CHAPTER FIFTEEN

______________________

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, asshole! Wake up!” Apollo yelled, slapping the big Cheyenne’s cheek.

Rainhorse did not respond. He was in a state of semi-consciousness, struggling to regain alertness. He kept his eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness.

“I think he’s out,” he heard another man say. What had happened, Rainhorse wondered? He struggled to remember. He had been t-boned. It was coming back to him. 

“I think we should just pop him now, and get rid of the body,” he heard the second man say.

“No one kills him until I get some answers,” Apollo bellowed. “I need to know who sent this asshole and how many more are coming my way. How did he find me here? Who is he working for?”

“Should we pull him out of the car?” the first man asked.

“Yeah, get him into the truck,” Apollo said. “Tie him up. Take him to the safe house.”

“Ok, I’ll back the truck up and we’ll pull him out of the car on the driver’s side,” the second man said.

“Come back,” the first man replied. “I’ll need help. This is a big son-of-a-bitch. I’ll bet he’s two-hundred and fifty pounds, at least.”

Rainhorse heard the truck backing up, and then the car door opened. Rainhorse remained limp, allowing the two men to struggle with moving him. They managed to stand him up between them. One man had Rainhorse’s left arm wrapped around his shoulder. The other man did the same thing on the other side. Still pretending to be fully unconscious, he heard Apollo talking.

“The Lincoln is still drivable,” he said. “I’ll take the car and meet you boys at the safe house. Be quick about it.”

“Gotcha, boss,” the first man said. “We’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

Rainhorse heard the Lincoln driving away.  The two men began to carry the large former Ranger, dragging his feet. When they reached the truck, he heard the second man say, “Ok, now how do we get him in?”

“I will help with that,” Rainhorse announced, standing upright.

“Holy crap, he’s awake,” he heard one of the men say. “Shoot him.”

It was too late, however. Rainhorse had grabbed each man by the head of the hair and jerked their heads back . . . hard. They both howled in pain, and instinctively raised their hands to try to free themselves. Rainhorse yanked their heads back by the hair even harder. Again, they wailed in agony.

“Where is the safe house?” he demanded to know.

“What safe house?” the second man cried out in response.

“Wrong answer,” Rainhorse said. He drew a breath then slammed their foreheads together. They both hit the ground, rolling around in agony and in a state of semi-consciousness.

Rainhorse reached into their pockets, pulling their cell phones and pistols out of them.

“One more time,” he asked the two men. “Where is the safe house? Do not make me ask again. I will not be as polite next time.”

“122 Elm Street,” the second man said, grimacing through the pain. “It’s about two miles north of here.”

“How many men are there?  Don’t lie to me—I will know.”

“We called everyone in before we got here,” the first man replied, desperately trying to slow the bleeding from his nose. “Fifteen men by now.”

“Don’t kill us,” the second man pleaded.

“I will not kill you,” Rainhorse said, “provided you answer my questions, truthfully. Where does Apollo hold the women he kidnaps?”

Neither man answered. Rainhorse cocked the weapon he had taken off the first man and pointed it at his head, “You want to be killed with your own weapon?”

“HRT is the one who holds them, someplace on the res,” the first man responded.

“Rattling Thunder holds them? Where on the res?” 

“We don’t know, I swear,” the second man said. “It’s above our pay grade.”

Rainhorse sensed the man was telling the truth. He pulled his own cell phone and opened a picture of Lona Littlebird. He showed the photo to both men, “Do you recognize this girl?”

The first man shook his head, “No.”

“Where can I find Rattling Thunder?”

“We don’t know, mister, I swear.  We strictly conduct business for Apollo off the res . . . here in Plentywood.”

“When do they move the girls?” Rainhorse demanded to know. “I know you know the answer. Don’t lie to me.”

“Sunday night,” the first man said.

“Where do they take them?”

“We don’t know,” the second man said.

“I said, ‘where do they take them?’” Rainhorse bellowed.

“We don’t know, I swear,” the first man repeated.

“Why would you not know?” the former Ranger demanded to know.

“Because of situations just like this?” the first man replied.

Rainhorse smelled urine and saw a wet spot on the crotch of the first man’s pants. He had pissed himself—he was telling the truth.

Rainhorse raised his foot and brought the heel of his boot down crashing on the first man’s knee.  He screeched in pain. He did the same thing to the second man’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “That will keep you both in the hospital for a few days. That’s all I will need.  Oh, and by the way, it is going to be embarrassing enough for you to tell your boss that I got away.  I would keep the fact that you gave up his safehouse location between you and me.  I do not think you would survive that little detail. You can tell him I sent you to the hospital because you would not tell me.  Sound good?”

