says.

“I can guarantee you I won't be able to get it by then,” I say. “Just give me a little time. I'll go to the bank now.”

“Midnight. Tonight.”

“That's not going to work.”

“Then your lady fair is going to die,” he says. “Would you like us to ship her back to you in a box when we're done with her?”

“The FBI is on their way, Raymond,” I say. “You either cut a deal with me now, I walk into the bank and get it going, or you face the Feds when they show up.”

There's a pause on the line for a moment. “I think I'll take my chances with the Feds,” he says. “But hey, thanks for calling, Doc. It was great talking to you. I'll be sure to pass along your sentiments to Calee before she dies.”

The line goes dead in my hand and I look at it for a moment before dropping it into my pocket. I look up at Mike.

“Think he bought it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Hard to say yet,” he replies. “Only time will tell. Cooper will let us know what the disposition is before we hit the compound.”

“What time are we moving?”

“If they've got until midnight,” he says. “We'll hit the target at nine. We'll be under the cover of full dark.”

I look up to see fat, fluffy clouds floating lazily across the sky. “And hopefully, we'll have a thick cloud cover that smothers the moonlight.”

“Here's hoping,” he says. “Okay, listen up. We move out at eight. We hit it at nine. So until then, go into the barn and get some rest.”

I nod and head into the run down old building. I doubt I'll be able to sleep though. Not with Calee in the hands of a lunatic.