The first man nodded in agreement right away. The second man paused. Rainhorse stepped on the shoulder he had just crushed with his boot heel, “I said, ‘sound good?’”

The second man cried in pain once again, “Yeah, dammit, yeah!”

“Good. I am going to borrow your truck for a spell,” Rainhorse said. “When I get down the road, I will call 9-1-1 and tell them where you are.”

Rainhorse got in the truck and sped away. He drove back to the autobody shop and picked up his old truck. Apollo would report the truck he was in as stolen, soon, he thought. He decided against trying to recover Apollo from the safehouse. Once his two men didn’t show up on time, he’d be on full alert, and with fifteen men, even he would not survive the effort.

He pulled his cell and called Lindsay—she answered on the first ring, “Jackson, are you all right?”

“I am. I found Apollo, but he got away. Are you on the way home?”

“Yes,” she said. “Neha is here. I’m putting you on speaker. How did Apollo get away?”

“I’ll tell you the details later,” Rainhorse said. “The good news is, Apollo verified Lona is alive and well and being held safely somewhere on the res until Sunday night. That’s when they intend to move her. The bad news is, Apollo is aware that I am after Lona.  That means he and HRT will try to find me through Neha. It also means you cannot go home. Apollo will call HRT and he will send men to your house soon, if it has not happened already.”

“Oh, no!” Lindsay exclaimed. “Ska is there with Ellie’s nurse, Alonie.”

“Dammit,” Neha said. “What will we do?”

“We have to go back for her,” Lindsay insisted.

“No!” Rainhorse directed. “You cannot help her. Do you have Alonie’s cell number?”

“Yes,” Neha said, “but . . .”

“But what?”

“I’ve tried calling her three times already to let her know we were on the way,” Neha replied. “She hasn’t answered. I just thought she was tending to Ska but now . . .”

“They have her,” Rainhorse murmured. The nurse was either hurt or dead, he thought, but decided not to share that particular opinion.

“Go to a hotel,” he said. “Don’t use a credit card. Use a fake name and pay cash. If they say they cannot accept cash, flip them a hundred-dollar-bill. I will go to the house and help Ska and the nurse.”

“I don’t have a hundred dollars in cash,” Neha admitted.

“Lindsay does.”

“Oh, god, I’m so worried.”

“You two get to safety, that’s your top priority. I will get to the house. Keep trying the nurse’s cell. Call me when you check in.”

“What else do you need?” Neha asked.

“After I see about Ska, my next priority is to locate Hank Rattling Thunder. He is the one holding Lona.”

“I can help you with that,” Lindsay said.

“You can? How?”

“I not only found out about Joey Takoda, I know where HRT will be tomorrow night. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

“Great work, Lindsay. I am on my way to Wolf Point,” Rainhorse said. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Neha said. “I have some bad news.”

“More bad news?  Dammit, where does it end?  What is it?”

“I just got a call from Ellie, who heard a report on the police band radio. It seems a witness has come forward identifying an unidentified white girl as the shooter of one of the bodyguards. The witness was in the diner when all the commotion started. He took a picture of Lindsay with his cell. The Tribal Police are after her.”

“Dammit,” Rainhorse said. “That complicates things.”

“They have not released anything to the media yet,” Neha continued. “The picture is a little fuzzy as well.  She would be hard to recognize from the photo, especially since her hair has been dyed.”

“Ok, that is good news. We have a little time,” Rainhorse said. “The Tribal Police will not want the FBI swooping into the res. They hate white man involvement and will avoid it if they can. They will try to identify Lindsay on their own. One thing is for certain, though—they will be blocking all roads to any airport and putting up roadblocks looking for her. Her picture will be posted with every security agent at the airport. We cannot send her back tonight, as planned. She will get caught.”

“I agree,” Neha said. “Fortunately, with her hair dyed and her new clothes she will not easily be recognizable. She passed for half-Sioux with Lona’s friends easily today.”

“That is one of the few things we have going for us,” he said. “See you in a couple of hours.”

Rainhorse hung up the phone and sped up. He was twenty minutes further down the road when the phone rang again. He picked up his cell. It wasn’t his phone ringing.  He dug into his coat pocket and pulled the cell he had taken off the first man. The display read, ‘Unknown Caller.’ He answered.

“I know where you are headed, Chief,” said a familiar, growly voice. It was Tony Apollo. “You’re too late, I’m afraid. We have your junkie waitress, already. Not to worry though, I haven’t killed her. Even a crack-whore like her can make me a few bucks on the street in alleyways.”

“What about the nurse who was with her?”

“She’s going to wake up with a major headache,” he said.  “I would have left my men there to wait for you, too, but I only had three of them available—not near enough to take you down. No need to lose three more.”

“I am going to kill you,” Rainhorse promised.

Apollo laughed, “You’re good, I’ll give you that. I thought you were down for the count after the truck rammed you. No way would a normal man be able to walk away from that. I saw that you messed up my two boys pretty good, too. That’s on me. I should have known better after the way you took care of my men at the mobile home, but alas, we all live and learn. I won’t make that same mistake again.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you, Chief,” he rasped. “I’d love to have your hot little white girl too, but I’ll bet you’ve packed her off by now, so I’ll settle for you. You come to me and I’ll let the junkie waitress go.”

“How about I give myself up for Lona, Ska and the girls you now have?” Rainhorse said. “You let them come home and you can have me.”

Apollo laughed again, “No way, Chief. I do hate you and I’ve love to watch you die slowly, but business is business. Lona is my prize possession.  She means a lot of money to me. I will make ten times the money I would normally make with any other Sioux. Nope, I’ll give you the tweaker. Take it or leave it.”

“Keep her.  I do not care,” Rainhorse replied. He was lying but the bluff was his only choice. He would be committing suicide by agreeing to that deal and giving up any chance to recover Lona and the other girls. His only chance to save them was to stick with a plan.

“I thought you might say that,” Apollo said.

“I have an idea, why don’t we settle this like real men—you and me, man to man,” Rainhorse proposed.

Apollo laughed harder, “Nice try, Chief. I’m not stupid. I know I couldn’t beat you hand to hand, but I can beat you another way.”

“How’s that?”

“By selling your precious Lona Littlebird, of course,” he said.

“What if we pay your price?” Rainhorse said. “I will pay you double what you are getting on the market.”

“Not a chance. It’s personal, now, Chief. At first, I intended to sell her to a respectable Chinese businessman.  She’d have been a sex slave but would have lived a comfortable life otherwise.  Nice clothes, good food, jewels . . . But now, I’ve reconsidered. I have another buyer in mind. This buyer is a regular customer. He has some depraved tastes—S&M, B&D, humiliation, whipping, torture. Even I am disgusted by the guy. Lona is in for a very rough life, a short life filled with unimaginable pain and sexual humiliation—I just wanted you and Neha to know that.”

“I will find you,” Rainhorse said. “And when we meet again, it will not go well for you.”

“Nice try Chief, but I already know you found out where my safehouse is. My boys caved in after I inflicted a little more pain on them. I have you to thank for that. You screwed them up so bad, they were done with pain. They were singing like little birds after removing only one fingernail. Afterward, I ended their pain for good, if you know what I mean.”

“You killed your own men?”

“Hey, they would have been in the hospital for weeks, and then there would be the rehabilitation. Do you have any idea how much the medical costs would have been? I’m not paying medical bills for traitors.”

“You are truly a monster.”

“Says the pot, calling the kettle black. I also know you don’t know jack shit about where I am holding the girls. I have the Tribal Police and the Plentywood authorities in my back pocket.  Basically, there’s nothing you can do but sit back and wait for it all to happen.”

“Why even call me, then?” Rainhorse said.

“Because, since your efforts to kill me have failed, I thought you might get desperate and call in the FBI, and I wanted you to know something before you do.”

“And what would that be?” the big Cheyenne asked.

“Ever wonder why the FBI hasn’t been all over this place yet?”

“The thought occurred to me, yes.” He already knew the answer but wanted to hear Apollo confirm it.

“I have a mole inside the FBI offices,” Apollo said. “You don’t run a successful operation like mine without making a few friends in all the right places. If you do contact the FBI, I will know right away. I won’t have time to move my girls, so, I’ll have to kill them—Lona and your little tweaker waitress, both, along with all the rest.  Think about that, Chief.  You call in the feds and you’d be responsible for the deaths of all those young girls.”

“Listen to me, Apollo . . .” Rainhorse began, but he was talking to dead air. Apollo had ended the call.

The former Ranger called 9-1-1.

“This is 9-1-1,” a woman greeted, “What is your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a break-in and an injury to a woman named Alonie,” he said. “Please send an ambulance to the home of Neha Littlebird.”